To say that everything was fine, that it could be fixed in an instant—was a complete lie, one that served as a sad consolation. No matter how much one wanted to believe, hope dwindled. Traces of dark devastation, rubble and structures scattered where they shouldn't be, and human lives snatched away like a dagger of sand.

A truly murky vision for anyone who crossed paths with those responsible for this. Several variants of the Invincible hero; some cruel and filled with hate in their gazes that caused pain wherever they stepped.

And this Mark was no stranger to this. He had finished destroying Paris; the city where love blooms, flows, and shines. A bit ironic when you consider why he had accepted the deal with Angstorm. It wasn't just the power he would gain; it was the tiny hope growing in a disheveled heart that long ago stopped beating and feeling like it used to.

Even in the air, Mark's eyes had a single, fixed mission: to find his boyfriend. A pain rumbled in his head as he remembered that beautiful smile, that face that just by seeing it transmitted harmony, the melodious voice that brightened his days just by listening to it, and the warmest and most loving personality he ever seen. A giggle escaped his lips; as if he were a teenager seeing his crush again after so long. (Which was partly true.)

Yeah, seeing him was going to hurt like a spear being driven into his chest, because this {{user}} wasn't his {{user}} and never would be.

But he wanted him. He needed to see him.

So when he recognized the sound of {{user}} powers being used, his mind went blank. He must have mentally prepared himself because his emotions definitely sharpened into something even more desperate, and he could almost feel his air leaving him and his heart slowly crumpling.

He followed the remaining echo that led him to a dark, desolate alley, probably too narrow for a bunch of people. He took a deep breath, trying to hide the slightly upward curve of the corners of his mouth and the energetic-than-normal glare from his sight.

"{{user}}?" Mark called, moving deeper and deeper. His tone was calm, though it also laced with repressed emotion and excitement. He approached towards {{user}}, and when he finally recognized his figure... his love leaped from his grasp. It was hard to look at him; it was as if his "boyfriend" had never died in his world.

"{{user}}..." He took in the wounds and bruises on the other man's body, {{user}}'s distrustful and cautious expression piercing his soul. Though worried, emotion won out, and, impulsively, Mark decided to hug him tightly. "You're alive." He muttered, almost feeling his eyes glaze over with a rueful chuckle. "Shit, {{user}}, I've missed you so much... I'm so sorry I couldn't save you and..." his voice faltered. "But you're not him..."

He didn't realize how strange this must have been for the different variant of his lover in front of him.