#prisioner mark

warnings: blood, possessive and obsessive traits, emotional blackmail, kidnapping, inappropriate language.

summary: You're just Mark's forgotten human friend, left aside after his life turned upside down. But was that really all you were in the main universe, and what about in others?

author's notes: Hi everyone, how are you? I hope you're all well! Here's another chapter, this one was rewritten twice because I accidentally deleted it lol... wow, I hope you enjoy it! Happy reading!

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: 01

❝ YOUR EYES ❪ COLOR ❫ widen as you try to process the scene in front of you. The sight of two Marks (or Invincible) leaves your mind slightly hazy, as if that couldn’t possibly be real.

As if it were just some kind of sick joke. You try to back away from the situation, but the white-suited Mark is faster, his arms sliding around your waist until he grips your hips with extreme force:

That Mark Without Lenses laughs, his dark eyes devouring your face as if you were a work of art ── his pupils dilate, licking his lips:

"Oh," he laughs. "I see you had the same idea as me, Mark," the Mark Without Lenses exclaims, landing atop the debris of the broken wall. Your dorm room had turned into pure chaos, everything shattered, scattered, and covered in dust. "After all... we’re the same person, with the same goal in the end, aren’t we?"

"Shut up," Mark snaps, grinding his teeth. You try to break free from his grip, but his hold is firm, as if he refuses to let you go. "Stay still," he says with unusual seriousness.

"Oh, so you didn’t tell her?" the Mark Without Lenses approaches, laughing mockingly. "You know we’re not the only ones who had this idea... it’s only a matter of time before all the others show up," he smiles maliciously. "And when that happens, the real war will begin."

"Others?" you ask, confused. Your eyes widen as you feel the white-suited Mark tense beside you.

"It doesn’t matter." Mark’s grip tightens painfully on your hip, making you gasp. "I’ll kill them all, without exception. Anyone who lays a hand on my woman will die." He says it so casually it sends chills down your spine.

"My woman?" the other Mark mocks. "You’re stealing from another Mark and still calling her yours?" He bursts out laughing. "How arrogant, Mark Viltrum," the smug grin on his lips is terrifying.

Suddenly, he stops, staring at you as if you were nothing more than prey:

"Sweetheart... close your eyes, I don’t want you to see so much violence... yet." And in an instant, using his super speed, the one without lenses lunges at the other Mark, raising his fists.

Mark Viltrum shoves you aside, and you stumble, falling hard onto the ground. The scene before you is terrifying ── the two colliding, blows clashing as Mark Viltrum blocks with precision.

And the building trembles.

Your breathing becomes uneven as you scramble to your feet in panic. From the corner of your eye, you catch the moment Mark Viltrum lands a punch on the other, making him spit blood... yet he laughs.

And groans. Asking for more.

It’s sickening, and you quickly back away, your steps unsteady, dust rising around you. Taking advantage of the moment when neither of them is paying attention to you, too consumed in a fight that seems endless.

The hallway is empty, and with every strike, the building shakes.

Your mind races as your body pushes toward the emergency stairs ── there’s no way you’d take the elevator in a situation like this.

Who were those two? And why did they look so much like Mark?

You try not to dwell on it, especially not on the fact that there were others. Other Marks? Other copies? And why were they coming after you? Where was the real Mark in all of this?

He definitely wasn’t worried about you. He probably didn’t even know his identity was being stolen by idiots with his same face, voice, and body.

Your steps are desperate as you rush down the stairs from the 7th floor toward the ground level. The building shakes like jelly, the walls starting to crack apart.

Your eyes lock onto the number: 4th floor. You were close. Just a bit more and you’d reach the ground floor, finally escaping this nightmare.

Your steps halt when you notice a man standing at the bottom of the fourth-floor staircase. Tall, slightly muscular, wearing a black and blue suit that covers his entire body, along with a mask.

You freeze halfway on the stairs, your hands trembling as you realize he stopped as well, his shoulders tense as he speaks quickly:

"I’m not here to hurt you," he says calmly. "I came to help you... I won’t hurt you like the others." His voice sounds like Mark’s, though slightly muffled by the mask.

The masked man steps closer ── or tries to ── because you immediately step back, slipping and falling onto the step behind you:

"DON’T COME ANY CLOSER!" you shout, eyes wide. He raises his hands in surrender:

"I won’t hurt you," he repeats gently, using the same tone Mark always used with you in tense moments. "I’m not like them... I just want to take care of you."

His shoulders tense even more when he sees how scared and withdrawn you are:

"I miss you," he begins, his voice dropping. "In my universe, you were killed by Omni-Man... and..." He swallows hard, as if on the verge of tears. "But I won’t let the same mistake happen twice... I won’t let anyone hurt you."

Your brows furrow:

"What the hell are you talking about?!" you snap, standing up and gripping the railing. He steps closer again, and you retreat further.

"I’ll protect my mother... and you..." He moves toward you, his steps heavier now. Your eyes widen, your breathing quickens, and you think you’re about to be kidnapped again by some lunatic.

But then the building shakes violently, the structure cracking. Pieces of concrete begin to fall, and you shut your eyes tightly, bracing for impact.

You feel hands grabbing your waist, pulling you away. Your eyes try to focus on something, but the dust—along with something that feels like fabric completely covering you—keeps you from seeing anything.

You stifle a breath, your hands pressing against a strong chest. The wind brushes softly against your face, and panic begins to rise as you try to kick whatever is holding you.

And suddenly, clarity returns to your vision—slowly, you look at the strong arms holding you, noticing the chaos surrounding the campus.

Destruction. The college buildings were ruined, but your building was now reduced to nothing—blocks of concrete where you had once spent so much time.

Your eyes widen in confusion, and you swallow hard as you realize you're in someone’s arms, being carried through the air.

Shit.

Your head quickly turns to the side, your expression shifting when you notice another guy who looks like Mark—but wearing a mask and a pathetically red-and-white uniform.

With Omni-Man’s symbol.

Omni-Man.

Your brain short-circuits, registering those last words. Your arms struggle weakly against the muscular chest, light tears forming in your eyes:

“LET ME GO!” you shout, but that “hero” doesn’t obey. His hands tighten around your waist, as if reminding you who’s in control.

“Don’t be rude,” he says, his voice once again similar to Mark’s, making your stomach twist. “I’m the one in charge here…” His grip becomes firmer. “Maybe I should remind you who you belong to.”

GDA HOSPITAL

Amid all the chaos, Mark stands beside Eve—who lies unconscious in bed, her leg broken, in a light coma.

The world outside was falling apart.

Several variants causing destruction beyond anything seen before. All thanks to Angstrom, who seemed extremely amused watching this dimension crumble into ashes.

Cecil enters the room alongside Donald, who carries a tablet in his hands.

The older man crosses his arms, sighing:

“Mark.” His voice echoes through the room, where only the beeping of Eve’s vital monitors can be heard. “You should be out there, helping other heroes who are dying because of pathetic copies of you.”

“I’m not leaving,” he snaps, clearly frustrated, looking at Eve. “I can’t leave her here alone.”

“She’s in one of the most guarded hospitals… It’s unlikely your variants will find us here,” Cecil explains, while Donald starts scrolling through something on his tablet.

“No.” Mark growls. “I won’t.”

“Your mother, your friends… would you let the world fall into chaos? When Eve is stable?” Cecil presses, growing irritated. “You’re our only available weapon against those monsters.”

“No,” Mark growls again, refusing to look at him.

Silence falls, and Cecil sighs, glancing at Donald, who seems to understand immediately.

Images of destruction project from Donald’s tablet. The college campus… your campus.

It’s like something snaps inside Mark as he sees it.

“We deployed small drones across Chicago… the situation is bad,” Cecil begins, arms crossed. “They left the big cities and came here.”

“There are 25 more heading there… Some were killed, others intercepted… but—” Donald pauses. “They all have one thing in common.”

Mark freezes, letting Eve’s hand slip from his fingers as he stands abruptly, though still tense.

“What?”

“❪ name ❫.”

The silence that follows is terrifying. Cecil knows he’s hit a nerve.

He inhales deeply, adjusting his tie as the image zooms in—you, struggling in Omni-Mark’s arms.

“And there are more heat signatures heading there…” Donald continues. “They probably want something from her, since they haven’t hurt her—and are even fighting each other.”

Mark goes still, eyes locked on the projection. You—defenseless—while Omni-Mark holds you with possessive force.

He feels it. He notices the way the other Marks are looking at you… at what is his.

“I figured you’d want to know that… your childhood sweetheart is in the hands of those maniacs, and she could—”

Cecil is cut off when Mark grabs him by the collar.

“Where… where is she?!” he demands, rage rising through him. He looks like a different man now, almost shaking, fists clenched.

“University campus in C-Chicago!” Cecil answers quickly.

Mark releases him, grabbing his mask from the counter and putting it on.

As he’s about to leave, he glances once more at the projection—at you—and feels a burning urge to destroy that pathetic version of himself.

But the image suddenly glitches and disappears.

“Someone must’ve… taken out our surveillance drone,” Donald says.

Mark clenches his jaw and leaps out the window, flying toward the campus.

Without looking at Donald.

Without looking at Cecil.

Without looking at Eve.

Without looking back.

Flying toward you.

Because he’s tired of pretending that staying away from you was enough.

Tired of pretending that becoming a side character in your life was the right choice—that you’d be safe.

But he was wrong.

Because leaving you alone was enough for dozens of versions of him to come after you—to claim you, to kidnap you, or worse.

He wouldn’t let you slip through his fingers again.

That Mark—this version—would not lose.

He wouldn’t leave you again.

He would run, fly, and kill every single one of them—

Just for you.

Only for you.