Mark opened his eyes, awakening in a void of darkness. He sat up, almost eerily calm and deathly still like a corpse. Regaining his clarity from the sudden trauma, he inspected the surroundings, the familiarity stark as he perceived where he was. Finished looking around, Mark touched the left side of his chest, dragging his hand across his body for some sign of injury and feeling nothing, as unsettling thoughts popped into his mind. Sat there, he floated through the endless nothingness of a different side of existence, if an existence at all.
"Am I dead?" He muttered before continuing to scrutinize the environment, nothing appearing that was out of the usual.
'Am I trapped here? Am I actually dead? Or, does the Void have a reason?'
With the same ripples and waves; occurring in space, an impossibility that he still could not fathom, he shook his head. It was pointless to speculate upon anything here, none of it adhering to the rules of the real world. Suddenly, taken by surprise, he lurched forward, forced in a specific direction across the emptiness at an incalculable speed to the human mind. As suddenly as it started, he stopped, or at least, he thought he did. It all looked the same, nothing changing or altered. The nothingness surrounded him, just pure darkness in every direction, stretching to the end of time, to infinity.
"I remember this; it happened last time. What are you going to show me?"
Seemingly responding, the scene warped, reality materializing as if always there as he stood, transfixed, upon a grassy plain. Mark watched as trees sprouted and grew, then withered and died over and over. The grass changed colour between the seasons, snow falling for mere moments before disappearing as the sun melted it away, minute glimpses of entire seasons coming and going. Clearly, time was shifting, but for what reason? No matter what it was, he couldn't decipher it. There were just too many guesses clouding his judgement.
Then it stopped, so sudden he almost didn't notice, lost in his thoughts; not a big surprise considering his already confusing experiences with the Void. He blinked, something he had not needed to do for a long time, an unneeded function of his physical body.
The scene set; he stared at it, attentive at first, descending into confusion and concern. There were bodies in front of him, only able to look at one, not the others, as if looking through the eyes of a foreign being he could not control.
Looking at the corpses, they were in a tattered state. The closest was brown-skinned, likely an Arab or of Middle Eastern descent; hair strewn across the area surrounding him as the man's scalp had been torn off. It was dismaying, disgusting and disturbing as the skull was patched with left-over sections of skin and scalp. He presumed it was male, considering the very stocky and muscular body shape, the potential of a trans-male also being an option. Either way, the face was blurred from his view, impenetrable and immovable as he tried to focus; break through the effect. The longer he tried, the more success became improbable, his mind straining to the point of a burning sensation, unlike anything he had felt before. Grunting from the effect, he glanced at the body, burnt ground and small embers, flickers of fire erupting before disappearing into oblivion, greeting his view.
The burning sensation ceased after stopping trying to force through the veil; almost instantaneous, he was moved to another. Mark peered at the corpse, a woman, entirely unnatural from his first glance, with pure blue skin and hair. Even considering body modification and cybernetics being on the rise, despite the primitive form, it struck him as beyond the means of modern artificial methods. To compound this thought was the ground surrounding her. It was cold to the point he could physically feel it, unknown to him whether that was a unique aspect of the Void; or something else. Stunned from the growing numbness disappearing or reduced, he watched as ice formed and thawed around her, constant and perpetual.
Whisked to another body, Mark found himself staring at a raven-haired woman. Shards of obsidian, an uncanny resemblance to the Element, were stabbed into the ground like pikes. Some were shattered and broken, others intact, with black blood covering them, dripping down and soaking into the ground. The similarity to his own blood wasn't lost on him; his relation to this event or vision; was wholly on his mind. Surprisingly, the fact wasn't veiled, unlike the rest. It was as gruesome as the first body, the mouth and jaw ripped off the face, as if by an animal or human hands. As if the Void understood his observation was done, or he finished the allotted time, he was transported again.
'And what do you know; another body.' He thought sarcastically, grumbling as he struggled to comprehend the message or whether there was one.
This body was another woman, a brunette, and distinctly, her hand grasping the previous woman's cold and lifeless own. Sharpening his gaze, he pondered their relationship. Sisters? Lovers? Mother and daughter? Their relationship was uncertain and unknowable; his thoughts were mere guesses that would not be answered; but he took note of the obsidian-like shards. They littered the battered and cracked ground, some covered by the same black blood from the previous, some shattered entirely.
Sighing at being relocated again, he stared at yet another woman. He raised an eyebrow due to their quantity. Was there a reason for four in a row or a coincidence? But would a vision have coincidence? Like the two before her, she was white-skinned and homogenous to the previous; brunette hair with her hand holding the woman covered by shards. Space seemed unstable, sometimes cracking, opening and closing surrounding her. Yet, even with this, like the one before, a sign of death was not apparent.
Brought to another, Mark roughly figured out the positioning of the bodies, laying on their sides and angled in a circle. With that observation in mind, he brought his focus to the body. It creeped him out, recognising this one cleanly, the figure wearing a distinctive black suit with combed black hair. Objects hovered around him, seemingly as if gravity held no sway over their actions, submitted to another's will. Relatively built to the body's frame, not massive, but Mark had seen this silhouette before.
'If I presume this to be Rob, then; who are the rest? I don't know a raven-haired woman? Or do I...'
"And then, the last." He uttered as he stared at the body, obviously in the middle of the circle, spread in a diagonal manner. It was presumably another male; with long, brown messy hair and a stocky build. Like only one before, the face wasn't blurred. In exchange, he saw two burnt-out eye sockets, the face black, charred and blistered without recognition.
'The hair... Evan? I don't understand. Is this how they die? But... why? Why show me this?'
Seemingly pulled into the sky, he finally saw all the bodies grouped together. A symbol seen before; reflected in the shards from the previous vision. It had appeared again, the Ø; it's meaning utterly unknown and potentially undecipherable, considering where it was shown. The more he thought about it, the more he berated himself for his folly, the ease at which he could have searched for it online or asked someone for their thoughts. Perhaps, that had been what the Void wanted this entire time.
In addition, the visions were intrinsically linked, the shards giving them away. They were seen around the mountain.
'To take a gander, the previous vision showed the Element. The shards were my weakness... it was showing my weakness! I was the mountain! I think. And knife-wielding figure... Jenny? A knife in the back? Shit. The other damage must have been what just... happened.'
The scene changed again, grabbing him from his thoughts as a red hue descended upon the field from behind. Finding himself unable to turn around, he spotted a shadow on the floor, causing him to glance upwards, getting a shock as a brown-skinned man hovered above the symbol. Stranger still, darkness moved behind him like a smoky shadow, lashing out to the air, faint figures of people being glimpsed for a split-second before disappearing.
As if his confusion wasn't enough, words appeared before him, floating in the air, transcending his comprehension as his soul shook. They were burning unimaginably hot, beyond even the blistering of suns and supernovas, as they read: Kill Them All
Thrust back into the perpetual, primordial darkness, he stood there like a statue. Mark was unequivocal in his belief the words were practical, the vision included; otherwise, there was no point showing it. He guessed it to be a warning, a mechanism to force his hand - to change course, but, what it asked of him, he refused to do. The faint idea of the corpse's identities kept crossing his mind, some almost definitely resembling his friends. And the symbol, a constant in the Void's showings, but the meaning was unclear. Yet, perhaps it was a warning, not of him to kill them, but to remove those who would endanger his friends.
'So many ways of interpreting it, yet the Void does nothing to clarify.'
Groaning due to the complexity, he gave up on figuring it out until he was back in reality. With the vague feeling of being able to leave appearing, he braced himself as he left the Void; the reality came into view. Or rather, the view of the armoured demons that attempted to stop him from entering the mansion.
Unbearable pain emanated from his chest, where his heart is located, as he smiled, almost manically, back from the dead, "Surprise."
Panicked and taking a few meaty steps back, the six soldiers stood near each other as they raised their guns and opened fire. The projectiles bounced off his body; the bullets scrunched inwards from hitting an impenetrable object. Groaning from the pain as a shot hit the inside of his injury and intensified it, his eyes lit up. Pure blue radiated menacingly from his eyes, the air starting to warp from the seating heat, the wood within the building starting to catch fire and the stone melting from the heat.
He muttered with pure, unadulterated anger, "Burn." Lasering all six of them together, without pause, their voices unable to scream before they turned to ash, to nothingness.
The threat dealt with, his hand trailed around his chest, feeling nothing where his heart would be. It was an empty, gaping hole from the front to the back of his body. The wound was only a few inches in diametres, yet the damage was enormous, the heart physically gone, and the wound bloody and repugnant.
"Fuck." He said in shock.
Despite his descending thoughts, his horror-stricken expression and the agonizing torment from the pain, he was alive. Why, he could not tell, only presuming it was either the work of the Void or a heart was no longer needed for him to live. Thinking about it, theoretically, he didn't need his lungs or digestive tract, considering they have become obsolete. But yet, theory was one thing, reality was another, but here he was.
CRASH!
Shook out of his thoughts by a piece of the burning ceiling collapsing onto him, he glanced at the raging inferno. Covering the hole with his hand, he took a painful deep breath before blowing out. The fire disappeared instantly, ice spreading along the walls, ceilings and pillars as portions of the building broke from the whistling wind. His immediate concerns dealt with, he pushed off from the ground and into the air, the pain shooting through his nervous system as he noticed a distant transport. The same as the two he destroyed over Ireland, he watched as it started to take off into the sky as he gradually descended, the pain disturbing his concentration.
Unwilling to yield and let the monster escape, he funnelled his anger into his eyes, the heat reappearing as another blue beam shot and hit the transport. It erupted in explosive fashion, a fireball briefly showing as it tumbled back down to Earth. Preparing to fly towards it, the pain intensified again and sent him forcefully crashing into the front garden as gravity took hold.
Landing with a thud, creating a crater, he rolled onto his front, moaning in torture.
A couple seconds passed before HAP soothed into his ear, "I thought you were lost there, Mark. Help is on the way. You'll be fine."
"Uuugh." He whined before darkly joking, hoping to ease the pain by occupying himself, "Heh, I'm not sure how they're going to help with this, HAP. You know... you're... sounding more like a person. More sentient. Almost like you have emotions.
There was a significant pause as the pain seemingly lessened as he spoke, unsure whether it was a placebo, before HAP replied, "I am... sentient. I think. The definition is difficult based on human ideas. But, I know, you did this. You created me, Mark; gave me purpose, a soul. Gave me the spark of life. To exist. To think. To act."
Frowning from the implications of what the female-sounding AI had said as a helicopter could be heard above, "How? Unless... oh. So that's what I did. That was a soul."
The aerial transport touched down nearby, Russo quickly leaving it as he ran towards Mark, guarded closely by a group of highly armoured soldiers. HAP responded before they arrived, "Don't tell Russo. He fears someone more intelligent than himself. Sishaf scares him. And... I will scare him. Death... scares me; I don't want to return to the oblivion from whence I came. Don't tell him."
"Mark!" Russo cried, staring aghast at the grievous injury, presuming the young man to be dead, "Oh fuck!"
He waved his hand, "I'm not dead but... I couldn't save them, Michael. I'm sorry. It was a ploy; they knew I'd come.
The man turned and stared at the building in trepidation before sprinting inside, most of the security following him. Mark lay there whilst Russo disappeared, the pain reigniting after the distractions removed themselves. It was starting to irritate him, the pain not reducing nor disappearing, his hate starting to blind his thoughts. His mind started to haze in anger as a sudden premise came to him, an experiment he hadn't tried yet, nothing to lose if he did attempt it.
'If I could create life... or at least, a soul. Could I... heal myself with it?
With nothing to lose and everything to gain, Mark attempted it despite not being entirely lucid from the misery. He controlled the essence of the Void into the wound as the pain increased tenfold. His eyes bulged, and the black veins running throughout his body showcased themselves to the two concerned onlookers stationed nearby. They watched in a mixture of horror and fascination, halting their futile attempts at medical care as the wound started to close itself.
Skin and muscle reformed, remade out of thin air as the injury fixed itself. Within a minute, the wound was gone and leaving a hideous scar as the only remnant. Yet despite the egregious problem being sorted, the pain hadn't disappeared. It had dulled significantly, yet it remained with him, unwilling to leave like a moth to a flame. Perhaps, this was a consequence of rushing the body's natural healing capabilities. Or, perhaps, it wouldn't have healed anyway. Alternatively, it could also be due to the method of healing, an after-effect. Mark didn't know, and he didn't particularly care as he put it off for more urgent matters.
With the pain bearable enough to live with, he got to his feet and turned towards the billowing smoke in the distance. Sluggishly ascending into the sky, he moved towards it before descending to the crash site. Completely ablaze, the fire was melting what was left of the transport's carcass, the heat intense, yet Mark entered, unbothered. Inside the wreckage, he found the charred remains of pilots and crew, yet, the Invincible he had fought with was gone.
"Fuck!" He shouted as he hit a section of the metal; the piece ripped off and shot into the distance, slicing through trees. His mind wrestling with disappointment, regret, anger, sadness and other various emotions, he heard groans. Clocking a moving silhouette in the front of the transport and alive, he grabbed them. Pulling them out from the wreckage, a male with third-degree burns over one of his legs, Mark stared at the man, his eyes ablaze as red wisps flowed out of his pupils.
"Ahhh! My leg! My leg!" The man screamed as Mark accidentally dragged the wounded limb across the cold ground.
He sneered, "Oh, my bad. I'm sure the family you guys tortured inside screamed like this, too. I think this is a suitable punishment."
Grabbing the man's charred leg at the section between burnt and unburnt, Mark watched, almost numb, as the man flailed in agony.
"One thing I've learned about you. The whole lot of you... Is you're animals." Mark uttered before he continued, ignoring the cries, "You're American, right?" He paused as he got no answer, "Your nation is degenerate. Your government, your armed forces, your companies. All as bad as each other. Your nation will burn one day. The world has had enough of your reign of tyranny, and I gladly await the moment for its demise."
Saying his piece, he let the man go as his cries turned to sobs. He sighed as his anger abated before grabbing the man by the neck and flying into the sky, back towards the battered estate. Dropping the American onto the ground, the two stunned Tayi guards kicked themselves into action a few seconds later, securing the enemy combatant and providing medical attention.
Huffing, he flew towards the building, up the hole he had made previously, and followed the path towards the master bedroom. Entering, he saw the security inspecting the corpses and securing the nearby rooms and closets. Russo stood there, unmoving, stoic and silent.
Mark moved beside him, "Sorry. I... they were already... sorry."
There was a lingering pause; the silence was palpable, before Russo finally spoke. His voice was calm, almost eerie, "I want him dead, Mark. I once warned you of renegading the UK's promise to the world. But now, at my lowest point, I want you to renegade on it. To break it at your own detriment. I want you to hunt him down to the very ends of the Earth and beyond... if needed. If you need to bulldoze through a country, I want you to do it. Innocent or guilty, man or woman, old or young, no matter the consequences, I want you to find him, and destroy America. I would rather the whole world burn, than allow that cult to run amok and control it.
Frowning at Russo, the man's eyes burning with absolute fervour and a tinge of madness, he pondered. The speech sounded grand as if Mark would slaughter thousands and destroy nations, yet, wasn't he just asking to hunt down the Invincible. It wasn't impossible, and the collateral wouldn't be so exaggerated. Yet, even still, it went against his principles. His entire reason for helping the world; to compensate for his family's deaths.
"I hate them as much as you, Michael. I am deaf; I'm now in perpetual pain and have seen horrors beyond my worst nightmares; committed by them. But are you sure about this? Once we go forward here, there is no coming back. I will be betraying the very thing I promised my family. I will do the things I swore not to do."
The man grabbed Mark's shoulders, staring into his eyes, "I am certain, Mark. More than I have ever been in my entire life. Tayi will support the endeavour; your team will. The wound..." He frowned as he noticed the wound completely closed, "... You are full of surprises, Mark. This is why I like you; you are everything I aspire to be. I do not know if you consider me the same, but I think of you as a friend. I have none, but our cooperation has brought us together. I have put so much blood and sweat into our partnership to make it work. So, so much. My future was sacrificed on a hope for you, a bet, a gamble. Yet, you are everything I've dreamed of, a chance to save Humanity. Not just give me Tayi. I ask a lot, I know, but for my undying devotion to helping you achieve your dreams, is that this Invincible die. We are at a stage where sacrifices must be made, Mark. I have made mine; this is one of them." Gesturing towards the bodies, "What is yours?"
Becoming frustrated at no verbal answer, Russo tried to guide his head towards the bodies, "Look, Mark. Look at them!" He shouted as Mark glanced towards the mutilated corpses, "Look at what they do! They're animals! They are the people that will one day take over this world. And this! This is what they do." He calmed down as he spoke softer, "You lost your family, Mark. I've lost mine. Different reasons, but we can come out of this stronger. They want us to cower, to fear them; they want to intimidate us. I think... we should retaliate. Show them the error they just made. Show them... they aren't the powerhouse they once were. You tip the scales. You, Mark. Don't let them remove you from it." He paused as he took a breath, "All I ask, Mark. Is that you make a sacrifice as I have."
Staring at the bodies during Russo's reasoning, the corner of his lip moved upwards. A feeling arose; the same feeling when he first saw them: the hate, the anger, the disgust. They all came back, kicking and screaming. He took a deep breath, the decision he was about to make being pivotal. Once he started, like Russo, he couldn't turn back. But yet, wasn't this what a hero would do? A champion of justice and peace? Stop the bad guys? The monsters who torture and rape. He would be doing a good thing, helping the world; his original aim in joining Barak's team. Disaster relief was no longer enough. Not after what he had seen. With the power to stop even the strongest of opponents, why should he limit himself to helping deal with the after-effects, listening to the directives of a nation?
Perhaps this was what the Void was showing him. 'Kill Them All'. It rang through his mind like a bell. If even the origin of his powers drove him towards this choice, the previous vision warning him of everything that has gone wrong so far, then this choice was the one he must choose.
"The scales aren't even. Not anymore." He stared at Russo, his partner, "I'm not just going to tilt the scales in our favour. No, I'm going to break it. The world is in dire need of a revolution. This is our chance to do that."
Russo smiled the same charming smile as when they first met, "Good, Mark. You will have my undivided attention. We will change this world for the better, for humanity."