In Metropolis, a strange sight could be seen as Nolan Grayson, the former hero Omni-Man and current planetary invader, walked listlessly through an old house on the outskirts of the city. It was as close to the suburbs as one could get in the futuristic metropolis, but more than that, it was Nolan's old home—the one he had shared with his former wife and son, Mark. He had time to kill, as Lucan's recovery had taken longer than expected, something Nolan understood, given he had suffered a blow from the same attack—though his had been more severe. He didn't know why he had come back here, but now that he was, a strange feeling began to bubble up inside him.
He tried to analyze this feeling as he ran his fingers across the island in the center of the kitchen. It felt like regret, but he knew it was different, as if he regretted no longer being in this house. Turning his head, he could hear Anissa on the edge of his senses. He cast the strange feelings aside and focused on the task at hand. With Lucan recovering, they were back to full strength, meaning their next attack wouldn't fail—but Nolan wasn't going to take any chances. In an un-Viltrumite manner, he began formulating a plan that didn't rely on brute force.
Flying into the garden, Anissa walked through the door. "Will the Kryptonian hear us from this distance?" she asked, cutting straight to the chase.
"No, he would need to be actively listening for us to isolate our voices," Nolan responded. He had gathered a considerable amount of information on the Justice League and its members, especially Superman—his only equal when it came to raw power.
"Then what are we waiting for? Lucan is waiting in the lithosphere for the signal," Anissa said, her tone tinged with annoyance.
"There are many strong individuals on this planet. If they decide to band together, there's a chance we might lose," Nolan said sternly, turning to face her. "Do you want to fail the Empire?"
"That's a foolish question," she replied.
"Then follow my lead. I'm the senior agent. I've done this for centuries, long before you were born," he added.
Anissa crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. "Very well, Nolan, but if you fail again, I'll kill you myself," she said, her voice calm.
"We won't fail..." Nolan said, his expression grave as he looked toward the living room, where the bodies of the current residents lay on the floor.
___________________________
It always felt the same when he closed his eyes—helplessness, paralysis. He was pinned to the ground, powerless to do anything but watch as Bayview was destroyed. Buildings crumbled and exploded, bodies were ripped apart, and screams filled the air like a cruel symphony. But the worst part wasn't the carnage; it was the reflection of himself in the chaos. He saw his own face twisted in a monstrous smile, his own hands committing the atrocities.
He watched as he hoisted Gary by the neck, twisting it until it snapped clean off. Blood gushed like a fountain, splattering the ruins around them. He saw Amelia, her limbs crushed and torn apart by one of his Blue Spheres, her cries of agony ringing in his ears.
Megan.
Emma.
John.
Everyone he had met in Bayview was gone, their faces haunting him like phantoms in the dark. The Evans, who had shown him nothing but kindness, had paid for their good nature with their lives. And here he was, alive—breathing, walking. It felt like a cruel joke, a crime against the universe that he had survived while none of them had.
Mark opened his eyes with a gasp, the cold metal ceiling of the watchtower room coming into view. His chest heaved as he lay there, staring into nothingness, the weight of his memories pressing down on him like a vice. But he shoved the thoughts away with practiced force. There was only one person responsible for what happened in Bayview, and that person was dead now.
Rubbing his eyes, he sat up, his feet touching the icy metallic floor. The bed next to him—empty. Too empty.
"Time," he murmured hoarsely into the silence.
03:34 AM, UTC, came Eve's soft, mechanical response.
Mark sighed, knowing sleep wouldn't come again. Not tonight. Not for a long time. He rose from the bed and shuffled to the small wardrobe, its contents sparse and uniform. His personal belongings, his old life, had all been obliterated along with Bayview. For now, he had to make do with what the League had provided; standard issue uniform. He pulled on a plain white t-shirt, a fresh pair of boxers, and the grey jumpsuit bearing the Justice League symbol on its chest. Practical. Clean. Soulless.
Once dressed, he slipped on his shoes and stepped into the corridor. The watchtower was bathed in dim light, the artificial equivalent of night hours. He had no destination in mind. He just needed to move It at least gave him a chance to think, think about everything that had happened this past week. While slow his memories started to pour back in from his old life, the first ones being those of Kara, then his mother, and soon it all came flooding back. The strangest thing however was how disconnected the memories felt at first, like he was only getting images without any meaning attached to them.
For a while it felt like there were two different Marks, the one who lived in Bayview and the one who did not. As the feeling associated with his memories returned it felt as if he was neither Mark now. In fact he felt like a strange amalgamation of both, that's if he was even that different in the first place. Mark tubbed his head. 'Way too early for an existential crisis,' he thought to himself. Though with those memories came sorrow as he thought of Oliver his younger brother. He didn't know him at all, but he wished he could've, he never deserved what happened to him.
After walking for a while, he appeared in front of a door. Stifling his movements, he quietly approached and entered the correct code, which unlocked it. Moving through soundlessly, he found himself in a spacious living room that opened into a kitchen area, with three doors leading off of it. One door led to a shower, and the other two opened into bedrooms. This was just one of many family rooms on the Watchtower—many of the League members had families of their own. Whether they needed a safe place or simply wanted to spend time with their significant other, they could make use of these rooms. The idea, surprisingly enough, had been implemented by Batman himself. Even if Mark didn't like the man, he had good ideas—well, most of the time. When it came to people, though, he was sorely lacking.
How much could've been avoided if Batman had just talked to him? If any of them had taken the time to communicate, instead of acting on assumptions? Mark had grown up on Earth—his mother was from here. Just because he was part alien didn't mean he was here to conquer. From what Kara had told him, he had those same suspicions when Superman first arrived. And he had felt the same way when she herself had come to Earth.
Mark quietly approached the second door and opened it without a sound. As soon as he crossed the threshold, his eyes were immediately drawn to one thing: the small cot resting in a quiet alcove near the window. His heart skipped a beat, and his stomach tightened as he moved toward it. There, sleeping peacefully, was his son.
His son.
It still didn't feel real. Mark reached down, picking him up gently, and felt his stomach flip as his son's tiny, squirming form rested in his arms. It was real. The overwhelming love he felt for the small bundle in his arms was indescribable. He couldn't imagine ever regretting what had happened to bring him here. The guilt still lingered at the back of his mind, but all he had to do was feel his son squirm in his embrace to be reminded of what mattered most. He would do anything for him.
As angry as Raven was with him at the moment, she had allowed him this one thing. Ever since he regained his memories, Mark had known there was only one name he could choose for his son. There was no other that felt right. Mark placed his finger down, and a tiny, soft hand wrapped around it.
Waylon Grayson.
Mark's gaze shifted to the bed, where his wife slept. Of course, she'd been awake the whole time. She undoubtedly had dozens of spells placed around the room, each one alerting her of anyone who dared approach them or threaten their baby. He rocked Waylon a little more, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead before placing him back in the cot.
Then, Mark turned to Raven. She was sitting at the edge of the bed, her arms crossed. She had borrowed a nightdress from Kara, one that was slightly too large for her, giving him an all-too-good view of her body.
Before they were married, it had been torturous whenever they were together. Raven's slender, toned body—tight and firm, like most heroines—was alluring. Her thighs were thick, and though not large, her bust was full. But by far, her most striking feature was her smooth, pale gray skin and the cascade of her purple hair. She was beautiful in every way, and he loved her almost as much as he loved their son.
Though at the moment he wasn't in their good graces. Despite having no memory of Kara at the time he'd still gone and gotten married and had a child with another woman, and while he couldn't be blamed for it, he couldn't blame the women for needing some time to adjust. At least that's what they told him, that they needed some time to discuss things with each other before anything else happened.
For Raven that meant giving him the silent treatment, but unfortunately for her that wasn't as effective as she thought it was. Mark had spent months with Raven before she said a single word, and after a long time living together he could read her like a book. So no matter what body language she tried to use as a front, it all fell apart when he knelt down and looked into her violet eyes. She loved him just as deeply as he loved her, and even with this difficult situation it wouldn't change. She was stubborn though so he wouldn't get a word out of her until she was ready, but that didn't mean...
Mark leaned forward and pushed his lips against hers kissing her deeply. She reciprocated immediately and with no hesitation, her arms wrapping around his neck as she does everything in her power to deepen the kiss. Marks arms wrap around her, he starts to harden as he feels her warm body through the thin material of her nightdress. She's practically moaning into his mouth right now and she's even actively trying to pull him onto the bed, but he stops her. He pulls back from the kiss and looks at her deeply flushed face, she's panting heavily and her eyes are fluttering. Mark kisses her on the nose before leaning forward and whispering. "Goodnight."
She shouts him angry glare that just looks like a cute pout, nonetheless he smiles before taking one last look at Waylon and then leaving the room, closing the door behind him. Though when he did leave he came face to face with a very annoyed and very pregnant Kara who slept in the other room. "You know I could hear you pee in your room if I wanted to," she said in a terse tone.
"I hope you don't," he said with a sheepish smile as he scratched the back of his head.
Kara looked annoyed for a few more seconds before she sighed and let her annoyance fade away. She waddled closer to him and hugged him tightly, an action he reciprocated. The hardest part about all this was that he really did love Kara as well, they had shared many things together even if he hadn't spent as much time with her than he had with Raven. 'Not for lack of trying,' he thought to himself. Though it did seem that the moment he met Kara he didn't have a second of rest—apart from the time he had a hole in his stomach.
He tensed slightly as he remembered a certain person who accompanied that memory. Though if Kara felt his shift, she gave no indication. 'I'll have to find her soon,' he thought. But honestly, with the delicate situation he was in now, bringing up Harley would definitely be kicking the hornets' nest.
Kara rested her head on his chest. "I'm happy you're home," she whispered, rubbing her cheek against him and inhaling deeply.
"I'm sorry for leaving you in this state," Mark replied, his arms moving to rub her back and stroke her hair gently.
"It wasn't your fault. You saved a lot of people that day," Kara murmured as she drew back slightly to look at him.
Her eyes met his—so blue, like the color of the sky. 'She really is beautiful,' Mark thought. Kara had always been one of the most stunning women he'd ever seen, and that hadn't changed one bit.
"I'm not angry with you, Mark..." she said softly.
He cocked an eyebrow.
"Well, I was..." she admitted, dropping her gaze. "But I'm not anymore."
She looked back up at him, her expression shifting slightly. "It's just... difficult knowing that the person you love is married to someone else," she said, a trace of defeat in her voice.
Mark opened his mouth to speak, but Kara stopped him by placing a finger on his lips.
"We just need a little more time to discuss... things," she said mysteriously.
Before he could ask what she meant, she pushed up onto her tiptoes and kissed him deeply. It was slow and lingering, a kiss that carried all the emotions she hadn't said. When she finally pulled back, a teasing smile tugged at her lips as she playfully shoved him.
"I love you, Mark. Now get out of here before I throw you out," she quipped.
Mark smirked, blowing her a kiss as he turned to leave. As he walked down the hallway, he felt lighter than he had in days—though his blood was still boiling. 'After kissing and holding two of the most beautiful women alive, there's no chance I'm sleeping tonight,' he thought.
Instead of heading to his room, Mark made his way to the gym. Stepping inside, he exhaled slowly, trying to steady himself. He unzipped his jumpsuit and tied it around his waist. It wasn't much of a gym outfit, but it would have to do.
A couple of hours passed, the steady rhythm of his workout doing little to exhaust him. He was mid-rep when the door opened. Hearing the steps approach, he lowered the weights and turned, raising an eyebrow in mild surprise. Superboy. It had been nearly two years since Mark had last seen him, though for Connor, it must have been just a few months.
"I never thought I'd see your face again," Connor said as he approached, stopping a few feet away.
"Sorry to disappoint," Mark replied, straightening to his full height.
For a brief moment, the air felt heavy, the tension lingering like a storm cloud. Then, as if on cue, both of them drew their hands back and clapped them together. The force of it created a small shockwave that echoed through the room.
"I'm glad you're alive," Connor said, a faint smile breaking through his usual stoic demeanor.
"I'm glad you are too," Mark replied. "When I heard Bizarro was after you, I wasn't sure you'd make it to help the others."
Connor shrugged. "It was tough, but Kal showed up at the right time and handled him." Despite the calm words, Mark caught the flicker of disappointment in Connor's expression.
Mark studied him for a moment. He liked Connor—how could he not? Connor had stayed to fight Doomsday with him when others ran. Mark's own father had fled, but Connor had been there, side by side. That sort of loyalty was rare. Even if Mark had thrown him across the state during one of their early clashes.
"What are you doing here so late?" Connor asked, finally breaking the silence.
"Couldn't sleep," Mark admitted, glancing back at the reinforced weight machine behind him. Designed for enhanced individuals, it still didn't give him much of a challenge. "Thought I'd try wearing myself out, but... it's not happening."
Connor's smirk was faint. "Wanna spar?"
Mark arched an eyebrow. "Spar? No offense, but we're not exactly on the same level."
"That is offensive," Connor replied, deadpan. "But things are a little different now. So, wanna spar or not?"
Mark considered it for a beat, then shrugged. "Alright."
Connor's grin widened. "Good. Let's take this outside." He said sounding like a street punk.
Mark snorted, shaking his head as he followed Connor out of the gym. 'This is gonna be interesting,' he thought with a smirk.
Mark couldn't say he wasn't confused when they made their way to the airlock. Before he could say anything, Connor locked them in and depressurized the room. Mark took a deep breath as the hiss of air faded, watching the door slide open into the vast vacuum of space.
'Connor, what are you doing?' Mark asked telepathically, directing his thoughts toward the Kryptonian.
To his surprise, Connor flew straight out of the Watchtower. As far as Mark knew, Connor couldn't fly—at least not without those patches he always carried around. 'Does he have one on now?' Mark wondered. 'I hope he's got a spare. I really don't want to have to drag him back if that thing wears off.'
Mark flew after him, quickly catching up. Connor looked back at him and, without preamble, began explaining. 'During the underground auction, when the Joker turned everyone into a Kryptonian, it affected me too.'
'But after it wore off... it was different for me. Since I'm already half-Kryptonian, it strengthened my DNA, and the effects were permanent.'
Mark's eyebrows shot up. 'So you have the same powers as Superman and Kara now?'
Connor nodded. 'Yeah. Though I doubt I'll ever reach their level.'
Mark grinned. If Connor had that kind of power now, this spar had just gotten a lot more interesting. Without warning, Mark raced toward him. Connor barely had time to react, raising his arms to block just as Mark's fist slammed into him, the sheer force sending him rocketing backward.
'Cheap shot,' Connor grumbled before darting back toward him at full speed.
Mark caught the punch, but Connor kept pushing, forcing him backward through the void. Mark retaliated with a sharp headbutt to the nose, making Connor grunt in pain, before driving his knee into his gut. Twisting around, Mark grabbed him and hurled him through space, then shot off after him, connecting with a series of heavy punches.
Connor growled through clenched teeth, trapping Mark's arm mid-swing and countering with a flurry of brutal liver shots. Mark, unfazed, drove his free elbow into Connor's face repeatedly, forcing him to loosen his grip. Twisting free, Mark spun with momentum and whipped his foot into Connor's stomach, launching him away at breakneck speeds.
Despite holding back, Mark was having fun. It was rare to fight purely for the sake of fighting. Their spar escalated rapidly, neither willing to pull too many punches. The clash reached a boiling point when Mark hurled Connor into the moon, the impact carving out a massive crater in the surface.
Connor recovered quickly, his eyes narrowing as he saw Mark charging toward him again. Instead of meeting him head-on, Connor's gaze burned red, and a beam of heat vision shot toward Mark, hitting him squarely and sending him off course into the lunar surface.
Mark floated out of the newly formed crater, brushing dust off himself with a grin still plastered across his face. 'So we're using abilities now?' he asked. He had refrained from using his powers to keep things somewhat fair, but if Connor wanted to take the gloves off...
Connor didn't reply—he just grinned back.
'I guess that's his answer,' Mark thought.
He shot toward Connor, maneuvering effortlessly through the crimson beams of heat vision Connor fired at him. When one ray got too close, Mark blocked it with his forearm, wincing at the sting but undeterred. Connor lunged at him, but Mark twisted below him mid-flight and drove his foot into Connor's stomach, sending him spiraling through space. Before Connor could shoot too far, Mark reached out, snaring him in a gravity well and slamming him back down into the moon's surface.
Connor climbed to his feet, shaking the rubble out of his hair, only to be greeted by a kick from Mark that sent him skidding across the lunar terrain. Connor grunted, flipping mid-slide and digging his hands into the ground to slow himself. Without missing a beat, he launched back at Mark.
They clashed again, blow for blow. Connor wasn't the best at hand-to-hand, but years of training under Black Canary had sharpened his skills. Still, Mark was in a different league. Mark ducked under a hook, pivoted smoothly, and smashed a back elbow into Connor's temple before spinning back the other way and driving a gravity-enhanced punch into his ribs. The force of it sent Connor hurtling out of the exosphere.
Mark winced slightly. 'I didn't hold back on that one,' he thought, flying after him to check if he was okay. Connor, of course, was more than fine—he dropkicked Mark in the chest, tackling him back into the moon's surface with a thunderous impact.
Hours later, both of them were sprawled out on the moon, slightly bloodied but grinning. Neither had escaped unscathed, though neither was particularly hurt either.
"Good fight," Mark said, lifting his fist in Connor's direction.
Connor bumped his knuckles against Mark's with a satisfied smirk. "Yeah."
Together, they lay there silently, staring up at the small blue orb that they called home.
___________________________
In the Watchtower, through multiple cameras, Superman and Wonder Woman observed the entire sparring match. The monitoring wasn't just for curiosity—either of them was ready to intervene if necessary—but Kal's interest leaned more toward seeing how his little brother had developed since his powers had been "upgraded."
"Do you think he'll stay?" Diana asked softly.
She was, of course, referring to Mark. It wasn't a secret that she hoped he'd consider becoming a hero. Most of the League shared that sentiment—even Bruce would likely agree at this point.
At any other time, Kal might have said no. But now, he wasn't so sure. He didn't think Mark would ever join the Justice League formally, but becoming a hero? That wasn't entirely off the table anymore. Something about him had changed. Kal had never been particularly close to Mark, but he noticed the subtle shifts in his demeanor. Body language was something Kal had learned to read well over the years as a hero—it often saved lives.
Before, Mark had carried himself stiffly, always on edge. Guarded. A lot like Bruce.
Now, however, he was more relaxed, approachable even. The tension that once coiled through his frame had eased, as though the weight he carried had lifted, even if just slightly. Kal couldn't help but smile as he remembered something Mark had said when he saw how well he was getting along with everyone.
"You all helped save my wife and son. Anything you could've done before might as well have never happened."
Hearing those words had felt like an absolution Kal didn't realize he needed. The guilt of almost killing Mark—regardless of the circumstances—was a burden he'd carried for years. He still felt responsible, but now... it was lighter.
"Mark probably won't do much for a while," Kal said finally, breaking his train of thought. "With one kid and another on the way, he'll stay close to Kara and Raven."
Diana nodded. "He deserves time to rest—to be with his family." She meant that wholeheartedly. Still, there was no denying the hope she held. Someone like Mark—someone that strong—wasn't just a boon for the Justice League; he was a boon for the world. He'd already stopped multiple extinction-level threats on his own.
"Mark's a good man," Kal said with a small smile. "Even if he never officially becomes a hero, I believe he'll always show up when we need him."
Their conversation, however, was abruptly cut short. The command center doors hissed open as Hal Jordan and John Stewart walked in, their faces grave.
"Kal, Diana—we need to talk," Hal said, his voice unusually somber.
Diana turned to face them, her brow furrowed. "Is everything well?"
Hal exhaled heavily, eyes falling to the ground for a moment. "Guy's dead," he said finally.
Kal's expression tightened, his eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise. They hadn't seen much of Guy Gardner in recent years. The Green Lantern Corps was stretched so thin that Earth had become more of an occasional stop than a regular assignment.
"How?" Kal asked quietly, his voice low.
"There was an attack on Raxull," John answered, stepping in. "We pushed them back to the edge of the system, but Guy was lost during the fight." His voice carried a heavy weight—one all of them felt. Losing a comrade, especially one as familiar as Guy Gardner, was like losing a piece of themselves.
"Did you bring back his body?" Kal asked after a moment of silence.
Both Lanterns nodded. They knew how important it was. Guy would want to be buried on Earth—his home.
Diana spoke next. "Why did they attack Raxull?" She wasn't deeply familiar with the ongoing war but had heard snippets over time.
John's jaw tightened slightly. "Sector 4237—the Veltrane System—is critical to the war effort. It has a major Lantern presence, and a lot of our allies are positioned there."
Kal frowned faintly. "I thought Raxull was just a pleasure and gambling planet."
"It used to be," John said. "But it's become strategically significant. Its position allows us to mobilize our forces efficiently and deploy them straight to the frontlines."
Kal looked between the two Lanterns. "You've been holding off attacks from the Viltrum Empire for years. What's changed?"
"They formed an alliance... with the Saiyan Empire," Hal said gravely.
Kal's eyes widened, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hair. "That's impossible. They've been enemies for hundreds, if not thousands, of years."
"We don't know what's happened," John replied, his tone tight with frustration as he clenched his fists. "None of our informants have been able to get any useful intel."
Hal nodded grimly. "All we know is they've joined forces and launched a joint attack that nearly overwhelmed our defenses."
Kal's mind raced, trying to process the implications.
"It won't be long before they launch another offensive," Hal continued, his voice strained. "So we're all being called back to help with the war effort." He didn't look particularly pleased about it, clearly reluctant to leave Earth behind.
Kal stepped forward, his resolve hardening. "Do you need assistance?" he offered immediately, only to catch a glance from Diana that seemed to say not now.
Hal shook his head. "Earth is still recovering from whatever Trigon did to it. You two are needed here. We'll be fine." He forced a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.
Kal and Diana both approached and shook their hands. "Be careful," Kal said, a note of concern in his voice. "I've read about the Saiyans in Krypton's archives. They're dangerous."
"We know," John replied, offering his friend a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about us."
With that, both Lanterns turned and left the room, their footsteps heavy with the weight of the war they were about to face. The urgency was clear—they needed to get to their destination as quickly as possible, and they couldn't afford to reveal anything more.
Kal stood there, a strange unease settling in his chest. The news was unsettling, but something about it gnawed at him. It felt like the beginning of something far worse.
He couldn't shake the sinking feeling in his stomach as he thought about the alliance. He hoped it was nothing.
But deep down, he knew it wasn't.
(AN: I'm back, a bit of a chill chapter, bur we will have a few of those as Mark readjusts to his life, then we will jump into things. I know some of you might feel a bit iffy about the concept of adding Saiyans to the universe, but don't worry I think I can add them in a way that's not too lore breaking. For one thing Freiza won't exist, though I might change my mind on that idk. Anyway the Saiyans will be different, they will be much more racist and focused on blood purity. Think of the Elite class having the mindset of frieza towards other races and even lower classes of their own people. Ki at least in the way Dragon ball use it won't be a thing, so the ability for Saiyans to use it will be specific to them and will be nerfed a bit, can't really have characters at a 200 PL blowing up moons and shit. Anyway I'm mostly adding them cause I think it would be interesting and I like some of the Saiyan abilities such as Ozaru and Super Saiyan. Anyway I hope you enjoyed the chapter.
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