The Observer Effect

by MeepMeep7913

Viltrumites had believed in strength for so long that the few scientists among them were respected just for that. Vigil is on Earth for why events took such a turn - why Nolan had departed, the contradictions of Mark Grayson and why Earth was proving to be anomalous. Before Thragg burnt it all away, but in his observation of Mark Grayson, he was no longer sure it would be Thragg.

6. Ch6 - Analysis Over Time

Their second encounter happened in the dawn of the night hours, as evening was still in the transitioning period for receding the time of when darkness fell. Location-wise, it was quite unremarkable in being just a larger-than normal independent café among the inevitable hundreds dotting Chicago. But its more defining attributes lay in the fact that it was aptly on the corner of a busier high street, and it offered a range of services from the rentable internet booths to even the very limited hot food menu.

Night life would roam past the windows, no noise breaching the thicker glass to ensure its quieter atmosphere within was maintained; and instead only adding to it as the glow of lights and people flowed past to be displayed for those who just wanted to see the world go by. It was never busy, but it was popular enough to evidently turn some sort of good enough profit. It seemed to thrive on allowing for a calmer atmosphere, being enough out the way of the clubs and bars streets over that it wasn't disturbed.

For Vigil, it was perfect. He'd visited enough over the past few weeks to now be recognised as one of the 'regulars', one of the two owners who would always be at the counter who would give a small smile and ask if he wanted the chocolate coffee again. He still didn't get the absurd names given to items which held no sentient value and so would be better off aptly named, like 'corner café', but he never commented. He always just smiled, provided an affirmative answer, slid a dollar's tip in the jar and would then take his coffee away to sit down.

The Viltrumite scientist would remain there for an hour. Having concluded the perfect routine following American customs and also having concluded the bulk of his studies on human society that were necessary, this routine allowed him the time of his own interests. Mark had not shown up yet since the two weeks he'd invited him to, but it allowed him to observe at his own leisure. Whether it be to research at a slower pace (by necessity) on the rectangular, limiting interface of a smartphone device to Earth, or to simply watch the interactions going on in that café which allowed people's true nature to come out in an environment not forced or pressured.

Vigil never checked to see if Mark would join him in that hour. He was confident, and patient.

It proved itself, as that was the night it occurred. The cafe's apt name perhaps worked against it when trying to tell apart those also similarly named along the lines of the basic phrase, but Vigil had never been worried for that given it was the one with the closest proximity to Mark's home. He had always chosen a seat by the largest window to overlook the high street, for the purposes of watching the traffic and pedestrians move on with their lives; to watch the door and for it to be reminiscent of the first time he'd met Marl.

That also proved itself, as the gaze Mark was giving out the corner of his eye landed on him. The brown eye of the young adult remained on Vigil for a moment, before he turned to the counter and ordered a drink of his own. Likely a coffee of the stronger of the variety, not that the Viltrumite could see where Mark's eyes flitted but the head tilt indicated the left poster of three above the owner's head. Angled more downwards in its surveying.

If he had to guess, a black coffee. Bitter, and not his choice, but a stronger pick-me-up for someone who didn't want to rest just yet.

Just thirty seconds later Mark had swung round to climb the three steps to the more elevated section of the café where Vigil sat. Perhaps dressed in the nuance of someone who wanted to be left alone to the extent that a brief thought flitted Vigil's mind could be wrong, but it was crushed with the confident assurance he was right. A dark blue hoodie today, instead of the black he wore last time. Straight posture for looking to everyone around him without having to tilt the hood on his head to see them. One hand in pocket as the other just gripped the paper cup in hand from its top in slackened fingers.

No words were exchanged yet as Mark just put the coffee on the table, and just popped the lid off the paper cup. Vigil noted he had been mostly right, as the part he'd been wrong about was the fact that Mark's other hand was removed from its pocket to show it was a sealed container of the longer-form life of milk. Fascinated slightly in the moment, Vigil just watched as a dash of milk from the sealed container was added to the dark consistency of the liquid, then the perfect, practiced amount of a few drips before a wooden stirrer was added to be gently moved. Evidently, he didn't trust the other person to do that step right, preferring to resort to what many considered to be the worst form of milk to do it himself.

Mark's eyes lifted up from the cup then, and for a moment it was visible. The conviction mixed with the frustration, and the inner thoughts. Even the hint of misery. But it was overtaken by the shield that came down, now with a show of reviewing the person before him and the slight competitive edge as he then leant on the table. "You really were here." He simply stated.

Vigil's eyes made a gesture of shrugging as they lifted and slackened quickly, combined with a fast tilt of the head that was corrected back just as quick to show the man's regard for that statement. "You expected me to lie?" He questioned plainly, the emotion only shown succinctly in the edge of amusement.

"No." Mark responded, before his eyes diverted to his drink and he took a deliberate sip. "It's just been a while." It came out muttered afterward, as if he had wanted to say something else, but instead then just took a longer drink. To which if Vigil wanted to figure out, he'd estimate was from the lack people he'd actually been talking to.

"Well, you are not forced to meet strangers in cafes at night." Vigil remarked in a tone that reflected both amusement and some level of relatability, but which sounded still a little too hollow to him then as he switched gears. "But it is nice you came back. Not many people do want to play with a stranger, even if the open invitation is there." A slight pause to allow Mark to put down the paper cup, to allow for him to properly await his now gestured invitation. "Chess?"

His hand opened up, hovering over the board between them as it was directed to point at it.

It was also evidently what Mark wanted, as he didn't show it too directly but in the subtle clues - the raising of his shoulders. The slight draw back from where his arms leant on the table. The shift in eyelid movement to flick his gaze downward with a focus. "Yeah." Mark agreed.

That was the reason he'd come back. Not because he cared for some late-night match. Not because he wanted a coffee, or a friendly chat. The difference in perspective would only ever be partly why he would be drawn there, either for a change in the status quo amidst the people he met or for a different topic, but less than 20% of the reason in real terms. It was the challenge.

From every engagement Vigil had recorded involving Mark Grayson, he was not a man who liked to lose. From the two chess matches and three recorded fights using his own equipment (there had been more, but superspeed was a fickle thing), he did enjoy a challenge where he did not have to hold back. Emotional cues dictated that having to splay a punch instead of streamline it, under-utilise a kick instead of extending it was a source of frustration for him, and a good indicator of why he had been wanting to end things with more finality as of late. Vigil could not give him the fight he wanted, not yet, but the mental testing ground of chess was just as good a challenge as a fight in his opinion.

The desire towinwith an achievement was what had brought Mark back to Vigil.

A pawn was moved forward as Mark had once more been selected to start the match, opening the game as no further words were spoken. It passed in silence as both men fell into the rhythm of the board - Mark's side favouring a push of instinct, boldness and decisive moves. Vigil's, favouring strategy, patience and calculation. Mark would play an aggressive move, bringing out more pieces onto the board in a show of strength compared to Vigil who was that night in favour of a defensive approach. Pushing forward the wall of pawns that was prevented from breaking with support from the larger pieces, for when Mark finally broke through it was to his detriment of having his queen surrounded by the chokehold created.

Ceramic mugs clinked from those who ordered the refill options, the light jazz track turned way down in the opposite end of the café just faintly reaching the ears of even the Viltrumite's as the area they were in had turned truly quiet. It had been after the decisive defeat from his breach of Vigil's defences that Mark knew he was on the losing side, but he continued to battle it. The tempo had shifted then as Vigil now upped his pace, slowly pressing Mark and making sweeping moves to his King that forced him to react under the rules of the game. Each time he did so, losing another piece.

Eventually, Vigil leaned back in his seat as victory was his once more. His opponent didn't glance back, only roving the board with narrowed eyes to see where the mistakes had been made. Mark's jaw lowered slightly as he ran his tongue along his teeth, the only indication that he allowed of his reaction other the spark of frustration in his eyes. After analysing the board for a few seconds more, his head lifted up to Vigil to finally look back.

"Again." He repeated himself from their first encounter.

Mark would be the first to leave again, as the exception this time was that not another word was spoken between either of them over the second game. He would only give a solitary, stiff nod, and depart.

UPSTATE UNIVERSITY

It was the induction day at the university, and he was already hating it. Having found a wooden bench in the corner of the university main courtyard with the ridiculous compass fountain, he was fortunate to get a little level of reprieve in the shadow of a tree. But he didn't feel like it him well enough, as his hood was drawn tighter. It wasn't just the fact that it was too crowded even in the open courtyard, or the noise that grated on his ears from the way his senses refused to allow him to tune it out, but it was also the whole concept. It just seemed... pointless.

Even his appalling grades which had allowed him to scrape through on a clearance opportunity into one of their smaller courses highlighted it. Mark had become less serious with his education over the previous year, half forced by being Invincible such as through being off-world, but more so because of the lack of care he'd started to attribute to it. It all seemed irrelevant, especially now that he was the next stage up and surrounded by even more people he'd never be part of. If anything, it served as a reminder of how he'd never be one of them - human, or normal.

It had only been ten minutes since he'd arrived, and he'd already had enough. It was four days until the beginning of the new term and classes began, which was far too long. He had absolutely no desire to continue sitting there on that bench, or to go anywhere else such as to sign up for any societies. Even if he was interested, the time he spent as Invincible would mean he wouldn't get to participate much if he prioritised his classes. And he was not going to stop being Invincible.

That felt much more like who he was meant to be. Not... this. The only reason he was here specifically was the plan he'd made with Amber months ago at the eventful tour, but now it was irrespective. He'd broken up with Amber before going off-world, using the excuse that he was going to be gone a long time; more truthful with himself as he couldn't be bothered to pretend anymore. Relationships had been failing around him for a while now, if the recent ones with his mother and Eve were any indication, and he'd let it all go. This now, this was just a façade.

Sighing, Mark just got off the bench, shoved his hands in his pockets and walked into the entrance hall. Picking up the 'welcome package' from the staff handing it out would at least get it over with, and he could at least move into the dorm for some peace once they told him where he was. His stuff he could get later tonight, having just wanting to get out of the house - fortunate for the fact that he could fly.

DORM BLOCK FOUR

In the unimaginatively named fourth building, Mark considered himself lucky that the room he'd applied for had been available. Just a bit larger than his own bedroom within the city, it was however all the more cramped from the kitchenette within it and the ensuite to the side attached. There was only room really for the single bed on one side and the desk and chair against the other wall with a bit of walking room in between, but it suited him fine. The larger rooms had been snatched up already as he'd applied through clearing, but he was just grateful to have a private space of his own now.

An hour had already gone by as he'd just shoved the box of goodies on his desk and sat on the bed with his phone, fully intending to emerge later in the day when things were quieter. Just in time to miss all the crowds, pick up what he needed to know, and then have some form of quiet dinner from whatever restaurants were on the campus. But that was not to be, as a knock sounded at his door.

Jumping a bit on the bed from the completely unexpected noise, having managed to now successfully tune out noise as he had played on his phone indoors, his face snatched to the door. Enough time passed from him not answering it that a second knock sounded, and that's when he got up. Pulling open the door to his new room, he was met with a person close enough, and tall enough that he had to look up given they were bigger than him. Broad-shouldered, square-jawed and with the ginger hair atop his head as neatly combed and settled with some hair application as ever, he instantly recognised Rick even if it had been a while.

Which meant, of course as his eyes darted right of the man, that William was there. Sure enough, the mousey complexions of his supposed best friend peeked at him; the tussled brown hair, shorter and lankier complexion with the seemingly naturally-imposed happier look to his face being the very antithesis of his boyfriend. Even the naturally wide eyes, which only lit up further at seeing Mark, who had greeted the door in a scruffier hoodie; hood pulled up with only a tuft of hair sneaking out of it in comparison to their organised looks for the first day of university.

"Mark Grayson!" William shouted out then in the confines of the hallway, his joy incredibly hard to miss within the higher-pitched voice of his. "There you are at last!"

No chance was given for Mark to conventionally react as William dived past Rick and threw his arms round Mark's hoodie, almost flooring Mark both literally and figuratively as he was shocked once again by the arms round him. Even the slight hiss and flinch that Mark let out from the first non-initiated physical contact he'd had in two months wasn't noticed by William in his excitement, but it was by Rick as Mark looked to him for help. The guarded expression in his eyes, completely not matching the small smile he'd put on his face, was made all the more clearer by the fact that Rick was one of the few people who knew Mark was Invincible.

Mark's mind reminded him of the scenes of carnage put forth by Sinclair, the literal bodies and human limbs chained to the ceilings of the sewer beneath the university. Of the likely disembowelling Rick would have had to live through, some limbs torn off to make him a cyborg as his very mind would have been experimented with. Compared to the scene with Brutalon where Mark had disembowelled his torso, continuously splattering blood and gore over the streets for a short while, it would not have been that different. It was very clear why even in the first gaze of looking at Rick, that the man did not want to be around him.

And he didn't care. For a man he was only meeting for the fourth time in his life, he found that Rick's opinion meant unfathomably little to him. He understood that trauma was a big thing Rick was likely going through, but he found that his compassion towards the man was more than a little lacking then.

With a hand placed softly on William's shoulder and a small shake, Rick intervened. "Come on William, give Mark a little space." He stated softly, gently prying William from his best friend as he allowed his boyfriend to separate them.

"Still Mark, it's been a while!" William spoke; his voice almost gushing as he seemed to rush to state the details. "So many things have happened - we're all here at uni now, Eve's not, we got a new President elected and now we've got a new chapter of our lives ahead of us! We simply have to catch up!" His voice lowered then, as William's grin split across his face with how much it beamed as he leaned in a bit more to Mark. "It's been over two months, man. I even heard you dumped Amber. Have you been too busy being you-know-what?"

The last sentence was said in a classic William way, with his voice dropping to a whisper and a hand covering only one side of his mouth completely ineffectually as he spoke.

Looking to William, and then only half-forcing the small smile that came over his lips. Mark gave a nod. "I'd like that, William." Mark agreed to the former. "As for being away, yeah, I was off-world for over five weeks."

He saw the way Rick's smile dipped. "You'll have to tell me all about it." William instantly responded, voice perking up at that. "I'm still kinda offended that you didn't even call in two weeks, but hey, better than two months."

Mark just a nod to that, before his smile lost a bit of its potency. "How'd you find me anyway?" He questioned.

"Oh, c'mon Mark, that's easy." William spoke with a light-hearted tone as he answered him. "There's literally a list of names up on the dorm section of who gets what to remind everyone. It took a couple of blocks as soon as I heard from your mum that you had got in, but then boom, found you at block four. Even Rick wanted to come along."

Darting his eyes quickly to the ginger haired man whose complexion remained slightly hardened but evidently holding back, Mark then just nodded to William. "I'll bet." He responded in what he hoped was a casual tone, but the way Rick's fingers twitched from where they still lay on William's shoulder, and the slight fading of William's own smile meant he'd probably failed. "Well, thanks."

William would have responded then if Rick hadn't given a squeeze of his shoulder then, making his boyfriend look to him. "I'm sorry to intrude, William, but there's the campus guided tour happening soon." He informed William. "We don't want to be late, do we?"

"But that's in twenty minutes and we can be there in five!" William protested with a sterner look entering his face as he looked to Rick, but then just sighed from the look he got back. "Alright, I promised this wouldn't take too long." But that didn't the small smile coming back to his face as he turned to Mark. "Hey Mark, wanna join us for it?"

The subtle shift in Rick's jaw showed just what he thought of that, but Mark hadn't planned of any such thing yet anyway. He just wasn't in the mood. "Sorry William, I'll have to pass this time." He apologised, as his face reverted to a frown. "Enjoy your time with Rick."

William's smile faded again, but was soon forced back. "Alright Mark, take care." He stated, before putting his fingers to his mouth then in a phone gesture. "And call me for crying out loud! You've no excuse, I know where you live now!"

Mark watched as they rounded the corner of the hallway with Rick not saying another word and instead just leading William away with the arm that now fully came round his shoulder, and just slammed the door to the room. It rattled more than it should have in its frame, and as Mark took a deliberate breath in and out, realised that it was happening more frequently these days of his control slipping.

William definitely knew.

They way his very irises had contracted or moved as he spoke at times, the dips and troths of his mouth when smiling. Subtle movements he knew from the years they'd been best friends. But the biggest signal was the fact that he'd just caved in to Rick - even for a man he'd spent months fantasising over now, that should not have happened. Every bone in his body was as stubborn as the next, and he most certainly did not roll over for anyone.

He fully laid on his bed, definitely not in the mood to do anything more all night.

LATER THAT EVENING

It had just gone beyond half past ten in the evening when Mark got another knock at his door. He didn't jump this time, but rather glanced to it with a little annoyance as he did not need something else to make him feel lower. But then sighing as a second knock came once more like earlier, he just opened it to save the hassle. And then blinked at William standing at the door again, this time alone.

"Weren't you meant to be with Rick?" He questioned before he could help himself, still about high strung. "I didn't think you'd leave him on your first day."

To that, William just raised an eyebrow. "Honestly Mark, I've seen him way more than I've seen you over the past couple of months, and as share a room now I'll continue seeing more of him. If he can't let me be for a couple of hours at least, then clearly he's not as smart as I know he is!" He spoke in a cheery voice, making Mark roll his eyes in an obvious manner to his best friend as his appraisal of Rick once more shone through. William then held up a plastic bag in his hand, contents evidently steaming and smelling of takeout food as his other hand held the carboard packaging of a six pack of alcohol. "Plus, you're going to miss all the campus food places closing at 11 whilst you sulk in here like I know you are, so I brought you something. I hope you don't mind if we have that catch up now."

There was a pause as Mark's eyes flitted from the items in William's hands to the face of his best friend, before the side of one mouth upturned in a half-smile that seemed more hesitant due to the fact it hadn't happened in several days. Genuinely. "I'd like that." Mark replied softly, before then just stepping back and allowing the door to stand open wider.

TWO HOURS LATER

"That was great, Mark, but it is Friday morning now. I'd best be off to catch some level of beauty sleep." William spoke as he stood up from having sat in the chair at the desk. "You know having looks this good don't come cheap, right?"

The two of them had talked solidly over the past two hours, in that Mark had mostly stayed silent as William had rambled about anything and everything. The latter could tell the former hadn't been in the mood for a long while now to make sustained conversation, but that didn't matter when you could talk to yourself in the mirror. Over the course of that time, Mark had heard of Rick, the campus tour, Rick, the areas surrounding the campus, Rick, what happened when Mark was in space, Rick, what awesome meant for those without superpowers, and Rick.

If William hadn't told Mark they were now officially dating, he would've guessed they were already engaged.

Shaking his head to the sarcastic obnoxiousness that made everyone around William like him, Mark responded. "Sure, William."

Just gathering the couple of items that he'd put down and then shoving the rest into Mark's bin, William looked over to him with a grin. "Hope you don't mind clearing up." He spoke with a far-too-joyous tone, and only got a small eye roll in return as Mark made to get up too. It was as William had crossed partway over to the door, that he slowed down, then turned round and looked to Mark. "You know, Eve called me." He just stated quietly then.

For a few moments, Mark just stared to William without blinking, as if playing it over and over in his head. His right hand initially clenched into a fist, but then slackened as he sighed - exhausted of all the frustration he'd been feeling. "Is that what this was about too, then?" Mark just questioned, wiping his face with the other hand so he didn't even see William then. For some reason this second time round, the sting that started to arise hurt worse with William. "To goad me into a conversation as if to reconnect as friends, then try and tell me who I should be as Eve did?"

Hearing the words and considering them for a moment, William hesitated before reaching over to grip Mark's shoulder and forcing him to look at him. "Mark, I'm not here to say any of those things. Hell, I'm not going to pretend to I understand." William spoke with a vigilant tone, said with so much clarity in the way Mark had only ever heard William express as it showed his care. "I don't understand - I'm not a hero. I'm not that Cecil, where I've spent my entire life among heroes. But do you know what I do understand?" Squeezing Mark's shoulder more thoroughly, William just gave a smaller smile. "Being your best friend. That's all thiseverwas about. To ensure you knew that if you ever wanted another night of crappy takeout and shit alcohol where we can just talk, I'm your man."

The hesitant, reciprocal smile that enveloped more of Mark's features then showed William he'd said the right thing, as he just drew his friend in for a hug.

FOUR DAYS LATER

Twilight bled across the sky, an orange miasma only blurred by the clouds gathering in the evening sky as it cast a dim haze across the burning remains of a wrecked section of the Chicago freeway. It was evident a couple of police vehicles had been progressing through there, as they were the main focus of the wreckage with the smoke that curled out from one of their engines. Black, oily and toxic to join the scorch marks littered across the road and a few overturned cars next to the police vans. The tarmac still steamed in some areas.

Screams echoed from nearby as the last civilians ran past hastily set up barricades out the back of the first and still only police car on the developing scene, the two police officers ducked behind them with pistols drawn. Further away, on the ruined stretch of freeway stood Furnace - the low-level supervillain who had once been part of Machine Head's empire and so had consequently been conglomerated into Titan's. A person of literal magma contained within a sealed humanoid exoskeleton, painted an absorbent black as lines of glowing fire showed off the being within.

The group of five people he stood over showed his abilities, that of flames that could spout from the arms of the exoskeleton that channelled the literal fire of Furnace's body, as one of them was dead. Charred beyond recognition with the smell and sight heavily prominent next to the other four who cried out where they lay.

"This is what happens when you cross Titan so thoroughly! An apt punishment rather than the weak kind given to you by cowards behind desks!" Furnace's voice crackled out from behind the speakers on the machine he lived in, his helmet's visor glowing like molten glass. "There will be no plea deals for such filth. I am the consequence they earned!"

It was also apt that this was a public statement. As the four weapons traffickers still alive behind him groaned from the heat arising around them, burns on multiple parts of their bodies - alive, barely in a couple of cases as black scorch marks had been seared into their bodies. A message to be sent of Titan's own, as Furnace paced around the blackened road.

A blur of yellow then smacked down twenty metres away from Furnace, landing hard from flight with athudthat cracked the asphalt. Arms coming to be crossed as black goggles surveyed the area silently, a sag to his shoulders with a thin line to his mouth of disinterest. Invincible stood out then, not just in the way the yellow of his costume reflected even brighter than the running pipes of fire Furnace had but in the sheer way his arrival sliced through the tension. His cape rippled in the heat that had arisen in the area, fluttering round his ankles.

"There you are." Furnace announced as he turned to see Invincible before him, the mechanical noises clanking out as the joints moved.

Mark's eyes continued to roam the area in disinterest, the emptier feeling within him not going away even from the carnage before him. "You expected me." He responded in a lower tone, level and apathetically neutral. "Did Titan send you in some sort of message of his own?" His goggled look slowly rose to equalise and be level with Furnace. "Are you done?"

That seemed to set something off in Furnace, as static first hissed out from the in-built speakers of his exosuit, before his voice came out louder, with more fury. "Titan has done nothing but given me a righteous duty. These people sold weapons to gangs that wiped entire families - kids. Far worse than even the drugs under Machine Head." The digital voice spoke out in counter to Mark's question, a crackling effect within it as the metal foot landed near the head of one of the traffickers in a deliberate row of another pained cry. "And the system would have just let them walk.Imade sure they won't walk again."

"Yeah." Mark just agreed with him, still just gazing, arms still crossed. "You even killed one."

"Andcrippledthe rest." Furnace's voice took on a mocking quality, the sadist tone infiltrating the digitalised echo of it. "What, do you think I have crossed some sort of line in burning them alive in comparison to your own brutal execution on live television not so long ago?" The glow from the suit seemed to mimic the manic fury behind the visor as it spoke. "How about, where were you when they pulled the trigger? Before they handed a twelve-year-old a death sentence?"

Mark didn't respond. Didn't change anything. Just watched.

It had obviously annoyed Furnace, as the speakers then lashed out in a harsher, sharper tone. "Just admit I've done more in an hour thanyouhave done in months!"

That hit.

Fingers twitched in the rubberised gloves, his arms slackening as they uncrossed fully - as if he made to raise his arms into fists. But Mark didn't, only narrowing his eyes behind the lenses as the small surge of emotions within him drove a surge of fury into him. However, it was a pale shadow of what it should have been - what should have a burning desire, the instinct to put Furnace in the ground was not there. The only emotion present was the anger that had arisen from the insult.

Not because he forgave it, but because he was too tired to fight it. "Maybe you have." Mark just lowly stated then, the quiet volume only picked up Furnace in its flattened tone because of the more sensitive equipment granted by his technological suit. It was heard by no one else present, quite a few metres away as they were, and Furnace got the sinking feeling that that was exactly how Invincible had intended it as the magma man flinched - taking a step back. But it was too late.

Human perception didn't catch Mark's movement as he showed he was serious then, with how he had already grabbed hold of the upper joint of Furnace's right leg with one hand. The villain had never seen him coming given a shout of surprise was initiated over the suit speakers, the cameras in it recording at the speed of light meaning nothing if his own brain could not keep up - with it seeming to be the absolute next second Invincible had already grabbed onto his metal exosuit. The reaction was equally as dismissed, as the gauntlet that twisted in his direction from the right hand that now coiled with licking flame was just batted away by Invincible's other hand.

The belch of searing flame that spawned from it, having worked so effectively in shutting down the freeway and causing such wreckage, was then just as casually treated as a throw in a sport game. Mark's other hand joined too, as in a show of swift motion that seemed so effortless, carved right through the steel alloy of the suit's leg. Steel crumbled away like paper in his fist, rendered to the shape of his fist like dough as the strut was torn away in a shower of electrical sparks.

His opponent seemed to flinch at that. A singular movement on Furnace's remaining leg was achieved as the man within evidently, and likely with a lot of panic to Mark's senses, tried to back away in ultimately a futile gesture. The metal humanoid frame, in what would be a technological marvel to most, was just regarded in Mark's apathetic gaze as something disappointing. Perhaps pathetic from the way his mouth thinned further in his frown, as Furnace collapsed with a screech of scratched metal onto the tarmac, powerless. Speechless.

"You had so much to say, and yet look at you now." Mark's voice spoke aloud as he strode over to Furnace, now standing over the glowing visor that would hold his opponent's head. Trying desperately to get up as their arms let out mechanical grinding noises, but was stopped from the boot placed on their torso where they lay. Subtle pressure from Mark's foot even lowered them further into the asphalt with further groans of the steel alloyed frame. "You even failed to realise this wasn't some message from Titan, but more his acceptance to me. You're likely his last super, now just handed over to me like some discarded trash."

No more time was spent with the scum in Mark's eyes as the same boot crushing Furnace ever-so-slowly into the ground was then just drawn back, and swung. A loud render of metal occurred then, sharp static emitting in a squeal from the villain as he was flipped through the air - flung violently the several metres right into the concrete bollards separating the sides of the road. Lower tones of static emitted on impact, clanking sounds involuntarily audible with each flopping movement as Furnace collapsed back into the ground for a second time.

Ignoring his now defeated opponent, Mark just gazed over to the only other living people still present in the wreckage of the freeway. The beaten traffickers were groaning still as three of them were still conscious, not yet having passed out from the pain as Mark looked upon their writing forms. He could've helped, but he didn't. Just watched, and heard as how the two police officers which had been reporting the entire scenario to elsewhere were now urgently calling for ambulances. He didn't care if he could've got them to a hospital in seconds.

It didn't even feel like cruelty. Just disconnect. It wasn't his problem, as he shot off again in flight.

TEN MINUTES LATER

Despite how neutral he'd appeared during his confrontation with Furnace, the thoughts ate at him. He wasn't able to go home just yet.

So there he sat, alone on the edge of a high-rise building rooftop. Cliché, but that was currently not his thought as he looked to the city below him. The lights beneath him moved slowly, static in many places and only drifting along in hues of red and white as he deliberately kept his enhanced eyesight unfocused. That way, the lights just twinkled back at him, unaware. Entirely uncaring of what he was feeling.

"He's wrong." Mark muttered to himself, the low volume matching his more depressed mood then. Pulling a knee up that his arm crossed over, his mask drooped onto it from where it was tightly clutched in his hand. The small part of his cape that wasn't pinned beneath his sat body fluttering freely over the edge in the breeze generated that high up. "I've done more. I've saved this city again and again."

The thoughts continued to eat at him. The road beneath him continued to twinkle back slowly, now entirely uncaring of what he'd done. Not a single person would mention it to him, and he knew it.

There were no doubts in the actions he'd been doing, but rather the problem he'd identified lay in the lack of how it felt. The empty feeling within, undoubtedly generated by more than one emotion but also now heavily contributed to paradoxical frustration that coiled and snaked beneath it in his goat. That maybe the ways he had been going about it all wasn't enough anymore.

He looked to his hand. The knuckles, unstained from blood. Not bruised or feeling sore from meeting an equal or days of sustained stress and fighting. Unbothered by the rush that had filled his fist when it had blown straight through Brutalon's torso and then ended their life in one blow.

Something within him was changing, and he knew it.

THE NEXT DAY

Warm yellow light spilled from the corner café's lights into the seemingly darker night, cutting through it like a beacon as the miserable weather permeated through to the ground level. Soft rain tapped against the establishment's windows, creating a steady rhythm against the hushed chatter of late-night students and quiet loners. It was even emptier that night.

Vigil sat alone on the elevated section once more, in the corner booth that sat two beside the largest window in the café. Same seat, same sweeter coffee, same minimalist chessboard already set up before the one arm that leant on the table. He looked calm -always calm- as his relaxed posture remained leaning on the table and slowly sipping the coffee occasionally in a relaxed, observant stillness.

Compared to the utter years spent harvesting data at every opportunity, his current mission felt somewhat serene in how he was able to have frequent moments of just silent observation.

The bell above the door gave its low-level tinkle as it always did with each new entrant.

Mark stepped in, the flimsy plastic jacket he'd been wearing quickly disappearing off of him as he instead shoved his hands into his pockets of his drier hoodie. Obviously more familiar, and its hood pulled up with a lower tilt as usual to prevent people getting an easier look to his face. The difference this time, was the way Mark instantly noticed Vigil of who's own eyes had barely shifted with the bell to see him. The slight stop to his head was a fraction lower than it normally was in-person or through observations Vigil had made, posture looser like gravity had been wearing a bit heavier than usual.

Given a Viltrumite's ability to simply defy gravity, Vigil knew as soon as he had laid eyes on Mark. It was obvious to him that the week had evidently worn harder on the young adult than usual. There was no hesitation to Mark's movements as he ignored the owner's call from the counter, and walked his way over to the corner booth.

"There was a part of me that didn't think you'd be here this evening, in this." Mark commented simply as he sat down opposite Vigil. Tone quieter, lacking the steady flow it had normally even when he spoke lowly. Slightly hoarse.

Just nodding once, Vigil responded. "I said I'm here most nights. It's hard to break habit."

Managing a tired smirk, the expression was barely there. "Guess that shows what I know." He stated solemnly, more to himself.

His eyes were darker than before, small red cracks infiltrating the whites of his eyes to reinforce the deeper expression of his face with a bloodshot look. The tuft of hair that came down from the centre of his hood was not combed like it normally was, a messy look to it that did not bode well for the remainder hidden beneath the clothing. Mark Grayson, up close and in person, looked every bit as tired as he likely felt.

They began the game; no words being spoken at first as they traded turns. Pieces clacked softly around the board, as Vigil continued to look up to Mark after each placed piece - for as he played with the usual, thoughtful moves; he noticed Mark had exposed more of himself today than he ever would have before. Much sooner than Vigil had expected, but the reasoning was obvious. In plain sight even, in Mark's appearance and moves - he simply cared much less that night, allowing even a piece of vulnerability to show in his eyes when usually they would be veiled. Allow frustration, even anger through before certainly, but it had always held a sheen of confidence that prevented further prying to his other emotions.

This Mark had no such front. His play style had changed somewhat, playing even faster than before but in a less sharp way. Lacking the instinctive drive that pushed forward each piece in a clear, competitive style that laid bare Mark Grayson's inner thought processes with each probe from Vigil's own pieces. Tonight, there was no such observation to his thoughts as the moves just... aligned with basic logic, not cunning. His mind was not in it, wandering, and it was nine moves in that Vigil broke the silence.

"You're not as precise today." He simply commented aloud, his expression schooled into something more contemplative as if it were a mere matter of observation than judgement. Not making a big deal of it as he simultaneously moved his knight.

Mark blinked in a bit of surprise, having become comfortable with the silence. "...Yeah." He responded after a short pause to allow his functions to block Vigil's advance. The hoarseness in his voice seemed to have been amplified a bit more. "I've had a long week."

A further pause as the black rook slid in to play to force Mark's counter back.

"Something on your mind?" Vigil questioned then, and though spoken in his normal volume, enshrouded a gentler tone. His eyes just focused on Mark, having not looked down that time to his piece as he had every time he'd moved it before.

For a moment, Mark's eyes were on Vigil - searching for judgement, or even curiosity. Anything resembling a trap. But there seemed to be none, just the quiet watchfulness of someone who was good at listening. Sighing softly, his hand just reflexively reached up to brush the tuft of hair sticking out of the hood as he spoke. "I'm just tired." He muttered.

He pushed forward a pawn without thinking, with Vigil countering smoothly to immediately take it.

"Not physically." Mark continued, utterly unbothered by the board now. "Just, tired of the noise. The expectations and weight they all put on me. The arguments given without even hearing my side of the story."

Letting that sit, Vigil just gave a click of his tongue against his teeth as he made his next chess move. "You're not the first person to sit across from me and say that." Vigil responded, nailing down the expression of features on his face as if he had been playing chess for years against random strangers that passed by. "Some people carry too much, too young."

That landed with the young adult opposite him, who was surprised for a beat. It was logical, but it had never quite been said that way to him before. Before, he would have never spilled anything even remotely related to any troubles to anyone, only reinforced as of late by the arguments and debates he'd had. They were either too personally involved, or professionally motivated by other means to the extent that even if he agreed with Cecil, he could smell the man's intentions from a mile off. Only one person he knew had actually bothered to seek him out, and then not trouble him about it.

"Yeah." Mark agreed, and the shame that burned into that word felt all the more pathetic and hollow to his ears. The exhaustion he'd accumulated over the week was too much, to the extent that even if it lacked context, his emotions were now on full display to a man in a café. "That's how it feels. Like... I'm doing everything I can, and it's still not enough." But he no longer cared, finally being too much. The tiredness was talking just as much as the burst bottleneck. "And people still argue with me on how I do it, then they still expect more from me. Like I'm not allowed to slip."

A second pawn was pushed forward from his side, again too early. Vigil just allowed for a counter this time, patiently but with the same quick and quiet movement. "Sometimes people mistake exhaustion for failure." Vigil mused, his deliberately crafted phrase drawing on the deception of having a lack of context pieced only with what appeared before him, but with the ultimate intention of a probe for more.

A scoff from Mark showed it worked. "Sometimes peopledefinefailure for you, whether you agree with them or not." He muttered, his voice lowering further as he just held up the piece he'd been about to move for a moments contemplation. The instinct to crush it in his fist, to obliterate in a smashed gesture, passed through him like a wave of temptation in that moment as it was fed by a spike of anger; before tiredness swept in again and he lowered the piece back to the board.

Nodding slowly, Vigil closed the gap to the nuance he felt. "And sometimes you stop trying to meet their expectations and start asking what you want for yourself." He spoke, feeding the statement into the conversation to confirm something.

It proved itself, as Mark's silence reflected that inner feeling of self-interest that stirred in his thoughts as points, the words evidently sticking. Nothing more was said for the remainder of the game, only picking back up when fifteen further minutes had passed. Mark had lost again, decisively, and it was as he studied the board that Vigil saw the familiar feeling of Mark's inner psyche resurge with a vengeance then. The dark glimmer that showed so clearly in his eyes as he stared unblinkingly to the board, once more analysing how he had lost. How he should havewon.

It was all laid bare, and Vigil actually reconsidered his earlier words of not being able to see Mark's inner processes. This, was more telling than any individual chess move.

"Three for three." Mark then just stated, the glimmer in his eyes fading as he shut down the stirred feeling in his torso deliberately. "This is starting to feel like a theme. You're really good."

"Thank you." Vigil responded plainly, merely picking up his coffee to sip from again. Colder, but not a point to care on. "I've had a lot of time to practice."

Glancing out the window, Mark's thoughts once more came in at that moment. They'd never gone away like they had the first two encounters he'd had with Vigil, and as the tiredness amplified that bit further as he saw his reflection, it was done with a lighter air. The rain was getting heavier then, but Mark was less tense than when he had walked in.

"You know, this is weird. I don't know you, and you don't know me. And yet this-" Mark spoke aloud, pausing as if he truly spoke from the arisings of the surface of his mind. He gestured to the board. "-Feels like one of only two parts of my week that has made sense."

Vigil offered a faint smile, and subtly offered a diversion to the topic that would not result in Mark closing out of the conversation again as he had done earlier. "You know, even if you did make more mistakes tonight, you did show a better basic knowledge of its foundations." He offered, tone carrying across in a careful manner. "You have improved, even after only five matches now."

The glimmer briefly returned to Mark's eye. "It still doesn't mean much if I lose." He responded, the faintest bitter undercurrent to the tired emanation.

A light shrug pulled his full attention back to his chess opponent. "Depends on what you take from it." Vigil spoke in what he hoped was a metaphor not sounding too serious. The tonal inflections of human society still escaped him somewhat. "Progress isn't always a win, as you spoke of earlier with failure. Sometimes it's just seeing more of the board than you did the last time."

Mark leant back into his seat. His eyes felt heavy, the foundation of his neck starting to cramp from holding his head at a lower tilt than was natural for a while before. There was a dull tension around his jaw, like he's holding something back - not rage, but fatigue with sharp edges. "Sometimes I wonder if it's even worth playing." He found himself saying.

Vigil's eyebrow rose minutely at that. "The game?" He inquired.

"All of it." The words had escaped him in his state before he could think them properly, only catching himself then as he glanced to Vigil. Exhaling through his nose and just spitting it out now that he'd already said it, he clarified. "Not chess. Life."

The gaze didn't waver in its focus upon him. Vigil's expression didn't change - steady, unreadable in that moment as it was almost calming in its restraint. "That depends." Vigil responded, quietly then as if to match the serious tone that had been reached in the conversation. But the worst-case thought was instantly crushed as he watched Mark, figuring out the likelier intentions. "Are you playing it because you want to? Or because someone told you to?"

Staring at the man before him, Mark took a moment as the question again landed with him. "Maybe I don't know anymore." He spoke softly, looking down at the board again with a furrowed brow. "I used to think I knew what I was supposed to be. What kind of person I wanted to become. But lately, every choice I make... it feels like I'm building something I didn't ask for."

The soft snort prickled Mark's ears, as he wondered of what had obviously been reminded of to his chess opponent. "Most people don't get to choose how they start." He stated with an even tone. "But they can decide how they finish."

Mark titled his head a bit at that, before the forced chuckle came out his mouth that he inwardly regretted from how dry it sounded. "That sounds rehearsed." He just muttered aloud.

"True, maybe I've said it before. Maybe I've needed to hear it myself." Vigil agreed with a hint of a smile. "Point is, you're knowledgeable enough to see what's happening before you. Use that to build yourself up as you do want to."

Mark's lips pressed together, looking down at his hands and then out the rain-drenched window. He spent a moment thinking on that. "Have you ever made a decision..." He started, then hesitating somewhat. "Not because it's right or wrong, but because you're tired of trying to figure out what those words mean."

The coffee was put down after a sip, as Vigil looked seriously to Mark who returned his attention to him. "I think that's when people are at their most dangerous." He answered truthfully, the most honest he'd been at any point of their conversation. "To others. And to themselves."

Nodding slowly, Mark contemplated that answer. It felt honest. No judgement, no preaching. Just clarity. "You ever wish you could just stop everything for a while then?" He continued, his tone not as quiet as before as his confidence in not being judged grew slightly. "Freeze it all. Everyone's expectations. The noise. Just... pause."

Tapping a finger to his chin, Vigil gave his answer. "Yes and no." He responded. "Life, however, keeps ticking, keeps moving. Even when we stop moving."

Sighing, Mark just ran a hand under his hoodie to comb his hair in a measure to release some the tension in his mind. "That's the worst part." He spoke lowly as he closed his eyes for a second longer than a blink - before opening them, and speaking in a louder, clearer voice. "Still, thanks. This... helps. Even if it's only for an hour."

With a nod, Vigil responded. "Then come back next time, I'm here most nights. I'll be here."

The faint smirk crossed Mark's face before he could help himself. "You sure you don't mind losing eventually?" He questioned, an element of sarcasm to it.

The shake of the head this time was what he got. "I don't intend to." He replied, the incredibly dry tone it was spoken in generating a small smile on his face. It even got a chuckle from Mark, as soft as it was, but more genuine sounding this time. A few more moments passed, before then Vigil rose from his seat before Mark this time, only grabbing his drink and stepping out the booth. Mark glanced to him as Vigil zipped his coat, the sound of rain in the background having softened at this point.

"8PM. If you ever want another game." Vigil just reminded.

"Yeah." Mark found himself agreeing in a low voice. "I think I'll be here."

A curt nod was given to Mark, before he turned and walked to the café door, leaving him in the booth behind him. Mark remained there, lost in his thoughts as he stared at the pieces, then the rain and his own reflection in the glass.

He didn't feel any lighter. But he didn't feel as bad either, the tenseness in his frame and the empty feeling not as coiling in his torso. For now, that was enough to be a win in its own right.

The chessboard was still laid out, pieces still out and arranged as if they expected to be out back and begin again. Staring to the board, and then the seat Vigil had just left, Mark breathed through his nose as he actually found some of his thoughts turn to who the man he'd now played three times against was. He was just another person, and to Vigil he was likely just another player.

But it was strangely refreshing in that regard. Sitting across from someone who wasn't expecting him to be a hero, or some ideal of a son, or even a mistake waiting to happen. The man asked the right things, making Mark think. And he had his own wisdom in being able to answer Mark's questions without too much delay, without judgement.

Which in itself was telling. Mark knew Vigil saw more than he said, the perception the man wielded clear to all from the analytical gaze that wasn't hidden - it was how he saw the world. A look that would pick apart what was before him, and categorise it in ways other people could only guess at.

Running a hand through his hair, Mark breathed through his nose as he felt older than he did last month within himself. His reflection in the window would look back not with judgement, but fatigue as he then looked back to the board. Beginning to reset the chessboard, he did so slowly. Quietly, as it gave his hands something to do whilst his mind roiled underneath.

WITH VIGIL

Greeting Vigil was the cool night air, the gentle pattering of water against his coat as he stepped out into the city streets. Rain glistened on the pavement under the hazy streetlights of the more obscure location the café was situated in, painting the world in silver and shadow as he began walking. He didn't look back at the café window, didn't need to in order to know that Mark would still be there, sitting quietly.

The weariness he had displayed tonight was not purely physical, being also existential. Each move he made - whether on the board or in life - seemed to carry the weight of someone trying to find permission to let go of the restraint attached. He was seeing the way Mark seemed to become less reactive, but more dangerous. Not reckless, but deliberate.

Walking without rush, Vigil categorised it in his head, ready for input to the Core device currently attached to his wrist when in private. Mark's emotional state had evidently been drained that week, but it was the frustration causing it, having built up to very high levels to the extent he was searching for clarity. The control level associated with it was higher than expected for someone as stressed as Mark, which was debateable in how good that was given he was suppressing volatility.

Still, his morality was evolving before their very eyes to all of them, not just Vigil. and had evidently been doing so over the past couple of months. It hadn't fractured yet, still containing personal standards, but it too was changing as those standards became increasingly self-defined. The influence that society, or his peers, or even his own mother had on him; even if never spoken aloud, was becoming less of a guide within that context.

It was fascinating, really, and his only regret of the night was to have hastily assumed Mark was less in it at the beginning. The observations of Mark Grayson he'd just made were more telling than ever, the state he had displayed less as if he were breaking apart and more alike as if he were condensing. Becoming smaller, heavier, more precise. Akin to a weapon sharpening itself.

Vigil continued into the night, disappearing as he was becoming better at doing into the blur of people and noise. His observations complete that night.

GUARDIANS OF THE GLOBE

"Alright, listen up people, another crisis on our hands." Cecil announced with no fanfare as he teleported right into the heart of the mountain holding the Guardian's base. Striding into the centre of the large hall that functioned as both the staging area and training ground for the team, it was a huge hollowed-out cavern of rock held back by interlocking steel supports. Walkways covered the area with the central platform in the centre of it all, a central stairs leading up to a much larger screen than was in the GDA headquarters as their mission briefing area. "I need Bulletproof, Rex, Rae and Duplikate."

"Woah, woah, woah, hold the phone, park the car." Rex spoke aloud in the usual witting tone as everyone had come to expect from him, the signature smug smirk as iconic as the red and yellow suit he wore into every battle. Orange goggles smirked as his eyes twinkled with a mischief Cecil had no patience for as he looked to the GDA director. "You can't just waltz in here and demand everyone. 'Cuz that's it - you just called on everyone left."

He had been leaning against a banister on one of the upper platforms in the large area, drinking by himself before the blue flash of light signalling the GDA director's arrival had startled him. Speaking of which, Cecil just snapped his head to him, narrowed eyes glaring to the hero with concealed impatience in them. "Cut the crap, Rex, and just get them here." He snapped out. "I'm well aware that I sent the Immortal and the others to go fight the Lizard League in California."

"No need." Duplikate announced then as the other three emerged into the hall from the hallway leading to it. "Donald gave us a text."

Cecil gave an audible grunt at that, before his taking out a transponder device from his pocket and pointing it to the large screen where a layout of a city began to appear on it. "What you're looking at is New York, more specifically the John F. Kennedy airport." He announced in his no-nonsense tone, his voice amplified to carry across the larger space. The map layout of New York then zoomed in on the airport in its east, the signature grid pattern of the airport's four runways clear on the high-definition satellite feed. "It appears normal, but we've had them shut down two of the runways in its northern terminal. We've got a hostage situation."

Shrinking Rae gave a bit of a gasp, the green-suited hand coming up to her mouth as the eyes behind her glasses bulged a bit. "But-that many people." She spoke out, hesitating slightly before looking to Cecil. "We've never dealt with something surely on that scale before."

"You're right." Cecil agreed, turning his head to look over his shoulder as he gazed to Rae, his eyes losing some of their bite as his voice lowered to a professional sounding one. "Though the building had over three thousand people in it, the amount of people who've taken over the building simply couldn't keep that many hostages. Estimates right now sit at four hundred taken and held against their will."

Frowning severely at what she'd been told, Duplikate just glanced to Cecil with a heavy expression. "What are we dealing with?" She asked in a crisp tone.

His face became a little less taut as Cecil regarded the woman who held the best leadership qualities among those present, giving an appreciative nod to her as he clicked the transponder again. "We had several sightings through the CCTV system before it was taken down. Now, we've got several confirmed - including Kursk the electric villain, Magnamaniac and Multi-Paul." Cecil briefed them as their images from within the airport showed up on screen. The yellow suited and completely covered visage of Kursk contrasted with the scorching yellow that made up Magnamaniac, a villain made up of a wreath of burning colours that suited the fiery consistency of glob-like living magma the villain. Multi-Paul elicited the biggest reaction, in the small gasp that had a couple of the gathered members look to Duplikate for. "That's combined with the fifty or so thugs they brought with them, and at least five of them seem to be wearing some advanced tech."

Another image overtook the whole screen then, showing a masked subordinate in line with the white and purple suited Multi-Paul, but there was a stark contrast in what they wore. The subordinate was wearing an endoskeleton frame of sorts, a cage suspended above their body that looked embedded into several points across their body including the shoulders and waist. Combined with the joints over their limbs and sturdy metal bars criss-crossing their entire body, it also enhanced the human. "We don't know what freak show is going on here, but expect a few of them to have greater everything - whatever the fuck that get-up is, it's got to have strength enhancements and longer reach. Even as armour, expect tougher close combat." Cecil remarked lowly as he finished up the recounts of the villain entourage. "I don't know what group they represent, but this is serious."

"What do they want?" Duplikate spoke up suddenly then, drawing everyone's eyes to her that time.

Exhaling through his nose, Cecil just shook his head. "In return for four hundred returned, alive hostages, they want several prisoners released along with a transfer of sums of money in the billions. Then a plane out of there." He informed them, before his eyes darted around each and every one of the members gathered. "Suffice to say, we can't allow that. Given the tech on display, I can't rule out losing the plane once they're above water, and allowing more criminals out with sustained funds means misery for more than four hundred people. I need everyone on the ball."

"Yeah, well, wouldn't that be great if we hadeveryone?" Rex inquired sarcastically then, his hand raising in a gesture from where it had been folded against his chest. "Surely whatever the Lizard League is doing doesn't equate to juiced up bad guys, three superpowered villains and an absolute bunch of hostages?" His hands then went fully gesturing to the others around him as if trying to gather their support. "I mean, c'mon guys, supervillains we can absolutely fight against, but the cavalry amidst the civilians? We ain't trained for that!"

"You don't have to be trained." Cecil cut in. "Several squads of GDA armed agents and even more law enforcement including the national guard are present. What I expect from you is to be their shield against the superpowered threats whilst it is their mission to extract the hostages."

Rae looked over to Rex who gave her a forlorn look, before she sighed. "Rex does have a point though, Cecil." She stated with a shy, but certain tone. "You literally showed they have machine guns and elemental powers, and Multi-Paul would eliminate any chance we have to outnumber them. How are we supposed to just, overwhelm them?"

Cecil stared with an uncompromising look at them all, before giving a nod. "I suppose that's a fair question. You can't exactly defend people if the chance of collateral is so high, and firefights break out between law enforcement and thugs. To be absolutely clear, your priorities are the exosuit reinforced criminals and the superpowered ones, which I grant is perhaps the toughest I've ever asked of the four of you when you have to do it among hundreds of people in one area." He responded, folding his arms as the grim look on his face absolved slightly to show surety in his own expression. "Neither can I pull Immortal and those helping him from California when the Lizard League have placed bombs across LA endangering thousands, but I don't have to when there's a suitable replacement."

His hand smoothly raised with a stern look to Rex as soon he saw the explosion user's widened eyes, but there was no holding back Rex. "What? Nuh uh. No way." He stated with a tone of absolute finality as his arms waved in front of his face. "I'm not working with that psycho."

"Do us a favour, and don't piss him off with the name calling." Cecil responded with a sigh, his impatience biting through as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Invincible has been briefed separately, and that's with good reason-" His eyes darted to Rex with a warning in them that managed to successfully still him that time - "as this team has now started to show promising teamwork finally. I'm not breaking that up, and I need you all coordinated and focused on hostage protection. You can decide amongst yourselves who is doing what, but Invincible plays into this as heavy hitter focused on knocking out the enemies without that extra baggage."

Bulletproof narrowed his eyes behind his masked face, as he cut in for the first time then as something about that remark rankled him. "Civilians are not extra baggage." He spoke dryly.

"Call it what you want, but civilian rescue takes priority. Unfortunately, that means you can't be entirely focused on the bad guys." Cecil's no-nonsense tone returned to shut down any further remarks as he spoke. "Neither can I let them just get away, and somebody has to keep them busy too. You, Bulletproof, lack the ultimate strength to overwhelm them all - that's just fact. Invincible has that." With a final click of the transponder in his hand, the large screen behind Cecil turned off. "Invincible is already on the transport outside, and you can all be there in thirty minutes. I don't expect you to all work together given all that's happened lately and Invincibles' independence, but at least this operation can start at the same time to minimise civilian casualties before they all start shooting. Remember that."