Aftermath

The day they buried Omniman, there was no rain. The sky didn't shiver and howl, and no great torrents of liquid hailed from the heavens. The clouds didn't lay thick and heavy, and there was no thunder nor lightning to mark the day.

Yet, for Mark Grayson, if all of these things had happened, all at once, it would scarcely have been worth noticing. He stood in the crowd, beside his mother, who was weeping openly. He wished that he could weep, but he could not. He felt numb. He felt cold, with a creeping sense of despair that had gnawed its way into his very core. He stood in the crowd, just one face in a thousand as the man stood on the podium, and made some pompous speech about loss and how it defined you. As if he could understand even a fraction of what true loss felt like. As if anyone could possibly understand.

For what seemed like hours, the people talked. Heroes, rescued victims of a thousand perils, people in suits, and fine clothes. They'd invited Invincible, because they;d invited nearly anyone. But Mark had come instead, and as he stood and watched, as the people trailed by, one after the other, he could only feel one thing. A cold fury in his heart. The strength of it shocked him, scared him. It felt like he was being stabbed, run through by a blade that he could not see. Every time he looked up, the feeling got stronger. Fury, rage, it pulsed through his veins, but not in a way that he had ever experienced before. This wasn't hot rage, this wasn't the sort of fury that burns itself out in a few hours. This was cold, deliberate, the sort of anger that stayed with you, just under the surface, bubbling away for years and years. His fists clenched at his side, and he stared down at the ground.

His mother was crying beside him. Her sobs were hard to bear, his sorrow tore at his heart. Others were crying too. Mark felt that he should be as well. But that sorrow wouldn't come. It was as though the rage had strangled it in its crib, he was supposed to feel sorry, but he just felt empty. Empty and angry.

He couldn't cry. Maybe he didn't deserve to cry. Every night since the moment his father had died, he'd relived the situation. The whole thing had been because of him. If he had taken his father's advice, and not gotten involved, or if he had been strong, strong enough to handle it himself…

But neither of those two things had happened, had they? And now his father was dead. Omniman, Nolan Grayson, was dead.

Though he didn't know it at the time, the fury that Mark felt bubbling up inside of him was the signature of his people. The Viltrumite people had always been quick to fury. But the worst ones were the ones who didn't spend it, but saved it all up inside.

Mark was doing that now, but even he knew on some level that it couldn't last forever. You could only pull a rubber band so tightly before it snapped.

Omniman was dead. What did that make Invincible? Guilty, his mind screamed, it made him guilty.

So what was he going to do? Keep going like this, or stop forever? Give up on being a hero, and just go back home? But home seemed so empty and pointless right now. Actually, everything felt empty and pointless. But this in particular…

No, he wasn't done yet. Mark felt his hands slowly curl into fists, his heart beating fast in his chest.

Omniman...his father… had died to save his life… how could he turn his back on him after that? Returning home would be a betrayal, and Mark owed him. It wasn't about want anymore. It wasn't about desire.

It was about duty. Duty to his father, and to his beliefs.

The world had lost Omniman. Invincible was infinitely weaker, slower, and worse. But, in that moment, Mark vowed to himself as he looked at the speaker for the funeral of his father, he would grow. Oh yes, he would grow.

"They call you Invincible, right?" It was a trick question, Cecil had done his research long before he'd stepped through the open portal. The light shimmered around him as he stepped out onto the top of the building. The man - the kid really - who he knew to be Mark Grayson turned to look at him.

Cecil noticed that his fists were bloody. Behind him, two bodies lay where they had fallen. They weren't dead, but probably wished they were.

"I can have someone pick those two up if you want. What were they doing?"

"Robbing." Mark said, "Already hit two places, were going to hit a third."

Cecil looked back at them.

"Not supers? You could have just called the cops."

"The cops weren't here. I was." Invincible said, turning to look at Cecil with a strange look. For a moment, Cecil felt something crawling up his spine as he mentally superimposed the image of Omniman against that of his son. Nolan had been bigger, stronger looking, and more confident, but there was a core here that matched what he had known before. Now, that might have been all warm and gooey and suchlike, but only if he hadn't known the truth about how Nolan had ended up. And Cecil was one of the few who did. In fact, he was one of the ones who'd made the decision to keep it from the rest. The Guardians of the Globe were dead, and now Ominman was as well, the world didn't need to know that he had betrayed it before he went. Let them keep their hero, he was a much better one anyway now that he was dead.

Not having a death wish, Cecil didn't say any of that outloud. Instead, he took another look at the two thugs. They didn't seem like much. Just two young men with more bravado than brains, who thought they could push the world around right up until it pushed back. For a moment, he thought nothing of them, but then, something clicked. Cecil had no powers himself, but he prided himself on his ability to control a situation, and part of that meant knowledge. Knowledge was a tool, a weapon, a way to exert control when everything else failed. So he always made sure to have as much of it as possible, even the things that seemed trivial to anyone else.

One of those kids had a criminal record. He'd reviewed it recently, as a matter of fact. During the time just after Omniman's death. When he'd been following up on every single connection.

"Titan."

"What?" Invincible turned to look at him again, this time, his gaze was sharper.

"Titan. These two work for Titan. Or at least, they used to work for Machine Head, so I assume they've switched to the new boss. Is that why you're taking this one personally? They're just small fry. I doubt he really cares."

"Not now, but soon. " Mark said. "It'll hurt him if I keep doing it. Hurt his operation, hurt his pocket."

"Why don't you just go after the man personally?"

"I've tried." Mark admitted. "But that other guy he has working for him… Isotope…"

"Ah, I see." Cecil said, and did. After all, it was the same sort of strategy he'd considered himself at times. A teleporter could go a long way towards keeping someone out of harm.

"I keep tracking him down, and he keeps getting away." Mark said, "But every time he does, I hurt him a little bit more. I don't care if it takes a thousand years, I'll tear his operation apart piece by piece if I have to. Nothing is below my notice when it comes to him. Not the biggest, not the smallest."

He gestured towards the two thugs.

"I'll cut off his money, cut off his manpower, cut off his damn respect, bring him low until he can't get away from me again."

"You know a lot about me, for a guy who happens to randomly walk through a portal." Mark said.

"I knew your father." That much was true, but he saw Mark stiffen as he spoke the words, and he wondered for a brief moment if he would attack.

"He never mentioned you."

"I asked him not to. Who do you think was his contact with the government? I'm the guy who pointed him to where he was needed. I think he didn't want you to be involved until you were old enough."

Mark said nothing, gazing out over the street, his eyes following the back and forth of the traffic.

"Here's the deal," Cecil said, "I know you have the same powers as your father, Omniman. I know you were involved with the events that led to his death."

"Know that, do you?" Mark gave a hollow laugh. "You don't know anything."

"I know you're trying to replace Omniman." Cecil said, "I know that you're not as strong as he was. Not yet, anyway. And I know you need my help to do what you want. You have power, but you don't know where to be, every time something happens, you have to rush to it. But I can tell you where trouble is the moment it starts, sometimes even before. I can get you paid for your role in protecting the world, and I can help you to live up to the man your father was."

Hopefully not literally, Cecil added to himself. Omniman had turned bad at the end, and Cecil would never forget that, but at the same time, he would use every weapon he had at his disposal, and Mark's image of his father was simply another tool to bring the kiid into line. It wasn't that Cecil was unsympathetic, or so he told himself. It was just that he couldn't risk making a mistake with Mark, he couldn't let him run wild. Not with how things had ended with Nolan. He was hoping, really damned hard, that Mark agreed to work under him today.

Because if he didn't, things were going to get difficult. Cecil couldn't leave someone as strong as Mark running about on his own. Not when his father had proved to be so dangerous. The kid hadn't actually done anything illegal yet, and as far as anyone seemed able to prove, had actually made the nation a safer place by trying to fill his father's shoes. But Omniman had been an asset too for a very long time. Right up until the moment he hadn't, and Cecil had realised just how little they could actually do to stop him.

It wasn't happening again. Not if Cecil had anything to say about it. Mark would be brought under control or…

Well, he would be brought under control. It was that simple.

Mark seemed to be considering his words. He could see the kid turning it over in his mind. His eyes were on the street below still, but Cecil didn't doubt that he was keenly aware of everything around him.

"You want me to work for you? For the government? And you'll pay me to do it?"

"That's about the rub of it. You've got serious potential, but you're not making the most of it right now. If you want to be your father, then you've got to increase your reaction times, and focus on the more important situations rather than every petty crime. I can help you with that. You can help the government keep the nation safe. Win win."

Mark said nothing for a moment, and Cecil watched him trace his eyes back towards the thugs.

"All right." He said, "Two conditions on that. First, I want Titan. You say you have all those resources? Find him for me, and make sure he can't get away again."

"I can do that." Cecil said. "Actually, it would probably have been something we got around to anyway. You wanting to do it just means we move it up the list… what's your second condition?"

"I want to work. I want so much work that I can't even think, do you understand me? I don't want time to stop and think about things. If you have a job, no matter how small, you give it to me. Promise me that, or the whole thing is off."

Cecil didn't much like being listed off demands, but at the same time, those demands were things that would work for him as well. Dropping Titan wasn't a big deal, Cecil didn't much care for some local crime boss. But the second one… running the kid ragged… that could be something he might get behind. After all, Cecil wanted every chance to see his powers, to try and find ways around it, weaknesses that could apply to others of his kind as well. At the very least, keeping him tired and distracted was better than rogue and rested.

"All right," He said, "You've argued me around. From this point on, you're working for the Global Defence Agency."

"He's going to be a problem, Cecil."

Cecil didn't turn as he exited the portal. The high-tech interior of the GDA headquarters spread out around him. To the left, there was a large screen, showing Invincible as he took to the air after their meeting. Techs were busy at work on various stations, and the low buzz of technical jargon filtered through the air.

"Do you think so?"

"His father was a problem."

Cecil turned, seeing the dark-haired man staring at the screen. He was clad in a uniform of white and blue, with elements of yellow as well. He looked to be somewhere in his forties, though well preserved for it. In actual fact, he was thousands of years old. No one seemed to know his exact age, even the guy himself. If he'd had an original name, it was long lost. Nowadays,k everyone just called him what he was.

"His father solved a lot of problems too, Immortal." Cecil saidl.

"His father killed the Guardians of the Globe. I can't believe you've kept that hidden. Omniman killed them all, Stedman. War Woman, Martian Man, Red Rush, me… Brutally and without hesitation. Like he didn't even care."

"You got better."

"The others didn't."

Cecil sighed, conceding the point.

"You're right, Immortal. He is a problem. But what do you want me to do, kill a kid whose only crime is that his father went rogue?"

"You've done worse before." The Immortal said, not taking his eyes off the screen. "If he turns out to be the next Omniman, you'll regret not finishing it now while you can."

"And if he doesn't, we've just wiped an innocent kid out for the crime of trying to make the world a better place." Growled Cecil. "Immortal, you've known me a long time, and you're right, I've done some things that I regret I had to do, but I am not going to kill a kid. Not until he gives me a reason."

"Not when he could still be useful, you mean." The Immortal said sourly. "He agreed to join you. You want to make him into one of your agents."

"That would be ideal." Cecil agreed. "We could keep an eye on him and direct his development, make it so that he doesn't stray down the same path as his father."

"Do you really think you can do that? It's innocent people who will pay in the end if you can't."

Cecil went quiet for a moment, looking at the screen, he remembered what it had been like to first meet Omniman, and how they had become allies, and eventually even friends. It was still; hard on some level to register that betrayal, even though Cecil was a man used to betrayal, both in giving and receiving. He worked for the good of the world, which meant that he had to do things that most people didn't want to think were needed. But they were, they were needed, and they were absolutely vital. If no one did them, then the whole world suffered, and even more innocent people died. They were dirty deeds, best done in the dark and forgotten about.

But Cecil never forgot, and neither did the man standing next to him, the Immortal. A man who had lived for thousands of years, whose actions had echoed across history, and helped to shape whole nations.

"You want the real answer, Immortal? I don't know if I can. Maybe the kid's just like his father, but what I do know is that he hasn't done anything wrong yet, and I'm not about to kill him for the crime of being related to someone else if I can possibly help it. That's not the sort of business I am in. Maybe I will pull the trigger at some point, but not until I'm damn sure I have no other choice, do you understand me? In the meantime, I'm going to try and set this kid on the right path, because he wants to be a hero, and because that's exactly what we need right now. Maybe if you weren't so blinded with your own anger, you'd do the same."

It was done in an instant. One moment, the Immortal was on one side of the room, the next Cecil felt the hand closing around his throat, and his feet were dangling in the air, the Immortal's furious face looked up at his own , his hand holding Cecil off the ground.

"You're lecturing me on morality, Stedman? you?"

Cecil felt the closeness of death, the realisation that the Immortal could easily crush his throat before anyone could intervene, the fact that his existence could come to a close right here and now, at the hands of an enraged hero. But he'd never been the type to cower away from things he couldn't prevent.

"Hurts, doesn't it? Look, Immortal, I'm sorry you never got to have your showdown with Omniman. By the time you came back, it was already over. I get that you're burning up because you couldn't avenge the others. Hell, I understand what it's like to lose people, more people than even you could ever know! But I've got work to do, so either put me down or kill me."

For a moment - one tense, full moment - Cecil wasn't sure which the Immortal was going to do. But then, he felt himself hit the floor, grunting in surprise and pain. Agents surrounded the two of them, and guns were pointed towards the Immortal, who ignored them totally, turning and walking towards the exit. Cecil watched him go, waving the soldiers back with a gesture.

"Let him go. He's allowed to vent. Man has just lost everything."

The wind whipped past his face as the Immortal took to the sky, clawing for altitude as though he could leave his troubles behind. He couldn't, of course. No more than he could leave behind the images of his friends as they died, the feeling of his own demise, the hot guilt that churned within him, and the fury that filled his soul. It was not the first time his powers had felt like a curse, but it was one of the hardest. As he flew through the air, going nowhere in particular, the Immortal could only think one thing.

I should be dead.

He knew it with every fibre of his being, every part of his soul proclaimed it to be true. He should have died with the others, and be laid to rest alongside them even now. He hated the fact that he was still alive and they were not. He hated the fact that Omniman had turned on them, hated the fact that the man they'd thought of as a friend had turned out to be such a powerful enemy, and more than anything else, he hated the fact that he had not been able to save them.

Helplessness. By now, you'd think that he would be used to it, but it always stung, no matter how many times he'd felt it before. Most people would look to him and say that he had more power than almost any other person alive, but they didn't understand. They couldn't. Their lives were so brief, like tiny flashes of light, they didn't comprehend the sheer scale of time. The weight of it, pushing back against you every day. The Immortal had done so much, and worked so hard, but most of what he had done now was lost, time had rolled over it, and no matter how fiercely he'd battled to preserve it, it had been ripped away from him.

He was, quite possibly, the strongest and oldest human alive. But all that did was allow him to realise just how tiny he was on the grand scale.

Immortality? Infinite life? It just meant infinite chances to fail! Infinite ways to suffer! An infinite number of people who would come to rely on you, never even realising the blood on your hands!

He had failed the Guardians of the Globe, and he couldn't even join them in their rest.