Mark stood looking out the view port of the large ship that he had spent the last few days confined to. He and his family had mostly kept themselves since they arrived on the ship while they may not be enemies now there was still quite a lot of bad blood between Mark and his father, though strangely enough Nolan seem to be trying to bridge that gap. It was quite a strange experience for Mark his father had killed literal thousands of people. He had murdered children and turned people into paste across the sidewalk, yet despite that Mark didn't really hate him for that. he didn't hate him for the numerous heroes he had killed.
The only thing that truly angered Mark about his father was the time that he spent hunting his family. Now that was over Mark found himself indifferent to his father. He wondered if that was a trait of his Viltrumite heritage; he might be worried that he was becoming sociopath if not for the fact that he loved his wives and children. Maybe things would've been different if they'd had those 10 years together, maybe his father would've loved his mother and him just the same way that he loves his children.
Turning away from the viewing port, Mark continued back to the centre of the room where a huge mess was sprawled across the floor. Raven and Harley were asleep now with Waylon and Lucy, and Galatea and Kara was staying with Dante in the medical bay. Both women had hardly left there since they arrived on the ship and had just taken to watching Dante while he was in the stabilisation pod. He understood why Kara stayed there but if he was honest, he was confused why Galatea stayed; while it was true that biologically Dante was her son as well. She didn't have any familial bond with him at least that's what Mark thought, but it turned out that he was wrong because it seemed she was just as protective of Dante as him and Kara were.
Mark had not visited Dante much, he tried to, but he just couldn't. Every time he was there he was reminded of his failure to not protect his family, reminded that he had been forced to bring his family Viltrum. The very heart of enemy territory... he had truly failed his family. So Mark did the only thing he could do to get his mind of things, he built; or in this case he deconstructed. This was one of the hobbies that Bayview Mark had picked up, when he had lost his memory and suffered that brain damage he'd gotten some kind of savant syndrome when it came to engineering. When he finally regained his memories, Past Mark and Bayview Mark merged into current Mark. Not much changed apart from his annoying desire for heroics at times and the fact that he was now good with technology.
In fact, when his mind healed it only increased his capabilities. For three days he'd been messing around with the machines in this storage room; despite the fact that all this technology was alien and decades ahead of Earth he was able to eventually understand it and now he was deconstructing it and putting it back together in a way that was more efficient. In some cases he'd made something completely new.
He'd even made a bomb.
'Never know when you might need one...' he thought to himself as he leaned back against a large crate. Though considering the power houses that were currently on the ship the bomb would probably do Jack shit.
"Eve, can you—"
Mark cut himself off... he'd forgotten he didn't have Eve anymore, she was currently inside his son doing all she could to stabilise his system. Mark had thought it might work though honestly after three days of nothing, he doubted he was doing anything but prolonging the inevitable. "Dad better keep his word..." he muttered to himself.
The alternative was just unthinkable.
Mark looked away from the mess of parts on the floor and he set down one of his tools, letting it clatter on the ground before dusting his hands off. He knew it was wrong to stay away, but he honestly didn't know what else to do. He walked over to a crate that held a bottle on it and he drank from it greedily before putting it down. They would arrive at Viltrum soon meaning that he would be presented to Thragg; he wondered how he compared to the only other Adult Hybrid. From the stories Thragg was damn near invincible, but he wouldn't be surprised if that was just as exaggeration.
Mark was interrupted from his thoughts when the door to the storage room opened. He expected, Harley or Raven to walk inside, maybe one of the others, who he did not expect was his father. He eyed Nolan carefully, as the older man walked up to him. "Mark... I see you're still tinkering...' he said in a neutral tone.
Mark crossed his arms. "I am," Mark replied.
What then passed was an awkward moment between the two. Both were father and son, yet each of them knew very little about each other. Nolan stood there for a few seconds. He didn't say anything, just watched Mark from where he stood, arms resting at his sides like he was trying not to seem threatening. Mark said nothing. He just looked at him, waiting, letting the silence stretch.
"So," Nolan said, trying to fill the gap. "Still tinkering, huh?"
"You said that already," Mark replied.
Another pause. Nolan shifted slightly but didn't break eye contact. "I used to work on engines," he said. "Long time ago. Back before I ever got assigned to Earth. Didn't have much time for it after that."
Mark didn't respond. He grabbed the bottle again, drank once more, slower this time, then put it back on the crate. "What do you want?" he asked, not looking at his father.
Nolan didn't answer right away. He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around the storage room, maybe stalling, maybe thinking. Then he spoke. "I was wondering if you'd spar with me. There is some stuff I need to tell you so we could talk while we do it."
Mark turned. "You want to fight?"
"Just a spar. You've been in here for days, son. I know you're anxious to move."
Mark stared at him. There was a long beat where he said nothing. Then he let out a breath and nodded. "Fine."
He needed something to hit anyway.
Mark followed Nolan out of the room. They didn't talk at first. They just walked. The corridors were clean and wide, all made of a silver-gray alloy that vibrated gentky faintly underfoot. Every once in a while, a crew member would pass them in the hallway and glance their way, but no one said anything. Nolan walked beside him, hands behind his back, posture relaxed. "There's a place on Viltrum," he said. "A plateau that stretches for nearly a hundred miles. Perfectly flat and formed of glass. They say it formed when two of our ancestors fought there for three days straight. The pressure alone from their blows melted the surface into glass."
Mark didn't respond.
"There's also the Spire," Nolan continued. "A tower made entirely of living metal. It adjusts shape depending on the needs. Beautiful structure. Our archives are kept there. A thousand years of data. Records. Culture. Art."
Mark still said nothing.
"There's more to Viltrum than conquest," Nolan said. "I know you don't believe that. But it's true."
Mark glanced sideways at him. "That why you lied to Mom? Why you murdered heroes on Earth? Why you almost killed me?"
Nolan didn't answer. They walked in silence for a few more seconds.
Eventually, they reached a reinforced blast door. Nolan stepped up to a panel beside it and keyed in a sequence. The door split in the middle and hissed open, revealing a wide chamber. It was octagonal, its walls reinforced with thick beams of some dark metal that shimmered faintly. The floor was solid, reinforced in multiple layers, and the far wall had visible impact craters, like this wasn't the first time someone had fought in here.
"This chamber was built to handle Viltrumite combat," Nolan said as he stepped inside. "Even if we go all out, it'll hold, though I'd suggest holding off on warping gravity... I don't think it was designed for that."
Mark stepped in after him. The doors slid shut behind them with a solid metallic thud. Nolan rolled his shoulders and took a few steps forward, then turned to face Mark. "You've improved a lot since awakening your powers," he said. "You're stronger than I was at your age."
Mark raised an eyebrow. "Don't flatter me."
"It's not flattery. It's fact."
Mark cracked his neck and floated off the ground slightly. "Then stop talking and let's see if it's true."
Nolan smiled faintly. "Very well."
Mark lunged first, he appeared in front of Nolan almost instantaneously, with his fist drawn back. Nolan crossed his arms and blocked the punch, the shockwave from which made the metal around them groan. Mark didn't let up he continued to release punch after punch, though Nolan was able to block and redirect them. "Good!" Nolan shouted out, before releasing a punch of his own, that Mark ducked under.
"Before your fight with Battle Beast, you were weaker than me, now we are almost at the same level strength wise!" Nolan said as he dashed around him and hit him with a spinning kick, that sent Mark flying towards the wall. He bounced off the metal when he impacted it, but shook it off and pushed off flying back towards Nolan and tackling him to the ground. "Viltrumites improve through Battle, but very rarely are we ever challenged enough to do so," Nolan commented as he delivered elbow strikes to Marks nape.
Mark rolled over Nolan grabbing him by his head and throwing him towards the wall. Mark couldn't help but wonder if what Nolan said was true; in a way it made sense, ever since he awakened his powers he had been constantly fighting. Superman, his Father, Doomsday, Joker, Trigon, Raven, Galatea, Anissa. He had fought all of them and over half of them had nearly killed him, so it wasn't surprising if that was the reason for his strength.
"You may be around the same strength as me, but you've been neglecting your speed!" Nolan flew back to him and delivered a flurry of punches that left after images where he punched, making it look like he had dozens of hands. Mark blocked and dodged where he could, but some managed to slip through an impact him around the liver and chest. Nolan then grabbed his arm, and deliver a particularly vicious blow to his sternum. Mark bounced off the floor and into the waiting kick of Nolan; he was once again launched against the wall.
When he recovered he looked up to his father. "What happened to this just being a spar?" He asked with slight annoyance in his voice.
Nolan chuckled as he rolled his shoulders and flexed his promethium arm. "I didn't break any bones did I?" He asked. "By Viltrumite standards this is a relatively light spar."
'Fine if that's how you want to play...' Mark pushed himself off the ground, spit blood to the side, and took a slow breath through his nose. He launched forward again. This time there was no pause. He flew low to the ground, his fist tight, and closed the distance in less than a second. Nolan raised his arms to block, but Mark feinted the punch and grabbed his wrist instead. He twisted it, pivoted, and used his momentum to throw Nolan over his shoulder and slam him into the floor. The impact sent a ripple through the reinforced chamber.
Nolan kicked upward as he hit the ground. Mark jumped back to avoid it, but Nolan used the opening to surge forward. His fist connected with Mark's torso and sent him sliding back across the floor. Mark caught himself before he hit the wall and pushed off again, fist leading. They collided mid-air, both of them grappling. Mark wrapped an arm around Nolan's shoulder and drove his elbow into the side of his head. Nolan grunted, grabbed Mark by the waist, and flipped him over, slamming him back-first into the ground.
Mark didn't stay down. He rolled away, got to one knee, and blasted upward with both fists ready. Nolan flew back into him, and their arms locked again. Each tried to overpower the other in the air. Mark twisted out of the grapple, dropped beneath Nolan, and drove both feet upward into his ribcage. The force pushed Nolan back several meters. Mark flew in right after, punched Nolan in the mouth, then used the opening to grab his shoulder and drive his knee into Nolan's chest.
Nolan hooked Mark's leg with his arm and pulled, forcing him off balance. He spun and flung Mark across the chamber. Mark struck the far wall shoulder-first, rotated mid-air, and came flying back. This time he didn't go straight for a punch. He slowed just enough to duck under Nolan's swing, then rose behind him and drove his fists into Nolan's spine.
Nolan dropped but turned as he fell and kicked up into Mark's jaw. Mark's head snapped back. Nolan grabbed him around the waist, flew upward, and then spiked him downward toward the floor. Mark twisted just before he hit, landed on his feet, and jumped again. They clashed in the air, exchanging a dozen blows in less than five seconds.
Mark caught Nolan's punch, turned, and wrenched his arm behind his back. He elbowed him in the ribs twice, then lifted him and threw him into the ceiling. Nolan struck it hard, but instead of falling, he used the rebound to push off, flying downward at full speed. Mark moved to the side, caught Nolan's leg mid-dive, and spun, launching him across the room.
Nolan stopped himself mid-air, reversed, and charged again. Mark met him halfway. They collided shoulder-to-shoulder, grabbed each other, and began wrestling mid-flight. Nolan broke the lock first. He slipped under Mark's arm, got behind him, and slammed a forearm into the back of his neck. Mark turned and caught him with a backhand across the face. Nolan grabbed the arm, twisted it, and drove his head into Mark's nose.
Mark stumbled back but didn't fall. He wiped his face, flew up fast, and came down with a hammer blow aimed at Nolan's shoulder. Nolan blocked with his prosthetic, then used it to strike Mark in the stomach. Mark clutched the arm and pulled, flipping Nolan over and smashing him into the ground again.
Nolan rolled out, stood, and flew toward him once more. They clashed. This time neither used fists. They grappled. Mark hooked Nolan's arm under his own and drove his heel into Nolan's knee. Nolan pushed off the ground with both feet and threw his weight back, reversing the grip and slamming Mark into a nearby wall. Mark struck with both elbows against Nolan's collar, then forced his hands down and broke the hold. He spun behind him and wrapped his arms around his neck in a tight hold.
Nolan grabbed Mark's forearms and pried them apart slowly with brute strength. He stomped backwards into Mark's shin, then slammed his head back into Mark's face. The hold broke. They separated again, hovering across from one another, breathing heavy.
"You're getting better," Nolan said.
"What's this about Dad?" Mark said as he floated in front of him. "You said you wanted to talk about something, I doubt it was about how much I've improved."
Nolan frowned for a moment before sighing. "You're right we do have something important to discuss."
Mark landed back on the ground, no longer willing to entertain this spar. "Then give it to me straight," Mark said.
Nolan crossed his arms, looking at the floor for a second before speaking. "Things are different on Viltrum," he said. "Radically different. The way you think, the way you act, the values you brought from Earth—if you keep them, they'll get you and your family killed."
Mark's fists clenched. The pressure around his feet built until the reinforced floor groaned, the metal shifting beneath the stress. "Is that a threat?" he asked.
Nolan didn't flinch. He looked at Mark calmly. "It's not a threat. It's a fact." He stepped forward. "There is no room for weakness on Viltrum. If you show even the slightest hesitation, if you allow yourself to be seen as anything less than dominant, they will exploit it. They won't think twice about hurting you—or worse, your family."
"I won't let that happen," Mark said, almost growling it out. The pressure under his feet grew worse until a crack split the floor beneath him.
"I know," Nolan said simply.
He floated forward, stopping just a foot away from Mark. "You're a perfect Hybrid. You're stronger than most pure-bloods. That puts you at a very high status in Viltrumite society. Use that. Leverage it. You'll need allies."
Mark didn't look convinced. "I'm not here to play politics," he said. "I'm here to save my son. That's it."
Nolan didn't back down. "It's because of your son that you'll have to play the game," he said. "You want to protect him? Want to make sure no one lays a hand on your wives, your daughters? Then you'll need power. And power on Viltrum doesn't come from words or money like it does on Earth ."
He hovered again, just above the floor, staring down at Mark. "You'll need to do things that Earthlings would find distasteful. Maybe even abhorrent. But you'll have to do them. Because if you don't—if you hesitate for even a second—someone will take everything from you."
Mark's eyes narrowed.
"Don't forget," Nolan added. "One of the women you brought with you is an Earthling. There are those on Viltrum who will kill her for that alone."
The crack beneath Mark deepened. The lights in the chamber flickered once. "I'll kill every single Viltrumite before I let them harm anyone in my family," Mark said. His voice was cold.
Nolan nodded once and stepped closer. He reached out and tapped Mark on the shoulder with his fist. "Good. That's the kind of attitude you'll need. That's how they'll respect you."
Mark didn't respond right away. He just stared at Nolan for a long moment. Then, quietly, he asked, "Why do you care so much?"
Nolan's expression didn't change, but his body tensed. He let out a breath and turned away for a second. When he spoke, his voice was quieter.
"Despite what happened between us... you're still my son. And your children are my grandchildren. My duty will always be to Viltrum, but after that... it's to you. And them."
Mark felt something twist in his chest. He wasn't sure what it was. He wanted to believe him. Part of him did. But the rest remembered every scream. Every broken body. Every drop of blood that he had caused. He wondered how far second had to be from first for Nolan to do what he had done.
"You have me," Nolan continued. "Anissa. The sorceress. The two Kryptonians. That's a good start. But it's not enough. You'll need more."
Mark let the words hang for a moment. Then he nodded once. "How?" he asked. "How do I get more allies?"
Nolan didn't hesitate. "It'll be difficult. But Viltrumites follow two things: reputation and strength. Show enough of both and you'll draw them in."
Mark nodded again. He looked toward the exit.
"There's still much I need to tell you," Nolan said, his voice trailing slightly.
Mark glanced back at him. "Later. I've put off seeing the others long enough."
Nolan gave a small nod. "I'll be on the bridge."
Mark left the chamber. He didn't say anything else. The door sealed behind him as he walked down the corridor, fists still tight at his sides, the echoes of what was said still ringing in his ears.
Mark walked slowly through the corridor, his boots echoing against the polished metal. The lights above flickered in rhythmic intervals as he passed under them, one after the other. Each step felt heavier than the last. The medbay wasn't far—he'd passed it dozens of times these last few days, sometimes even stopping just outside the door. But he never went in. Not once. Not since the first night. He paused now, just a few steps away from the entrance, staring at the panel that would open the door. His hand hovered over it. For a moment, he thought about turning back. He thought about how easy it would be to just say he needed more time, how he could pretend he was still busy working on something important in the storage room. But he knew that was a lie. The truth was that he was afraid. He didn't want to see his son like that—hooked up to machines, barely breathing, fighting to stay alive in a way no child should have to. He didn't want to be reminded of what he'd failed to prevent. But running from it wouldn't change anything. It never did. So he forced his hand forward, touched the panel, and stepped through when the doors parted with a hiss.
Inside, the lighting was beautiful and warm, filtered through a solar spectrum generator that bathed the room in golden light. The medical chamber was quiet, save for the faint hum of the machines surrounding the cradle at the center. The walls were sterile and metallic, but the light gave the space a strange, almost peaceful glow. Mark's eyes were immediately drawn to the two figures sitting beside the crib, Kara and Galatea. They sat motionless in the chairs positioned side by side, their eyes fixed on the figure inside the pod. Neither of them noticed him enter. Not even when the door shut behind him. They didn't glance his way or react to his presence at all. It wasn't until he took a few slow steps forward, that Galatea's head turned slightly and Kara blinked like she'd only just registered he was there.
Mark stopped just a few feet behind them, his gaze locked on the crib. His son was inside, bathed in solar light, surrounded by a transparent casing that regulated his vitals and supplied him with the stabilizing agents he needed to survive. Dante was awake. Barely. His small body twisted slightly under the restraints, his mouth open as he cried, though the sound was muffled through the pod. He looked like he was in pain—his eyes were red, and his limbs trembled with every movement. Seeing it hit Mark harder than he expected. His fists tightened. His throat closed. He felt something sharp rise in his chest, and for a second, his whole body tensed like he might explode. It was everything he had not to rip the pod open, to tear the machines apart and just hold his son. That reaction alone was enough to draw the full attention of the two women beside him. Galatea stood first, and Kara followed just a second after. Both of them looked at him with unreadable expressions, but it was clear from their eyes they were not happy to see him here—not after three days of silence.
"I know," Mark said quietly, answering what neither of them said aloud. "I should've been here." He looked at both of them, then back at the child in the crib. "I was a coward. I kept telling myself I had things to do, that I had to stay busy... but the truth is, I couldn't bring myself to look at him like this. I kept thinking... if I stayed away, maybe I wouldn't have to face what happened. Maybe I wouldn't have to face what I let happen." He paused. His voice didn't crack, but it was close. "But I was wrong, I was a coward. And I won't be again."
For a long moment, neither woman said anything. Then Galatea and Kara looked at each other. There was no argument. No words. Just a quiet understanding. They both stood slowly, walked toward him, and wrapped their arms around him at the same time. Mark closed his eyes and pulled them close, holding them tightly, his arms wrapped around their backs as he stood there. He didn't say anything else. His eyes never left the crib. He held them both, and he just stared at his son—at the little boy who hadn't done anything to deserve this, who was hurting because his father hadn't been strong enough to stop it. The guilt didn't fade. The pain didn't lessen. But for the first time in days, Mark faced it head-on. And he didn't look away.
____________________________________
Nolan stood at the front of the bridge, arms clasped behind his back, his eyes locked on the endless stretch of stars ahead. The ship drifted silently through the black, the faint hum of the engines the only sound breaking the stillness. Light from distant galaxies cast soft reflections across the reinforced glass, but Nolan barely registered it. His mind was elsewhere... on his son, on Mark. The boy had grown strong. Stronger than Nolan had anticipated. But it wasn't just his power that concerned him; it was the way Mark still held on to Earth. The way he clung to its values, its softness, even now. That softness had almost gotten him killed more than once. It would get him killed for certain on Viltrum. He'd hoped this time as hero would've changed that. That perhaps fatherhood, fighting, death—everything Mark had endured—would've hardened him. But it hadn't. Not all the way. Nolan couldn't decide if that was a strength... or a flaw.
He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps behind him. He didn't turn. He didn't need to.
"Did you talk to him?" Anissa asked.
"I did," Nolan replied.
"And?" she pressed, already stepping up beside him.
"And what?"
"Did he agree?" she snapped.
Nolan let out a short breath, shaking his head. "He likely will."
Anissa narrowed her eyes. "Stop playing around. Speak plainly."
He turned his head slightly toward her. "It's unlikely Mark will be able to cast aside his Earth sensibilities. Not completely."
Anissa folded her arms. "Then he won't last long on Viltrum."
"He'll be fine," Nolan said.
She blinked. "But you just—"
"His family," Nolan interrupted. "He'll do anything for them. He'll commit any act to ensure their safety."
Anissa didn't answer right away. She looked down at the polished floor, then back at Nolan. "Will he be open to the breeding program?"
Nolan was silent. He looked away from her, then back out at the stars. He thought about Mark. About the women he'd brought with him. About the strange arrangement they shared. He thought about how fiercely Mark protected them. It reminded him of his own wife... "His women will likely be the deciding factor," Nolan said at last. "Mark has clearly got a weakness for strong-willed women." His eyes drifted briefly to Anissa.
Anissa glanced away, her expression unreadable. "Thragg will likely have no use for him if he doesn't help in the war."
Nolan sighed and rubbed his eyes, fatigue finally creeping into his voice. "We can only hope things work out. Mark has already produced two Hybrids. One of them is imperfect, yes, but the odds of that happening again are slim. For the last five thousand years, there was only one Viltrumite hybrid. And now, in the last twenty? Four. It's not coincidence."
Anissa's tone was more thoughtful now. "Thragg has never shown the ability to father Hybrids. He's had more than a dozen children, all of them pure-blooded."
Nolan nodded. "That is true. But that means there's a difference. Something in Mark. Maybe in the blood..."
"Perhaps," Anissa murmured.
They stood together in silence, watching the stars stretch forward toward Viltrum.
"We won't know until we arrive," Nolan said.
(AN: So Mark and everyone is on their way to Viltrum, it's going to be very different from Earth. Will the Grayson family survive and will Mark patch up his relationship with his father? Who knows, will he bang Anissa? Will Anissa bang him, yes and yes, come on you guys know me by now. I can't help myself when it comes to a hottie. Anyway hope you enjoyed the chapter.)
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