"My Lord!" Dedicatio urged, "We- We must find another way! Another method to get out; too much will be lost without you... I'll be lost without you; we all will."
The President sighed, "It is too late for me, my friend; my time has come. Mark will come for me... I... made a mistake."
His fingers flexed over his forehead, rubbing them as his expression saddened, "Perhaps... my confidence blinded me. My visions have... betrayed me. I am not the one to save the world."
"I don't understand-" Dedicatio clenched his jaw.
"Ugh... the deal was scrapped, Dedicatio; the other side broke their promise. I should never have dealt with a... machine."
"A mistake, perhaps, My Lord. But, we can manage him."
"We, no, I, cannot. As I said, I am not the one to save the world from the... Cycle. It is the end of the line for me."
A pause lingered inside the Oval Office as the President laid back on his throne, dejected. His subordinate frowned, mouth opening and closing but unable to project his thoughts.
"You do not need to worry, my friend." The President spoke, "Dedicatio, listen, and listen well. The boy is naive and lingers on aspirations of heroism; he will not hunt any of you down. Of that, I am certain; I hold the blame for his anger."
"My Lord!" Dedicatio tensed, "We- We cannot just let him free! We can kill him! The boy bleeds no different to even us; he is mortal. We... we just need to try."
"We cannot kill him!" The Veiled Lord snapped, "Even the six... monsters were unable. An Eneph Bullet could not kill him, and now he can stop them. But he will fall one day, perhaps not tomorrow, perhaps not this century, but one day. The universe will right his existence."
"So... we just give up, then? We don't even try? Just... wait out time and hope someone comes along and beats him?"
"Stop bemoaning, Dedicatio; this is not the end. I may pass, but you will continue the struggle. I extended my discoveries, my gift to all of you, because I believed in a united Earth, held strong with great leaders." He huffed, "The girl, make sure she lives. She will have a part to play in his downfall. I have seen it. I may not be the saviour, but perhaps... she is. When he falls, she shall be there."
"The girl? She hasn't even gone through the process. How will she help?"
"I... do not know." The President gestured, "But if my sight has not failed me again, you will have the answer in due time. You have been with me for many long years, Jonathan; The New Age will be for you."
Dedicatio's eyes watered as he bowed his head, his bottom lip struggling to be contained as it trembled.
"I will do my best. I will usher in our New Age, your dream."
The misty veil was ruffled, a faint emotion showing but hidden behind the mask.
"Our dream." The President emphasised, "Make me a martyr, my friend, and make him a monster. He has already done half the job; now you must do yours."
"Is this really how it all ends?"
"The dream has come up short for me, but not for you. The dream of a thousand dead comrades, Invincible or otherwise. It is your time to guide the sheep; democracy has failed, and a strong hand is needed... have faith, my friend; I have faith in you."
The new Invincible bowed before heading towards a side door, glancing backwards as he hesitated. Taking perhaps the last look at his friend, mentor and Messiah, he left the Oval Office after leaving his final goodbye.
"It has been an honour, Traumer."
A smile appeared beneath the veil, the apex being's piercing purple eyes softening as his friend left the room. His fingers nervously tapped the desk as he awaited his inevitable end, but he would not make it an easy task.
***
Mark passed through the last level of the atmosphere and into the void of space, his body able to withstand the harsh elements, to his relief. Different to Earth, his speed increased exponentially with the same effort to the point he was struggling to control it.
Grunting at the annoyance, he followed HAP's direction with his eyes locked onto the roaming satellite through a web of junk and debris. It looked ordinary to him, its size unable to be determined with nothing to compare it with. Getting closer, Mark realised it was roughly four to six times his height, yet when he punched it, it shattered like everything else. The pieces flew off, thrown into the cosmos at ever-increasing speeds as his laser finished off any remnants, his eyes blazing and annihilating as much as possible.
Despite the destruction, the silence was deafening; no rushing blood or heart making a sound. It was eerie, outer space creeping him out as he moved back towards Earth and normalcy, hitting the atmosphere with force. His descent burnt up instantly as a blazing red streak flew across the East Coast, heading to the capital.
"Is he at the White House?" Mark rapidly questioned.
"He is." HAP meekly responded.
With his thoughts correct, he followed the AI's guidance and arrived above the city moments later. Famous sites littered his view: The White House, Capital Building, National Mall and other monuments.
Overlooking the capital, his cold glare saw people no different to those in Europe; the differences were minimal. He had expected expensive cars and people with exotic fashion considering their isolation, yet they were so similar. The only real difference was the roving gangs of police enforcers moving around the blocks somewhat menacingly.
But despite the police, the citizens walked without worries, and that, told enough to Mark. They had no care for the outer world, their invasion of Mexico, and their belligerence to every other nation. They walked peacefully and safely as the planet slowly descended into chaos around them, the world acting with trepidation towards him.
Brows knitted, his eyes frigid with burning fervour, he stared at the monuments of America's glory, their great history. He shot towards the Washington Monument as he scoffed, smashing into the top with an almighty bang!
Huge blocks of polished marble and granite cruised across the city skyline, landing with strong thuds. They rolled, cracking the pavements and squishing those unlucky enough to be caught in the early morning.
The structure creaked and groaned, cracks splitting up and down the monument as it crumbled; parts shattered on the grass as Mark flew back around, aiming for the lower portion. Hitting it as he did the top, it collapsed entirely as the support was obliterated by sheer speed and force. Metal beams clanged onto the concrete as screams erupted from all around.
Hovering over the ruins, the air shimmered as Mark watched his destruction unfold, the remnants scorched by his laser. Parts smelted, turning into slag as history was erased, burning as brightly as his anger. The orange glow lit up the National Mall, the Lincoln statue watching in dejection at the mayhem.
Eyes blue, he turned towards the statue's structure, turning it into rubble within seconds, most turning into ash. Mark observed with flared pupils as it went up in flames, the sight inching towards appeasing his emotions. But, he had one place he had left.
'At long last.'
Travelling towards the White House, he descended outside the neoclassical entrance, bursting through a door and into the famous building. He squinted at the lack of security or opponents, but nevertheless, he followed the mental pointers to the West Wing. Pausing outside the grand doors, he huffed before opening them.
He walked inside, gaze sharp and narrow as he glowered at the behemoth, his senes raised for a trap. The man had a rounded chin, his eye sockets sunken and dark; a smile that would give Russo a run for his money was plastered on his face.
"I would say that I have looked forward to this day for a long time, Mark Evans." The man greeted, "But in truth... I dreaded it. For if you were here, in my domain, then I had already lost."
Mark snorted, "You lost the moment you attacked Watford. You lost the moment you defiled my family. I'm not just going to kill you... no, I'm going to break you, bit by bit."
"Hmm, is that so, I suppose we shall see about that. I thought you would be less... intimidating in person. But it seems I was mistaken. You truly are the devil in disguise."
The President's eyes scanned his body, lingering longer on the torn flesh turned black; darkness seeping from it like smoke. There was desire, a curiosity within those eyes; Mark could see it clear as day.
"You're one to talk. The things you've done... you should never have gotten into power. Power really does corrupt; you are proof of that."
He shrugged, "Touché. But that is what happened. Fate works in mysterious ways; there is nothing more humorous than a corrupted man calling another corrupt. Do you know what that is called, Mark Evans...?"
Unwilling to deign to give the man a response, he stayed silent as the President answered anyway.
"...projection."
"We are nothing alike, 'Veiled Lord.'" Mark mocked.
"I think we are, Mark. We are very alike. Do you not wish to unite humanity? To end war and suffering? To explore space; to discover the universe's secrets?"
"Not under your leadership." Mark spat.
"My leadership, your leadership, another's; it makes no difference." The President smiled half-heartedly, "Democracy will not work in space, not when there are people as strong as us. It is doomed, Mark. You cling to this... stupid hope that humanity might be good, but they are not. The One Nation Movement has shown that; dictators are only bad when they are evil."
"And you're not?"
"Are you not? You have killed hundreds in such a short timeframe. Your group is full of murderers; Tayi has Bicker, who killed thousands with experimental bio-weapons. None of them is innocent, and now, neither are you. So what makes me evil and not you?"
There was a pause between the two as Mark thought about it before shaking his head with a snort.
"I am not evil." Mark stated, "I have only killed those who are as morally corrupt as yourself. Your time has come, Mr President."
"So soon?" The President snickered, "Do you not wonder why I took them? Do you not wonder how I knew you were in Watford? Do you not wonder about Jenny and HAP?"
'I can get... answers? But...'
The air wobbled and distorted, a constant internal battle as Mark teetered over the edge. But, alas, his curiosity beat out his anger. He wanted to know; he needed to know. Once he got his answers, only then would he end it.
"Why?" Mark slowly asked, "Why my family... why?"
"Why?" The President hummed, "I had a... dream, shall we say; they were linked to something I found scary. Turns out that it was you... it was nothing personal, experimentation in the pursuit of progress.
"Pursuit of progress? You are deluded! You're fucking sick!"
"I did not wish to inter with their burial, but you were, are, an anomaly. But, to be blunt, they were different to the rest. I do not know how you did it, but you managed to kill them, but one was bigger than the rest. Do you know why?"
Mark's nose crinkled.
"We believe your... seed had an impact. You seem to be inexplicably linked to the Element, so much so that even your sperm had... an effect when we changed her."
Mark's anger died for a split second, his mind reeling in confusion. The man continued speaking, despite Mark's distraction.
"As for Jenny, who do you think did it?"
"Wha- What?" Mark frowned.
"We did not kill her; you should interrogate Sishaf. But my personal thoughts, one of your group did it. Perhaps the AI, who seems to have become... sentient."
Mark blitzed towards the giant, slamming him into the wall behind as they burst through it and into the garden. The President rolled before Mark grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.
"I asked for answers! Not accusations!" Mark shouted, veins bulging in his neck.
The President stared into his eyes with a disappointed smile.
"Seems the devil has come out. This is a fight to the death, Mark. And you just missed."
Within his hand was a small, lightweight device, his fingers pressing a button as an almighty screech erupted. The frequency was high, one that only Mark could hear as the President released himself with a headbutt.
"Come on then, Mark. Make me a martyr!" The man cried out.
Stumbling as his thoughts derailed, Mark focused on the President and snarled before charging him. However, as he took off with his flight, he found himself skidding across the ground. The Invincible's fist met him on the floor, cracking the ground as Mark's nose bent at an awkward angle.
Grabbed by the man, he was headbutted again, causing him to stagger backwards before being punched back into the Oval Office. Mark lay on the floor as his opponent rushed and rummaged through his desk, grabbing a large shard of Hellon and walking over.
'Hap... help! I... I can't... Fuck! Fuck!'
Standing before Mark, the President lifted and stabbed him with the material, piercing deep into the side. Mark intensely groaned, a cascade of blood flowing from his mouth as the shard was ripped from his body.
"The worst thing, Mark, is that you do not know who you made friends with. I had no need to kill Jenny, and arguably, neither did Sishaf. So... I wonder who murdered her?"
Unable to think straight, Mark's eyes flared as he commanded his mental prowess to cover his ears. It was hard, impossible hard, but slowly, the sound became duller and duller. The intangible field covered his ears; the screech lessened but was still present, yet, it was enough.
The President accidentally slammed the shard into one of the black sections on Mark's skin, frowning as he found the weapon being sucked inside. Mark grunted at the hit before his fist smashed into the behemoth's chest and catapulted him hundreds of metres outside.
Glancing at the wound, Mark watched in a mixture of horror and confusion as the shard was absorbed into the darkness. Unable to let his thoughts dwell, the President slowly stood up from the ground as Mark launched himself into the air.
He landed with a localised earthquake, the ground rumbling as his opponent narrowly dodged. Standing opposite, they charged like bulls and slammed into each other; fists swung as the air squealed. Despite the power difference, Mark found himself unable to register a hit, the Invincible managing to dodge everything as if precognitive.
'I... can't hit him? Secundo mentioned Warping Horror... foresight?'
The brawl continued; Mark's opponent was clearly skilled in martial arts and boxing as he hit the weakest points of a human with practised strikes, outmatching Mark by a significant margin. Yet, despite his superiority, the Veiled Lord could not help but ponder how Mark could defy the device equipped around his wrist.
The President frowned, "How are you standing? What did you do?"
"Fuck off!" Mark shouted, stomping the ground.
The Earth cracked; gravity upended as the Veiled Lord was launched a few metres into the air, out of control. He watched in apprehension as his foresight showed what was coming, a blue beam smashing into him. He screamed in pain as the laser pushed him deep into the ground moments later, his skin blistering and blood boiling from within. Mark stopped the beam after a straight minute, his previous encounters with the Invincibles alluding to the nation leader's almost certain demise.
Helicopters roared above him as he approached the eviscerated epicentre, a large hole dug into the ground. The dirt was steaming; large sections melted into a liquid mixture of stone and mud. Yet, as he looked down through the smoke, he found the Invincible still breathing, battered but not dead.
Mark stepped down, "You just don't fucking die."
Covered in third-degree burns and his eyes melted, having taken catastrophic damage, the near-dead Invincible turned his head towards Mark. The President laughed, croaky and gruff and spoke, barely audible by anyone but Mark.
"So... this is how it ends... I... thought it would be... different."
"You get what you deserve." Mark stated.
"What I... deserve? I tried to... unite the world. What have... you done? You have only... united it against yourself."
Mark stayed silent, unwilling to reflect on today's deeds as the Invincible croaked a ghastly laugh.
"You will never be a... hero, Mark. Even... the AI does not trust... you." He laughed again, Mark wincing at the sound, "We made a... deal. It knew about your... family... before... Morocco."
Grabbing the President by the chest, Mark's fingers dug into the man's torso as he scowled at the brutally scarred face.
"Lies! These are your last words?" Mark spat, "You are the scum of the Earth; we'll be better off when you're dead."
He laughed again, "You are surrounded by fake friends, Mark. When the... day comes... I hope you remember this... conversation."
"Shut up and fucking die." Mark huffed.
Unwilling to hear more slander and lies, Mark repeatedly punched the President's head. Over and over, he struck with great force as the skull splintered and cracked before it broke out the back, brain oozing alongside it. Throwing the body back to the ground, he closed his eyes momentarily. He could feel his anger still bubbling beneath the skin, barely appeased, yet he had targets left.
Getting out of the hole, he stared at the incessant helicopters above, capturing the entire ordeal, the conversation barely covered by the smoke and steam. Mark sneered as his laser shot out and deleted each aircraft from existence, one by one, as fireworks lit up the White House grounds, tumbling from the sky.
Facing the corpse one last time, he erased the remnants to ensure the President's demise, the blue beam slowly turning everything into ash. With his main antagonist dealt with, Mark sighed before launching himself into the air, heading for somewhere to find peace.
***
Barak took a deep breath, staring at the gun in his shaking hand. His mind constantly replayed the message he had received; and in turn, was questioning whether this was the right decision. He tried to stop the shaking, but it would not cease, like his frown, unwilling to leave his expression. Taking another deep breath, he braced himself before opening the door and stepping inside.
Staring at the desk, the man behind it glanced up with a friendly smile.
"Hello, Barak. Do I presume you are here over Mark's... activities? I assu-"
The man paused upon seeing the gun, his brows furrowed as his eyes wandered to Barak's own. His lips trembled slightly as he saw the mixture of determination and wavering in the suited man's eyes, the shades removed.
"Barak...?" He mumbled, concerned.
"Sorry, Russo. I am... so, so sorry."