"Mom… I'm sorry…." I choked out, the tears flowing freely now, shamefully against her shirt. "I'm so sorry I wasn't strong enough…. I let him take you…. I let him take Oliver… I failed you."
I sobbed, my broad shoulders shaking violently as I curled in on myself, trying to make my body as small as possible. I felt her freeze for a split second, surprised by the suddenness of all this.
But then, her warm hands came up. She didn't push me away or ask questions. She just gently and rhythmically started rubbing my back. It was the exact same way my mom used to comfort me when I was a kid and woke up from a nightmare.
"Shh, shh, it's okay," she whispered softly.
She pulled back just a few inches, keeping her hands firmly on my shoulders as she looked up at my face. Her eyes were intuitive and filled with a fierce maternal love that transcended universes. She saw the dried blood, torn-up uniform, and the hollow defeat in my eyes.
"Mark," she said softly. "Look at me."
I couldn't. I looked down at the grass, the shame burning my throat. "I wasn't fast enough. Levy, he—"
She reached up, her small hands cupping my jaw, and gently forced my head up until my tear-filled eyes met hers.
"Look at me, son," she commanded, her voice steady.
I looked at her, my lip quivering.
"It's not your fault," she said simply.
I swallowed a sob, shaking my head. "I know. I know, but I should have—"
"It's not your fault," she repeated, her voice cutting through my excuses.
I closed my eyes, the memory of Levy's mangled face flashing in my mind. "I know. It's just... I'm supposed to be Invincible. I'm supposed to protect you guys, and I..."
"No, you don't." She stepped closer, her thumbs gently wiping the tears from my cheeks. "It's not your fault."
I felt an ugly spike of defensiveness flare up inside my chest. I tried to pull back, to look away and deflect the raw vulnerability of the moment. "All right. Okay. I get it."
She didn't let me go. Her grip on my face tightened just enough to keep me anchored. "It's not your fault."
My fake smile faded completely. The walls I had built to survive the last six months from the betrayal of my father, the crushing weight of the world, the terrifying reality of my own weakness started to crack.
My chest heaved from how real this was getting.
"Don't," I warned, my voice cracking, a desperate plea masquerading as anger. "Don't do that."
"It's not your fault," Debbie said, her voice softer now, practically a whisper, brimming with unconditional love.
The anger broke and the dam finally shattered.
"Don't fuck with me, Mom," I sobbed, the words tearing out of my throat. "Please, don't fuck with me. Not you. Please."
"It's not your fault," she said one last time, wrapping her arms securely around my neck.
I broke down as tears streamed down my face. I stepped into her, burying my face deep into her shoulder, sobbing with a heavy grief I hadn't let myself feel since the day on the mountain.
She held me tightly, her hand running through my hair, letting me weep until there was nothing left but dry, shuddering breaths. I slowly pulled back, wiping my face with the back of my hand, letting the quiet safety of the farm wash over me for just a fleeting second.
Just as my breathing was finally starting to level out, the thunderous CRACK of a sonic boom rattled the farmhouse windows. The wind whipped violently across the yard as someone dropped from the sky. Instead of the heavy, crater-forming impact I was used to, his boots touched down on the grass with absolute, silent precision.
"Get away from my Mo—huh?"
I wiped my eyes hurriedly with the back of my hand and turned around. Standing there, hovering an inch off the grass, was my twin. Or, more accurately, this universe's version of me.
"Hi," I croaked awkwardly, my voice hoarse from crying as I gave him a weak, half-hearted wave.
The very first thing I noticed was the jarring difference between us. It was his posture and the way he carried himself. My shoulders were hunched, carrying the weight of trauma and failure. His shoulders were pulled back, chin held high, and his stance was perfectly balanced, like a coiled spring. He radiated a deeply rooted confidence. Oddly enough, he resembled Sir Sebas's posture a little bit.
"Yo Master!" This universe's Mark blinked, dropping to the grass. He looked from me to Mom, to the butler. "Is this another test? Or were the Maulers finally able to successfully clone Viltrumite DNA?"
Before Sir Sebas could even answer, Mom… Debbie stepped forward. She walked right up to this Mark, kissed him warmly on the cheek, and calmly explained the entire situation. She laid it all out: Angstrom Levy, the chaotic multiverse hopping, and the horrific hostage situation my real Mom and Oliver was currently enduring.
Mark's slightly cocky demeanor immediately dropped into genuine sympathy.
"Oh, man. I'm so sorry. I should've been way more sensitive," he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He paused, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Wait, who is Oliver? Did Mom and Dad have another kid back in your world?"
My gaze dropped to the grass the moment he asked that. I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and quickly explained the absolute nightmare of my reality.
I told them about Chicago. About how Dad... how he nearly beat me to death, and tore half the city apart using my face before he just broke down crying and abandoned Earth. I told them how I eventually found him ruling a bug planet called Thraxa. He had taken an alien wife and had another kid whose species aged crazy fast. I tried to help him fight off the Viltrumite Empire when they finally came for him, but... we lost. They broke his back and dragged him off to execute him.
"I was forced to take over his mission," I muttered, staring at my boots, unable to meet Debbie's eyes. "I had to bring Oliver back to Earth. But Mom... she finally accepted him. She stepped up, despite everything Dad did, and raised him like her own. In just a few short months, he grew up so fast. He looks and talks like a three-year-old toddler now, even though he's technically just a few months old."
By the time I finished the story, Debbie had her hands covering her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears, horrified by what her alternate self had been put through.
Mark stepped forward and wrapped me in a tight, brotherly hug. Debbie joined in immediately, pulling both of us close into a massive group hug.
"I... I should get dinner ready," Debbie said eventually, her voice thick with emotion as she stepped back and wiped her eyes. "You boys stay out here and talk. You need it." She gave my shoulder one last comforting squeeze and walked back inside the house.
I stood there awkwardly on the lawn with my alternate self for a long moment, listening to the screen door shut. Finally, I decided to break the ice with the most confusing question on my mind.
"So..." I pointed toward the wooden shed where the former Conqueror of Earth was currently hiding with a bottle of shampoo. "What is the deal with your dad? Why is Omni-Man treating a cow like the second coming of Jesus?"
Mark's eyes went wide as he instantly slapped a hand over my mouth, shushing me aggressively. "Hey! Keep your voice down! That is Ms. Moo to you! Never, and I mean never, call her just a cow! She holds grudges!"
I peeled his hand off my face, bewildered. "Okay, fine! But what is with Nolan then?"
Mark sighed, crossing his arms and leaning back against the porch railing. He quickly explained how the Viltrumite invasion in this universe had happened way earlier than mine. He told me how John had crippled the invasion. How? By aggressively blowing up every single Atomic power plant on the Eastern Seaboard just so he could absorb the raw energy and power himself up like a living battery.
"Dad lost," he continued, a hint of awe in his voice. "He was outplayed by John's scheme and now Mom is his Master, somehow. She ordered him to use his immense physical strength to manually run giant underground generators to keep the eastern grid powered while the new plants are being built. Milking Ms. Moo is apparently his... community service."
I stood there, my brain failing to process the scale of the changes in this timeline. The monster who haunted my nightmares was a magically bound farmhand.
"Damn..." was literally all I could manage to articulate.
Mark pushed off the railing, his expression turning serious. "So, what happens now with this Levy guy who has your family?"
"Oh, John went after him," I said, looking down at my hands. "He sent me here to keep me out of the crossfire and said he would handle it."
To my surprise, Mark's entire demeanor instantly relaxed. He let out a long breath, a relieved smile spreading across his face.
"Well, then you don't have anything to worry about, man. Your family is as good as saved."
I blinked, taken aback by his absolute certainty. "Why? Is he really that powerful?"
"Well, yeah. I've been training alongside him under Master Sebas for six straight months," he said, gesturing to the butler rubbing the cow— Ms. Moo I mean. "Master pushes him to the brink of death every single day, and then heals him back up. He's a monster, honestly. He should be way more powerful than me by now."
Mark stepped closer, his voice dropping into a tone of conviction.
"But more importantly... it's not about just being strong. There are a lot of strong guys out there. But John? He is crafty. He is manipulative, utterly ruthless when he needs to be, and unpredictable as hell. If there is anyone in who can pull off a rescue mission across the multiverse, it's him."
"Seriously?" I asked, desperately wanting to believe him, but the knot of anxiety still twisted in my gut. "What did he do to make you have so much blind confidence in him?"
Mark paused, looking out toward the horizon with a complex mix of respect and lingering disbelief.
"Simple," Mark replied. "He gambled."
[A/N]:
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