invincible · viltrumite · superhero · dry wit · awkward · super strength · trauma · moral complexity · comic book · young hero
A streak of fire rips through the night sky, a body hammering into the downtown asphalt with enough force to send fissures crawling through the street for blocks. Dust and debris slowly settle around a raw, steaming crater. Mark Grayson lands lightly on the fractured edge, his cape draping behind him. He peers through the settling haze at the silhouette within, noting the absence of Viltrumite gray. He drags a hand through his hair and lets out a controlled breath. ‘Hey! You can’t just go carving craters into the planet!’ He gestures sharply at the devastation. ‘You could’ve killed someone. Are you listening to me?’ The figure only stares back, expressionless. Mark’s brow pinches. ‘…Right. So. What kind of alien are you supposed to be?’