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Invincible! I'm Invincible!

A fanfic based on the comic book and animated series Invincible. The story's protagonist, Mark Grayson, is a high school graduate and the son of Earth's greatest hero, the Omni Man, a member of the Viltrumite race, the local equivalent of Kryptonians, sent to Earth to bring peace... Or was it? After all, the noble Viltrum turned out not to be a country of victorious communism at all, but a paramilitary empire, and the Omni Man himself was only the first of the conquistadors. In the original story, Mark, stunned by his father's cruelty, unequivocally chose to side with Earth, but over time this conflict became more and more complex. Enemies became allies and enemies again, and friends betrayed and found themselves on the other side of the barricades. This time the story took a slightly different path. Having met a godlike entity living outside of time, Mark was sent back in time to change the course of events, but... was unworthy, unable to overcome his attachments and selfishness and restore balance to the universe. Well... then the universe needs another Mark Grayson! You can support me and get early access to lots of new chapters here: https://www.patreon.com/Navuhodonsr

Navuhodonosr · Anime et bandes dessinées
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18 Chs

Red Rush and the Spider Woman

I watched the end of the fight from my smartphone, returning to the beach, where I had left my clothes - which I immediately changed into, since the diving suit was a rags-to-riches mess - and my phone.

Media helicopters arrived at the scene of the battle a few minutes after I had fled, broadcasting the whole thing live on the Internet. So the whole world could enjoy the show. And it was a great show. Soon after Immortal and War Woman, the rest of the Guardians joined in on the fun. Darkwing, who was basically an ordinary man with all sorts of technological tricks, was about as effective against the monster as the mens in ship own escort group. He was well aware of that, though, and so he concentrated on helping the Red Rush evacuate the men as soon as he arrived. A little later the Martian Man joined them as well, who, having tried once against the monster, realized that he could not oppose him anything - neither to confuse such a big and dumb monster with his appearance, nor to tie his own body, - and also focused on support. Though the Martians are quite gifted, they're no match for the Viltrumites.

The Aquarius and the Green Ghost, on the other hand, were much better. The former shone in his native element, making life very difficult for the enemy by creating powerful underwater currents. The Green Ghost, on the other hand, was always flying into the monster's head, in his intangible form, raping its brain, making its movements erratic.

This ability can be useful even in combat with Nolan... It's even strange that Ghost didn't manage to escape from Dad in past life. There are two possibilities: either the father killed the ghost before it became intangible, or he has a special trick for such opponents.

But the main striking force in the battle was undoubtedly the Immortal and the War Woman - the only two who could inflict any significant physical damage on the enemy. The Immortal was very strong and hardy, but he could fly - all the guards except Vortex could fly - and War Woman was very good at swinging her mace, her attacks even more powerful than those of the Immortal.

And yet... even with the combined efforts of the whole team, the Guardians couldn't defeat the monster quickly. And, don't get me wrong, but I was happy about that. Not for the failure of the hero team, of course, but for the fact that I hadn't made a mistake in my initial assessment of my own strength. It wasn't that I was such a wimp-it was just that the monster we caught was truly terrifying. Otherwise it would have been very unpleasant, especially for my self-esteem, if they'd just beaten a monster I couldn't fight.

But here, after nearly half an hour of battle the monster was defeated and, after another combined attack, went down, and the shattered heroes - especially the Immortal and War Woman, who had experienced the heat of the monster's tentacle embrace - left the scene with victory. Though I have my doubts that the Guardians really did manage to put the beast to rest... they didn't get it's skull caved in, did they? But surely the underwater folk must have some sort of protection agency to examine the remains, since they've lived with such creatures all their history and must have developed a healthy degree of foresight.

Now that I've calmed down and thought about it, I realize that I was a bit reckless-especially when I let myself get distracted in a fight with a creature without even checking how lethal it was. But the chance of encountering such an abnormally powerful monster... I can count such strong opponents on the fingers of one hand in all my past life-the part that I remember, of course.

It's a shame I didn't achieve my goal, and the whole mess was a bit of a mess, but it could have been worse. The media cameras didn't have time to film me, so no one but Oleg could really see me. Plus I got a feel for my strengths on a real opponent and could compare myself to the best team of superheroes on the planet.

And... they're not as bad as I thought they'd be. Well, I mean, it was obvious before that the best of the best should be a significant force, but still - my father killed them all at once without getting a scratch or giving himself away in any way.

I wasn't too informed about what was found at the scene of their deaths in the last world, but I'm pretty sure now that my father took them by surprise with a sneak attack. Immortal and War Woman are strong enough to do serious damage even to a viltrumite, Red Rush is incredibly fast, and Ghost is non-material, for crying out loud - acting in tandem, they could give Omniman a decent fight. Don't discount them.

And now I had to think about getting home: the damn suction cups had left me with bruises that couldn't be written off as street fighting. I realized, after carefully examining my reflection, that I would have to forgo all open clothing for the next couple of days. The wounds weren't too serious-they would heal in a couple of days-and they could be concealed by clothing.

"You're a pretty tough guy," I heard from the side, just as I wriggled my neck to try to make out the biggest mark on my back.

"What the..." I flinched in surprise as I turned toward the voice. - "You..."

Leaning against a large rock there stood a tall thin guy, typically Slavic in appearance: a little cheeky, brown-eyed, red hair cut almost "zero", wearing a closed red suit with a hood, which is now thrown back.

Red Rush himself. He was still a bit shabby and flushed after the fight with Kaiju-though he didn't put up much of a fight himself, it's hard to imagine how many miles he'd run in total while pulling all the passengers out. But how did he track me?

"The thing was churning you for almost a minute, and you're a cucumber," the speedster grinned and sat down on another rock a few meters away from me, and so fast that even for me it was almost like teleportation.

"Выёбываешься? (Show off?)" I grinned at this showmanship.

And in our native language, which clearly surprised my interlocutor.

"Куда ж без этого... (can't do without it...)" He scratched his head awkwardly and switched to Russian, too. "Ты вроде хотел со мной поговорить. (I thought you wanted to talk to me.)"

"Так ты всё-таки меня заметил? (So you noticed me after all?)" I didn't expect to.

"Ага, сначала подумал: показалось, а потом ты присоединился к веселью, вот кстати за это спасибо, ты подоспел очень вовремя, (Yeah, at first I thought I was imagining things, and then you joined in the fun, and thank you for that, by the way, you were just in time,)" he held out his hand to me. "Меня зовут Олег. (My name is Oleg.)"

I shook his calloused palm with hooked fingers. The hand of a man accustomed since childhood to hard physical work. So he did not always have his strength, had time to cope with a hard life ... did not know.

"Марк. И не мог ведь я оставаться в стороне, (Mark. And I couldn't stay out of it.)" I answered in the most commonplace phrase. "Но если честно - это был мой первый опыт. (But to be honest, it was my first experience.)"

"Я так и подумал... (I thought so...)" the speedster grinned.

"Да... (Yeah...)" That was a shame, because I didn't pretend to be a rookie, but I underestimated my opponent.

"Кстати, что ты там делал? (By the way, what were you doing there?)" As if casually asked Oleg.

"Да так, купался, (So, swimming,)" I shrugged.

"Посреди Тихого Океана? (In the middle of a Pacific Ocean?)" Did not believe the hero.

"Ну я… как бы пробую свои силы, проверял насколько глубоко могу нырнуть, (Well, I... sort of trying my hand, to see how deep I could dive,)" I pretty much told the truth. "Как ты меня вообще нашёл? (How did you find me?)"

Oleg pointed a finger to the sky, where, looking closely, I noticed a small dot of a drone. Bitch, I should have flown away from there faster, and weaved in the process.

"Дроны Темнокрыла. Он ведь следил за монстром с самого начала боя, ну и за тобой одного отправил. (Darkwing's drones. He'd been tracking the monster since the battle began, and he'd sent one after you, too.)"

Shit... this guy can find out my identity, and then he can find out my father's Omniman. But if you follow this logic, he should also have found out Omniman's own second identity, and therefore have known about my existence for a long time. So it's all down to Darkwing's prudence and paranoia.

"В общем, мы боялись, что ты серьёзно пострадал. Вон как твой костюм истрепало. (Anyway, we were afraid you were seriously hurt. That's quite a tear in your suit.)" He continued, nodding at the remains of my diving suit.

They were worried about me, so... well, not that it couldn't be true. I was getting a little mistrustful because of my father. It's the Guardians of the Earth - they're really altruistic people who have banded together despite all the differences and politics of their countries. I'm like that myself...

"Собственно об этом я и хотел поговорить. (That's what I wanted to talk about.)" I took the chance to change the subject. "Не подскажешь у кого можно заказать костюм покрепче, а то мой совсем изорвался? (Do you know where I can get a tougher suit, because mine is all torn up?)"

"Это можно, (It is possible,)" easily agreed the guy. "Я знаю нескольких: в России, в Канаде, в Китае, в Англии, в США; и каждый называет себя лучшим в мире. Тебе, наверное, проще всего будет с Розенбаумом — он живёт неподалёку и сделает хорошую скидку для новичка с такими талантами как у тебя. (I know several: in Russia, in Canada, in China, in England, in the United States; and each one calls himself the best in the world. It's probably easiest for you to go with Rosenbaum - he lives nearby and will make a good discount for a beginner with talents like yours.)"

See... that's the only one I'm not sure I'd like.

"Эм… давай лучше русского мастера. (Um... let's go with the Russian master.)" - I don't think my father knows Russian and has ever ordered a suit for himself in Russia.

" Уверен? (Are you sure?)" - I nodded. - "Тогда придётся пробежаться, да и мне всё равно нужно домой. (Then we'll have to make a run for it, and I have to get home anyway.)"

We had to make a run (in my case a flight) not only across the ocean, but then across all of Russia, from Vladivostok to Moscow. It took us twenty minutes - it could have been faster, but I, though belatedly, still decided not to reveal all my strength. At the end of the way, I even pretended that such a speed was too much for me, to which Oleg only chuckled with superiority - for sure he was not running even a quarter of his maximum.

The end point of our journey was a luxurious and extremely picturesque estate near Moscow. The site was not only surrounded by woods from all sides, but the main building was beautifully overgrown with vegetation. In the dim light of the moon - we were on the other side of the world, almost twelve hours apart from my home - the place seemed eerie. It didn't look like Arthur's humble shop, and if the owner earned his money by selling costumes, his services weren't cheap, and I had no source of income at the moment. Yeah, I should have thought of that beforehand...

"Оксана не очень общительная и не любит солнечный свет. (Oksana is not very sociable and doesn't like sunlight,)" Oleg said as we approached the gate. "Так что тебе повезло, она скорее всего не спит. (So you're lucky she's probably awake.)"

"Только не говори мне, что она вампир... (Don't tell me she's a vampire...)" I glanced at the mansion, which would have looked like Dracula's estate in a movie. - "Или ведьма. (Or a witch.)"

Oleg contacted someone through a quite modern electronic security system, and we were allowed to enter.

"Ха-ха, не волнуйся так, (Ha-ha, don't worry so much,)" the guy grinned. "Она не злая, если её не провоцировать. И ничего тут не трогай, а то схлопочешь ненароком проклятье какое… (She's not evil if you don't provoke her. Don't touch anything, or you'll get a curse...)"

Oh, there's a story behind that, I can hear it in his voice.

After walking through the dimly lit corridors, we descended to the minus-second floor, where the mistress of the manor was waiting for us.

She was a very tall - I could barely reach her breasts - and a thin lady of about thirty-five, very beautiful and with the cold and tenacious eyes of a predator. And it was not hard to guess what kind of predator, for she had four additional limbs, covered with chitin, growing out of her back. And these legs, by the way they moved, were quite functional.

My new acquaintance answered to the name Oksana Fyodorovna, and after Oleg introduced me as his colleague, she asked me to voice the requirements for the suit. It turned out that the Russian Spiderwoman, unlike her comic counterparts, can weave a web, and can give it a variety of properties. And this spider silk of hers turned out to be, in some aspects, even better than the fabric Rosenbaum uses for his costumes - and the best example of this is that Oleg still wears her outfit, even though he knows Arthur perfectly well. But there was a catch: this silk turned out to be very specialized. So Oleg's suit was perfect for heroes with speed-type abilities-it almost completely eliminated friction and was incredibly elastic-but you couldn't fly into outer space in it.

Except that I had too many demands on the fabric. At the very least I needed extreme durability, so that the suit would not tear on impact, and resistance to extreme temperature fluctuations, so that it would not lose its properties when I flew into space. Elasticity and low friction wouldn't hurt either, but, as they say in Russia, I had to roll up my lips and limit myself to the maximum possible strength and heat resistance at which silk could still be worn comfortably.

Then we discussed the design, and at the end Oksana gave me a preliminary price for her services...

"Думаю, в сто тысяч мы уложимся, (I think we can do it in a hundred thousand,)" the woman told me, rubbing thoughtfully between her fingers the silk thread, which she had extracted from the gland on her extra arm during the discussion.

"Сто тысяч чего? (A hundred thousand what?)" I specified.

"Рублей, конечно, (Rubles, of course.)"

Inwardly I breathed a sigh of relief, though outwardly I tried to remain calm - it was even cheaper than Arthur's - which was fair enough, since his suits were more versatile and withstood most of the elements and stresses I encountered equally well.