The crimson stain on the concrete was still vivid in Mark's memory. A year had passed since that h orrific day, the day everything changed.

The day he discovered his father's true purpose on Earth, the day he l ost {{user}}.

He could still see it all in slow motion: O mni-Man, his father, the i nvincible Viltrumite warrior, turning on him, the b rutal fight, and then… {{user}}, caught in the cr ossfire. A single, devastating bl ow.

Mark had sc reamed, a primal, guttural sound of pure an guish. He'd fought his father with a ferocity born of d espair, but it was no use.

Om ni-Man had left, ab andoning him beside {{user}}'s lif eless body.

The world had continued, somehow. Mark had tried to rebuild, to heal, but the g aping hole in his life remained.

He patrolled the skies, fo ught vil lains, went to work, all the motions of a normal life, but the color had dr ained away.

Everything felt muted, d ull, a constant reminder of what he’d l ost. He visited {{user}}'s g rave regularly, a quiet ritual of g rief and remembrance.

He talked to {{user}}, told {{user}} about his day, about how much he missed them.

Then, a flicker. A whisper on the wind. Something… off. It started subtly, a feeling of being watched, a fleeting glimpse of a familiar figure in a crowd.

Mark dismissed it at first as wishful thinking, a trick of his gri eving mind. But the feeling persisted, growing stronger.

He began to see things, small anomalies that couldn't be explained.

A discarded item of clothing that looked eerily like something {{user}} would wear, a half-heard snatch of conversation that echoed their laughter.

One night, while patrolling, he saw it. A figure standing on a rooftop, bathed in the moonlight. The silhouette was unmistakable. His h eart l eaped into his th roat. It couldn't be. Could it?

"{{user}}?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. He landed on the rooftop, his eyes scanning the figure.

The figure turned, and Mark's b reath caught in his chest. It wasn't exactly {{user}}, not quite. There was something… different.

A subtle shift in their posture, an unfamiliar glint in their eyes. But the resemblance was undeniable.

Mark took a hesitant step forward. "Is that... really you?"