The smell was the first thing to hit Mark's senses; the stench of burnt ozone mixed with charred human flesh. He stood in the center of a massive crater in the heart of Seattle, where the Stedman skyscraper had stood as a monument to civilization only minutes ago. Now, it was nothing but a concrete graveyard.
Gray ash fell from the sky like black snow, brushing against his open gashes and radiation burns. Yet, Mark felt no physical pain; the psychological trauma had completely numbed his nerves. His blue and yellow suit, once a symbol of hope, was shredded into a bloody rag clinging to his skin. Mark had just stopped a "Singar" vacuum bomb with his bare hands, preventing the city from being wiped off the map.
He coughed up black blood and waited. He waited for Cecil or the rescue teams to pull him out of this hell.
But the media was faster.
The roar of news helicopters drowned the air above. Powerful searchlights began to frame him, not to save him, but to capture "the threat" in a cinematic shot. A few meters away, Governor "Bryant" appeared. He wore a luxury Italian suit, his hand trembling slightly as he wiped his brow with a silk handkerchief—a nervous tic he displayed whenever he prepared to lie.
"Citizens," the Governor began, his deep voice booming through the megaphones, "thanks to our security forces' rapid response and our direct orders from the war room, we have contained this extraterrestrial threat. We have proven today that human will and wise leadership are stronger than any random superpower."
Mark stopped breathing for a second. Contained? Leadership? His heart had nearly stopped while absorbing the blast with his chest, and this man was claiming credit for his "orders"?
A young reporter approached the Governor, asking in a provocative tone: "Governor, what about 'Mark Grayson'? Is he responsible for this destruction?"
The Governor curled his lip in disdain, wiping his brow again. "The existence of these undisciplined 'heroes' is what attracts these disasters. We are in the process of passing the 'Human Safety Act' to hold these reckless individuals accountable. We will not allow an outsider to decide our fate in the name of heroism."
At that moment, something inside Mark snapped. He looked at the crowd behind the security tape; he saw the people he had saved moments ago screaming: "Get out! You bring death to us!" He saw a young soldier aiming a laser rifle at his exhausted heart. "Stand back! This area is under government control now."
Mark laughed. It was a dry, terrifying laugh that harmonized with the whistling wind. He floated slowly, blood trickling from his forehead over his eyes, but he didn't blink. He leveled in the air directly in front of the Governor, who dropped his silk handkerchief in sheer terror.
"You know, Governor?" Mark said, his voice shaking the glass of the nearby wrecked cars. "I used to think my job was to protect you from monsters... but I realize now that the real monsters don't have claws; they have microphones and expensive suits."
"Grayson! Stop! The cameras are rolling!" the Governor screamed, stumbling backward.
Mark looked directly into the camera lens broadcasting to millions of screens. With one hand, he tore the "Invincible" insignia from his chest and threw it into the mud at the Governor's feet.
"From this day on, there is no Mark Grayson. That boy who sought your approval died with every lie you uttered."
He raised his head toward the blackened sky and spoke with a sovereign voice the world had never heard before:
"I do not belong to the Grayson family, nor do I belong to this corrupt system. From this day on, I am 'Mark the First'. I am not your hero, and I am not your enemy... I am the only Law this planet will ever know."
With cold brutality, Mark squeezed the Governor's shoulder. He didn't kill him; instead, he slowly crushed the collarbone, letting the entire world hear the sound of bone snapping like dry wood through the open microphone. The Governor's scream was the soundtrack to a tyrant's birth.
"This is the price of a lie," Mark the First whispered. He took flight toward the horizon, leaving behind a screaming city, a trembling media, and a world that had just realized it had created its own nemesis.
On the screens of Times Square, the Governor's broadcast cut to the pale face of Cecil Stedman. His cold, mechanical voice echoed through the speakers:
"Activate Project 'S'... The tyrant we feared has been born. The world is now at war with its most powerful man."
In a small cafe on the outskirts, people watched the screen in stunned silence. One of them whispered in a shaky voice: "Was the Governor right? Was Mark just waiting for this moment to rule us ؟