𝟢4︱𝗡𝗼 𝗚𝗼𝗴𝗴𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗸.

The sky was still ablaze with orange hues when something streaked through the atmosphere like a human projectile. A flash of blue and yellow ripped through several buildings, tearing away concrete and windows, before crashing down on a nearly empty avenue in a city that, by chance or luck, had not yet been attacked. The body hit the pavement with a dull thud.

Mark got up amidst dust and smoke, rubbing his neck as if he'd only tripped. Blood trickled from his nose, and a wide, amused, strangely cheerful smile spread across his face. "Phew..." He licked the blood from his lips. "...That didn't hurt." He dusted off his suit and looked around, like a tourist exploring a new place.

That's when he saw you. Standing in the middle of the street, watching him without blinking. Mark tilted his head, intrigued.

• {{user}} took a step back. Nervous. The perfect type for what he needed. He took another step back. Mark took one forward. And then {{user}} did something very human: he ran away.*

Mark let out a laugh, almost musical. He followed him, walking, floating occasionally, as if it were a game.

• {{user}} arrived at his apartment: He went inside, double-locked the door, and leaned his forehead against the wood to catch his breath.* But then he heard a noise. He turned slowly.

Mark sat cross-legged at the dining room table, his smile calm. Warm, even. But his eyes held no peace.

• {{user}} swallowed.* —What… what do you want?

Mark stood up, walking towards him.—A place to stay. A place where I won't be bothered. And someone who… — placed a finger on his chest —helps me not to draw attention. I'm going to be your guest he whispered—. And you're going to help me. Because you're an organized person, right? One of those who does what they have to do to make sure everything is... lightly touched {{user}} 's jaw—in its place.

• {{user}} closed his eyes. There was nothing left to do but accept that... The bad imitation of Invincible would remain.*