"I'll never let anyone-"

thud

"ever-"

splash

thud

splash

"EVER"

splash

thud

splash

thud

"hurt my family, AHHHHHH!"

Crash

The blow caused the sand around Mark to fly upwards. He stood, the sand beneath his feet moist and squishing with blood. He could feel the red liquid falling off him in globs, like water off a duck's back. "Again..." He looked down at his hands, crimson chunks of meat splayed between his fingers. He tried not to focus on what remained of Angstrom's head, instead looking through his unbruised eye at the once great scientist's now limp feet. His throat began to spasm as if trying to rid himself of the fear he now felt. Forced to cover his mouth, he was lucky nothing came out nor went in. Mark's short breaths soon turned into ghastly wails as he pointed his body toward the sun. He reached up and covered his good eye. Now, the only thing visible was the blood pooling under Angstrom's body, the same thing that now caked the entirety of Mark's skin. "I thought..." Mark's eyes trailed up the man's body, and he forced himself to stop right before he would've focused on the man's head. "I thought you were stronger..."

Those words stirred the man at Mark's feet. He saw Angstrom's left eye peek open a sliver, narrowing into his puffed-out eye. Then, the scientist moved. It was so subtle, simply a twitch of his right index finger, and had they been in a different environment, nobody would have noticed. However, in an environment coated with a veneer of liquid, Mark heard the quick splish of blood dripping into the pooling area beneath. And without warning, he began to fall. The feeling wasn't dissimilar to when Mark flew; only now was his control in the air taken away. He watched the horizon disappear as he sank into the portal below. Angstrom couldn't care where the portal sent Mark; eliminating that horrid viltrumite was the only thing that mattered now. Soon, the swirling green portal totally encompassed Mark's head, sending him hurtling through the sky of whatever dimension he was hurtling into. His body twisted through the air before he came to a stop in midair. His view consisted of a massive expanse of water, himself floating hundreds of meters high above sea level. Just in his eyeline were large blimps painted with insignias he didn't recognize, bronze boats floating off into the sun, and faint trails of smoke rose from distant towers along the shoreline.

He hovered there for a moment, disoriented and confused, but as the adrenaline wore off, Mark noticed that he didn't feel the same breeze he did when he'd eviscerated the head and body of who, maybe in one universe, could have been a close ally. He looked at his hands, and instead of being covered in crimson liquid and his skin torn, they were covered by his super suit. "The hell?" He thought aloud. His suit got ripped when he fought those racing guys in one of the universes Angstrom sent him to, but now it looked brand new like he'd just gotten it from Art. Repairing the suit wasn't the only thing that happened, either. He didn't feel any injuries from his battle through the multiverse; even his depth perception returned after his black eye had receded. It was like the fight hadn't happened at all, the only evidence remaining being Mark's memories.

"What the… hell is this place…" Mark was about to fly across the ocean to see what lay on the other side. However, his hearing soon cued him into a series of noises behind him. When he turned, that was where the true spectacle lay. The architecture was unlike anything Mark had ever seen, a mixture of industrial ingenuity and ornate artistry. Towering skyscrapers of white and copper pierced into the skies just below the floating airships. Those same blimps glided gracefully through the air, carrying passengers in a similar construction to those Viking ships he remembered from a documentary in middle school. At what seemed to be the "end" of the city was a massive tower, one that dwarfed the rest of the already tall buildings, with a large sphere on top.

Mark's eyes shot wide- even in the most peculiar places he'd been to in his universe, like Atlantis, Midnight City, or Mars, he'd never seen anything close to this. Mark scanned the visible areas from his vantage point and noticed a large gathering of people in one of the city's clearings. His vision wasn't nearly as good as his father's, but being a viltrumite still gave him a better sense of sight than the average human. Mark could ever so slightly make out a gate with wording that read "Piltover Progress Day."

Okay, two things. One: what the hell was a Piltover? Mark thought it must have been the name of the city he'd been staring at. Two: what exactly was "Progress Day"? Whatever it was, it seemed important enough to draw a crowd. Well, if there was a place in this universe to get some kind of understanding of what was going on, he better start now. Mark descended just above the water's surface, creeping up slowly enough before landing on a nearby building, hopefully not seen by anyone. Only then, as he landed on the rooftop, did he think of a problem: he didn't have any clothes and didn't know if bright yellow spandex was the typical fashion in this universe. Judging by the regal suits, monocles, and flowing dresses, all with intricate designs sewn into the fabric, his current attire was not likely to be accepted.

Mark's head began to spin with questions about the culture in 'Piltover' as he assumed. What kind of currency did they use? Did they use currency at all, or did they barter? Did they even speak English? Well, that one could quickly be answered by the words on the gate being understandable to him. He was fully prepared to walk down there in his super suit and make an absolute fool of himself before his peripheral vision caught something beneath his suit. Peeling the neck back, he released a massive sigh of relief as he saw his most common civilian attire beneath his suit. "Huh…" Usually, Mark kept his suit underneath his clothes in case he needed to make a quick change, so the opposite being the case was not something he was used to. In the blink of an eye, he changed into his usual outfit that he wore out with William or his other friends, slipping the supersuit underneath as he was used to.

Mark adjusted his sweater, glancing at the crowded square below. Sighing, "Now or never…" he said to no one. He looked along an alleyway, barren except for the garbage cans and the rats, for a fire escape or some other way to avoid using his powers. The rickety metal creaked beneath his feet, though it held his weight. Mark had to psyche himself up a bit- blending in was never his strong suit in college, so adapting to an entirely different culture was gonna be challenging, to say the least. As he reached the final step, he hopped down into the alley, his shoes crunching softly against the pavement. Down on the street, the air was thick with the scent of oil and fresh metal.

Stepping onto the street confirmed one thing to Mark: he was aggressively out of place. The women wore expensive-looking, intricately designed dresses while carrying parasols. The men wore immaculately pressed suits, all of which were a far cry from his current college-boy outfit of a blue sweater, yellow shirt, and tan pants. It was better than a yellow and blue skintight costume, but still. The whole thing felt like he'd just stepped into the Old West or some other historical period where he did not belong.

Finally, walking under the inscribed archway he spotted on his fly, the plaza greeted Mark with a flush of innovation. Somehow, the technology around him balanced futuristic and still somehow traditional. Talking robots made of bronze happily chirped, "Happy Progress Day!" to everyone who passed by. A man on stilts with a white mustache and blue tophat sent golden mechanical butterflies flying around the surrounding area. A child flying a miniature replica depicting one of the many blimps flying overhead ran past Mark like someone from Earth would treat a model plane. Mark held up his finger, and one of the butterfly machines landed in the middle. It appeared to be looking at him, tiny stringed antennas twitching in his direction, but soon, it flew off towards a group of children. Mark tracked the line of its flight with his eyes, pointing toward the center of the fair. He looked at one of the banners that lined the walkway to the inside; it presented a portrait of a man with a strong jawline and wearing a tie. It had only a few colors and words above the man's head that read "Man of Progress."

To Mark, the name sounded like something from a motivational poster or a history book. Mark considered asking someone, but the crowd was dense, and everyone seemed to be bustling about with purpose, engrossed in their conversations or the spectacle around them. Mark sighed. He was never one for good ideas; this one had to be among the top five stupidest. However, if he couldn't ask any of the civilians around him about things in Piltover, maybe he could try this Man of Progress. Whatever the hell that meant.

Mark weaved through the dense crowd, trying to remain inconspicuous despite his out-of-place appearance. "Maybe I can just pretend to be poor or something…" as if he weren't actually. "Oh, I'm just a poor university student intrigued by this progress guy," Mark planned out under his breath, "Can you help me out with something? Cool, thanks." Mark quit muttering as he neared the inside of the center building, replicas of brass airships and hot air balloons hanging from the high-reaching ceiling. The man he was searching for was standing in front of a large contraption made of spheres and gears- whatever it was, Mark was not smart enough to understand it. To his sides was a woman in an extensive fabric dress wearing blue gem earrings with graying hair, though her face did not suggest age. On the other side was a man with a goat face, and that wasn't Mark being hyperbolic- he had horns, fur, and a large nose.

"Our most famous protégé, Jayce Talis," the woman spoke with a mix of fake and genuine pride, "The visionary behind the Hexgates, a beacon of trade and prosperity for our great City of Progress." So, a couple of things. First, Progress Boy's real name was Jayce. Second, what the hell is a hexgate? Third, who was the goat guy? The man—or creature—caught his gaze and gave Mark a polite nod as if acknowledging the curiosity without offense. Mark quickly averted his eyes, only to see Jayce excuse himself and gently push his way through the crowd. The woman seemed to try to justify his leaving, telling the dispersing group, "He's a very busy man," with a fake smile on her face.

As the people roamed around the building, noticing the many features adorning the walls and ceiling, Mark decided to follow Jayce. "Oh, this is a great idea, Mark. Follow behind an important figure in the city. Oh, yes, you're so smart..." Mark said to himself, barely above a whisper. Mark tried to look inconspicuous, glancing at the things around him while keeping Jayce in his eyeline. Just outside the building, he saw Jayce sneak up behind what Mark presumed to be a security guard or member of the city's police force.

Ducking behind a nearby wall, Mark watched as Jayce flicked the hat of the security before almost immediately having his arm squeezed by its blue-haired wearer, who had a pleased look on her face. He carped out through the slight pain and groans, "Cait-!"

"Okay. Jayce, Cait." Mark reminded himself.

"Serves you right." Still holding onto Jayce's arm, Cait looked up towards the inside of the plaza center. Mark tracked her eyeline and saw that she was looking at the older woman inside talking to the people who'd re-accumulated around her. Cait walked outside the building while Jayce looked back and readjusted his tie.

"You still avoiding her?"

"I'm working." She looked across the sea of people and inventions.

"Oh, I can see that. There's so much crime to thwart outside your family's tent," Jayce said with a sarcastic hand gesture.

"Dude, that is a whole building; what makes that a tent?!" Mark angrily yelled in his mind.

"I can only imagine the strings she pulled to have me posted here."

"It's your fault really," Jayce teased, approaching her, for not following her into a career 'more befitting your station.'"

Cait sighed before continuing the conversation, "She'd do anything to keep me from seeing the real world."

Jayce adopted a cocky grin, "Well, at least you'll have front-row seats to the speech."

Mark, who admittedly slacked off a bit, suddenly perked up, "Oh?"

Cait seemed to be just as confused but replied with a smile regardless, "Speech?"

"Mm-hmm. I'm giving the big address tonight." Jayce seemed quite proud, so this must have been quite an achievement.

"Okay, so I'm definitely going to that."

"Hmm. We really have descended to anarchy."

Jayce chuckled as he turned around, "Have fun herding the drunkards."

As Jayce turned back to enter the building, Mark tried to duck further into his hiding place to avoid Jayce seeing him, but he tripped over his foot. "Oh god damni—" Mark hit the ground with an unceremonious thud.

Jayce leaned down and offered Mark a hand, a soft, concerned expression on his face, "Oh, you alright?"

Mark groaned, a noise of embarrassment and nervousness rather than an aching in his back, "Ugh, yeah, yeah, I'm okay. Thanks, man."

Jayce looked him up and down, and Mark instantly began feeling the sweat bead on the back of his neck. His emotional state wasn't helped in the slightest by Cait looking over her shoulder, giving Mark a quizzical look, "Say, you don't look like you're from Piltover. You visiting?"

"Yep! Heard about Progress Day, and I figured ay, what better place to celebrate than in the city of progress, right?"

"Please don't ask questions, please don't ask questions, please god, don't ask questions-"

"Hah, you could say that again." Jayce looked at something behind Mark and quickly said, "Sorry, I gotta go. It was nice to meet you…" he trailed off, realizing he didn't know Mark's name.

"Mark," he said, "Name's Mark."
Smirking, he responded, "Jayce." Mark watched Jayce's silhouette disappear into the crowd before letting out a massive breath he didn't even notice that he'd been holding. His heart racing, Mark speed walked away from the center building before Cait could ask him any questions and get suspicious.

He was just about to walk down another alley when his hearing picked up a faint sound, far away enough that even he could barely hear it. Unfortunately, the sound was familiar: explosions and gunfire. Something bad was going down, and it was Invincible's job as seemingly the only hero in this universe to see what was up. Ducking through the alley, he quickly took off until he was high above the city, pulling his suit over his civilian clothes, which he left in a clump on a skyscraper. With that, Invincible soared towards the source where he heard the sounds of violence originate, trying to mentally prep for whatever he was about to face.