5 Chapter 5

The cold, brisk wind whipped through Nolan's dark hair as he soared above the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, with Mark flying alongside him. The duo, silhouetted against the setting sun, engaged in a brutal dance of combat high above the water. The rhythmic sounds of punches and kicks echoed in the air as father and son clashed with a force that resonated with power.

Nolan's stern expression was contrasted by Mark's hesitant gaze. The younger hero struggled to match the intensity of his father, uncertainty clouding his movements. "Come on, Mark! You've got to be faster and more decisive," Nolan barked, his voice carried away by the wind.

Mark winced as a well-placed punch hit his ribs, making them rattle, and his lack of air made it hard to breathe. "Dad, can't we tone it down a bit? This is brutal," he panted, attempting to catch his father off guard with a counterattack.

Nolan's response was swift and merciless. He capitalized on Mark's momentary distraction, delivering a powerful kick that made his vision swirl, sending the younger hero spiraling. "In the real world, Mark, there's no toning down. You need to be ready for anything, anytime," Nolan admonished, his eyes sharp and unwavering.

Mark steadied himself midair, frustration etched on his face. "I get it, but does it have to be like this? It's like you're trying to break me." Mark spat out some blood that was accumulating in his mouth. 'Or kill me' went unsaid.

Nolan hovered in front of Mark; his expression remained stiff as he regarded his son. "I'm not trying to break you, Mark. I'm trying to make you stronger. The world out there won't pull its punches, and neither should we. You need to be prepared for the worst."

Mark rubbed his jaw, feeling the lingering ache from Nolan's last strike. "I just thought we were supposed to be heroes, not bullies." He tried to complain with a joke but soon came to realize his mistake.

Nolan didn't appreciate that joke, and Mark backed after noticing his posture get more aggressive. His eyes flashed with intensity. "Being a hero doesn't mean being soft, Mark. It means doing what needs to be done, no matter the cost."

The strike came without warning—a blur of movement that left an echoing impact. Nolan's fist collided with Mark's midsection, a shockwave of force rippling through the air. The sound was visceral, the thud of the impact reverberating like a clap of thunder.

The salt-tinged air rushed into Mark's lungs as he plummeted from the sky. The world blurred around him, a cacophony of wind and disorienting motion. The ground rushed up to meet him with a cold, unforgiving embrace.

The impact was brutal. Sand exploded around him as his body skidded across the beach, momentum carrying him far beyond the initial point of impact. The taste of saltwater filled his mouth, and a dull ache radiated from his ribs, the consequence of the force that had propelled him here.

Slowly, he attempted to push himself up, his limbs protesting the effort. The midsection that had absorbed the punch throbbed with pain. He winced, feeling the rough texture of the sand against his skin.

Nolan hovered at a distance, casting a cold glare toward Mark. "Now, let's go again." he commanded. The training session persisted, the rhythmic blows resonating across the expanse of the ocean. Mark intensified his efforts, driven by a determination to showcase his resilience and unwavering commitment to the grueling practice. Despite lingering reluctance, he persevered. Nolan, unwavering in his posture, closely monitored Mark's progress.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the water, Mark found himself pushed to his limits. Nolan's relentless attacks seemed to have no end, and fatigue began to set in. However, the pain and exhaustion fueled Mark to endure and improve, wanting to make his father see him as his equal.

Eve, watching from the island, couldn't help but feel a mix of concern and admiration. The intensity of the training raised questions about Nolan's methods, yet she recognized the harsh reality of their roles as protectors of Earth. She continued to observe, wondering how this demanding training would shape Mark in the days to come.

After what felt like an eternity, Nolan finally called a temporary halt to the session. Both father and son hovered in the air, breathing heavily. Mark's costume bore signs of the struggle, torn in places, and his face displayed a mix of exhaustion and stubbornness.

Nolan, though showing no physical strain, had a rare glimmer of pride in his eyes. "You're improving, Mark. But there's still a long way to go. Others won't wait for you to catch your breath." After declaring that, Nolan grabbed him by the arm and threw him into the ocean with enough force to create a whirlpool that almost swept the island.

The splash echoed through the air as Mark crashed into the water, his body sinking beneath the surface. The cold ocean engulfed him, momentarily disorienting him before he kicked off the ocean floor, propelling himself back to the surface. Sputtering, he emerged from the water, his drenched costume clinging to his body.

Nolan, floating above, observed with a stoic expression. "In real combat, you won't always be on equal footing. Adaptability is key. Now, get back up here." This served to show Mark that in real combat, you never are really done. 

Mark shot his father a glare, the saltwater stinging his eyes. With a powerful leap, he soared back into the air, determined to prove his resilience. Nolan watched him closely, feeling disappointed.

As Mark reached his father's altitude, Nolan continued, "We'll continue until you can handle the unexpected, without hesitation." The brutal training session resumed, the ocean serving as a harsh backdrop to the ongoing struggle between them.

Mark's body ached with every movement, his muscles protesting the relentless assault. The relentless barrage of attacks had left him battered and fatigued, and yet he pressed on. The saltwater stung at the numerous cuts and bruises that adorned his body. His once-pristine costume was now a tattered emblem of the grueling training session.

Nolan, seemingly unaffected by the exertion, maintained his stern expression. His blows were precise, calculated, and designed to test Mark's limits. The realization hit Mark that his father wasn't holding back. This wasn't just training; if his dad deemed him unworthy, he might even kill him.

As the session reached its peak, Mark found himself gasping for breath. Every attempt to counterattack was met with relentless force, leaving him with little recourse but to defend. The fatigue was overwhelming, and Mark's limbs felt like dead weight. His energy reserves depleted, he began to float on the surface of the water, his body aching and battered.

Nolan, sensing Mark's struggle, called a temporary halt to the onslaught. Floating effortlessly, he regarded his son with an unreadable expression. "You've endured well, Mark. But remember, the world won't wait for you to catch your breath." He repeated once again.

With that, Nolan descended to the island, where Eve was waiting. The two engaged in casual conversation, drinking some coconuts, as if he hadn't just put Mark through an arduous beatdown. Mark, left afloat in the ocean, watched them with a mix of frustration and exhaustion.

Mark, feeling a mixture of anger and fatigue, propelled himself along the water and rolled back on the beach. Water dripped from his tattered costume as he was approached by Nolan and Eve. His expression was a blend of resentment and misery as Nolan placed one coconut at his side.

His stern gaze met Mark's weary eyes. "You did well today, Mark. This training is essential, especially given the challenges that lie ahead. It's meant to break you; for you to become a worthy protector, you just need to pick up the pieces."

Mark, though physically drained and emotionally conflicted, mustered a nod in acknowledgment. He wanted to say more, but his dad had truly made good on his promise and left him with no strength left in him.

Nolan, seemingly satisfied with Mark's response, shifted his attention to Eve. "As for you, Eve, we'll need to discuss the plan for establishing communication with the Flaxans. We don't know when they will come back, so be ready when they do."

Eve, having watched the rigorous training with keen observation, nodded in agreement, suppressing the urge to nervously gulp. "I'll do my best, Omni-Man." Her gaze shifted to Mark. "I suppose... until next time?" Without waiting for Mark's reply, she swiftly took flight, choosing not to linger and potentially attract Omni-Man's attention to herself as the next target.

Nolan's eyes stayed fixed on Eve as she flew away, and once she was out of earshot, he turned back to Mark, who was still recovering on the beach. "You know the way back; make it home for dinner." With that, Mark became the sole figure left on the shoreline.

Alone on the beach, Mark took a moment to compose himself. The rhythmic sounds of waves crashing against the shore offered a welcome respite, signaling the conclusion of the grueling training session. Amidst the aftermath, a whirlwind of emotions enveloped him—anger, frustration, and a lingering sense of pride for enduring his father's unrelenting onslaught.

Summoning the strength to rise, Mark became acutely aware of the toll the training had exacted on his body. Each movement elicited a cascade of pain through his muscles, but he pushed through, wanting to return home. The stars silently bore witness to Mark's endurance, his solitary struggle illuminated against the backdrop of the night sky.

With a sigh heavy with weariness, Mark ascended into the skies, gliding over the vast expanse of the ocean and tracing his way back toward home. The distant city lights sparkled, signaling the close of the day. While navigating the open skies, a persistent unease gripped him, signaling the realization that his relationship with his father had taken a new, complex turn, and he didn't know how to feel about it yet.

Upon reaching home, Mark found himself greeted by the familiar sight of his house. The lights were on, and he could see his mother, Debbie, through the living room window. He hesitated for a moment, wondering how he would explain the state of his battered costume.

Debbie noticed Mark approaching and opened the front door, concern etched on her face. "Mark, what happened? Your costume—did something go wrong?"

Nolan hugged Debbie from behind and looked at Mark in the eyes. "Yeah, Mark, something you want to share with us? You are not exactly looking 'Invincible' right now."

Mark took a deep breath, his fatigue momentarily overshadowed by the weight of his father's gaze. He met his mother's concerned eyes and, without delving into the specifics of the intense training, offered a strained smile. "Just a tough day, Mom. Some villain got some cheapshots, that's all."

Debbie's worry deepened, but she nodded understandingly. "You need to be careful out there, Mark. We can't lose you." Nolan, still hugging Debbie, looked at Mark with an unreadable expression. His words, however, were measured.

"Indeed, Mark. The world out there can be unforgiving. You need to be prepared for anything, and it seems like today illustrated." Mark nodded nervously; only he and Nolan could understand the true meaning behind those words.

The night settled over the Grayson household as Mark retreated to his room, the events of the day weighing heavily on his mind. His body throbbed with pain, reminding him of the grueling training session. As he peeled off his torn costume, he couldn't shake the feeling that this would be his life now.

Mark collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. The conflict within him intensified—his commitment to being a hero, the strained relationship with his father, and the impending threat of the Viltrum empire. The room was silent, save for the distant sounds of the city.

A knock on the door interrupted Mark's contemplation. It creaked open, and Debbie entered, her expression a mix of concern and understanding. She sat on the edge of Mark's bed, looking at him with maternal warmth.

"Rough day, huh?" Debbie spoke gently, her hand reaching out to brush a strand of wet hair from Mark's forehead. It helped Mark to have someone worried for him, which made him feel better after today's events. So much happened, and tomorrow won't be a better day.

Mark managed a weak smile, appreciating the comfort his mother provided. "Yeah, you could say that. Just dealing with the usual superhero stuff, you know?"

Debbie sighed, a mixture of worry and affection in her eyes. "Mark, you're not invincible. You're still my son, and I worry about you every time you go out there. I know you want to help people, but please be more careful."

Mark nodded, his fatigue evident in every movement. "I will, Mom. I promise." It wouldn't be a lie as long as he managed to do better in his training with dad.

Debbie sighed again, running her fingers through Mark's damp hair. "You don't have to bear everything alone, you know. If something's bothering you, if there's more to today than you're telling me, I'm here for you." She noticed the weird vibe that Mark and Nolan gave, but not wanting to assume she stayed quiet until now.

Mark hesitated, a brief internal struggle evident on his face. He wanted to confide in his mother and share the complexities of his life. Yet the weight of the secrets he carried, the unspoken truths about his father and the impending threat held him back.

"I appreciate that, Mom. It's just... superhero stuff, you know? Can't really talk about it." Mark's voice carried a hint of regret, a desire to shield his mother from the harsh realities he faced.

Debbie's gaze softened, understanding the limitations imposed by Mark's superhero life. "I wish you didn't have to go through all this, but I know you're doing what you think is right." She settled for now, but it was something she would need to ask, even if the one answering was Cecil.

Mark smiled. "Thanks, Mom. I'll try to get some rest. Tomorrow's another day of saving the world, right?"

Debbie chuckled, her hand gently patting Mark's shoulder. "Just promise me you'll take care of yourself, okay?"

"I promise," Mark affirmed, watching as his mother left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Nolan paced back and forth in his study, frustration gnawing at him like a relentless itch. The weight of responsibilities bore down on his shoulders, and the unanswered messages on his phone only fueled his irritation. He had expected a prompt response, a confirmation of his proposal, especially considering the urgency of the situation. And that's not taking into account the delay in the announcement of the guardians of the globe's deaths.

With a sigh, Nolan decided to take matters into his own hands. He dialed Cecil's number, the call connecting after a few rings. Cecil, ever the composed figure, answered promptly.

"Omni-man, how may I assist you?" Cecil's voice maintained its measured and professional tone.

Nolan didn't hesitate; his expression and words were both stern. "Cecil, I require a status update. Have you given further consideration to my offer?"

Cecil's response was calm, and there was a slight pause before he spoke, "Omni-Man, I appreciate your offer, and we understand the gravity of the situation. However, it's a complex matter, and decisions of this magnitude require thorough consideration."

Nolan's frustration deepened, but he kept his voice steady. "Cecil, time is of the essence. We can't afford delays. The threat we're facing is imminent, and I've presented a viable solution. Earth needs to be prepared."

Cecil, unfazed by Nolan's urgency, replied, "I understand the urgency, Omni-Man, and rest assured, we're evaluating every aspect. The Global Defense Agency takes matters like these seriously. We're not dismissing your proposal."

Nolan's jaw tensed, his patience wearing thin. "Cecil, you've seen the evidence, witnessed the aftermath of the attack on the guardians. We can't afford to underestimate the Viltrumite threat. Lives are at stake."

Cecil's tone remained composed. "Omni-Man, rest assured that we're doing everything in our power to analyze the situation. However, decisions of this magnitude involve considerations beyond the immediate threat. We must weigh the long-term implications and potential consequences of such an alliance."

Nolan, frustrated by the bureaucratic response, retorted, "Cecil, I didn't come here to engage in bureaucratic discussions. I came with a solution, one that could save countless lives. Earth is not ready for what's coming."

Cecil, maintaining his calm demeanor, responded, "Omni-Man, we appreciate your dedication to protecting Earth. Give us a little more time to evaluate the proposal thoroughly. The GDA will reach a decision, and we'll inform you promptly."

Nolan reached a breaking point. "Listen closely, old friend," he declared with firmness in his voice. "You've got two choices: give me a straight answer now, or I'll have to assume you're not on my side and consider you a potential threat." What mattered to Nolan wasn't just joining the new discount guardians; it was about securing a commitment from Cecil, ensuring that he wouldn't need to constantly watch his own back.

Cecil's grip tightened on his phone. "Omni-Man, resorting to threats won't hasten the decision-making process." A momentary pause lingered as Cecil weighed his options. The silence stretched, fueling Nolan's impatience with each passing second.

"For years, Cecil, I've stood as an ally to Earth. I've fought shoulder to shoulder with the Guardians, shielding this planet. Yet, when a genuine threat looms, you hesitate?" Nolan's voice held a blend of anger and disappointment. "I'm presenting a solution, not making threats. However, if the GDA fails to grasp the urgency, I'll have to handle the situation myself."

Cecil, still composed but sensing the gravity of Nolan's words, replied, "Omni-Man, we value your contributions. However, unilateral actions can have unintended consequences. We need a coordinated response."

Nolan's eyes gleamed with resolve. "Cecil, you've had ample time for coordination. If the GDA can't make a decision when danger is approaching, then I'll take the necessary steps. Earth's survival is my top priority."

Cecil sighed, realizing the weight of the situation. "Omni-Man, I implore you to give us a little more time. We're close to reaching a decision, and we understand the urgency. We won't let Earth face this threat unprepared."

Nolan's fingers tightened their hold on the phone. A momentary pause betrayed the conflict within him, torn between the urge to safeguard Earth and frustration with Cecil's lacking resolve. Finally, his voice cut through the air, firm and resolute.

"Cecil, you've got twenty-four hours. After that, I'll do what I must for Earth's survival. The clock is ticking." With those words, Nolan concluded the call, leaving Cecil to contemplate his decision.