My blood ran cold. My brain short-circuited. How? How does she know my name? Who is she? Does she know me? Shit, my dad is going to kill me! He's going to kill me, resurrect me, and kill me again! On the outside, I floated there, frozen in the air. On the inside, I was completely freaking out.
She seemed to notice my panic. Her shoulders dropped a little and she stammered, trying to cover it up. "Uh... Mark? Who's Mark? I think you... heard me wrong. The wind, you know. I said... 'Spark.' Because your costume is… a spark of originality."
The excuse was so bad it snapped me out of my panic for a moment. I stared at her, ignoring the failed attempt at a cover-up. I focused on her stature. She looked my age, maybe a year or two younger? Slender, but with a posture that exuded confidence. That voice... that red hair escaping from under the mask. I knew her from somewhere. I started mentally reviewing the redheads at my school. There was Sarah from the debate team, Jessica from bio class... but no. The voice didn't match.
And then, the image clicked. Physics class. The quiet girl who sat two rows ahead.
"Samantha," I said, the name coming out before I could stop it. "Samantha Wilson. You go to my school."
She was silent for a moment, the domino mask hiding her eyes, but I could feel she was surprised. "Almost," she said finally. "It's Wilkins. But impressive. I didn't know there was another hero at school." She looked me up and down. "But, no offense, you need to work on the look. What is this, pajamas with a sweatshirt?"
My face grew hot again, this time with embarrassment. "Hey! It's... it's a temporary suit. I'm kind of a hero in training."
"Training?" she asked, her head tilted, genuinely confused. "What does that mean? Is there a course for this?"
"No, it's just that my... uh..." I almost said 'dad'. My father's number one rule was to never, ever connect Omni-Man to our personal lives. "My... mentor," I corrected, the word sounding strange. "He's forbidden me from being a real hero until he says I'm ready. He said I'll get a real suit when I deserve it. And he has a lot of rules. Like, not getting involved with anyone while using my powers, always flying above the clouds so I'm not seen..." I stopped, realizing I was talking too much. "What about you? Wasn't it the same? Like, having a mentor or someone like that?"
She scratched her head, a strangely normal gesture for someone floating a hundred meters off the ground. "Actually, no. I didn't have a mentor." She shrugged. "I discovered my powers and, a week later, I made a suit and started going out. I learned on the job."
I was shocked. "A week? When did you get your powers?"
"About three years ago," she replied casually.
I did the math in my head. Three years... she was younger than me... "Wait, so you started when you were twelve?!"
She's kind of crazy, I thought. Going out at twelve, with no training, no one to guide her... it was a recipe for disaster. And then, a wave of honesty hit me. I would have done the exact same thing, I admitted to myself. If it weren't for my parents' worried looks and the painful memory of the junkyard, I would have jumped in headfirst on day one.
"Cool," was all I could say out loud.
Eve gave me a strange, almost analytical look. She smiled sideways, as if she had just understood a joke.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing," she said, laughing. "It's just that 'hero in training' deserves something better than a sweatshirt."
She raised her hand towards me. I saw a pink glow envelop my body. It wasn't an attack, it was... constructive. I felt a tingling sensation, and the rough fabric of my sweatshirt transformed into something smooth and flexible. A mask materialized on my face, covering my eyes and nose, fitting perfectly. I looked at myself. I was wearing a simple, dark blue suit. It wasn't perfect, but it was a thousand times better.
"I don't have the best fashion sense," said Eve, arms crossed, "but it's a start. At least now you don't look like you ran away from a slumber party."
She gave me a wink. "See you around... training-boy."
And with a laugh, she turned and shot away, a pink trail leaving behind a confused boy in a new suit, with far more questions than answers.
I floated there for a long time, just watching the pink dot disappear on the horizon. A silly grin was stuck on my face. Eve Wilkins. Her name was cool. The way she laughed, the confidence she had... she was pretty. Very pretty. I felt like an idiot for getting her name wrong like that, but the strange camaraderie we shared was something I didn't know I needed.
My daydream was interrupted by a sharp sound that managed to penetrate the thin, quiet air above the clouds. A scream. Distant, almost imperceptible. I focused my gaze downwards, and my eyes, now sharper, seemed to zoom in on the city miles away. I saw the scene clearly: in front of a jewelry store with a shattered window, a burly man with skin that looked like it was made of stone ran with a briefcase, while another man in a suit followed close behind.
My first instinct was to ignore it. My dad said to wait. Train first. Don't get involved. The promise I made to him weighed on my mind. But then, the image of Eve came to mind. She started when she was twelve. Alone. She didn't wait for permission. She saw a problem and went to solve it.
Besides, I thought, trying to justify the decision I had already made, floating above the clouds, you can barely hear anything. I would have missed dozens of crimes before.
With a determined smile, I dived.
I approached them in an alley, landing softly behind the two.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," I said, trying to sound heroic and cool. "I think you forgot your receipt."
The two turned, surprised. One was exactly as I had seen from above: a brute with gray, cracked skin like rock, whom I mentally nicknamed "Stone Face." The other was a man in an expensive suit, sweating and panting, the "Suit."
"Who the hell are you?" the Suit gasped.
"I'm the guy who's going to politely suggest you return that briefcase and turn yourselves in," I replied, cracking my knuckles.
The Suit laughed. "Titan! Do your job! Crush this pajama-wearing idiot!"
Titan? "Seriously, that's your name?" I mocked. "With that skin, I was expecting something like 'The Boulder' or 'Human Rock.' 'Titan' is so... dramatic. Are you compensating for something?"
Titan snarled and lunged, his stone fist the size of my head coming at me. Instead of panicking, I felt a strange calm. I remembered the training with my dad. Titan's fist seemed to move in slow motion. I dodged to the side with a small burst of flight, and his fist crashed into the brick wall, which exploded into pieces.
"Oops, be careful with other people's property," I said.
He turned and tried again, a clumsy hook. I blocked the blow with my forearm. The impact was strong, but nothing compared to my dad's punches. Wow, my dad's warm-up punch hurts a hundred times more than this, I thought, almost laughing. His training, as brutal as it was, had turned me into something completely different.
"You know, Stone Face," I said, while dodging another blow. "That stone skin of yours must be terrible in the summer. Don't you sweat? It must be super itchy."
He roared with fury and grabbed me. For a second, I felt his immense strength, but it wasn't the strength of a Viltrumite. It was the strength of a mortal. I held his wrists and squeezed. I heard a cracking sound, like stones breaking, and he screamed in pain, letting me go.
"Okay, the talk was nice, but I think that's enough," I said.
With two quick, precise punches, one to the stomach and one to the chin, I knocked him down. The stone skin on his face cracked and he fell to the ground, unconscious. The Suit stared at me, pale, the briefcase dropped at his feet.
I walked slowly towards him, picked up the briefcase, and handed it to him. He held it, trembling.
"Now," I said, with my best smile. "How about we go back to the store and apologize?"
The day after my first knockout was a revelation. With my new suit and newfound confidence, I decided that training didn't have to happen only in the canyon. The world was my gym.
I started small. I saw an elderly woman in a panic on the street, pointing to the top of a tree. A cat. Classic. I flew up there, got the scared feline, and returned it to her arms. "I think he's already used one of his nine lives today," I joked, before flying off, leaving her with her mouth open.
Later, I saw a thief snatch a woman's purse and run off. I intercepted him so easily it was almost boring. I tied him to a lamppost with his own belt and returned the purse. "Try picking on someone your own size next time," I suggested with a wink.
Confidence was growing. I was fast, strong, and for the first time, I felt like I had everything under control. Each small act of heroism was another step, moving me away from the clumsy kid who buried himself in the canyon floor.
That's when the city shook.
A sound of cracking concrete and twisting metal echoed through downtown. I flew higher and saw it. A cyclops. A giant, red cyclops, at least fifty feet tall, tearing chunks out of an office building as if it were a dollhouse.
Okay, this is new, I thought, an excited grin spreading across my face. A real monster.
Full of the arrogance from my easy victories, I flew directly towards it.
"Hey, big guy! Didn't anyone tell you red is out of fashion?" I taunted, hovering in front of its single giant eye.
Its response was a roar and a punch. Not a quick punch, but a slow, powerful movement, like a derailed train coming at me. I was stupid. Instead of dodging, I tried to stop the blow with my arms, like in the cartoons. The impact was overwhelming. I was crushed, thrown backward with the force of an explosion, and crashed into the facade of a building, sinking into the concrete with a boom that made my ears ring.
I slid down to the street, landing in a pile of rubble, my whole body aching and my head spinning. The world went blurry for a second. Okay... maybe I underestimated a little...
The cyclops turned to me, lifting its foot to crush me. The pain and dizziness were replaced by adrenaline. I flew out of the way at the last second, its foot pulverizing the spot where I had been with a deafening CRACK that kicked up a cloud of dust and asphalt.
No more jokes.
This time, I fought for real. I used my dad's lessons. Three-dimensional movement, using speed as a weapon.
"Okay, big guy, let's see if you can keep up!" I shouted, more to myself than to it, as it didn't respond.
I dived towards the ground and started flying in fast circles around its legs, like an annoying fly. It tried to stomp me, clumsily, but I was too fast. I used the wall of a building as a support to launch myself at it, aiming for what seemed to be a weak spot. I punched its knee with the force of a small car. The impact sounded like thunder, and the rocky skin shattered a little. The giant leg buckled, and the monster fell to its knees with a roar of frustration.
"That's right! How about you pick on someone your own size?" I taunted, hovering in front of it.
Its response was a quick, unexpected movement. Its gigantic arm swept through the air. I tried to go up, but I misjudged the arc of the blow. I wasn't hit squarely, but the back of its stone hand grazed me, sending me flying through the air like a baseball. I hit a delivery truck hard, denting the entire side. Pain exploded in my chest. As I recovered, my whole body aching, I looked up. The cyclops stared at me with its single eye, and a slow, childish smile spread across its face. It had enjoyed that.
"Oh, you thought that was funny, huh?" I growled, anger overcoming the pain. "Let's see if you laugh at this!"
I flew at it with fury. It tried to grab me, but I was too small and fast a target. I dodged its giant hands, used its own shoulder as a launch pad, and hit its stomach with a series of blows that sounded like sledgehammers on a stone wall. Thump! Thump! Thump! Each punch required immense effort, and my fists started to hurt. Its skin was incredibly tough, but with each impact, I saw small cracks forming.
"It's not so fun when you're the one getting hit, is it?" I shouted, dodging another slow punch and descending to hit its ribs.
After a fight that felt like an eternity, with my body already feeling the effects of the few blows it managed to connect, the cyclops finally began to stagger. It was slow, disoriented, its movements increasingly predictable.
"Alright, enough messing up the city. Time to take you for a walk."
Seeing my chance, I flew behind it, grabbed its leg with both hands, and pulled with all the strength I had. With an effort that made my muscles scream and the veins pop in my arms, I lifted it off the ground and started to fly away from downtown, dragging the giant, struggling monster away from the city.
Reaching the coast, I swung it a few times and threw it with all my might into the sea. It landed with a monumental splash, sending a wave several meters high.
But then, something strange happened. The cyclops didn't roar with anger. It started to... cry. Loud, childish wails echoed across the water, as it rubbed its single giant eye. The salt water must have been stinging. I floated there, completely confused.
"Nice work. Bullying babies is the first step to being a great hero."
I turned with a start. My father was floating behind me, arms crossed, with an amused look.
"Omni-Man!" I said, trying to sound professional and not like a son who got caught doing something wrong. "The situation is under control." Then, I processed what he said. "Baby?"
"Baby," he confirmed, shaking his head. "I was contacted about a science experiment gone wrong at a nearby lab. Apparently, a genetically modified cyclops-snake escaped and bit a baby. Gave it superpowers. And, well, this." He gestured to the crying monster in the ocean.
I stared at him, incredulous. "Is... is that serious? A cyclops-snake?"
"As hard as it is to believe, yes," he said, with the utmost naturalness. "Strange things happen all the time."
With that, he calmly flew until he was behind the giant cyclops-baby, which was still whimpering. In a move I can only describe as patting its back to make it burp, he slapped the palm of his open hand between the monster's shoulder blades. The giant let out a small sound, its shoulders relaxed, and it simply passed out, floating unconsciously in the water. My father picked it up effortlessly and carried it to shore.
I flew to him, landing beside him, observing the bizarre scene. I had fought, sweated, and was almost crushed. He solved everything with a pat.
I couldn't help it. A grin spread across my face.
"Wow... that was really cool."
"Let's go," my father's voice pulled me out of my admiration. He gestured with his head towards the sky, and I followed him, ascending quickly until the beach and the sleeping cyclops-baby became small dots below us. We stopped when the clouds began to envelop us, a private world of white and silence.
I felt the need to say something, to maintain the professionalism I thought the situation required.
"Thank you for the help, sir," I said, the formality sounding strange even to my own ears. "I... appreciated the assistance. I had the situation under control, but your method was more efficient."
My father looked at me, a restrained smile on his lips. "Always, son."
The two simple words disarmed my entire pose. I nodded, trying to maintain the facade of an "unknown hero reporting to Omni-Man," but it was ridiculous. We were father and son floating above the ocean. He knew, and I knew. I let out a long sigh, giving up.
"Okay, okay," I admitted, feeling my face heat up. "I wasn't trying to play the hero, alright? I was just bored. That was more of a... babysitting job gone very wrong."
My father's laughter echoed, deep and genuine. "Babysitting? I'll remember that one." He looked at my new suit, an amused glint in his eyes. "You know, the plan was to take you tomorrow to get your official super suit. But it seems you've already gotten ahead of me." He circled around me, analyzing the design. "Although... we need to improve this style. It's a bit... too simple."
I laughed, a little embarrassed. "It was a gift from a friend. And it's temporary! She just... improvised."
"A friend, huh?" he said, raising an eyebrow, the teasing tone unmistakable. "A friend who gives you superhero suits. Interesting."
I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. I just floated there awkwardly, not knowing how to deflect that conversation. Fortunately, he seemed to take pity on me.
"Well," he said, changing the subject and turning to the horizon. "Follow me. If we hurry, we should still have time."
"Time for what?" I asked.
He just smiled over his shoulder. "For your real suit."
I nodded, a new kind of excitement taking over me. Without any more questions, I flew after him, leaving the cyclops-baby and my short, bizarre babysitting career behind.
I followed my father through the night sky until we landed gently in an alley behind a nondescript brick building. The sign on the front read "Rosenbaum's Tailoring," with letters faded by time.
"A tailor shop?" I asked, confused. "Are you getting me a suit?"
"Something like that," he replied, opening the back door.
The interior looked exactly as expected: rolls of fabric, old sewing machines, and headless mannequins wearing half-finished suits. An older gentleman, with glasses and a vest, was sweeping the floor. He looked up and smiled when he saw my father.
"Nolan! It's been a while," he said.
"Art, this is my son, Mark," my father said. "It happened. He needs a suit."
Art's smile widened. "Finally! It was about time. Come, come."
He led us to the back of the shop and opened what looked like a closet door. But inside, there were no coats. There was an elevator. We descended in a silence that hummed with high technology. The doors opened into a workshop that made my school's science lab look like a cave. Holograms, pieces of armor, and fabrics that glowed with their own light were scattered everywhere.
"I have an old prototype here," said Art, walking to a mannequin covered by a sheet. "The measurements should fit. Put it on. Let's see how it looks." He pulled the sheet off with a flourish, revealing a tight-fitting suit. I put it on. The material was strange, but it molded well. I looked at myself in a full-length mirror. The suit was... orange and yellow. Very bright colors.
"Hmm... it's cool, for sure," I said, trying to be diplomatic. "Very... colorful. But I don't think it's really my style. I wanted something... different."
"Different how?" Art asked, picking up a digital notepad. "Do you have any ideas in mind?"
I tried. I really tried to imagine something cool, something that screamed "hero." But my mind was blank. A blur of capes and masks from other heroes I saw on TV, but nothing that felt... mine. I shook my head. "No... I don't know."
"Okay. No problem," said Art, with the calm of an experienced professional. "Let's start with the basics, then, and build from there." He prepared to take notes. "Every hero needs a name. What's yours?"
"Invincible," I said, the only thing I was sure of.
"Invincible. I like it. It's strong," Art noted. "Okay, let's move on to functionality. What didn't you like about this prototype, besides the colors?"
"And these goggles?" I continued, adjusting them on my face. They were big and limited my vision. "I would hate to fight with these."
My hands went to my waist. "And what are all these discs for? They're all over the suit, and this big one here looks like a wrestling champion's belt."
"That, kid, is strategy," said Art, circling around me and analyzing the fit. "It's a bluff. Anyone who faces you will think you're solar-powered. They'll try to fight you at night, or take you to dark places, thinking they're weakening you. It's false information that gives you a tactical advantage before the fight even starts."
"Okay, the bluff idea is smart," I admitted. "But it's not for me. And I want a cape. Every great hero has a cape."
"No way," my father interrupted with his deep voice. "Capes are a danger and impractical. Enemies can grab you by them."
"But they're iconic! You have one!" I retorted, pointing at him.
"And I have plenty of experience to know how not to get strangled by it," he shot back. "You have one afternoon of clumsy flight practice. It's an unnecessary risk."
"I can make one with a quick-release clasp," Art intervened, appeasing the situation. "If someone grabs it hard enough, it comes off. A small safety adjustment. We can make it work."
I smiled, victorious.
"And there's one more thing," I said, taking the notepad from Art's hand. With my finger, I drew on the screen. A circle, with three thick lines crossing through it, almost forming a stylized 'i'. The symbol of Viltrum. "It's the symbol of my... of our family," I explained, looking at my father. "I want it somewhere prominent."
What I saw, however, was a smile forming on his lips, but it was a strange kind of smile, one that didn't reach his eyes. There was something... cold about it, almost melancholic. It was as if he were looking at a distant, painful memory.
He finally spoke, his voice lower than usual. "It's an important symbol, Mark. More than you can imagine. It carries a lot of weight and a long history. Wear it with honor."
Art looked at the drawing for a long moment, then at me, then at Nolan. He didn't ask any questions. Instead, he frowned, studying the design with a critical artist's eye.
"On the chest is too... obvious. Too busy," he muttered, more to himself than to us. "A name like 'Invincible' calls for something clean, strong." He came closer and touched my shoulder. "How about here?" he suggested, pointing to the top of my arm. "On the shoulders. One on each side. It's subtle, but present. It gives an air of... rank. Of authority, without cluttering the main silhouette."
I liked the idea. It gave it a more military, more official feel.
"Perfect," I said.
Art smiled, satisfied. "Great. Invincible... Blue, yellow, and black for contrast. Symbol on the shoulders. And a cape with a safety clasp." He jotted everything down on his notepad. "Come back in two days. I'll have something truly... iconic for you."
It was a day like any other in the bustling metropolis, but evil, as always, never rests! In the heart of the financial district, the shrill alarm of the First National Bank blared, a cry for help to the helpless citizens. Masked robbers, armed to the teeth, ran out with bags of money, laughing at their easy victory.
But wait! What is that blue and yellow blur in the sky? Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No! It's the city's newest protector, a hero in training.
Wearing his brand-new suit, a dashing uniform of blue, black, and yellow, he was the image of youthful hope! A cape billowed heroically behind him, and on his shoulders, the mysterious symbol of his heritage promised untold power! With a confident smile, he descended from the heavens and landed softly between the criminals and their escape route.
"Stop right there, evildoers!" shouted the young hero, his voice full of a newfound confidence.
The robbers, surprised, didn't hesitate. The guns spat fire and lead, a barrage of bullets flying towards our champion! But, to the astonishment of the bandits, the bullets crumpled and fell harmlessly against his chest.
"Seriously? Is that all you've got?" he laughed, with a calm that defied logic. "You can shoot all you want, guys. It won't do any good. After all, I'm Invin-"
But... what's this? The catchphrase, the battle cry that would seal the villains' fate, was cut off mid-sentence! The hero stopped, his mouth slightly open, and looked around, confused. The air fell silent, except for the distant sound of sirens.
He turned to the bank robbers, who were still staring at him, their guns now silent. "Huh, was it just me or... did my dialogue get cut off?" asked Mark, his head tilted in genuine perplexity.
The masked goons just looked at each other, confusion written on their faces behind their masks. "Cut off?" one of them whispered to the other. "What is this nutjob talking about?"
But before the villains could process the strange question, justice was served! In a blur of motion, faster than the eye can see, Invincible acted! A punch here, a flick there. Before the criminals could even blink, they were lying on the ground, disarmed, and tied to each other with a conveniently nearby metal beam.
Mark looked at the pile of defeated bandits and shrugged, the puzzle of his interrupted dialogue still on his mind.
"Ah, forget it," he said to them. "Never mind."
And with that, our young hero shot into the skies, leaving behind a group of very confused robbers and the promise that, for evil, the days of peace were over!