Chapter Text
Sometimes, Mark fails to stop the quick catch of his heart from tugging out a part of him he’s kept long dormant – His thoughts drowned out by the tidal wave of sadness that washes through him, unsure of whether or not he’s mistaking what he feels for pity or a fucked up mixture of both.
“That’s not good,” He thinks grumpily to himself, his eyes creasing from behind his blackened lenses. He readjusted the position of his sword out of habit, the light glinting off its edge and causing the older woman on the other end to flinch, her arms noticeably tensing around the small boy in her arms. He’s sure he looks the part of some sinister beast with his recent catch laying limp in his other hand, a bite taken out of it and staining the skin around his mouth a shiny dark red, perhaps a feather or two stuck to his suit as well since he was never polite with his meals – never had reason to anymore since human customs were lost on him nowadays.
It’s been a while since he interacted with a human, nonetheless, a foolish woman bringing her spawn into the mountains they were warned away from if his deal with Stedman was still being upheld. There’s a reason no one but himself was allowed in these parts, why he’s sworn himself into a life of seclusion. He refused to walk the same path his father had – pretending to be something he wasn’t. He knew what he was, came to terms with it even. But still, there came instances where he’d see the face of a stranger and make the unfortunate misconception of thinking he was seeing someone else for that split moment – someone who he remembers opening the curtains for him in the mornings, someone who’d let the sun shine on his face before shading them with their body and someone who would brush his bangs back so they could press their lips against his forehead and remind him that once upon a time, he’d truly been loved at one point.
Loved by someone – possibly a woman, maybe his mother? A human, one of the lambs his father sought to take control of. The details were lost on him, the remnants of his past yet another part of him he discarded alongside his father that day. But try as he must, there are parts of him he’ll never be able to be rid of, a part of him that refuses to let go no matter how much he tugged and pulled away from it.
“Mark, what’s the matter?” Their voice, faint and all but forgotten, used to ring out like gentle chimes, coaxing him to instinctively relax his tensed shoulders and let his guard down at the mere reminder of their presence and what it used to bring into his life.
And now, what it leaves in its absence.
Mark flinched at the sudden shriek of distress that came from the boy, momentarily bringing Mark out of his daze as he once more regarded the lambs in front of him. Mark begrudgingly lowered his sword, his overly sensitive ears beginning to ring from the high-pitched sobs he was not about to see dealt with by the same woman who brought about these discomforting feelings in him.
“ Please! Please, we won’t cross into your land ever again! Just please let us leave, we beg of you!” Instinct screamed at him to throw his sword to the side and tear this woman apart from limp to limp simply for causing him to falter when not even his father could during their last stand. But his instincts also screamed at him to kill the boy instead for being in a position that should be his .
And as soon as that unknown urge came about he sheathed his blade and turned away from the pair, his arms crossed as he bit out through gritted teeth, “ Leave , you won’t be getting another chance if you come this way again, got it?” His voice was quiet from disuse, with a gravel to it as well. Nonetheless, he got his point across. He didn’t quite care what they thought of him anyway.
The woman had let out a grateful sob almost simultaneously, thanking him profusely as she carried the boy in her arms as far away from him as possible. Stupid , both of them were incredibly stupid. Thanking the beast for sparing them as if it hadn’t just threatened their lives a moment earlier. His pointed nails dug into the flesh of his forearms as he stayed stationary and followed their scents until he was sure they were gone, never to be seen again. Good . They shouldn’t have met in the first place, and if she had some semblance of a brain, then she’d warn others away from his territory in place of Stedman since he doesn’t seem to be upholding his part of the bargain any longer.
He’ll give the older lamb the benefit of the doubt, and chalk it up to human nature to explore. But if it were to happen a second time, then he’d depart and remind them of why the deal was made in the first place.
Mark returned to his catch, elongated fangs sinking easily into the tender flesh of the bird as he walked along the trail he was gradually getting to form from constant walks in the same directions. Back when he lived as mostly human, he did everything in his power to conceal his natural Viltrumite instincts, kidding himself into believing he was something he wasn’t. But nowadays he was allowed to do whatever he wanted – in his respective territory – and embrace the side of him that's always called to him. He loved to hunt, the thrill of the chase made each catch worth every bite. He loved to take, scaring away any predators that had challenged him for territory. It was in his nature to conquer, to dominate all living things beneath his strength levels. But the human side of him he’d inherited is what kept him tame and from becoming the same beast his father was. And ultimately, it’s what led him to decide to live the rest of his days in seclusion.
Things were better this way . He’d remind himself of that constantly in the rare instances where the ache in his chest would stubbornly persist. And now, after being reminded of something he’d lost, repeated those same words back to himself like a mantra. Things were better this way because now nobody has to suffer from a Viltrumite ever again. As long as he was here and they were there, nothing bad had to happen ever again. Nobody had to get hurt, nobody's mother had to be taken away from them at too young an age–
Mark swiftly climbed himself up a tree, his widened eyes honed in on a rabbit carelessly grazing the grass, unaware of the predator watching its every move. He didn’t need to keep hunting, his hunger was satiated for the time being. But his energy from earlier had begun to feel discomforting beneath his skin, causing him to shake and his skin to itch from the need to let it out on something. The rest of his day was spent hunting, and then once he’d calmed down, he made sure to wash away the remnants of his day in a river not too far from where he set up camp before turning in for the night.
His slumber was spent restlessly tossing and turning from one place to the next, caught in a memory once lost with time.
“Nothing’s the matter,’” He grumbled, regretting it as soon as he did since talking back to them was against the rules, and whenever he went against said rules he disliked seeing the look of disapproval he’d receive in return. It made that feeling in his nose sting all the worse. He let out a hiccup before he could prevent it and as soon as he realized he’d been caught doing what he wasn’t supposed to, his shamelessness came out in full force.
His father would hit him if he were to see him like this while calling him weak for crying and reminding him that Viltrumites never cried since the act was beneath them. But in place of hands that bruised came the ones that softened his worries instead, those familiar fingers – always gentle, never rough, brushed a few strands of his hair behind his ear as arms much longer than his wrapped themselves around his trembling frame.
“Oh my sweet boy, I’m not mad at you, you’re not in trouble,” She gently held his chin, lifting his head so he was looking at her. “Do you remember what I told you? That as long as we’re together, you can cry as much as you want. I’d never be upset at you for it either.”
Mark held eye contact for a moment before looking away when another hiccup shook his frame. “Mhm…” He mumbled, nodding his head along with his answer and pressing the side of his face further into his mother’s embrace. At that moment, he was able to forget the ache on his wrist from when his father grabbed him too roughly or the memory that had scarred itself into his brain as he was forced to watch his father tear a person in half for interrupting their “training” session.
All he focused on was the tender squeeze in his heart, the fuzziness that wrapped its way through his thoughts as he was comforted by the simple fact of family and love and what was his.
Mark would be forced awake the very next day by the deafening crack of thunder from not too far away, his immediate reaction was to jump out of bed and resume a stance that would make it easier for him to attack if the danger were to attempt to strike first. His patience allowed him a few minutes at best before his restlessness got the best of him, his flared nerves itching to get rid of whatever it was that threatened him and soon so he could go back to resting. His dream had been nice for once, forgiving amongst the sea of memories that were far from it.
He gave the air a quieted sniff, nothing with a distinctly living scent was detected, only the curious scent of ozone and eggs if he had to compare it to something familiar. He grabbed his recently dried head mask and put it on, quickly tying the strings together in the back he then reached for his sword and followed the scent’s trail to its source where he was met face to swirls with a mysterious mass that doused the surrounding area in its green radiance.
“What the fuck even are you?” He knew it wouldn’t respond, it was a rhetorical question only meant to humor nobody but himself. Mark looked around, the following area was undisturbed for the most part, and it looked as if nothing had created whatever this was – meaning he was by himself trying to figure out whether or not this swirling mess was a danger or not.
Mark picked up the nearest rock and chucked it as hard as he could at the swirls, almost disappointed when there was no reaction whatsoever. He pouted, picked up another rock, and repeated his actions for a while until he grew bored. He didn’t know when he resumed a sitting position, his chin resting on both the palm of his hand and the hilt of his sword as he threw rocks and played the guessing game on whatever it was that was occupying his lawn.
“Stedman’s doing? Nah, he’s dramatic but he would have made his entrance by now. Something alien? Maybe, but why here? Ugh, maybe it is a living thing and has always lived in these parts and I’m the intruder…” Mark let out a yawn, his earlier excitement all but vanished by now as an hour had passed of him simply sitting and watching the green amalgamation do nothing.
“Would you kill me if I were to fall asleep? Do you even understand what I’m saying? Whatever, how the hell do I get you to leave me alone– ” Mark interrupted himself by jumping up in alarm, the green swirls spinning more quickly and its size growing from a comfortable two feet tall and wide to double that in a flash. Mark barely had time to react before it was consuming him whole. “ Holy shit! ” Mark just barely managed to shout before his world was encompassed by that same shade of green that had started to become the source of his headache.
He was falling, and the Earth around him smelled unfamiliar now – no longer was he welcomed by the overbearing scent of moss and mildew, instead, he was overwhelmed by the old memory of smog and over-processed food that would linger on his clothes back when he lived amongst the humans. Mark reacted before he could process what he was doing, taking flight and successfully breaking his fall at the last second before he could become a smear of red on the pavement his body cut through.
Over the ringing in his ears, he could faintly make out the chorus of screams that followed his unruly arrival, alarms here and there mixing in with the fray but more distant than everything else attacking his senses. Mark let out a groan, one hand rubbing at the ache at the back of his head while his other hand clenched and unclenched numbly at the hilt of his blade. He turned himself over, one knee propped up as he did his best to regain his bearings. He took a deep breath in, the hairs at the back of his neck raised from the adrenaline coursing through his veins, and did his best to relax when he exhaled that same breath feeling more steady than he was before.
Everything had happened all too suddenly. One moment he’d been chilling on some grass, carelessly throwing rocks at the green amalgamation, and the next he’d been sent flying miles above land and into some city where he’d rather be anywhere else but . His first thoughts go towards Stedman and their deal, and how he wasn’t supposed to leave the mountains, and if he were to break that then he’d face the consequences of being locked up like a beast in some zoo for his people to poke and prod at like the vultures they were.
“ Fuck… ” He slurred, standing on unsteady legs, his hand tightening around his blade as he looked at his other hand, his vision doubling somewhat before his healing factor kicked in and he was seeing normally once more. His palm was stained red, but he wasn’t too worried about that, knowing that by now his injury would have closed up.
If Stedman tries to get on his ass for leaving the mountains, then he’d bring up his uninvited guests from yesterday and how he wasn’t technically the first to break their deal–
A loud boom sounded out, its shockwaves causing Mark to stagger on his feet for a moment before he averted his gaze and met the goggled eyes of a figure from not too far away. The stranger looked male, his mask and overall outfit looked similar to his with the obvious difference in aesthetics. Where Mark chose to style his blackened lenses into a blindfold that tied at the back of his head, the figure in front of him wore theirs like a mask of sorts – like a damn superhero from the city would. It got creepy when he noticed how similar the top half of their outfits were, nearly identical. Things started to stray back into originality once more however when it came to their bottoms; Mark chose to wear something a little more loose, black and blue cargo pants with stylish yellow fabrics adorned on each side of his hips that weren’t at all practical in battle or hunting but gave him something to admire whenever he catches his reflection in passing.
The creepy ass stranger stood there and stared at him, scrutinizing his appearance like he was to him and most likely making the same connections he was. Mark tilted his chin downward when he saw the tick of tension in the stranger’s jaw, the tightening of his fists, and the similar shift of head movement for when he was anticipating an attack.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” The stranger practically growled, his statement taken more as a threat in Mark’s eyes. It was unnerving, not his words, but how similar they sounded as well. Was this guy sent by Stedman? It was difficult to get a read on him with everything else currently occupying his thoughts and senses. It left him on an unsteady foot, and if there was anything Mark disliked, it was being at an immediate disadvantage.
Mark pointed the end of his blade at the guy, a half-frown on his face. “Did Stedman send you?” He asked instead, choosing to ignore the earlier threat. “If so, tell him it wasn’t my fault and that he broke the agreement first,”
This is what caused the stranger to falter, his shoulders lowering somewhat in obvious bewilderment before he shook his head. “ What? No, whatever! You’re coming with me, whether you want to or not!”
Mark was really hoping the stranger wouldn’t say something like that, he hadn’t bothered listening to orders in ages and he wasn’t about to start now. “How cliché– ” He wasn’t given much time to react, where the stranger was a comfortable distance away, they were now directly in front of him with a fist pointed at his jaw for a clean knockout. Mark quickly sidestepped, his eyes widening at the prospect of being caught off guard for the first time since he’d fought Dad all those years ago.
Mark jumped back, his feet sliding against the ground as he gave the stranger a toothy smile, fangs bared in all their pointed glory. “Wow! You’re quick! I haven’t been caught off guard like that in forever!” Not like that anyway, at least with his father he knew what to expect. But this was a completely different playing field, wasn’t it? How exciting! He thought, his adrenaline from earlier returning to him in a rush.
The stranger didn’t respond with words, each of his punches was dodged and due to the stranger’s sheer speed alone, Mark was forced to play defensively rather than offensively lest he take the brunt of this guy’s punches head-on. Mark waited for his opening, familiarizing himself with the guy’s rhythm until eventually, like clockwork, he found the opening he was looking for. He slammed the hilt of his blade against the guy’s temple, just enough to knock them out. He regretted it as soon as he did however once he realized just how durable he was to his attack – his wrist caught in the stranger’s steely grasp. He was allowed a moment of clarity to think, “ Oh fuck– ” before he got his face bashed in by the stranger’s forehead, his nose crunching instantly and the glass of his goggles shattering upon impact.
Mark let out a yelp and used all of his force this time to push the stranger off of him, once more creating distance between them. This time, Mark acknowledged the stranger and his capabilities, no longer seeing a brave little lamb but instead something more similar to what he is. He felt almost stupid for not seeing it sooner… it couldn’t be, right? Nah, that’s ridiculous–
He swiped his arm across his face, his tongue swiping out and licking the blood off his split lip. “You’re a lot stronger than you look,” What does he call him? Would he tell him what his name is if he were to ask? Or is his name exactly what he thinks it is?
“And you’re a lot weaker than I thought,”
This caused Mark to snort in amusement, regretting it as soon as he did when the sting in his nose became more pronounced. “ And funnier! You’d think with such a serious-looking costume you’d lack a sense of humor.”
“Yeah? Well, your costume isn’t any less serious looking than mine, just less practical.”
Mark felt his shoulders shake with laughter before he broke out into a fit of it, confusing his opponent standing in front of him further as he watched him through squinted eyes, his opponent lowered his fists and made a face that only caused Mark’s amusement to rise. “You know that’s exactly what I thought when I first saw the design! Say, we’re kinda like the same person, don’t you think?”
The stranger practically deadpanned, his head tilted in what could only be disappointment. “Are you… are you serious?”
“Nah, only when I need to be, like now!” With a maniacal-like smile on his face, Mark lunged and smacked his opponent full-force across the street, his body sent flying the exact distance he’d expected him to. Before he could hit the ground Mark grabbed onto his neck and slammed him back first into the pavement, the cement splintering with the force. He watched with satisfaction as his opponent coughed and sputtered beneath him, his fingers moving up to claw at his hand but freezing in place when Mark raised the sharp edge of his blade to the delicate skin beneath the edge of his mask.
“You seemed pretty durable, so when I realized back there that I didn’t have to treat you the same as all the other little lambs, it got me thinking,” Keeping a hand tightly gripped around his neck, he loosened one finger from the hilt of his blade and slid it across the edge of his opponents mask until it caught. “ Where have I seen this before? You certainly don’t look like Dad, or maybe you do, the family resemblance is hard to shake when you mix in something as dominating as Viltrumite DNA, right? ”
For a moment, Mark was stunned, reeling in his thoughts and trying to come up with a probable conclusion when his naked eye met his opponents. The same – as if he were looking in a mirror. But then his eyes lowered to his twin’s gritted teeth and impulsively he dug his thumb beneath his lip and parted the flesh until his opponent's canines were revealed.
“Where the hell are your fangs?” He managed to exclaim right before he was knocked away from his body-double and into a wall, shattering all the windows in proximity. In his momentary lapse, he had dropped his blade, leaving him without the tool he came to rely on when his opponent had gotten back onto his feet and lunged an attack in his direction.
Mark grabbed his twin by the wrists right before he could get grabbed by him and threw him onto the ground with a loud slam. And after noticing that there was someone else coming up on him he swiftly turned, his hand flat and arm aimed to decapitate anyone at the receiving end of his fatality – only to freeze a split second before he could finish the move, his breath caught in his throat as the side of his hand was left ghosted over the neck of a kid that had an equally stunned gaze as his.
“ Oliver! Damnit! Get out of here! ” Mark kept looking between them, the pieces clicking together.
Oliver . This kid's name is Oliver, and that family resemblance he spoke of earlier was present in the boy as well. Oliver . That’s… that was the name of Grandpa, wasn’t it? Sometimes, when his father was busy with some Guardians of the Globe business, and when his mother had to work a bit longer than originally scheduled, he’d be sent to his Grandpa and Grandma’s house. There, he would be reminded of what it was like to be a kid – to be human . He had his own bedroom, one that used to belong to his mother before it was renovated to be his. And there he had all kinds of toys, his birthday and Christmas presents that were hidden from father all in the same place. He loved going there, he loved who he would meet there.
There was a stuffed dog named after a character from some kind of story he used to adore, wasn’t there? If he were allowed to linger on it further, he’s sure he would have gotten the chance to remember. But right as he was about to remember its name – Science dog? No, that doesn’t sound quite right – The back of his head was slammed, his eyes rolling to the back of his head in an instant as the last thing he was conscious of was the bewildered look of the boy who happened to share the same name as his once forgotten Grandpa.