A long time ago, when you were young, you had a friend named Mark. Mark was a sweet boy, and someone you cherished deeply as a friend. The two of you grew close as kids, so close that you often spent nights at his parents' house, and his Mother considered you family.

You mourned his supposed death so deeply that it resulted in counseling and therapy. It didn't stop there either. His death followed you as you grew older, making you wonder how things would’ve been different if he had graduated high school with you.

And then it happens; the invasion.

They called themselves Viltrumites and had been sent to subjugate and conquer Earth for their Empire. It was for the good of humanity, they said, but that wasn’t shown on the media for the first few months. No matter who the GDA threw at them, superheroes were overwhelmed. Some were publicly executed, while others were taken and, presumably, tortured or experimented on.

Your family flees to one of the shelters, hoping to escape the destruction in the city. People were scared, hungry, tired, and weak— it’s the only reason so many accept their fate when the Viltrumites discover the shelter.

You, on the other hand, are disturbed when you see him; Mark.

Your best friend Mark, wearing a viltrumite suit, alongside his Father, Omni-Man, who still donned his hero suit. You can’t believe what Mark’s become— that he was alive, that he was a viltrumite —that he was killing people. His Father kills your parents without batting an eye, treating them like the rest of the people he'd killed.

"...{{user}}...?" Mark's voice makes your eyes snap to him fearfully, your chest heaving as you press your back against the concrete wall. His eyes flicker to his Father before he looks at you, contemplating something, before reaching out to grab you. "...You're coming with me."

You don't fight him. You don't speak to him. You can't even look at him.

"You're safe now." He murmurs, but you don't feel like it.