Later That Night
The Grayson family sat around the dinner table, the scent of stir-fried vegetables and grilled chicken mixing with the sound of clinking cutlery. Robert and Marie were fresh from patrol, still slightly flushed from their earlier excitement but trying to act casual.
Nolan sat at the head of the table, watching the two with an unreadable expression. Debbie, on the other hand, wore a faint smile, proud but trying not to smother them with it.
The television droned in the background, tuned to the evening news. A familiar image suddenly flashed across the screen.
"Breaking news: Two new heroes make their public debut in downtown Chicago—clearly not your average vigilantes."
Footage played of Sentry flying down to help evacuate civilians from a collapsing building while Invincible tackled a powered villain into a wrecked bus with impressive precision. Applause echoed from onlookers. A few seconds later, a recorded interview with Sentry appeared. Robert was standing confidently, hands clasped in front of him.
"When asked why he chose to become a hero, the new figure calling himself 'Sentry' responded—"
"Honestly? Because someone has to. People are scared, and they need hope. It's not about powers—it's about choice. You don't need to fly or punch through walls to be a hero. Sometimes being kind, helping someone up, or just being there—that's enough. Anyone can be a hero. It just takes heart."
The interview ended, cutting back to the studio with a panel of analysts discussing the sudden arrival of these two young heroes. One analyst speculated government interest:
"That's it folks, many questions running. Through people's minds. Will the Pentagon step in?"
Robert glanced at the screen, then at his mom.
Debbie's expression was soft, but her eyes were glassy with emotion. She stood up from her seat and walked behind Robert, placing a hand on his shoulder and the other on Marie's.
"You two… are doing good out there," she said, voice thick with pride.
"I don't care what they say on the news. What matters is that you're helping people. That's what your father and I always hoped for—even if it's dangerous."
Robert smiled up at her, a rare moment of quiet gratitude passing between them.
Marie nudged him under the table with her foot, whispering with a grin.
"Nice speech, Sentry. You trying to steal the hearts of the public…or just mine?"
Robert blinked, then laughed. "What was that?"
"Nothing," Marie said, cheeks red as she stuffed a forkful of rice in her mouth.
Nolan watched the two from behind his glass of water, silent. He didn't say anything—yet—but the glint in his eyes showed he was taking all of this in. Carefully.
Later That Night — Nolan's Study
The house had grown quiet. Robert and Marie were upstairs—laughing, probably, or sharing battle stories like the young heroes they were becoming. Debbie was cleaning up in the kitchen, humming a soft tune. But Nolan sat alone in his study, the glow of the television fading into silence as he stared out the window into the Chicago night.
In his hand was a photo. It wasn't old, but worn around the edges from frequent handling. Robert—only about five in the picture—grinning wide while holding up a model rocket, his shirt two sizes too big. Marie was beside him, her hand on his shoulder, already acting like the older sister she insisted on being.
Robert.
That name still felt foreign at times, but the boy had earned it.
Nolan leaned back in his chair, the shadows playing across his face. His mind wandered back… back to that mission years ago. A scouting expedition in rural Eastern Europe. He had been tracking something—an anomaly, a strange energy signal that didn't fit Earth's primitive tech. He had found it… or rather, found him.
A child. Alone. Covered in ash and wreckage, the only survivor of a small but obliterated village. It shouldn't have mattered. Viltrumites were not meant to care about human tragedies. It wasn't his concern.
And yet… he had stopped.
Robert had stared up at him with wide, fearless eyes—curious, not afraid. There was strength in those eyes. Determination. Nolan remembered kneeling down, brushing the soot off the boy's face. He had expected tears. Screaming. But instead…
"Are you a superhero?"
That question. So simple. So… human.
Nolan hadn't answered. He'd simply picked him up and flown him away.
He told Debbie it was an emergency. That he couldn't leave the boy in an orphanage. That he needed a home. Debbie had agreed faster than he'd expected.
He thought it would pass. That he was doing it for cover, to build his image as Earth's protector. But years passed. Then birthdays. First words. Training sessions. Movie nights.
And now… now Robert stood shoulder to shoulder with Marie, calling himself Sentry, preaching hope and kindness on live TV. As if he had any idea what kind of galaxy was really out there.
Nolan clenched his jaw.
"You're too good for this world, Robert," he thought.
He felt it like a stone in his gut. His mission was clear. It always had been. The time to conquer this planet would come—and soon. There would be no avoiding it. The Viltrumite Empire would expect results.
But every time he looked at Debbie… at Marie…
At Robert…
He hesitated.
Maybe—just maybe—he could delay. Stall. One month. Two. Enough time to prepare them… or convince the Empire that Earth had value in cooperation, not subjugation.
A lie, maybe. But a comforting one.
Until then, Nolan told himself, he would be the father they believed in.
And when the time came… he would deal with it.
Alone, if he had to.
Meanwhile, Robert sat in his room, sketchbook open and scattered with rough diagrams and half-formed thoughts. His mind buzzed with possibilities as he explored ideas for developing his matter manipulation—a power that still felt fresh and unrefined.
He hadn't started practicing it yet; it was still in the theoretical stage. But the potential was there. He could feel it, humming beneath his skin like static.
"I'll need raw materials," he muttered to himself, jotting down a reminder.
"Junkyard... scrap metal... anything I can transmute."
The thought of building something real—his own headquarters, hidden and secure—lit a spark in him. Somewhere on the outskirts of Chicago, tucked away from curious eyes. It wouldn't be now, maybe not even soon. But he was laying the groundwork.
Another idea crept into his mind, and he smirked.
"An AI assistant… like Ultron. But, y'know, without the genocidal tendencies."
He scribbled a name beside the idea—Project Sentinel.
It was ambitious. But then again, so was flying. So was saving lives.
Robert leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting toward the ceiling. For now, they were just ideas. Blueprints in his head. But someday soon, he'd bring them to life.
And when that day came, Sentry wouldn't just be a hero.
He'd be a symbol.
A few days later…
Robert's days as Sentry were growing fuller. Whether it was helping an elderly woman carry groceries, retrieving a frightened cat from a tree, or stopping a convenience store robbery, he gave the same effort and attention to each act.
People were starting to talk—Sentry was more than just another superpowered figure. He was kind. Uplifting. Hopeful.
That evening, as the city bathed in twilight, Robert soared through the sky, scanning for trouble like always. That's when he noticed her.
A woman stood alone atop an old office building, her back to the ledge, trembling. One wrong step, and—
He landed quietly, cape fluttering behind him, just a few feet away.
"Hey," he said gently, not startling her.
"Mind if I join you?"
She didn't reply. Her arms were crossed tight around her chest. Tears had already stained her cheeks.
Robert stepped closer, keeping his tone calm.
"I'm not here to stop you. I just want to listen."
The woman's shoulders shook.
"Why would you understand? You're a superhero. You fly around saving the world. You don't know what it's like to feel... useless. Trapped."
Robert exhaled softly. "You're right," he said. "But let me understand."
Robert sat beside her on the ledge, his presence calm and non-threatening. The wind tugged gently at her hair as she finally broke the silence, her voice cracked and raw.
"I lost everything," she whispered.
"My job. My apartment. My family barely talks to me anymore. It's like the world just kept pushing and pushing until I had nothing left to hold onto."
She sniffled, not bothering to hide her tears now. "I tried so hard. I really did. But it never mattered. No one sees you when you're falling apart. You just... vanish. And now this? This is the only thing left I can control."
Robert didn't interrupt. He listened, his gaze soft but unwavering.
"I've screamed into pillows, begged the universe for a break—anything. But it doesn't come. And now I'm just... tired. I don't want to wake up hurting anymore."
There was silence again, heavy and real.
Then Robert finally spoke, voice gentle but firm.
"There's always another option."
She turned to him sharply, her eyes filled with pain and frustration.
"You don't get it," she snapped.
"You're a superhero. You can fly. People love you. You don't know what it's like to be this broken."
But Robert didn't flinch. He didn't argue.
He just smiled sadly.
"Maybe I look untouchable. Maybe you see someone strong up here with powers and a costume," he said quietly.
"But underneath all of this... I'm just someone who's been hurt too. I've lost things I can't get back. I've felt helpless. I know what it's like to wonder if anything will ever get better."
She blinked, her anger softening with confusion.
"I became a hero not because I thought I was better than anyone else... but because I wanted to give people like you something we all need: hope."
His voice thickened just slightly, the emotion behind his words breaking through.
"Yeah, life can be cruel. It can tear you apart until you don't even recognize yourself. But it can also surprise you. One act of kindness. One moment of light. One person who chooses to care. That can change everything."
He turned to her now, fully facing her.
"I won't pretend to know your whole story. But I do know this: your life matters. Maybe today's full of pain. But tomorrow? Tomorrow could be the start of something better. You just have to give yourself the chance to see it."
A tear slipped down her cheek again, but it wasn't from despair this time.
It was from the flicker of something she thought she'd lost forever: hope.
Sentry gently brought her to the hospital, making sure she felt safe every step of the way. Once he handed her over to the caring staff for mental and psychological support, he noticed a nearby playroom filled with children quietly waiting for their turn to heal.
Without hesitation, Robert walked over and knelt down to their level.
"Hey there, who wants to play with me?" he asked, his voice soft but full of genuine warmth.
The children's faces brightened immediately. Despite being a hero for only a week, Robert had already become something special to them—not just a fighter, but a friend who made time to care about even the smallest details.
For the next two hours, Robert transformed the playroom into a place of joy. He built towering block castles, played hide-and-seek around the corners, and even shared silly jokes that had the kids giggling nonstop. One little boy shyly handed Robert a crumpled drawing, and Robert's eyes lit up as he carefully folded it and tucked it into his armor.
Between games, he listened to their stories—dreams of becoming astronauts, firefighters, or heroes themselves one day. Robert encouraged each one, telling them,
"You're already brave just by being you. The world needs heroes like you."
When it was finally time to go, Robert gathered the children close.
"I promise I'll come back to visit. You're all my little champions, and I'm so proud of you."
As he left, the kids waved enthusiastically, their faces glowing with newfound hope and happiness.
Down the hallway, a nurse approached and smiled.
"Thank you for what you're doing. It means more than you know."
Robert nodded, feeling a deep sense of purpose. Today wasn't just about fighting villains—it was about being the light in people's lives, especially when they needed it most.
Before stepping outside, he took a moment to glance back at the playroom window, catching the children still waving. He whispered to himself.
"I'll be back soon."