When I woke up I was in the GDA ICU. I spent about a week watching my chest get knit back together. The scar remained, though. A jagged, ugly 'X' right over my sternum.
Nolan was very chill about the whole thing. He seemed more proud than concerned about the situation.
"You survived," he'd said, clapping a hand on my shoulder a little too hard. "Most wouldn't have. You showed resilience, Mark. That is the Viltrumite way."
"Yeah, thanks, Pops. Next time I'll try to dodge."
I felt stronger than ever. Even though I knew that Viltrumites only got stronger through exercise and getting older. It felt like my smart atoms were putting in double overtime.
As soon as I was cleared for duty, I didn't go on patrol. I didn't go to school. I didn't even go see Amber, although I did send a generic text telling her I'm alive.
Imma tell her that I got hit by debris from a fight between a hero and villain or something.
I flew straight to the industrial district, back to the warehouse where I'd first spotted Angstrom Levy. He was probably planning to recruit the Maulers in a couple weeks, just making his final preparations.
I landed on the roof, vibrating the skylight latch until it clicked open—a trick I was getting better at—and dropped silently onto a stack of crates.
Angstrom Levy was below, pacing back and forth in front of a whiteboard covered in complex equations. He looked exhausted, muttering to himself about energy displacement and ethical boundaries.
"You know," I said, my voice echoing slightly in the empty section of the warehouse. "For a guy planning to save all of existence, you look pretty stressed."
Angstrom froze. He didn't jump; he went rigid. He slowly turned around, his eyes locking onto me.
As soon as he saw the yellow and blue suit, the blood drained from his face. He scrambled backward, knocking over a table of tools, and fumbled frantically to escape.
"Stay back!" he shrieked, his voice cracking with genuine terror. "Don't come any closer!"
I held up my hands, palms open. "Woah, easy there, Doc. I'm not here to hurt you."
"Liar!" Angstrom yelled, backing himself against a wall. He was shaking. "I know you! I know what you are!"
"You know me?" I asked, tilting my head. "We haven't met before, have we?"
"I've seen enough of you!" Angstrom spat, sweat beading on his forehead.
"What do you mean by that?"
He looked at me with the eyes of a prey animal staring down a wolf. "I've looked across the dimensions. I've seen worlds burning. I've seen civilizations crushed under your boot. In almost every reality, you... you and your father... you're monsters!"
"So it's true he is trying to conquer the Earth" I purposely said aloud. "But why do you think I'm joining him? Do you think I'm evil?"
"Aren't you?" he demanded, his hand trembling. "Why else would you be here? Why stalk me? You're here to silence me before I can warn the others!"
"I came here because I spotted you opening some kind of portal to transport several versions of yourself to warehouses, I was merely curious about what you were doing," I said calmly. "I wouldn't be standing here talking to you if I was evil."
Angstrom didn't relax, but the logic seemed to penetrate his panic. He was a scientist, after all. He dealt in facts.
"However, you've now confirmed something I've been suspicious about for a while," I said, taking a slow step forward.
"I have?" he asked, taking a step back.
"Yes, you have. My old man," I said, letting a look of grim realization wash over my face. I dropped the confident hero act and let my shoulders slump, just a fraction. "He's been… intense lately. Pushing me. Talking about duty and legacy in ways that didn't feel right. I thought maybe he was just being a hard-ass, but you're telling me it's a pattern across the multiverse?"
Angstrom blinked, the sheer terror in his eyes dialing down to confusion. "He… he hasn't told you yet? He hasn't initiated the takeover?"
"No," I lied smoothly. "But if what you're saying is true, then I'm on a clock I didn't even know was ticking."
I looked Angstrom dead in the eye.
"I'm not the Mark Grayson you know from those other worlds. I'm an outlier. A statistical anomaly. I don't want to conquer this planet. I want to defend it. But if my pops is really a planetary conqueror… I can't stop him alone. I'm strong, but I'm not that strong. Not yet."
Angstrom slowly lowered his hands. He was still trembling, but now he was listening with scientific curiosity. He was looking at me like a puzzle piece that didn't fit. "You... you want to fight him?"
"I want to save my world," I corrected. "Just like you want to save the others. That's why I need you."
"Me?" Angstrom let out a nervous, incredulous laugh. "I'm a pacifist. I'm a scholar. I don't fight."
"I don't need you to fight," I said, stepping closer, keeping my voice low and earnest. "I need your brain. I need that machine you're planning to build. The one that gathers memories and knowledge?"
Angstrom gasped. "How do you know about—"
"I told you, I was curious," I cut him off gently. "Think about it, Angstrom. Access to the medical advancements of a thousand worlds. Clean energy blueprints from advanced civilizations. You want to be the man who fixes the multiverse? The man who cures cancer and ends famine? You can be that guy."
Take the bait bitch, take the bait.
I saw the hunger in his eyes. The ego. I pressed the advantage.
"But you can't do that if you're running from random obstacles. You can't do that if you're dead. And right now, to build that machine, you need engineers. You need the Mauler Twins."
Angstrom flinched. "They are the only ones with the expertise in cloning and cerebral transfer."
"Exactly. And aligning with them would make you a criminal. It puts a target on your back." I smiled, a sharp, confident expression. "That's where I come in. Let me be your muscle. Let me get my hands dirty so yours stay clean. I'll get you the Maulers. I'll get you a safer place to work. You build the machine, you get the credit for saving existence, and in exchange… you help me survive long enough to protect this rock."
Angstrom looked at me as if I were a complex equation he was trying to solve.
"You would protect me?" he asked softly. "From dangers? From the other variants of yourself?"
"I'll protect you from everything," I promised. "But we have to move fast. There's a robot monitoring the Maulers too, and he doesn't share."
Angstrom took a deep breath. He looked at his whiteboard, then back at me. The fear was gone, replaced by the thrill of opportunity.
"If you are lying," he whispered, "I will strand you in a dimension made of shrimp."
"Deal," I laughed. "Now, let's go get some blue giants. I have a plan to keep them off the radar."
And the Oscar Goes to….
"Alright, Angstrom," I said, tapping the sleek, black receiver in my ear—the twin to the one I'd given the Mauler. "Before we head to the rendezvous, I need you to do your thing. Open a door to a dimension where the Maulers are… let's say, less evil geniuses and more petty criminal geniuses. We need decoys."
Angstrom adjusted himself, looking nervous but committed. "I know of a reality where they run a failing predatory lending scheme. They are easily bought."
"Perfect. Grab 'em and tell 'em we have a job that pays well."
While Angstrom stepped through a portal to collect our patsies, I activated the communication link.
"Aye blue," I said into the mic. "This is yellow. You have ten minutes to subtly split off from your location without being tracked. We're coming to you."
A grunt on the other end. "We're ready. Do not disappoint us, hero."
Angstrom returned minutes later, flanked by two Mauler Twins who looked identical to the originals, except their clothes were stained with mustard and they were bickering about interest rates.
We arrived at the Mauler's hideout—a damp, subterranean pump station—via one of Angstrom's portals, near a blind spot that Robot couldn't see.
The Prime Maulers—our Maulers—were waiting. They had heavy plasma cannons aimed at our heads the second the portal swirled open.
"Aye, take it easy," I said, stepping out with my hands raised but my posture relaxed. "I brought guests."
The Prime Maulers lowered their weapons slightly, their eyes scanning the newcomers with intense scrutiny. The Decoy Maulers stepped through, looking like funhouse mirror reflections—slouching, stained, and looking confused.
"Disgraceful," The Prime Mauler sneered, looking his counterpart up and down. "Is this what passes for genetic perfection in the multiverse?"
"Pathetic," the other Prime Mauler agreed, curling his lip. "Look at the cranial ridges. Underdeveloped. They probably haven't even cracked quantum folding yet."
"These are your 'Get Out of Jail Free' cards," I explained, gesturing to the Decoys. "Robot won't know the difference. He sees blue skin and big muscles, he'll be happy."
"They are... sufficient bait," Prime Mauler conceded. "Crude, but sufficient."
"Hey, we didn't agree to be permanent residents here!" one of the Decoys protested, wiping mustard off his chin.
"You won't be, you'll just be here for a short while," I said, holding a hand over his mouth. "Now, change and get going please. You'll be paid handsomely after your service."
The Decoys grunted, but the promise of money motivated their simple minds. They made the switch.
Now, for the pitch, I thought, turning my full attention to the Prime Twins.
I needed to hook them now, or this whole house of cards would collapse.
"You two are the greatest geneticists on this planet. Maybe in this dimension. But you're limited. You're stuck in a sewer, scavenging for scraps, hiding from the GDA, always looking over your shoulder."
"We survive," one Mauler growled defensively. "We always survive."
"Surviving isn't thriving," I countered. "I'm offering you a promotion. Look at my friend here." I gestured to Angstrom. "He has the blueprints for a machine that can access the collective knowledge of the multiverse."
The Maulers looked at Angstrom, their eyes narrowing. "Multiversal access? Theoretical... but the energy requirements..."
"But to build it," I continued, "We need a workspace. A sanctuary. I'm taking us to the Flaxan Dimension."
"The Flaxans?" a Mauler scoffed. "Barbarians. They build tanks out of scrap metal and run on combustion engines. What use is a mudball to us?"
"Time," I said, leaning in. "Time is the use. The dilation works in our favor. You get decades of work done in hours of Earth time. Think about it. No GDA raids. No superheroes interrupting your lunch. Unlimited time to experiment, to perfect your craft. You want to be gods of science? I'm giving you Olympus."
Jesus, I'm on one right now.
I saw the gears turning in their heads. The ego. The ambition.
"Decades of interrupted research..." one Mauler muttered, a hungry look in his eyes. "We could perfect the cloning sequence. Eradicate the degradation errors."
"And when the machine is built," I added, "You'll be the ones who built it. Your names will be etched across reality as the architects of the new age. Plus, we're going to overthrow the Flaxan leadership and install you two as the planetary governors. You get a whole planet to experiment on."
The Twins looked at each other. They communicated silently, a perfect synchronization of twisted minds. They saw the logic. They saw the power.
They lowered their guns completely. "A planet of our own," a Mauler mused. "And the raw data of the multiverse."
"We accept," the other stated, staring me down. "But if this is a trap...We'll dissect you to see exactly what makes a Viltrumite tick."
"Noted."
The twins nodded, then I gave Angstrom a piece of Flaxan tech he could use to sync his ability to the dimension. As the portal to the Flaxan dimension swirled open—revealing a purple, war-torn sky—I checked my watch.
Now it begins.
We stepped through the portal.
The transition was instant. The air tasted metallic and reminded me of copper pennies and ozone. The sky was a bruised purple, and the architecture looked like someone had tried to build a cyberpunk city out of red clay.
Superman wouldn't have a fun time here.
We emerged in the middle of a city square. The local Flaxans—green-skinned and looking very surprised—froze.
"Well," Angstrom said, adjusting his collar nervously. "This is it. Dimension 7419. Or as the locals call it..."
"Target Practice," Prime Mauler finished, hefting his cannon.
A siren wailed. A massive, floating tank rounded the corner, its turret swiveling toward us.
"Invincible," Angstrom squeaked, hiding behind me.
"Relax. I'm on it."
I launched myself at the tank. I didn't punch it; that would be messy. Instead, I flew right through the barrel of the cannon, shearing the metal like wet paper, and landed on the commander's hatch. I ripped it open and pulled the trembling soldier out by his collar.
"Aye! Take me to your leader," I boomed, my voice echoing off the buildings. "Actually, never mind. I'll find him myself."
I scanned the city for the biggest, most pretentious looking building—a spire made of green crystal—and flew straight for it.
I smashed through the stained-glass window of the throne room. The Flaxan Emperor, a wrinkled guy with too much jewelry, was shouting orders at his generals. They all froze as I floated above them, cape fluttering, debris raining down.
The Emperor shrieked for his guards.
Laser fire erupted. Dozens of blasts hit my chest. I didn't even blink. I just floated down, grabbed the Emperor's golden staff, and snapped it over my knee like a twig.
"New management," I announced, aura radiating something fierce. "Surrender and I don't destroy your city. Fight and see what happens."
The Emperor looked at his broken staff, then at his terrified generals, then at the invincible alien floating in his living room.
He knelt.
Four Months In The Dimension Later….
Taking over a planet is surprisingly easy when you're invulnerable and your allies are super-geniuses. It played out like a speedrun of one of those Civilization games.
Week One: I dismantled their military leadership. Literally. In the Flaxan culture, might makes right. When they realized their heaviest artillery bounced off my chest and I could catch their missiles with my teeth, they didn't just surrender; they fell in line. To them, I wasn't an oppressor; I was the ultimate warlord.
Week Two: The Maulers overhauled the infrastructure. The Flaxans were already technologically advanced—you don't conquer dimensions with sticks and stones—but their systems were designed purely for brute force consumption; which is why they constantly invaded other dimensions; they needed slaves for the manual groundwork. The Twins optimized their energy grids and automated their supply lines, pushing their output to theoretical limits the Flaxans hadn't dared to test. Suddenly, the city wasn't just a war camp; it was a hyper-efficient Citadel. The Flaxans stopped rebelling not because they were happy, but because they respect superior power. The Maulers didn't just fix their tech; they evolved it.
Week Three: We broke ground on The Citadel. A few pockets of resistance tried to stop us, but Angstrom simply opened portals beneath their tanks and dropped them into a barren wasteland on the other side of the planet. Non-lethal, but it sent a clear message: We control the battlefield.
Month Two: The city was transformed.
I stood on the balcony of our newly constructed spire, looking down at the metropolis. It was cleaner now. Ruthlessly organized. Flaxan workers were moving materials, directed by Mauler-designed drones, building the foundations of a society that could actually last. The air didn't smell like desperate ozone anymore; it smelled like progress.
"The machine is 85% operational," Angstrom announced, walking up beside me. He looked different. More confident. The Flaxan air agreed with him. "The Maulers are surprisingly cooperative when they have an entire planet's industrial complex to toy with."
"That's good," I said, adjusting my newly re-stitched suit.
"Are you heading somewhere?" Angstrom asked.
"Yea, I have to head back to Earth to keep up appearances," I said, equipping the newly built wrist-comms the Maulers had whipped up for me.
"Oh right, the double life. When shall we expect you back?"
"I'm just popping out for a weekend," I said. "With the time dilation... I'll be gone for maybe a day or two in Earth time. That's about two or three years here right?"
Angstrom nodded, doing the math. "Roughly. We'll definitely have the machine fully online by then. The Maulers are already debating which dimension to scan first."
"Perfect. I see ya'll then." I said walking to the portal generator.
I emerged back near the warehouse on Earth.
The sudden shift in gravity and air pressure made my ears pop. The metallic taste of Flaxa was replaced by the humid, exhaust-filled air of the city. I checked the clock on the wall.
Only four hours had passed since I left.
"Four months of empire-building and I didn't even miss dinner," I muttered, stretching my neck.
I flew home at subsonic speeds, staying below the cloud layer to avoid radar. I slipped into my bedroom window, changed into jeans and a hoodie, and flopped onto my bed just as my mom knocked on the door.
"Mark? Dinner!"
"Coming!" I yelled back, checking my reflection in the mirror. The weary eyes of a planetary ruler stared back for a second, before I shook it off and put on my dopey high school smile.
World conqueror by day, high school dunderhead by night. The duality of man.