Luke leaned against the bar, his arms crossed over his broad chest as he fixed Natalie with an angry gaze. "Who are you really, and what do you want with Mark?" He finally spoke.
Natalie blinked, her expression shifting to one of wide-eyed confusion that would have fooled most people. "What do you mean Luke you know who I am—Mark's girlfriend. We've met before. Was it you who sent me the messsge? That wasn't very nice you know, especially videoing me like that."
Luke didn't smile or soften, instead reaching under the bar to pull out a manila envelope that he slid across the counter toward her. "Don't play dumb with me. I did some digging after I recorded that footage, and it turns out you and Mark have met before, long before you say you did."
Natalie opened the envelope slowly, pulling out a stack of grainy CCTV printouts from the Stark Expo, the images showing her in a sleek dress weaving through the crowd during the drone attack. She kept her face neutral, but inside her mind raced, wondering how he had gotten these since SHIELD protocols should have wiped every server clean months ago, leaving no trace of Natalie Rushman or her involvement.
"I checked the guest list," Luke said as he tapped one of the photos where her face was clearest. "Natalie Roma never went to the Stark Expo, though a Natalie Rushman did; some notary or assistant tied to Stark Industries back then."
Natalie felt a jolt of shock run through her, but she hid it behind a small, disbelieving laugh, tucking the photos back into the envelope. "This is crazy. Must be a mix-up or a lookalike, people say that all the time."
"Stop pretending," Luke said, his voice rising just enough to show the edge of frustration as he leaned forward. "Tell me who you are and what you want with Mark, or I'll go straight to him myself."
Natalie hesitated, her hand inching toward her coat where the sidearm was hidden, her training kicking in with the instinct to neutralize the threat, but she stopped herself, exhaling slowly as she met his eyes. "I am a government agent, though I won't say which agency."
"That's fine, I don't care about that," Luke replied, his expression unchanging. "Only what your plans are for my friend."
"Observation mostly," she admitted quietly. "Find any weaknesses, his intentions for being here on Earth." She didn't find any joy or relief in the truth coming out, the weight that had been on her for weeks just seemed to grow heavier.
Luke's face darkened with disgust, his fists clenching on the bar as anger flashed in his eyes. "He really likes you, you know. You're one of the only things he talks about; lights up like I've never seen when he mentions your name," he growled out as he looked at her. "He has to know the truth," Luke said after a beat. "You need to tell Mark everything."
Panic surged through Natalie, her eyes widening slightly as she leaned forward, her voice urgent and pleading. "Please—"
Luke cut her off. "Mark is my best friend and one of the best people I know," Luke said, shaking his head. "I'm not going to let you keep stringing him along like this."
"I'm not!" Natalie shouted abruptly, her usual calm facade cracking as her voice echoed in the empty bar, her hands trembling on the counter.
A moment of silence stretched between them after her outburst, Luke just stood there looking at her while Natalie looked down at the bar; the mask she wore having fully dropped away. "I'm not pretending," she said quieter now, her voice breaking just a little as she looked down. "At first, Mark was just like any other assignment, in fact, it seemed easy to get into his life and start dating. But as it went on, and I spent every day with him, I felt myself falling deeper and deeper into a pit until it got to the point I missed him whenever he left for the day, even if it was just to grab coffee."
"He just has a way with people," she continued, her eyes distant as the words flowed more freely. "He looks at me as if I'm so beautiful... he makes me believe it too—even after everything I've done, he makes me believe I'm beautiful."
"He rushed off to save people at the Marriott," she added, "I've never met such an incredible person."
"I love him... I don't know how or when it happened, but I feel it," she finished, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand as a tear escaped.
"If Natalie Roma is the one who gets to be with Mark, then that's the only person I ever want to be," she whispered.
Silence filled the bar again, Natalie felt herself being crushed under the weight of her own guilt, the weight of her regret and the weight of her sadness that all of this was coming to an end. The silence was unbroken until Luke sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. "I believe you," he said finally. "You seem to have it bad for Mark—real bad."
"But you can't keep lying to him," he added, "Not about something this big... he deserves the truth."
Natalie nodded slowly, her shoulders slumping as she stood up from the stool. "You're right. He needs to know... I just... I just wanted this to last a little longer."
She turned toward the door, pausing to look back at him. "Luke... you're a good friend."
_____________________________________
(Five Months later)
For days, the world couldn't stop talking about him.
He had no official title. No agency claimed him. No way to see his entire face, only a name that had begun to spread across headlines, feeds, and conversations like fire through dry grass.
Invincible.
The name came from a paramedic that was on the scene during the Marriott explosion.
"He flew straight into the breach. Walked out carrying six people with concrete falling all around him. Not a scratch on him. I don't know what else to call someone like that. He looked invincible."
That clip played everywhere.
From there, the flood began.
On television, anchors reported it to death, especially when Invincible started to show up again. "
This is the seventh confirmed incident where Invincible has intervened in a major disaster, appearing and disappearing without a trace. Authorities still have no idea who he is, or how he does what he does."
On the street, people had their own theories.
"He's military, has to be. You don't fly like that unless someone trained you and given you some pretty high tech."
"No way. He's not one of us. Not even close. My cousin said he saw him lift a freight truck with one hand."
"I think he's a mutant. Or maybe an alien. He just shows up, and then gone. You ever see him land? No? Exactly."
Some loved him.
An elderly woman interviewed outside a damaged apartment complex clasped her hands over her chest and smiled.
"I don't care if he's from Mars. He saved my little grandson. That's all I need to know."
A child in a hospital gown held up a crayon drawing: a man flying above flames, smiling as he pulled people from wreckage.
Others were less trusting.
"What's he hiding? Nobody's that selfless without an angle," one political pundit growled on a morning panel. "It's possible that he's an experimental android made by the Russians, he's here to infiltrate us and gain our trust... then BAM!!!"
The Daily Bugle ran the headline:
"SAVIOR OR THREAT? WHO HOLDS INVINCIBLE ACCOUNTABLE?"
The New York Times countered with:
"INVINCIBLE UNMASKED? Speculation Runs Wild Over Hero's Identity"
Meanwhile, a blurry video surfaced online—unofficial footage of Invincible holding a collapsing bridge in place while families ran across it.
"It looked like his arms were breaking," the witness said. "But he didn't move. He just held. Then he flew off. Like it was nothing, without even asking for anything in return."
People began to wonder if he ever slept. If he ever ate. If he even bled.
A conspiracy podcast released a three-part series arguing that Invincible was not a person at all, but a weapon—"a living satellite"—deployed by some unknown government or alien force.
"He doesn't talk to the press. Doesn't take credit. Doesn't even stay long enough to be thanked. That doesn't seem the slight bit suspicious to you? Exactly it's because he's not a man at all but a mechanical being."
He became trending hashtags, midnight debates, university essays.
#InvincibleSavesAgain
#WhoIsInvincible
#NYsFinestFlyer
#MutantOrMartian
On Facebook, a poll under the profile of New York Style Magazine asked:
"Is Invincible the hottest man in New York?"
✔️ Yes
⬜ No
⬜ I want to marry him
One talk show brought in a panel of celebrities just to answer one question: "Would you date Invincible?"
A social media influencer with three million followers tearfully declared: "He flew past my building once. I saw him. I just felt it. That's my man and he doesn't even know it."
Some people hated him.
Some worshipped him.
Most felt happy to know he was looking out for them.
And at the center of it all... Mark. Sitting alone in his apartment. Watching the screen flicker as another news segment played. He rubbed a hand over his face, and reached for the remote.
Click.
The screen went black, and Mark breathed heavily before getting up.
Truth be told he had been in a rut.
Since the truth came out about Natalie something inside him had hollowed out. She had tried to explain herself and reassure him that she wasn't lying that at first it might've been a lie but it wasn't now. He wasn't a sucker though, he'd grown up in Gotham city and wouldn't fall for the same trick twice.
It hadn't broken him, but it had carved something out of him.
And what filled the space was work.
If someone needed saving, he was there. Fire, flood, traffic pileup, armed robbery, missing hiker, collapsing building—Invincible never stopped. His new suit reflected that, reinforced polymers, lightweight Kevlar, he'd gotten in touch with Tony Stark for that, who was more than happy to help since he owed him one from the Stark Expo.
He never did any interviews and he rarely spoke to anyone or stuck around. He just offered whatever help he could before leaving.
Tonight, though, he was home—at least in body.
He moved slowly through the apartment, peeled the suit off and set it down on the kitchen counter. The city lights cast pale orange squares across the floor. His limbs felt fine, no worse than usual, but his mind was heavy. Like his thoughts had weights tied to them.
He cracked open the fridge and grabbed a beer.
Twist. Hiss. Quiet.
He leaned against the counter and took a sip, eyes falling on a familiar sight.
Two salt and pepper shakers, shaped like little penguins. Stupid, wobbly, ceramic things. Natalie had bought them. Said he needed something in his apartment that wasn't black, grey, or emotionally repressed.
Mark stared at them. For a moment, they were louder than the city outside. He picked them up slowly and slid them into a cabinet. Out of sight.
Knock knock.
He set the beer down and walked to the door. When he opened it, Jessica Jones stormed in without waiting for permission. "Where's your whiskey?" she asked.
"Top cupboard," Mark muttered, while rolling his eyes.
Luke Cage followed, far more polite, and pulled Mark in for a firm handshake and a tight hug, "You doing good, brother?" He asked.
Mark nodded. "Hanging in there."
Jessica was already halfway through twisting the cap off the bottle when Mark stepped back inside.
"Hey, don't drink all of it," he said. "That's the good stuff."
Jessica took a long swig straight from the neck. "Why do you think we're friends? You're the only guy I know packing hundred-dollar liquor."
Mark rolled his eyes and snatched the bottle from her, pouring two glasses—one for himself, one for Luke—before tossing it back to her. She caught it with one hand before winking at him and taking a big gulp from it. It had taken time for them to get here, the two of them. Jessica and Mark had not hit it off at first.
When they first met, Jessica had walked into Trish's apartment and punched him square in the jaw. Accused him of abusing Trish. Said she'd seen the bruises. Of course it had been the result of some rather rough sex between the two, and that Trish just liked it rough. Of course Jessica didn't believe him. And was ready to beat him bloody over the idea that he wasn't treating her best friend right.
Once the misunderstanding was cleared, they... adjusted. He respected that she was willing to fight for someone she loved. She respected that he didn't gold a grudge over it. And after a few awkward drinks and a lot of grumbling, they realized they weren't so different. Jessica was glad she found someone similar to herself. Since then, he, Jessica, and Luke had become something close to a unit. They were also the only two people who knew he was Invincible. Jessica figured it out herself—PI instincts—and Luke had been there during the Marriott incident.
"So what's this about?" Mark asked, settling onto the couch.
Jessica stretched out on the other end, boots up, drink in hand. She flicked on the TV.
"Was his idea," she said, gesturing lazily toward Luke with the neck of the bottle. "He thinks you've been depressed and working too hard."
Mark looked at Luke, who let out a slow sigh, "You're my friend Mark," Luke said. "I've been worried."
Mark shrugged. "I feel great."
Jessica snorted. "Sure you do."
"Hey I am!" Mark replied.
She smirked. "You look like a puppy about to be put down."
Mark flicked a bottle cap at her. It hit her square in the forehead. "Hey!" she snapped, and whipped a throw pillow at him. It caught him in the chest.
"Mark," Luke said interrupting them, "you've been throwing yourself into this hero thing. And yeah, that's good. People need someone like you. But you've been going nonstop. Every day. You don't sleep. You don't take time for yourself."
"I don't need as much sleep," Mark muttered.
"Doesn't mean you should skip it for three days at a time," Luke shot back.
"He's right," Jessica added, "You've been brooding like a ghost since that Natalie mess. Dude, you need to get over her already."
"I'm not—"
"Yes, you are," they both said in unison.
Mark let out a long breath. "Fine. Maybe I have a little." He drained the whiskey in one long gulp.
"But it's over now. Natalie or whatever her name is, used me. Lied to me. It's done. I just need time. I'll get over her."
Luke and Jessica exchanged a glance.
Then Luke leaned forward. "Listen... we think you should take a break. Not quit. Just—shift gears. Recharge. And I figured maybe you could circle back to that teleportation device. The one from the Marriott."
"You said you wanted to reverse engineer it," Jessica said. "Make it less 'likely to vaporize a city block.'"
Mark nodded. "Yeah, but I needed Reed Richards for that. And the he's still locked down in the Baxter Building."
Luke nodded. "I heard. Which is why I found someone else."
He reached into his coat and slid a file across the table.
Mark raised an eyebrow.
Jessica scoffed. "Creepy that you have a file on someone you're not investigating, by the way."
Luke ignored her. "Dr. Jane Foster. Astrophysicist. Recently started working on Einstein-Rosen bridges—interdimensional travel. The kind of thing that overlaps with that device."
Mark flipped through the file. Publications. Credentials. Field data. excerpts. "This... actually sounds interesting," he said.
"So you'll do it?" Luke asked.
Mark leaned back, thought about it. Then sighed. "Fine. I have been a little tired lately. A break might help."
"Wooo!" Jessica whooped, raising her drink. "Now can we get drunk?"
"No problem here," Luke said, snatching the bottle from her hands.
Mark laughed, before looking at his friends, grateful that he had them. "Let's get the party started."
(AN: A bit of a longer chapter, aren't I great... anyway we are now moving into the Thor film. Wooo. Anyway I skipped the confrontation with Natasha because it was honestly just a breakup, Natasha lied to him and so Mark broke it off. No revenge no spite, sorry for anyone who wanted that. This fic is going to be more light hearted and positive, Mark is trying to be a Hero. So don't expect any villainous behaviour, unless the situation forces it.)
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