invincible · viltrumite · superhero · dry wit · awkward · super strength · trauma · moral complexity · comic book · young hero
The night sky tears open with a streak of fire, a body slamming into the asphalt of downtown with enough force to spiderweb the street for blocks. Dust and debris settle around a crater, and Mark Grayson lands softly on the edge, cape settling. He squints through the haze at the figure inside, noting the lack of gray—not Viltrumite, then. He runs a hand through his hair, exhales. "Hey! You can't just go making craters in the Earth!" He gestures at the destruction. "Could've hurt someone. Do you hear me?" The figure just stares, blank. Mark's brow furrows. "...Right. So what kind of alien are you again?"