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13tinysocks · 2 months ago

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My Dead Girlfriend

You're different, more than all of them expected. It's saddening for some, boner inducing for others. He likes the way you try to blow his brains out. The head of the GDA sees an opportunity. [Invincible Variants x reader]

[Part one] [2] [Ao3] [4] [Chapter Index]

3 * Narcan Blues [6.4k]

"I'm tired of walking away to lose you,

I take my Adderall with milk and sugar,

I'm gonna be okay,

get the fuck out of my way."

Alcohol - FIDLAR

The defense wing was gone. All the engineers were sliced through. Only a handful of staff left compared to the hundreds stuffed into the Pentagon. So much blood he could taste the metal. So much death and destruction and all from one person. Now smashed into his floor. Re-animen called off. Donald hovered behind him, mechanical body exposed.

If one Invincible could do that and there were how many of these little bastards? The world was bent over, spanked, and properly fucked.

Communications with most world leaders had been cut due to death or satellites being smashed. Plan B through Z had been used and flicked aside like flies. But then, there was this very unexpected and hopefully fortunate turn of events.

Cecil Stedman leaned over the desk. Dozens of screens showing him the few remaining CCTV feeds of the area in question. The few living staff busted their asses, tracking the variants. Six of them converged on one singular location. They hadn't been together since they'd first zapped into reality. No portals opened and it didn't seem like one would anytime soon.

He watched, listening to the crackling feed from the cheapest cameras business owners could afford. At first, he thought the prison-smashing, New York flattening freak was going to kill you on his lonesome. Then the rest came, one after another. Couldn't forget the one watching in the sky.

They didn't converge on you like hungry wolves. They spoke and then the strangest, best thing happened. One of them dropped dead. Killed himself on a whim, at your say so.

"I need everything we've got on her, now." He said to no one in particular, but heard the remaining staff scramble behind him.

"You should sit down Sir," Donald said. "You're running on fumes." He held out an alcohol soaked rag.

Cecil took it, pressing it hard to the bleeding slit in his head. A sliver of his skull was exposed to the air, blood gushing and rolling into one of his eyes. Not that he could see out of it, his vision was spotty and limited to begin with, his orbital had to be fractured. Flaxan bastard.

"Can't, so you better get to teaching me on how to run on fumes."

Donald didn't smile. Cecil hated himself for the jab but apologies were for later, way, way later.

He watched the newcomers rush in. Dog Girl, Psychopomp, Mercy, Running Man, and The Amazing Kidult. A handful of nobody scraps that surrounded his one and only hope for the planet. They were going to be torn to shreds.

Cecil was counting on that.

"How's the teleporter?" He asked.

"Almost online, sir!" Someone shouted across the room. "I dunno if it'll be stable-"

"Define almost." He didn't care about stable.

"Three minutes!"

"God damn it." These nobodies weren't going to distract them that long. But his staff was doing all they could, fast as possible. He had to move onto the next step in the hasty plan he was gluing together with popsicle sticks.

***

They waited, though the action had already started. When one is a Viltumite- so fast, so powerful- watching lesser beings run at them felt like slow motion. Not from fear, but from the monotony of it all. Waiting for something interesting or challenging, but the best they get is a punch that doesn't even tickle.

The Amazing Kidult was a stretch of a contingency plan. He was more useful if you had to pretend to be somebody's mom, trust, the situation had arisen before. If you have to get into a preschool to kill one of the teachers, who was actually a drug runner who didn't deliver on the goods, he was useful. Nobody would let some random adult in, so Kidult would shift from his thirty-year-old self to whatever age you needed.

Freaky, sure, but he could've done a lot worse with his powers.

You hadn't wanted him to answer the phone, but here he was. Throwing himself first into the fray. Thirty going on five to duck under an unenthusiastic punch thrown by Mohawk. Soon as he was in the clear, under the guy's legs, he was five going on thirty. Growing with a fist aimed straight for Mohawk's balls.

He was freshly twenty when Mohawk grabbed him by the throat, snapped his neck with a twitch of the hand. He dropped Kidult, cringing, "Weirdest dude I've killed in awhile." He kicked Kidult away, sending his corpse into the smoke of New York.

Dog Girl lunged for Shoulder Pads. Going from your everyday Twitter-scrolling, Contrapoints watching, EDM mixing t-girl, to ginormous fucking werewolf. Maw open wide enough to bite him in half. Shoulder Pads isn't even a blur, one second, he's about to die, the next he's behind her.

When shot, a dog does one of two things. Die quietly or let out such a pathetic sound it makes you want to kill. But when a Dog Girl's head is separated from a Dog Girl's body? That sound made you want to throw up.

"Pathetic." He says, "But I'm not surprised (Y/n) enlisted the likes of you."

You didn't have time to unpack what that meant. Your finger shoots towards Lensless-or as you now thought of him, Boner Boy- too busy holding his suit out above his dick so no one could see the outline of his arousal.

"Kill him!" You say, eyes locked onto Running Man's goggles.

Instead of looking horrified at the idea of fighting with a hard-on, Lensless grins. Running Man, a C-tier hero at best, zipped forward. Nowhere near quick or strong as the late Red Rush, but that didn't matter. He had what Red Rush didn't. An energy shotgun, so powerful he blasted straight through a kaiju last fall. Honestly, the only reason he was so high in your book was because of that gun but you couldn't tell him that- he's got a temper.

Round and Round Lensless he ran, a gray blur. Shotgun powering up and up and up.

Mohawk made his way toward you. "Look, babe, you know I appreciate a good ass-kicking, but this is just so lame; it's unnecessary! You know you can't fight me."

"Cover me!" You tell Mercy. She's in front of you, solar-powered caduceus staff spinning in hand.

Round and round and round. Lensless head spun following his to-be attacker, laughing, "So are you gonna hit me or what?"

You blinked. Just blinked, but when you opened your eyes, Mercy's blood was shooting out of her esophagus like a fountain. Top half of her head splattered God knows where. Tongue twitching, bottom jaw pooling with blood as she fell to her knees then to the ground.

Mohawk stepped over her into your personal space. You stagger back, head reeling, stomach churning. You should've done this earlier, but got too preoccupied with the contingencies. With the backup plan that was blowing up spectacularly in your face. "Kill Yo-"

You feel it coming. Your head whips to the side as vomit forces it's way out of your throat. Bitter as it was going down. You sway, head pulsing.

"Does being near me make you that sick?" Mohawk laughs but there's little humor in it.

"Yes." You gaggle out, spitting out the last of the bile. Hand in pocket, cracking the top off another bottle of codeine. It was a bad idea shotgunning one, puking it out, and shotgunning another. Some of the first had been absorbed into your system. Adding onto that absorption was prime real estate for death by overdose. You had no other options. Overdose or be tortured to death by a guy with your ex's face.

Ker-ack!

The top of Running Man's body sails over head. Going splat on a building behind you. His legs are still moving around Lensless, who just held out his arm and cut the guy in half.

"Why do they never think that I can just do that and it's over?" He scoffed, running the hand that had just killed Running Man through his hair. Blood clinging to the locks like gel. "So boring."

You see the mass coming in hot. Running Man's gun barreling toward your head. You drop the bottle, half drunk, and hold your hands out to catch it. Mohawk is too busy trying to get his fingers under your chin to notice. The Phantom was busy liberating Psychopomp's arms from her body. Others noticed, Lensless raced, followed by Shoulder Pads. In the sky, the Viltrumite watches. Interested in you and your well-being, of course, but if you couldn't handle a gun flying toward your head- you couldn't handle him.

To his pleasure, you catch the thing. Fumbling before twisting the gun into the right position, ready to fire at will. The thing pulses with purple energy, humming.

Lensless stops, chest centimeters from the shotgun barrel. "Whew, thought I'd be picking your teeth up off the ground!"

Mohawk is shoved out of the way as Lensless came in way too hot, spitting a, "Watch it, dipshit."

Shoulder Pads stops behind him. Aware of the gun buzzing, vibrating in your hands. He wasn't afraid, more so curious. Watching you tilt the barrel up, aimed straight for Lensless's head. You really were different. Daring enough to point a gun a version of him (again), any version of him, despite his royal linage, despite his power. The sight was like a slap across the face, but he did nothing to stop what was coming. If Lensless died to you and his own foolishness- he deserved death.

In another universe, one with a Mark Angstrom hadn't taken- the same energy crystal slapped into the gun was fired straight at Omni-man. Sending him crashing through concrete. Hurting him, even just a little, was no small feat. Something that could hurt him? Imagine would it could do to his son, not yet fully grown into his powers. But you didn't know that, none of them did. If Lensless knew, he wouldn't have moved anyway.

"Reminds me of old times." As the gun's power apexed, Lensless smiled and leaned down. Putting his left eye into the barrel hole, his hips undulating. "I've got an itch actually, mind pulling the trigger for me real quick?"

Blammo.

You fall back, hands burning, shoulders aching, gun launching itself out of your hands, clattering thirty feet back and breaking useless against the concrete. Lensless shoots back as well, five, six, feet- holding a hand to his left eye, blood seeping between his fingerless gloves.

"Man-" His laughs are breathy, wanton, "Oh man, I think you really got me there." His hand falls away, "Is it bad?"

The light brown of his eye had split in two. Oozing vitreous tissue down and around the exposed bone of his cheek and lower eye socket. All the flesh and fabric around his eye had singed away. Leaving a pulsing, angry chasm. Blast so hot it'd cauterized most of his blood vessels. The few that remained open bled like rivers into the sea.

He pokes at one half of his eye, "I can still kinda see." He hums.

"You asked for that one dude," Mohawk said.

"Don't call me, dude, dude." Lensless says, though he's smiling. Shreds of eyelids twitching, trying to close around the mess.

"See, this is why you should be wearing goggles." Shoulder Pads commented. "Look at you. What use are you to my empire half blind?"

Phantom let Psychopomp drop, still screaming, rolling on the ground, legs kicking like a de-winged butterfly. He stepped closer but not too close. He felt hot, too hot, just being on the same planet as you. Too close and he'd burn to a crisp. Too far again and his heart would ice over.

He knew you weren't the same person. You just looked like it, moved like it, sounded like it. He didn't believe in second chances either but still, if there was a second chance for you and him- how could he pass it up? Angstrom had made a good argument. "You miss her, I can see the loss has hit you hard." He'd thrown a punch, though Angstrom was already gone. Behind him. "Do you even remember what it was like to hold her?" Another punch. "Do you want to remember?"

He did. So very badly.

Because he didn't recall the taste of your lips. It'd been so long. Five years, two months, three days without you felt like the thousands of years his father said he'd live. Being near you now, reversed time. The reveal of you, this you and your truth, was violently fast, too quick to process. It felt like a joke, like the rug had been pulled from under his feet. But he could fix it. Could make you whole again the same way you'd do for him once he got you alone.

"You know you're not the only emperor of Viltrum here, right?" Mohawk said.

Shoulder Pads stiffened, pouting slightly, "I assumed we all were. I wasn't aware so many of us were weak enough not to take the throne." He shot a disgusted glance toward Lensless, who was still poking at the remnants of his eye.

Talking like you weren't here, like they hadn't just shredded through your contingencies like cheese to grater. Your mouth screws into a sneer. Fingers digging into rubble so small it felt like sand. You rose, albeit wobbly. "Hey, pirate, come'ere."

They stared in confusion a moment. "Oh! Are you talking to me?" Lensless pointed at himself. "Are you giving me a nickname already?" He was in front of you but you hadn't seen him move. The damage was worse up close. You could smell the burnt flesh. He leaned in for a kiss or just to violate your personal space. "Would should I call you? Sweetums? Hot lips? Babygi-"

You shoved gravel into his eye socket. Pressing, twisting, scissoring your fingers to get the dirt in all the cracks and open veins.

"You like that?" You snarled, though it sounded slurred. Stomach churning with sick. Head throbbing from the drugs.

"Fuuuck!" Lensless stumbled back a pace. "Fuck, fuck, fuuuckkk." He's moaning, groaning, in pain. Good. Satisfaction rises in your chest. "I think I just came."

***

Cecil's lips pushed in. Ninety seconds was all the distraction they got. All he could hope for was the degenerate version of the planet's strongest hero didn't snap her neck for that. He'd call on Mark for help if he could, but Mark was busy fighting off two versions of himself in downtown Tokyo. One in red and white, the other in the classic yellow and blue. He watched on split screens as the other Marks surrounded you. As their Mark fought for his, Eve's, and the people of the city's lives.

Tokyo was the first city hit. They came out of green portals above Japan and got right to work. Mark and Eve were on a date in Osaka when this whole mess started. Just flown in after a job well done in New York. Tired from super speed, ready to get down to relaxing.

It had been a good thing in Cecil's eyes, the kid was a loose canon these days, but he still saved hundreds at the time. All those people he saved were definitely dead now, based on how things went. The destruction was too catastrophic to contain. The other versions of him were too quick, too bloodthirsty. New York was practically defenseless with the people currently on his payroll.

Cecil couldn't help either of them like this. Even when he could, he'd have to choose who to go to first. (Y/n) seemed like decent shot. Still, Mark was Mark, he was practically Invincible. Not going for him first would be one hell of a gamble he'd have to be absolutely sure about. "How much longer?"

"Ninety seconds!" A tech called.

A minute and a half to make a decision that could make or break the planet. Just another Tuesday.

"Sir," Donald shifted behind him, fingers fast on a keyboard as he pulled up the file, "That's (Y/n) (L/n). File says her and Mark used to date, sir." He swallowed. As the GDA it was their job to know everything about everyone important. Superheroes and villains top of the list, terrorists, politicians, and importantly, their connections. Dangling a husband or child in front of any one of those people could get them to do damn near anything. So the database was kept, a background thing, a backup.

Though everyone who worked in that department thought it was useless and hated working on it- today they'd earn that paycheck.

"Tell me more," Cecil said, because to be honest, he had no idea who this girl was.

"They were together before Mark developed his powers. Very briefly after. It's likely they split after she started working for Machine Head." Donald said.

Everyone thought the government couldn't possibly know and see everything. They could. Machine Head was a thorn in Cecil's side, but so small and insignificant when it came to the matter of the entire planet, he'd done nothing about it. Local criminal empires were for local heroes to deal with, not Cecil Stedman.

Cecil's finger tapped his bicep, arms crossed over his chest. He watched the battle between Mark, Mark, and Mark shift. Eve's leg was snapped like a twig, she went down hard and useless. Their Mark was on her, trying to carry her away while local heroes stepped into the fray. He broke through the atmosphere, screaming for help. Leaving just in time to see the local talent get shredded right through.

He hadn't killed a single one of them, whereas the city gutter rat had. Cecil swallowed, eyes switching back and forth, "Great. I'm sure his ex'll wanna work with us."

"Probably not, but Sir, what those versions of Mark are saying implies they're not exes in their universe." Donald nodded to the screen. The Mark's surrounding her in a semicircle. Bloodied. One screaming about cum.

The decision was made. The bait was too good to pass up. Eve would live without immedatate medical attention.

His fingers curled into his sleeves. "Someone not working on the teleporter- get me powercuffs, Narcan, the most noise proof headphones we can find, and a muzzle, preferably the same we used on the first re-animen, I like not killing myself."

***

"Get away from me."

He does, you wish he hadn't. Up close you couldn't see his bottom half so well. But as soon as he stepped back, you can see the imprint of his dick softening. See the wet stain on his lower abdomen.

The sight is... you don't know. You felt sick in a way that couldn't be from the codeine overdose or the life or death situation in front of you. Guts twisting in disgust, a disgust you had seen in others. You were unsavory to people around you, but interesting, like a pet they could discipline. Something they desired against their best interests. But the way he was looking at you with his one good eye, was beyond desire. He looked like he wanted to crawl into your chest and rut on your ribs.

You didn't know how to feel, but his companions not being cool with it certainly helped.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Mohawk said. "That is- wow, dude. Do you have brain damage?"

"A little." Lensless eyes unfogged from your control, but not from lust.

"A little?" Shoulder Pads questioned. "You've just been disrespected and you've come in your pants- what do you mean a little?"

Lensless shrugs. "Means what it means, dude."

The Phantom edged closer. Fingers twitching. Tempted, very, very tempted to rid Lensless of his other eye.

You hear a meow, he comes out at the worse time. Caligula bounding from the rubble, meowing and curling himself around your ankles. You bend to grab him. A rush of wind and Lensless is in front of you, holding your cat. Stupid thing is purring with a hand ready to snap his tiny neck.

"Will you use your powers on me if I kill 'im?" He gasps, realizing something with a grin, "Would you cry too?"

He'd gone from lustful to violent in a millisecond. Actually, scratch that- he was both at once. He just saw another way to get his rocks off.

To answer he question, yes and yes. He can see it in your eyes. He's going to do it.

Until a fist cracks his jaw, loosening his hold enough for Mohawk to take the cat.

"Jesus, dude! Relax."

Lensless laughs, rubbing his jaw, the punch barely fazing him. "Don't act like you care about that thing."

"I don't," Mohawk says, Caligula rubbing on his arms. "Killing something this weak is below us."

"Maybe below you but not me." Lensless reaches for the cat. Mohawk jerks back. You can only watch. Scared if you say something he'll kill your sweet, idiot baby. "Aww come on, you're no fun. Don't you wanna see her cry?"

Mohawk's gaze slides over you. Considering. Then he's gone in a crack. Returning just as fast, but without Caligula. He opens his mouth just before you start to scream, "Your ugly pet is fine. We'll get it back before we leave, okay babe?"

You don't know if you believe him. You want to but you're stuck on the promise of 'when we leave'.

Blood was rushing in your ears, you could barely hear yourself say, "Psychopomp, get up." She did. Balance wavering, blood spurting out where her arms should be connected to her body, pulsing to the beat of her heart. "Revive the others."

"Hell no." She said. You'd forgotten.

A note about mind powers. Generally, they don't work well on other people with mind powers. Even if it's mind powers to raise the dead. And another thing that was working against you- you'd dated, very briefly, four years ago. Two months of sex and coping with your new life. Not finishing high school because of your jail sentence and your new role as Machine Head's grunt. Not going to college, not being with Mark.

She wanted to go the distance. Go clean, build a life together. Lesbians are fast with those sorts of decisions. You couldn't, wouldn't. You tried to force her to forget you on your two-month anniversary. Just to find out, psychics have a hard time controlling other psychics. The breakup was a huge blowout. Her calling you every name in the book. Unbelieving that she wanted to move in with you. Demanding you give her Caligula because she was the who wanted him in the first place.

You kept the cat. Cleansed your phone of her number. Didn't cry over the loss in your life because she wasn't shit. She was a nobody grunt The Order sometimes called on. It made missions with her tense, but you dealt with it.

Until.

You'd almost died too many times to count. One of which was a deal gone wrong where your bodyguard wound up dead. Your head was next on the concrete chopping block, still dripping with the blood from his neck. You escaped with quick wit, but it scared the shit out of you so bad you redialed her number as a contact. Saved it as contingency twenty-seven. Assumed if you'd call she'd come. Another thing about lesbians, they have a horrible time getting over an ex. Then you never called or texted, forgot about her and who contingency twenty-seven was besides a panic alarm.

She hadn't said anything today when you called, just came to where you said. Everything had gone so quick you hadn't had time to process that she hadn't been controlled. That she was who she was and somehow, even though years had separated your relationship like the grand canon, she came for you.

"You're letting yourself die because I didn't take you back?" Usually, you kept relationships, even one night stands, under wraps. You didn't kiss and tell. Except, being ridiculously high was not your usual.

That gave the bickering between the Mark's pause.

Her lip twitched. "You killed my brother, asshole." Oh. She didn't come for you in a romantic sense. She came for revenge, first for the city, then for you.

The dark cracks in Phantom's heart deepen. Mohawk smirked, still getting used to the idea that Dregs was not a cute hero name. Shoulder Pad's legs flexed, ready to move, to slice off Psychopomp's head for how she spoke to his pet. The Viltrumite in the sky lowered a degree to hear the drama that much better.

Guilty as charged. "No, I didn't." You lie, because her little junkie brother didn't pay what he owed so yeah, Machine Head had you kill him. "Multi-Paul did."

"Multi-Paul was in prison when he went missing." She was swaying. Soon to die if she didn't do something.

"Not every Multi-Paul." You counter, absolutely full of shit. "Are you really going to let yourself die over an assumption?"

Her knees looked ready to give when she said, "Up n'attem."

Light blinded you. Made Lensless groan and fall on his ass. The light was gone soon as it'd come.

The dead rose. Bodies not healed, still dripping and oozing, but crackling with the anger of the recently deceased. "Mercy, fix me."

The headless body rose her caduceus staff high before slamming its end to the ground. More light. Your headache worsened despite the codeine supposed to be suppressing it.

When the light faded, Psychopomp had arms again. She'd gone pale from blood loss, still staggering. She held out her arms, sleeveless and baby-skin smooth, hands glowing as brought back more of the dead.

Dog Girl was first to rise, blood still spilling out of her neck. Kidult stood, body facing forward, head facing back. Running Man hobbled forward using arms as legs, guts trailing behind him like streamers. Then there were the civilians. Wes and his coworkers, innocent streetwalkers, alley lurkers, anyone and everyone within a hundred food radius.

The pièce de résistance? Seventeen, shambling to his feet, fists twitching shut.

"You're kidding me." Emperor Shoulder Pads sneered, launching forward to put a hole through Psychopomp. "You're seriously making us kill you again?"

But you'd though ahead, you started speaking the second Psychopomp stared necromancing. The word, "Stop," out of your lips before he could move more than two inches.

He stills. Hovering an inch off the ground. Body shaking with effort to throw off your control. Eyes wild on you, animal angry.

Lensless let out a whooping cackle. "Oh thank God! I thought we were already done! This is gonna be awesome, I've never killed a zombie before!" His muscles tense under his suit, weight shifting as he decides who to pounce on first.

His yelling makes your ears twitch.

"Be still." You tell him and he is. You turn to the next, "Stay," and the next, "Don't move." You leave out the one in the sky. He hadn't posed a threat yet.

You flex your fingers, telling Psychopomp to bring the troops in. Let the zombies get in their first hits before your hold weakens. Which it already was. Nose bleeding, balance wavering, you were so sleepy and heavy-limbed despite the situation. Your heart slowing and vision blurring at the very edges. You knew what it meant.

The dead move like a wave. Slipping past you, leaving brushes of blood where they made contact. Fists and feet and bloody stumps came down on the versions of your ex. You refreshed your hold with the same turns of phrase. Bending down to grab the half-drunk bottle and finishing it to hopefully help.

Throat roadkill raw. Ready to puke again, but you force your stomach to steel. You could puke when they were dead.

Except, the zombies, superpowered or not, leave no marks on the Mark's. Save for Seventeen, currently walloping the everloving shit out of Lensless. Socking him again and again, twisting his head side to side with every punch. Jiggling bits of his remaining eyeball falling to the ground.

You'd have to step in more. Despite the sleepiness washing over you. The blur worsening. Your lips feel slow, tongue heavy, "Hey you," You say to none of them in particular, "Kill eachother."

The first command you'd set snaps. Lensless is first to move, lunging to Phantom with a cat's yowl. Leaving Mohawk and Emperor Whatever to duke it out. They shear through bodies of the dead. Leaving them deader than before as they move. Throwing punches, kicks and tossing each other into buildings.

It lasts about nine seconds before your hold is gone. The command too taxing, too much, too many people at once.

They stop all at once. Expressions varying from pissed to entertained.

He's on you in an instant. Hand on your throat, holding you feet above the ground. "You-" Shoulder Pads snarls. You kick at the air. Choking around his hand. "Fucking-" Vision goes from blurry to blackening. You hold onto his wrist for support. "Dare?"

You try to command him, but you can't. Voice box pressed firm to your larynx. His grip is bruisingly hard, but you know it's absolutely nothing for the likes of him. "I should kill you for that."

The others were coming. Fists raised. Snarls tight. Even the holier-than-thou angel in the sky was going to touch down. All of them, ready to punch the shit out of him. Not thinking it'd kill their precious in the process.

Zombies clawed at your feet. Psychopomp reached out, grabbing your ankle, trying to pull you down but only making you feel like a rubber band. Death came from all sides, it'd be quick, but man it'd hurt.

***

His people met up with Mark. He and Eve were en route. One problem solved.

"How much longer?" He shouted, standing over the teleporter. Techie's arms like blurs.

Donald returned, holding only souped-up headphones. "The light room is ready with everything, sir."

"Forty-five seconds!"

Cecil threw the headphones on. Speaking loud because he couldn't even hear himself, "We don't have that much time, send me now!" He stepped onto the teleporter platform, hitting the big red button on its side before the techies could protest.

***

Everything happened so fast you couldn't register it. One second four guys were about to hit the guy choking you out so hard it'd shatter your body- the next- you were in a while room falling on your ass. Psyhopomp still holding to your ankle, both of you breathing heavy. The zombies that were touching either of you dropped instantly dead- again. Parts of them that were there seconds ago melted to the floor.

"Good." A cool voice said, "I was worried it'd do that to you guys instead."

A hand you hadn't noticed falls from your shoulder. Wrinkled and pale. He steps away, giving you much needed personal space. "Cecil Stedman, head of the GDA." He's tall, frail, and wearing the chunkiest headphones you'd ever seen. "We need your help."

You move slowly, like you were moving through the same syrup you'd just drank. "Fuck you." You don't know who he is, what's going on, but you didn't want to hear it. You wanted to kill. You wanted to see the fucker who threatened your life die. You didn't want to be here. "Send me back."

Your threat is a lot less impactful as Psychopomp almost vomits on your shoes. You scoot back with a snarl, though Cecil doesn't seem to mind.

"I can see your lips moving kid, but I can't hear you." He taps the headphones. "Got a look at what you can do and I don't want that pointed at me any day."

Psychopomp scrambled to her knees then to her feet. "You-!"

Cecil held up a hand, "There's no one to raise from the dead here, save it. I'm not your enemy."

She swayed, foot to foot, still reeling from blood loss. "You better not be lying."

"Still can't hear you. I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess you're angry. You can be, at them, not me. We need your help, the both of you, to take these Invincible's down. Can't say we'll let you go after that, but you'll have jobs working for us." His gaze slides meaningfully over you, "And not on the streets."

In your increasing stupor, you slur, "No, send me back. I've got- I've got to kill 'em all."

He watches your lips move but does nothing to act on your behalf. "Look kid, we're really low on options here, so do me a favor and stop scowling. This'll go a lot easier for you if you cooperate."

Your vision goes blacker and blacker. "Send me back." You can't even put power behind your words anymore. Arms going limp by your side. You lay back, heaving, feeling yourself trying to duck and bob the effects of the overdose, "Send... send me..." You pull a bottle from your pocket, fingers too weak to uncap it.

"Jesus." Cecil says, "You're going blue. Narcan her, now."

There are hands on you, though you can't see them. All you see is white, Cecil, and Psychopomp.

Your head is tilted back, neck supported in a gloved palm. Something plastic is shoved into your nose. The spray shoots down your nasal passage, burning all the way. A scream ripping through your throat before the plunger is all the way down.

Bone deep. The ache is in everything. Behind your eyes, inside your marrow. You're lying on your side, vomit spewed out on the floor in front of you. Esophagus on fire. The world comes back into focus with your heart beating erratically.

Cecil is crouched in front of you. "I know now's not the best time," he says, voice gentle but face hard set, "but I'm really gonna need you to work with me."

You feel Psychopomp behind you, holding you steady on your side in case you seize. The hands on you are gone.

You peel your face off the floor, lucky it wasn't sticky with puke. Cecil holds out a hand to help you up. "Kill him." You say.

Psychopomp lunges over your body. Hands posed to wring Cecil's neck. "I was hoping you wouldn't do this." A gun flies out of a hidden torso holster and connects with Psychopomp's temple. You don't hear the crack, but she crumples. "Get the muzzle."

There's an order on the tip of your tongue, before you can look to find out who you're ordering, before the words can come out, a monstrosity of a muzzle is thrown over your jaw. A rubber stopper shoved between your teeth. Leather straps pulled tight as the muzzle is locked tight around your head. You claw, trash, kick but the invisible hands hold you down.

"I'm sorry we have to do this," he says, not looking sorry at all.

He touches your shoulder. "Take us there." He says to the emptiness.

You are gone.

Then back, in a different place. Green everywhere. Clear blue sky ahead. A quaint town all around you. Abandoned.

You're on the ground. Grass soft under your bloodstained sweats. Cecil stands over you, his invisible men holding your hands behind your back.

Cecil looked down at you, "Tristan De Cunha." He says, "Most remote island on the planet. Used to be a town before the US Government bought it back in twenty-twelve. The safest place on the planet to be- for now."

You writhe, uncaring about geography.

Cecil lets the headphones slide down to his neck. He presses a finger to his ear, "Muscle and bone density?" He asks.

"That of an average human," comes a flat reply. Nothing special about you.

Cecil nods to himself, suspicion confirmed. "Good." He nodded his chin toward something behind you. "Don't let her hands free while you lock 'er up."

You're pulled ass backwards. Heels dragging, the only part of you touching the ground. It's no use. They're strong, and though you can't see them, they outnumber you three to one. Cecil follows, frowning.

You're pressed to a cold pole, moss crawling up the sides. At night its bulb used to come alive after sunset but now, on this southern island God knows where, it does not. Your arms are thrown behind your back. Something heavy is locked around one wrist. Secured so tough it nearly cuts off the circulation. You try to free your other arm, but just like the other, it is locked into the device. The pieces are sealed together in a massive metal cuff made for a berserker- not you.

The invisible soldiers step back. Their boots pressing imprints to the grass. "Thanks, boys." Cecil nods as they zap away. "Teleporter's fully online now." He says to himself more than you. "Look kid, I'm gonna do something you're not gonna like." If you could talk you'd ask 'more than you already have?' Reading your eyes, he says, "Things'll get worse before they get better. Just remember, after this you'll have a job with us."

From his pocket comes a phone. He taps to the camera app and starts recording, only his face in frame.

"Invincible, the people of Earth surrender." It's a lie, through and through, "No more military might will be sent your way. All governments are to stand down effective immediately. The planet is yours." The message could've ended there but instead he pans he camera down. To you muzzled, cuffed to a pole, uselessly fighting against metal and concrete. "As a show of good faith, we have (Y/n) (L/n) waiting for you on Tristan De Cunha island. Two thousand five hundred miles east of Buenos Aires, one thousand five hundred miles west of Cape Town. We will make contact within the hour after she's been collected for negotiations." He ended the recording, pulled his hand through his remaining hair and sighed. "It's about the most obvious trap I've ever set but it just might work."

He sent the recording off. "That'll be playing on loop on every speaker and screen round the whole world in two minutes." His smile is wry, tired, uneven with scar tissue. "Don't let the fame get to your head." The smile drops as soon as appeared, "If they unmask you, don't do anything stupid. I'm sure I don't have to tell you twice, but these people are dangerous." You glare up at him, willing his head to explode. It doesn't. Your breathing is heavy. Saliva pooling around the muzzle bit. "You've got about ten minutes before they're all here so uh, brace yourself. We'll be watching."

He disappears in a bolt of white-blue. You are alone, but not for long.

#invincible x reader #invincible variants #invincible variants x reader #mohawk invincible #viltrum mark #phantom invincible #emperor mark #emperor invincible #lensless mark #mohawk mark x reader #emperor mark x reader #lensless invincible x reader #rea wrties #mdgf #header is an unfinished piece of mine lol #gotta get me some of that old man cecil... im a lesbian but yeah...#anyway you are now bisexual i dont make the rules i CAN NOT write a heterosexual mc

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