An injured father, an unknown building, and an obscure organization. This day just kept getting worse and worse. Since childhood, Mark had seen his father as an unstoppable force, someone invincible. Every feat his father accomplished—deflecting lasers, dodging bullets, surviving natural disasters—reinforced that belief. Nothing seemed capable of hurting him. But now, Mark faced the harsh reality that his father was not indestructible.
Mark loved his father tremendously and idolized him. To see him now, lying weak and unconscious under an IV, with his mother by his side, was excruciating. The man who had always been his hero, reduced to this frail state, was a sight too painful to bear. His mother, usually a pillar of strength, was breaking down, tears streaming down her face. Each tear felt like a dagger to Mark's heart.
He struggled to meet his mother's gaze, knowing she was suffering even more than he was. The sight of her anguish nearly brought him to his knees. He wanted to rush to his father's side, to hold him, to somehow transfer his own strength and will to fight. But he hesitated, the presence of a stranger in the room holding him back.
Donald, an agent of the Global Defense Agency, stood nearby. This same Donald had convinced Mark that they were doing everything possible to bring his father back to normal. The advanced technology in the room offered a glimmer of hope, but no one could give a hundred percent certainty of his recovery. The uncertainty gnawed at Mark, fueling his anger and frustration. He felt powerless, a sensation foreign and unwelcome.
His mother reached over to stroke his father's head, her fingers trembling. The scene was almost too much for Mark to bear. He wanted to scream, to unleash his fury at the world for doing this to his father, to his family.
"Who did this?" Mark bellowed, his voice echoing through the sterile room. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white with the intensity of his emotions. He didn't care who answered, but someone needed to. He needed to know who was responsible for shattering his world. "Who did this to my father?" he repeated, his voice breaking.
"We didn't know. "
There was an older but confident voice, followed immediately by a louder, deeper voice. "And I will personally rip their heads off."
Mark turned to see the source of the voices. Standing before him was old man with sharp eyes that seemed to see everything. His graying hair at the temples contrasted with his stern face, hinting at the weight of years of experience and countless difficult decisions.
Dressed in a suit that seemed both professional and understated, the old guy radiated confidence. Mark sensed a quiet intensity in him, as if he was always calculating and several steps ahead, a guy who clearly knew more than he was saying.
Behind old man stood a towering figure, a man who seemed almost too large for the room. The ceilings were high, yet this newcomer stood so tall his head nearly brushed against them. He was impossibly tall, with a physique that was both muscular and imposing. His hair was a lush cascade, seemingly untouched by age, adding to his larger-than-life presence. He wore a loose Hawaiian shirt, which did little to hide his powerful build, and a pair of white pants that contrasted with his dark shoes. Gold-rimmed glasses sat perched on his forehead, just above a stern scowl.
Mark knows him, everybody knows him. It's Goliath, one of the most famous heroes in the world. He was not just a hero but a billionaire and the founder of a company dedicated to fighting Kaijus. His exploits had been chronicled in countless stories and shows, making him a household name. To Mark, he was a legend, second only to his own father. If the circumstances weren't so dire, Mark would have asked for an autograph and a picture. Seeing Goliath there, gave Mark a glimmer of hope. Known for his relentless and often brutal methods, Goliath was not someone to cross lightly. His very presence was a promise of retribution.
Mark felt a surge of confidence. If Goliath was involved, it meant that those responsible for his father's condition would face a reckoning. Goliath was notorious for his zero-tolerance policy towards villains, and anyone who had harmed Mark's father had undoubtedly made a powerful enemy.
" We didn't know yet. And when we find out who's behind this. They will be much worse than your dad over there. "
The old man stepped a little closer to Mark, extending his hand for a handshake. "Cecil Stedman, director of the GDA."
Mark looked skeptically at Cecil, who introduced himself with an air of authority. He didn't miss the way Donald straightened up at the sight of Cecil, a clear sign of respect and perhaps a bit of fear. Mark's eyes flickered up briefly to meet the stern gaze of Goliath. It was a rare and memorable sight. Goliath, known for his infectious laughter and fearless demeanor, was always portrayed with a wide smile in his shows, podcasts, and even cartoons. The only other time Mark had seen Goliath scowl was when a villain nearly killed an elderly woman. Her identity remained a mystery, but the incident had revealed a different, more serious side of the hero.
Goliath met Mark's eyes and gave a faint, barely perceptible nod. Mark blinked, wondering if this silent acknowledgment could be an invitation to join the investigation.
Returning his gaze to Cecil, Mark shook his hand. Despite his age, Cecil's grip was firm and confident.
Immediately after the handshake, Cecil turned to Mark's mother. " Deborah, I'm so sorry."
Goliath's voice rumbled as he hunched down a bit, trying to make his towering presence less intimidating. "Accept my apologies too, Debbie."
"Don't, Thomas," she replied.
Mark blinked in surprise. Had his mother just called Goliath by his first name?
"This isn't your fault," she continued.
Goliath lowered his head slightly, his expression pained. "That supervillain was powerful enough to take on all the Guardians and just walk away..."
"What?" Debbie asked, her voice trembling.
Cecil took a deep breath before delivering the grim news. "The Guardians of the Globe have been killed."
Mark and his mother exchanged a brief, concerned glance. In the room, Goliath turned his back, touching a finger to what was likely an earpiece. Mark strained to catch Cecil's words, recounting the brutal deaths of the Guardians of the Globe. The description was horrifying: the heroes had been killed with extreme cruelty, their bodies left unrecognizable.
It was a scene gruesome enough to unsettle even the toughest individuals. The fact that they had been lured into a trap, just like his father, added a chilling layer to the tragedy. Mark struggled to believe it.
Cecil paused, his expression grim. Then, Goliath's booming voice cut through the heavy silence. "We have an attack happening upstairs. I'm afraid we'll have to end this meeting."
Mark stiffened at the mention of an attack. He glanced at his father, still lying unconscious, and then at his mother, who shared his worried look. Cecil acted quickly, his tone tinged with frustration. "Not one damn calm day," he muttered, getting up from his seat. Donald followed suit. "We'll be right behind him, Deborah," Cecil assured Mark's mother as they moved towards the exit, the doorway cleared by Goliath's sheer presence. The hero's massive form seemed to dominate the space, a living mountain of muscle that seemed to shift the very atmosphere around him.
When they were leaving, Mark noticed an unspoken exchange between Cecil and Goliath. There was a momentary, significant look shared between them, as if communicating silently. It was intriguing, almost cool, and Mark couldn't help but feel a mix of awe and curiosity. Were they silently coordinating their response? Whatever it was, it left a impression on Mark.
The room cleared, leaving Mark, his mother, and Goliath. The giant hero spoke, his voice resonating with authority. "I'm generally against teenagers getting involved in this line of work, but you've already made your choice. I see the fire in your eyes. You want to avenge your father, and that's honorable. But right now, we have an attack to deal with. So, follow me."
Mark blinked, processing the words from his second favorite hero. He pointed at himself, seeking confirmation.
Goliath nodded, his expression serious but not unkind. "Yes, you. And Deborah," he added, turning to Mark's mother, "you know how I look after the younger ones. He'll be safe with me. Kid, follow me."
Mark hesitated for a moment, glancing at his mother. She gave him a reassuring nod, though her eyes were filled with concern. Mark felt a surge of determination. This was his chance to do something, to prove himself. He steeled himself and followed Goliath, ready to face whatever was waiting for them upstairs. For his mother, for him, for his father.
***
The city center, usually bustling with life and activity, was now the epicenter of chaos. Dark, swirling portals had begun to materialize amidst the towering skyscrapers and busy streets. From these otherworldly rifts emerged humanoid creatures with sickly green skin and angular faces, adorned with writhing tendrils on their heads and faces. Their guttural sounds filled the air, clearly a form of communication, as they coordinated their invasion.
These invaders were clad in futuristic armor, sleek white suits with blue trims that glowed ominously in the dimming daylight. Each one carried a weapon, advanced and deadly, designed for efficient destruction. As they streamed through the portals, enormous vehicles resembling tanks followed, their monstrous forms rolling out to support the infantry.
There were many of them, organized into menacing groups, spreading out with malevolent intent. This was not a simple raid; it was a full-scale invasion, executed with extreme brutality. Ordinary civilians screamed and ran, but many were mercilessly cut down by the invaders' weapons. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke and the sounds of destruction.
Just as despair began to settle over the city, an incredibly loud and furious scream pierced the chaos, echoing from the heavens.
"FUUUUUCKERS!"
*Boom*
The voice's owner landed with tremendous force, shattering the sidewalk beneath him and drawing all eyes toward him. Dust and debris rose from the impact, creating a thick veil. But then, a massive hand swept through the cloud, clearing it with a single powerful motion, revealing the imposing figure within.
It was Goliath.
As the dust settled around Goliath, another figure touched down beside him, clad in a distinctive hero uniform. It was Mark, now known as Invincible. He felt an intense energy in the air, something entirely new to him. This almost tangible aura seemed to emanate from Goliath, enveloping him like a golden haze. Standing behind the towering hero, Mark saw where Goliath's gaze was fixed—intently on the alien invaders.
Goliath's presence radiated pure intimidation, have something like sure like in those mangas. The green-skinned invaders froze under his stern glare, paralyzed with fear or hesitation, their weapons momentarily lowered.
"When faced with this many opponents," Goliath's deep, commanding voice broke the heavy silence, "the first thing you do is use force to draw their attention. Words won't help, not now. Get the civilians to safety." His tone brooked no hesitation.
Mark, still awestruck, felt a surge of adrenaline. He wanted to spring into action, but Goliath's next words stopped him. "They all are mine."
In a move that would be forever etched into Mark's memory, Goliath stepped forward, his actions deliberate and powerful. He brought his massive hands together with tremendous force.
*CLAP*
The sound was deafening, a sonic boom that sent a powerful shockwave racing down the street towards the invaders. The sheer force of the impact was overwhelming, causing the ground to shake and windows to shatter. The aliens, already stunned, were thrown into disarray, their ranks breaking as the shockwave hit them.
But Goliath wasn't done. He charged forward with incredible speed, a living juggernaut. The ground seemed to quake beneath his steps as he hurtled into the fray, his figure a blur of motion and power.
*BOOM*
He crashed into the alien ranks like a bowling ball smashing through pins, sending bodies flying in all directions. The sheer force of his attack was like a force of nature, unstoppable and awe-inspiring. The invaders, so menacing moments before, were now scattered, overwhelmed by the sheer ferocity of Goliath's onslaught.
Goliath feared nothing. He plunged into the throng of green-skinned invaders with unrelenting fury, instantly veering toward the hulking tanks emerging from the portals. Lasers fired at him from all directions. Some he dodged with lightning reflexes, while others struck his formidable frame, only to dissipate against the now-visible golden aura that enveloped him. His anger had made this aura almost tangible, a shimmering testament to his wrath.
Rage fueled his every move. He had witnessed the merciless slaughter of innocent civilians by these alien creatures, and he vowed to repay them in kind. Seizing a tank, he began to spin it around, his immense strength turning the war machine into a lethal projectile. As he swung it, the tank mowed down scores of aliens, their blood spraying in all directions. Those not crushed or eviscerated by the tank's momentum found themselves at the mercy of Goliath's relentless assault.
"RAGH!" With a roar that seemed to shake the very air, he hurled the tank straight back into one of the portals. Without missing a beat, he turned to the next vehicles. His movements were a blur of speed and power, an unstoppable force of destruction. The aliens, their advanced weapons, and their tanks were nothing more than playthings to him. He picked up and flung the tanks as if they were mere toys, barely registering their weight.
The second and third tanks crumpled under his blows, reduced to twisted heaps of metal.
*SLAM*
*BOOM*
"Sriueeeeeeeeeeeee!" The alien invaders screamed in their guttural language. Thomas couldn't understand their words, but the sheer terror in their voices was unmistakable. It was a cry for mercy or retreat, an admission of their overwhelming fear.
Goliath knew reinforcements had arrived behind him. His abilities allowed him to sense the presence of allies within a certain radius. Trusting that Mark would coordinate with them, he allowed himself a moment of grim satisfaction, his eyes blazing with fury as he took in the pathetic sight of the invaders.
"BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!" His laugh echoed across the battlefield, a sound filled with both scorn and triumph. It was a laugh meant to be remembered. He wanted the aliens to carry the memory of his laughter back through the portals, to haunt them for eternity.