Project ROWDY 31A: Invincible II

Mark tore through the upper atmosphere, speed bleeding contrails behind his boots, hugging the cloudline because maybe the wind could choke off the thoughts screaming in his skull.

"He's different... since they died. Angrier. Colder."

His gut reaction fired up instantly as Mom's words came back: Dad wouldn't. Dad's... Dad. But the words collapsed halfway through because memory didn't line up.

That day after the Guardians' funeral last year, watching Dad... He didn't even flinch. Everyone else broken up, sobbing and choking on their own throats, and Dad just stood there, arms crossed, eyes blank. Didn't say a word about the Guardians as people at least. All he mentioned was what he fought, who he fought, and what he was going to do now that they were dead, and the inspirations of their deaths. He said nothing about Green Ghost saving New York, nothing about War Woman doing her best for charity and to save the world.

It was mostly about him.

And later? Joking. About Red Rush, mocking his powers, talking about dinner plans... nothing happened.

Mark's jaw flexed as he flew lower, muscles tightening, riding the low draft where the wind howled loud enough to punch back against his skull. But to kill them?

No way. Mark shook his head hard enough to make his neck ache. He wasn't even on Earth. He was off-world, we were there that day in the hospital after he got back. The memory was clear as everything else. He said he'd been abducted, made to fight...

He wouldn't lie about that. Would he?

Memory kicked in sharp: Flaxan invasion aftermath. Dad's flat-eyed glare, no mercy, no quarter, grinning while he pounded invaders into paste. Not just ending threats, enjoying the punishment. Not enough to win; they had to suffer.

That one time Mark stumbled onto him dealing with Komodo Dragon, and it looked... wrong. He had no love for the villain, considering some of what Mark heard about the guy, but it just felt... Mean, more than anything. The way he toyed with the guy.

A type of cruelty he didn't know his dad had in him.

His mom's voice from a few hours ago, breaking. Not angry. Scared. And hurt. "Your father... I think your father killed them, Mark..."

Mark's throat clenched so tight it hurt. His teeth ground together, knuckles whitening mid-flight, every muscle in his arms and chest locking up.

No. He forced it back. GDA would've known. They're too paranoid for this. DNA exists, right? Someone would've figured it out...

But the more he tried to reason it away, the weaker it sounded. The cracks widened every second. Dad's been gone more, always these little detours...

More than that...

Mom doesn't cry. Not over a maybe. Her hands were shaking.

His mom, crying. Shaking. Telling him to be careful with the man he trusted most.

Something's off. Something's wrong.

Wind shear whipped past his arms as he broke the sound barrier again, faster, lower, ripping across coastal waterline as clouds ripped apart behind him.

Only one way to settle this. Only one way to shut it down. Go straight to the source. Straight to Dad.

Mark broke through the last layer of cloud cover, heat rippling off his skin, city coastline snapping into view.

And it was... pristine.

Beachfront high-rises gleamed in the midmorning sun. Umbrellas scattered the sand in neat little clusters. Crowds backed up past police barricades, phones in hand, cheering.

Out on the water, a few hundred yards offshore, the kaiju was already losing. Fast.

Dad, in all red and white with his cape flying behind him, carved through the thing as if it wasn't even a fight; shoulder-checking the leviathan backward through waves, closing the distance before it could fall, fists driving into gills and plates of armor that might as well have been wet paper.

Mark slowed without meaning to. That's Dad. That's Omni-Man. That's who I'm doubting?

The kaiju thrashed, tail whipping up a white wall of ocean spray; Dad blurred past it, grabbed the base of the tail, spun, water geysering as the thing left the ocean, airborne, limbs flailing. Nolan rocketed upward, a blur wrapped around the creature, spinning tighter, tighter, before letting it fly.

With a sound that could've been from a massive air cannon, the kaiju was launched back into open ocean.

The crowd exploded, people chanting Omni-Man, Omni-Man, Omni-Man, before the thing even splashed down.

Omni-Man dusted his hands off midair, shaking loose sea spray, grinning as if everything he just managed, more than Mark knew he could, was barely even light cardio.

Mark swallowed as he drifted in from the north, pace slower than usual, pulse too high. Just ask him. Just get it over with.

Before he could even approach, Dad clocked him instantly, Omni-Man turning around to face him with a wide smile as though there was no weight to the world at all.

"Oh hey, Mark!" That was his Dad; easygoing yet powerful, cheerful yet strong, all happy energy as if he just polished off a light snack. "Catch that? Textbook takedown, huh?"

Mark forced his mouth into something that he was pretty sure was a grin, the teenager descending to hover a few feet away. "Yeah... yeah, I saw."

Nolan looked back out to sea, hands on his hips, King of the Coastline posture dialed up. "I should check in with Belloc, see what's going on with all these kaiju lately. Feels as if they're crawling out of the Mariana Trench every other week now."

Mark nodded stiffly. "Yeah... sounds good."

They floated there, high over the shouting, cheering, screaming crowd, cameras pointed skyward. Omni-Man was soaking it in, Mark... not so much.

Mark shifted awkwardly midair, chest tight, wanting to cut in; but Dad was already moving onto more. 

More like GDA logistics, "Belloc's son apparently joined up a few months ago, terrible name on that kid,” “We should get you all geared up with the GDA too," "Earth's got to do better about early detection," and before Mark could get a word in edgewise about what he actually cared about right now, the topic quickly shifted to more personal stuff without missing a beat, "how's school”, how's Amber, she’s a nice girl, “keeping up with the Trinity boys?"

Mark kept almost cutting in, the words stacking at the back of his throat, but every time, Nolan just... steamrolled. Kept it light, kept it casual, kept the subject on anything but.

Down below, people cheered. Phones out. Kids pointing, tourists filming TikToks of Omni-Man and Invincible having a chat over the ocean as though it was just another Tuesday.

And every second, Mark's lungs got tighter. Pulse beating louder in his eardrums. Say it. Just say it. He's your dad, he'll tell you you're crazy, and you'll go home, and everything will be fine.

But the words wouldn't come. Every time he opened his mouth, Dad filled the silence with something else. Weather patterns. Training schedules. Cecil's latest briefing updates.

He's avoiding it. The thought hit sharp and sudden. He knows. He knows I know something.

Mark's stomach dropped. The way Dad kept talking, kept deflecting, kept the conversation surface-level... He's stalling.

"Dad..." Mark finally managed, voice cracking halfway through.

Nolan turned slightly, smile dimming but still present, eyebrow quirking. "Yeah?"

Mark's heart hammered against his ribs, his tongue suddenly dry as beach sand. He had to get it out. 

He had to ask. 

The words felt heavy in his mouth, each syllable fighting him harder than a Flaxan in generation-two powered armor. "...I gotta ask you something."

Nolan's grin dipped a little more and Mark could feel the shift, the tone change almost as flat as the day he announced his powers to his parents. Something careful crept into his dad’s expression, subtle but there. "Shoot."

Mark's mouth opened, the question right there, balanced on the tip of his tongue like a bomb waiting to go off. Did you kill them? Did you murder the Guardians of the Globe? Simple words. 

Not so simple to say. Probably not any easier to write, either.

His throat closed up. The words stuck. What if Mom's right? What if he did? What if I'm about to accuse my dad of mass murder and he...

"Mark?" Dad's voice was patient, concerned. Perfect father voice. "What's on your mind?"

This is insane. This is Dad. This is...

Mark took a breath, deeper this time, steeling himself. The question had to come out. 

Now. 

"Dad, I need to know if you—"

"MURDEEEEEEEREERRRRRRRRR!!!"