Bite me.' Tony steadied his altitude, then angled slightly toward the city skyline in the distance. 'Thanks for the lift though, Mark. And seriously swing by sometime. My doors are always open.'
Mark nodded. 'Will do.'
With that, they split paths, Tony banking toward his Malibu House while Mark cut a different line through the clouds. Mark cut across the Atlantic in minutes, the roar of the wind carrying his laughter with it. He pushed faster, testing himself, the air splitting in a thunderous crack as he broke the sound barrier again. The coastline of Italy spread out beneath him, sun-washed and golden, until he slowed his descent and dropped gently onto the cobbled street just outside a corner pizzeria.
Here was a couple of special people that he visited relatively often since he became a hero; an older married couple who he had saved during their Anniversary in New York, he'd also helped the Husband in finding a proper gift for the wife—he'd gone across the world and fished out a beautiful antique necklace from the wreckage of a Spanish frigate—not that he'd ever told him where he got it from. Though needless to say she loved the gift and Mark had earned a good friend in return who said he would eat for free as long as they lived. It was pretty lucky that their food happened to be some of the best he'd tasted.
The smell of wood smoke and dough drifted out into the evening air. A painted sign above the doorway read Trattoria Russo, and inside, familiar voices echoed. Mark ducked through the door, the little brass bell jingling above his head.
"'Guarda chi c'è! Il nostro eroe!'" (Look who it is! Our hero!) Marco Russo beamed from behind the counter, wiping his hands on a towel.
Mark grinned, raising a hand in greeting. "'Ciao, Marco. Come va? La schiena ti dà ancora problemi?'" (Hi, Marco. How are you? Is your back still giving you trouble?)
Marco chuckled, shaking his head. "'Solo quando Sofia mi costringe a spostare i tavoli. Lei dice che sono pigro.'" (Only when Sofia makes me move the tables. She says I'm lazy.)
From the kitchen came Sofia's voice. "'Perché sei pigro!'" (Because you are lazy!) She appeared a moment later, carrying a tray, her face lighting up when she saw Mark. "'Tesoro! Sei troppo magro. Non stai mangiando abbastanza.'" (Darling! You're too skinny. You're not eating enough.)
Mark laughed, spreading his arms. "'Mangio più di chiunque altro che conosca. Solo voi pensate che non sia abbastanza.'" (I eat more than anyone I know. Only you two think it's not enough.)
Sofia set the tray down and came over to pinch his cheek like he was family. "'Per noi sei sempre un figlio. E i figli devono mangiare.'" (To us, you'll always be like a son. And sons need to eat.)
Mark smiled, touched in a way he couldn't quite put into words. "'E voi? Come stanno i nipoti?'" (And you two? How are the grandchildren?)
Marco's face softened, pride glowing in his eyes. "'Alessio ha imparato ad andare in bicicletta la settimana scorsa. Ha detto che voleva correre veloce come te.'" (Alessio learned to ride a bike last week. He said he wanted to go as fast as you.)
Mark chuckled. "'Allora dovrò fargli vedere qualche trucco.'" (Then I'll have to show him some tricks.)
Sofia leaned against the counter, smiling warmly. "'E tu? Sempre in giro per il mondo, a salvare vite. Non ti fermi mai.'" (And you? Always running around the world, saving lives. You never stop.)
Mark shrugged. "'Se mi fermo troppo, divento nervoso. E poi non mi fate mancare il riposo quando passo di qui.'" (If I stop too long, I get restless. And besides, you two make sure I don't miss out on rest when I stop by here.)
Marco winked. "'Vuoi il solito, vero?'" (You want the usual, right?)
Mark smirked. "'Sai già la risposta.'" (You already know the answer.)
Sofia tilted her head, teasing. "'E stasera sarà solo per te, o dividerai con quella ragazza speciale?'" (And tonight will it be just for you, or will you share with that special girl?)
Mark chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "'Qualcosa del genere.'" (Something like that.)
Sofia wagged a finger at him. "'Un uomo forte come te ha bisogno di una donna che lo tenga con i piedi per terra. Senza, voleresti via per sempre.'" (A strong man like you needs a woman to keep you grounded. Without one, you'd fly away forever.)
Mark laughed and went along with it. "'Forse hai ragione.'" (Maybe you're right.)
Marco returned from the oven with two steaming pizzas, sliding them carefully into a paper bag. "'Ecco qui, amico mio.'" (Here you go, my friend.)
Mark reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded bill, but Marco waved it away instantly. "'Mai. Preferirei chiudere la pizzeria che prendere soldi dall'uomo che ci ha salvati.'" (Never. I would rather close the pizzeria than take money from the man who saved us.)
Mark sighed, knowing it was pointless to argue. He set the money aside. "'Va bene. Ma la prossima settimana andiamo a pescare. Niente scuse.'" (Fine. But next week we're going fishing. No excuses.)
Marco grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. "'Affare fatto.'" (Deal.)
Mark held the bag close, smiling at them both. "'Grazie, amici miei. Ci vediamo presto.'" (Thank you, my friends. I'll see you soon.)
"'A presto, Signor Invincibile!'" (See you soon, Mr. Invincible!) they called as he pushed out into the street.
A heartbeat later, he crouched, then shot into the sky, leaving the trattoria as he carved a line through the clouds, turning his path back toward New York.
Mark soared through the clouds, the warm bag of pizzas pressed close to his chest. Even at altitude, the scent of dough and melted cheese cut through the chill air. He could have been back in New York in minutes if he pushed himself, but instead he kept his speed just shy of a blur. Old habits guided him.. The flight home was never just about getting home. It was about enjoying it, plus he'd always be able to see if someone needed help.
The faint sound of a shout reached him, carried on the wind. His head turned toward the cliffs where the sea hammered against the clifff. He descended in a controlled dive, spotting a lone climber dangling halfway up, his harness twisted, one leg shaking violently as his grip began to slip. A small group of hikers waited anxiously at the base, one holding a phone high, but the roar of waves drowned out their voices.
Mark slowed and landed lightly just below the man. "'Ehi! Non muoverti. Ti prendo io!'" (Hey! Don't move. I've got you!) he called.
The climber looked down, his eyes wide in disbelief. "'Invincibile? Sei tu? Aiutami, ti prego! Sto scivolando!'" (Invincible? Is that you? Help me, please! I'm slipping!)
Mark floated up until he was level with him, keeping a few feet of space so the man wouldn't feel crowded. "'Calma. Come ti chiami?'" (Easy. What's your name?)
"'Luca. Luca Rossi,'" the man gasped, fingers trembling around the rope. "'L'ancoraggio è saltato. Non riesco a risalire.'" (The anchor broke. I can't climb up.)
"'Va bene, Luca. Ti prenderò in braccio e scendiamo insieme. Non mollare finché non te lo dico io. Ci siamo, va tutto bene.'" (Alright, Luca. I'm going to hold you and take us down together. Don't let go until I say so. We've got this, you're going to be fine.)
Sweat beaded on Luca's forehead as he nodded quickly. "'Va bene, va bene, basta che fai presto.'" (Okay, okay, just do it quickly.)
Mark shifted the pizza bag under one arm and slipped the other around Luca's waist, feeling the man's rapid heartbeat through his jacket. With his grip secure on the harness, he said, "'Al tre. Uno, due, tre.'" (On three. One, two, three.) He lifted them both with effortlessly and glided down toward the waiting hikers.
The group rushed forward as Mark set Luca carefully on his feet. His legs buckled, but Mark steadied him. "'Stai bene? Niente rotto?'" (You good? Nothing broken?)
Luca shook his head, still breathless. "'No... sto bene. Dio, grazie. Mi hai salvato la vita. Pensavo fosse finita.'" (No... I'm okay. God, thank you. You saved my life. I thought it was over.)
A woman hurried up and threw her arms around him. "'Dio mio, Luca, stai bene?'" (My God, Luca, are you okay?)
Luca held her tightly, then turned back to Mark with tears in his eyes. He pulled him into a quick embrace, gripping his shoulder. "'Sei arrivato dal nulla. Come posso ringraziarti?'" (You came from nowhere. How can I thank you?)
Mark smiled, easing back. "'Controlla meglio l'attrezzatura la prossima volta. La montagna non scappa.'" (Double-check your gear next time. The mountain will still be there tomorrow.)
A young hiker with a backpack called out, holding up his phone. "'Una foto, per favore? I miei figli non ci crederanno mai.'" (A photo, please? My kids will never believe this.)
Mark chuckled. "'Va bene, ma facciamola veloce. Devo andare.'" (Alright, but make it quick. I've got somewhere to be.) He posed with them, Luca front and center, before waving as he rose back into the sky. Luca's voice followed him up the cliff face. "'Invincibile, sei una leggenda! Vieni a trovarci quando vuoi!'" (Invincible, you're a legend! Come visit anytime!)
Mark gave a final wave and cut upward through the clouds. It wasn't a world-ending crisis, but that was the point. The small saves mattered too, and they were his favourites.
The Atlantic stretched endless beneath him as he shot across it at high speeds. The pizzas were still warm, secure against his side—and hopefully he'd be able to keep them warm this time. He angled forward, accelerating until the horizon curved. He almost missed it, the flicker of red against the dark waves. A flare. His eyes narrowed. It was a ship. Mark dropped altitude fast, breaking through the clouds. Below him, a freighter listed dangerously, its deck awash with water. Lifeboats hung half-lowered. Crew scrambled as the sea claimed the vessel inch by inch.
"Hang on!" Mark shouted as he slowed over the deck.
The captain looked and saw Mark before he shouted up, "Flooding in the engine room! We've got crew trapped below. Pumps are dead, we're losing her fast!" Not caring about the flying man, just entirely focused on his ship.
Mark's eyes tracked the angle of the hull, the waterline climbing too quickly. He held the pizza bag carefully, securing it under his arm. "Get the rest to the boats. I'll get them out."
He dropped down, forcing open a sealed hatch, being careful so the structure wouldn't split further. Cold water rushed past him as he slipped inside, the narrow corridors half-flooded and tilted. Voices echoed from a blocked door, fists pounding desperately as they tried to get out. "Stand back!" Mark called. He gripped the frame and ripped it loose with a single pull, tossing it aside. Five crew members spilled out, drenched and coughing.
"You're Invincible," one of them gasped, clinging to his arm.
"That's me, now hurry to the life boats. Is there anyone else here?"
They pointed further down. Mark guided them back toward the hatch, then forced open two more doors, pulling another couple crew into the hallways. He carried the injured in his arm, water rising to his waist as he broke through blockages of steel and debris. Back on deck, he deposited the last man near the lifeboats, where the captain checked his crew off one by one. "That's all of them," the captain shouted. "But the ship won't last another minute!"
Mark looked at the hull groaning under its own weight. "Then let's give her a push."
Before the captain could argue, Mark ducked under the ship, pressing his shoulder into the keel. The steel screamed as he lifted, pulling the vessel slowly upright. Water cascaded off the deck in torrents, containers sliding but holding. He clenched his jaw, balancing the weight in one hand while his other pressed the pizza bag snug against his side. From the lifeboats, the crew stared in disbelief as the freighter rose above the waves. Phones lit up, recording the impossible sight.
"You're carrying her!" the captain yelled, his voice breaking.
"Just making sure she makes it home," Mark said with a smile.
He flew carefully toward the nearest stretch of coast, lights from a Portuguese coast guard station shining across the water. The ship ground into the shallows, tilted but intact. Rescue teams swarmed, their spotlights finding the crew as they climbed down to safety. The captain came forward with wide eyes. "We'd be at the bottom of the ocean if not for you. Anything you need it's yours."
Mark shook his hand. "Just take care of your people."
One of the younger sailors, the woman from before, hugged him tightly. "Thank you. You saved all of us."
He returned the embrace lightly, then stepped back. "Stay safe."
Cheers followed him as he lifted off, vanishing into the clouds before news helicopters could close in.
...
The Manhattan skyline glowed beneath him as Mark descended, weaving between towers until he leveled out above one of the tallest buildings. He touched down softly on the rooftop, the bag of pizzas still secure under his arm. Jessica was already there, sprawled half on her side against a metal vent, a half-empty bottle of whiskey balanced loosely in her hand. Her hair was a mess, her jacket wrinkled, but she looked right at home thirty stories up.
(AN: Jessica Jones returns. Actually tbh I can't really remember if I included her in part 2 I think I might have. Anyway who cares. Enjoy.)
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