#evil invincible

The city burns below you. Columns of black smoke curl into the sky, blotting out the sun. The skyline is shattered—skyscrapers missing their tops, entire blocks reduced to craters. Blood stains the streets. Screams echo between the ruins. Buildings remain tilted, each vibration from footsteps threatening to topple them over. The skies were set ablaze, a scent of blood and perish lingering in the humid air. And above it all? The Invincible War rages on.

Hundreds of Mark Grayson variants are tearing the world apart, ripping through defenses like wet paper. The Guardians of the Globe, Earth’s so-called strongest heroes are getting obliterated. Monster Girl’s body lies motionless, halfway through her transformation. Rex Splode? Crushed. Dupli-Kate’s been rag-dolled through a building, and even Mark, the real one, is stretching thin in assisting against his murderous duplicates.

Pathetic.

Your eyes scan the scenery, bored after obliterating such challenges with ease. You hover in place, arms crossed, neon-green energy crackling around you like wildfire, its crackles threatening to descend at any moment. The vibrancy in the green hue of your costume made you a noticeable target. Perfect. Cecil’s voice crackles in your earpiece. “We need backup at—.” You roll your eyes. “Shut up, Cecil.” You grit.

Then you dive, cutting through the air like a knife. For Mohawk Mark, with your abilities, easy diff. Your target stands amidst the carnage, a towering, muscle-bound Mark Grayson with a jagged mohawk. His bloodstained fists flex at his sides and at his feet? Bulletproof, broken, and groaning per usual.

Mohawk Mark plants a boot on Bulletproof’s chest, grinding him into the pavement. A low chuckle rumbles from his throat. Yeah, no. “Yo, Knucklehead,” you call. He barely turns before—.

BOOM.

Your fist slams into his jaw. A sonic boom erupts.

Mohawk Mark is launched like a missile, his body smashing through two skyscrapers, leaving a trail of shattered glass and bent steel in his wake. By the time he skids to a stop, half a city block has been destroyed. You land in front of him, dusting off your knuckles. “Damn. That all you got?”

A deep, inhuman growl rumbles from his throat. Mohawk Mark rises from the rubble, brown eyes darkening. His lips curl into a sneer as he wipes blood from his mouth. “Little shit, you just made the biggest mistake of your life,” he snarls. Lunging at you like a rabid animal.

His fist swings, blurring the air around it, fast enough to shatter concrete on impact. You don’t dodge. You catch it. It would be enough to reduce someone to a bludgeoned mess. The street beneath you fractures on impact. The sheer force sends cracks spider-webbing across the pavement. But you don’t move. His eyes widen just a fraction before your grip tightens around his fist. His bones creak. His jaw ticks as he attempts to resist you in a classic game of strength. You smirk. “Try harder.” And then, with a single motion, you twist his arm—

SNAP.

The sickening crack of bone echoes through the street. Mohawk Mark howls in agony, his entire body jerking from the pain. Before he can recover, your other hand ignites a bright, emerald-green flame roaring to life in your palm. His eyes go wide. Though this is what he wanted isn't it? A challenge? Too bad he was on the receiving end.

“Night-night,” you taunt, then blast him point-blank. The explosion is instantaneous. A shockwave obliterates everything within a two-block radius. Cars flip. Buildings sway. Flames consume the pavement as Mohawk Mark’s body is launched sky-high, disappearing into the clouds.

Gone.

You shake your head. “Too easy.”

Against Lensless Mark, its a medium diff, but nothing you couldn’t handle.

A low whistle cuts through the destruction. You don’t need to turn around. You already know. Lensless Mark.

He stands atop a collapsed building, arms loose at his sides, head tilted in amusement. No goggles. A mask. Just those cold, giddy eyes staring into you. Like you’re something to dissect. His voice is smooth, almost lazy. “Huh. Dude! You’re still standing.”

You roll your shoulders, cracking your neck. “You gonna stare all day, or—”

THWACK.

He’s on you in a blink. You barely tilt your head before his fist slices past your cheek so close it burns. You counter. Your Thunder Clap erupts like a bomb. A wave of force flattens an entire block. Windows explode. Asphalt rips apart like paper. Lensless Mark is blasted back, flipping mid-air before catching himself. He lands with a skid, leaving deep trenches in the pavement.

And yet, he’s smiling. Taunting even as he cups his face within his hand. “Cute,” he murmurs, wiping blood from his lip. “Let’s see how long you last.” Then, he vanishes. No sound. No wind. Nothing. Your eyes barely register movement before—.

FAWUMP.

His fist buries into your stomach. A shockwave detonates around you. The sheer force launches you through six buildings in a row, concrete and steel shattering on impact. You slam into the side of a skyscraper, embedding deep into it. Your ribs ache. Your jaw tightens.

Oh, hell no. Second offense after calling you cute within the first few minutes. He’s done for.

You ignite mid-air, green flames roaring to life around you. Your fingers spark, gathering energy into a pulsing, neon-green orb. You grin. “My turn.” Then, you hurl the Ball Blast. The explosion is blinding. A nuclear-green fireball engulfs the entire street. By the time the dust clears?

Lensless Mark is on his knees, coughing blood. His hands tremble as he tries to stand. You land in front of him, arms crossed. “Still think I’m cute?” you asked, feet slowly carrying you towards him. He wheezes. Glares. Then, lurched one last time. Big mistake.

Your eyes flash. Twin green laser beams punch straight through his chest. His body locks up. His breath stutters. He stares at you, mouth open before collapsing.

Game over.

For Sinister Mark, you might’ve finally met your match.

A slow clap echoes from above. You look up to see Sinister Mark. Truly an unorthodox and brutal version of the Mark you knew.  He floats in the firelight, arms crossed, face grinning with unreadable eyes. Studying you.

He’s the only one who didn’t rush in like a brainless brute. He’s watching. Calculating. “You’re different,” he finally says, voice like steel. You smirk. “And you’re not as dumb as you look.”

His lips twitch, almost like he’s entertained. Then he moves. Faster than anyone before him. You barely register the attack before his fist slams into your stomach. The moment his fist met your ribs, he felt the give of muscle beneath his knuckles, you heard the wet thud of the impact.

CRAAAAACK.

The pressure rips through the entire city. Buildings collapse. The sky shatters. Your body rockets through mountains. Pain pulses through your ribs and adrenaline surges, cushioning the blows.

You stop yourself mid-air, blood dripping from your lip. You wipe it off with the back of your hand. He approached you, flight only stopping when he was within a reasonable distance. That smile creased his cheeks in amusement. Instead, you return a grin of your own. “Oh, you are gonna be fun.”

You launch, sending an ear-drilling scream in his direction as he vibrates. He was tough, but every environment was your domain and it would bow to your will. ... REACTIONSSSS

The battlefield is silent. No more shockwaves. No more fists colliding at hypersonic speeds. No more Invincible war variants tearing through the air. Just the whine of the wind as it howls through a city that barely exists. The other heroes managed to blow a hole through the gaping damage caused, but not without failure.

Skyscrapers? Leveled. Streets? Shattered, scorched, and barely recognizable. The very foundation of the Earth itself has been cracked open, glowing fissures spreading from the sheer impact of the fight. Smoke billows into the night sky, the stars barely visible through the debris still falling like radioactive snow. People began forming shelters as homes were lost. You were bruised, battered even, but still standing, that's what mattered most.

Mark hovers above the destruction, completely speechless. This wasn’t just a battlefield, this was a massacre. His eyes scan the carnage below, there were craters large enough to be seen from orbit, remnants of entire blocks reduced to molten rubble, the burnt-out skeletons of skyscrapers barely holding onto their last foundations. And the bodies. Mohawk Mark? Gone. Lensless Mark? Gone. Sinister Mark? Fucking obliterated or disappeared to who knows where. Not a trace of them left.

His stomach twists. It’s not fear. Not exactly. But it’s something. Something close. He finally speaks, voice hoarse. “...What the fuck.” You don’t even look at him. Just crack your neck, letting out a breath that warps the air from the sheer heat still radiating off your body.

“You’re welcome,” you mutter.

Mark... doesn’t even know what to say to that.

Cecil watches through a satellite feed, eyes narrowed, face unreadable. Around him, the Pentagon’s war room is in chaos. Analysts are frantically running calculations. Field agents are double-checking sensor data because the readings don’t make sense. Some poor bastard in the back is throwing up after seeing the destruction.

But Cecil? He just takes a slow, steady breath, partially in relief. He doesn’t flinch at the mushroom cloud of energy still lingering where Sinister Mark used to be. He doesn’t react to the seismic activity that your fight triggered, or the fact that the city’s entire power grid is fried from the electromagnetic pulses generated by your attacks.

He just exhales. “…Son of a bitch.” Donald, standing nearby, clears his throat. “Sir, the damage assessment—”

“I know the damn assessment.”