The flight back to America took four hours.
Mark did not speak during the flight. Neither did Nolan.
They flew over oceans and mountains and cities. Mark saw lights below him. Millions of lights. Each one was a person. Each one was someone he was supposed to protect.
He thought about the body in the tank. Elena Vasquez. Dead because the GDA left her behind.
He thought about Anders. A man who loved someone. A man who lost someone. A man who killed four million people because of it.
He thought about what he would do if someone took his mother.
The answer came fast. Too fast.
He would kill for her. He would die for her. He would burn everything down.
The voice in his head said: You already did.
---
They landed on the balcony of his mother's apartment at 3 AM.
The lights were off inside. Mark knew she was awake anyway. She never slept well anymore. Not since Chicago.
He opened the door and walked inside.
Nolan stayed on the balcony.
"You should wait here," Mark said.
Nolan nodded. He did not argue.
---
Debbie Grayson was sitting in the dark.
She was on the couch, a blanket over her legs, a cup of cold coffee on the table beside her. She was staring at the wall. She did not turn when Mark walked in.
"Mom," Mark said.
"Three days," she said. Her voice was flat. "You were gone for three days. No call. No message. Nothing."
Mark stood in the doorway. He did not know what to say.
"I was following a lead," he said. "The man who fired the weapon. I found his base."
Debbie turned to look at him. Her eyes were red. She had been crying.
"Did you find him?" she asked.
"No. He was gone. But I found out who he was. Why he did it."
Debbie waited.
Mark sat down on the couch beside her. He was close enough to touch her. He did not.
"His name is David Anders," Mark said. "He used to work for the GDA. He was a tactical commander. Eight years ago, he led a mission that went wrong. Three of his men died. One of them was a woman he loved. The GDA left her body behind. They said it was too dangerous to go back."
Debbie's face did not change.
"Anders blamed the GDA," Mark continued. "He spent eight years planning. Building. He made the Reanimen stronger. He found the Skybreaker weapon. He aimed it at two cities. He wanted to hurt the GDA. He wanted to hurt Cecil. He wanted the world to see that the system was broken."
Debbie was quiet for a long time.
Then she said: "He killed four million people because he was sad about one woman."
Mark nodded.
"That's insane," Debbie said.
"Yes."
"Does Cecil know?"
Mark shook his head. "Not all of it. He knows about Anders. He knows about the weapon. But he doesn't know that Sinclair helped him. He doesn't know that the GDA created the monster that killed all those people."
Debbie stared at him. Her eyes were wide.
"Sinclair," she said. "The man who made the Reanimen. The man Cecil kept in a cell and then let out because he was useful."
"Yes."
"And he helped Anders."
"Yes."
Debbie stood up. She walked to the window. She looked out at the city below.
Mark watched her. He saw her shoulders shaking. He saw her hands clenched into fists.
"Your father is on the balcony," Debbie said.
Mark felt something twist in his chest. "You knew."
"I heard him land. I know what his footsteps sound like." She turned to face Mark. "I have spent my whole life loving that man. I have spent years trying to forget him. And now he is back. And you are with him. And you are hunting a man who killed four million people because he loved someone too much."
Mark stood up. He walked to her.
"Mom—"
"How many people have to die because of love?" Debbie's voice cracked. "How many cities have to burn? How many children have to lose their parents? Your father loved me. He loved you. And he still killed thousands of people. Anders loved a woman. And he killed millions. And you—" She stopped. Her eyes filled with tears. "You love me. And you let four million people die."
The words hit Mark like a fist.
He had heard them before. From Cecil. From the Guardians. From the news. From the voice in his head.
But hearing them from his mother was different.
It was worse.
"I would do it again," Mark said.
Debbie stared at him.
"I would let them all die," Mark said. "Everyone in New York. Everyone in the whole world. I would let them all burn if it meant keeping you safe."
Debbie's face went pale.
"You don't mean that," she whispered.
Mark looked at his mother. He saw the fear in her eyes. The fear of him. The fear of what he was becoming.
"I do," he said. "I wish I didn't. But I do."
Debbie turned away. She walked back to the couch and sat down. She pulled the blanket around her shoulders.
"I don't know who you are anymore," she said.
Mark stood in the middle of the room. He felt very alone.
"I'm still me," he said.
"No." Debbie shook her head. "You're not. The Mark I raised would never say that. The Mark I raised would never let anyone die. He would find another way. He would never give up."
Mark felt something crack inside him.
"There was no other way," he said. "There was just a choice. And I chose you."
Debbie looked at him. Her eyes were wet.
"I didn't ask you to," she said.
The words hung in the air.
Mark did not know what to say. He had never heard his mother say anything like that before. She had always been proud of him. She had always believed in him.
Now she looked at him like he was a stranger.
"I'm going to find Anders," Mark said. "I'm going to stop him. And then I'm going to come back. And I'm going to be better."
Debbie did not answer.
Mark walked to the balcony door. He opened it. The night air was cold.
"Mark," Debbie said.
He turned.
"I love you," she said. "No matter what. I love you."
Mark felt tears in his eyes. He blinked them back.
"I love you too, Mom."
He stepped onto the balcony and closed the door behind him.
---
Nolan was waiting.
He was standing at the edge of the balcony, looking out at the city. He did not turn when Mark came out.
"She is afraid," Nolan said.
"Yes."
"Of you."
"Yes."
Nolan was quiet for a moment. Then he said: "She is right to be afraid."
Mark looked at his father. "What?"
Nolan turned. His face was serious.
"You told her you would let the whole world burn for her," Nolan said. "That is not a heroic thought, Mark. That is a dangerous one."
Mark felt anger rise in his chest. "You told me the same thing. In Bucharest. You said you were proud of me for choosing her."
"I was proud of you for choosing love over duty," Nolan said. "That is different from saying you would let the world burn. One is a choice made in a moment. The other is a path you walk every day."
Mark did not understand. "What's the difference?"
Nolan stepped closer.
"The difference is that I would have let the world burn," Nolan said. "I did let the world burn. I killed thousands of people because I believed that strength was the only thing that mattered. I hurt your mother. I hurt you. I destroyed everything I loved because I did not understand what love actually meant."
Mark stared at him.
"You are standing where I stood," Nolan said. "You have the same power. The same rage. The same fear of losing the people you love. And you are making the same choices I made."
Mark shook his head. "I'm not you."
"No. You are not." Nolan's voice was soft. "But you could be. Very easily. All it would take is one more loss. One more betrayal. One more moment where the world asks you to sacrifice something you cannot live without."
Mark thought about the voice in his head. The one that whispered in the dark.
You could save them all. If you were strong enough. If you were willing.
"I don't know how to stop it," Mark said. "The voice. It keeps telling me things. Things I want to believe."
Nolan nodded slowly. "I know."
"How did you stop?"
Nolan was silent for a long time. Then he said: "I didn't. Not really. I just learned to listen to a different voice."
Mark waited.
"Your mother's voice," Nolan said. "Eve's voice. The voices of the people who love you. They are the ones who will save you, Mark. Not your strength. Not your power. Not your Viltrumite blood. The people who love you."
Mark looked through the glass door. His mother was still sitting on the couch. She was staring at the wall again.
"She's afraid of me," Mark said.
"She is afraid for you," Nolan said. "There is a difference."
Mark did not know if that was true. But he wanted to believe it.
---
They left the apartment at dawn.
Mark called Eve before they took off. She answered on the second ring.
"Mark," she said. Her voice was tired. "Where are you?"
"Los Angeles. I'm with my father."
A pause. "Nolan is there?"
"Yes."
Another pause. Longer this time.
"Be careful," Eve said. "He's not... he's not safe, Mark."
"I know."
"Do you?"
Mark looked at his father. Nolan was standing a few feet away, pretending not to listen.
"I know," Mark said. "But he's helping me. We found Anders' base. We found out who he is. Why he did it."
Eve was quiet. Then: "Tell me."
Mark told her. About Elena Vasquez. About the GDA leaving her behind. About Anders spending eight years planning his revenge. About Sinclair helping him.
When he finished, Eve said: "Cecil needs to know."
"Cecil already knows about Anders. He's been hunting him for years. He just didn't know about Sinclair."
"Then you need to tell him."
Mark shook his head. Even though she could not see him.
"No. I don't trust him anymore. He built the system that created Anders. He kept Sinclair in a cage and then let him out because he was useful. He made contingency plans to kill me if I became a threat."
"He's trying to protect the world, Mark."
"He's trying to control it. There's a difference."
Eve was silent for a long time.
"Where are you going now?" she asked.
"We're going to find Sinclair. He's the key to Anders. If we find him, we find the man who fired the weapon."
"Mark." Eve's voice was soft. "Promise me something."
"What?"
"Promise me you won't become like them. Like Anders. Like your father."
Mark looked at Nolan. His father was watching him with steady eyes.
"I promise," Mark said.
He did not know if he meant it.
---
They flew north.
Sinclair's last known location was a GDA black site in Alaska. It was where he had been held after his arrest. It was where Cecil had kept him for years before deciding he was too useful to leave in a cage.
Mark had been there once. Years ago, when he was still new to the GDA, still learning what it meant to be a hero. Cecil had shown him the facility as a warning. This is what happens to people who cross the line, Cecil had said. This is where we put the monsters.
Now Mark was going back. Not as a hero. As a hunter.
The facility was built into a mountain, just like Anders' lab. But this one was bigger. Older. The GDA had been using it for decades, locking away the things it did not want the world to see.
Mark landed at the entrance. Nolan landed beside him.
The door was sealed. A foot of reinforced steel, just like the door in Turkey.
Mark did not bother looking for another way in.
He punched through it.
The metal tore like paper. The alarms started screaming. Mark walked through the gap and into the corridor beyond.
---
The facility was empty.
Mark had expected guards. He had expected Reanimen. He had expected something.
But there was nothing. Just empty halls and dark rooms and the distant sound of alarms that no one was coming to answer.
"This is wrong," Nolan said.
Mark agreed.
They moved through the facility, room by room. Cells that had once held prisoners were open and empty. Laboratories that had once buzzed with activity were dark and cold. The whole place felt like a tomb.
They found Sinclair's cell at the end of the last corridor.
The door was open.
Mark walked inside. The cell was small. A bed. A desk. A toilet in the corner. The walls were bare. There were no windows.
On the desk was a piece of paper.
Mark picked it up.
Mark,
If you are reading this, you are looking for me. That means you have found Anders' lab. You have seen what he was building. You know the truth about the GDA.
Cecil knew you would come here. He knew you would look for me. He sent me away three days ago. I am in a different facility now. One he built just for me.
But I am not your enemy, Mark. I never was. Cecil is the enemy. Cecil and the system he built. The system that created Anders. The system that created me. The system that is trying to destroy you.
Find me. I can help you. I can give you what you need to stop Cecil. To stop Anders. To save the people you love.
But you have to trust me.
— D.A. Sinclair
Mark read the letter twice. Then he handed it to Nolan.
Nolan read it. His face did not change.
"Sinclair is playing you," Nolan said. "He wants you to turn against Cecil. He wants you to become what Anders is."
Mark nodded. "I know."
"Then why are you considering it?"
Mark took the letter back. He folded it and put it in his pocket.
"Because he's right," Mark said. "Cecil is the enemy. He built the system that created Anders. He kept Sinclair alive because he was useful. He made plans to kill me. He's been lying to me since the beginning."
Nolan looked at him for a long moment.
"And if you turn against Cecil," Nolan said, "if you become what Sinclair wants you to become... what happens then?"
Mark thought about the question.
He thought about his mother. About Eve. About the Guardians. About the millions of people who still believed in heroes.
He thought about the voice in his head.
You could save them all. If you were strong enough. If you were willing. If you stopped playing by their rules.
"I don't know," Mark said.
Nolan nodded slowly.
"Then we find out," Nolan said. "Together."
Mark looked at his father. He saw the man who had killed thousands. The man who had tried to conquer Earth. The man who was standing beside him, even now, even after everything.
"Together," Mark said.
---
They left the facility and flew south.
The sun was rising behind them. The sky was turning orange and pink and gold. It was beautiful.
Mark did not feel beautiful.
He felt cold. Empty. Like something inside him had died in Chicago and was still waiting to be buried.
"Where to?" Nolan asked.
Mark thought about the letter. About Sinclair. About Cecil. About Anders.
"Washington," Mark said. "Cecil is there. The GDA headquarters. I need to talk to him."
Nolan raised an eyebrow. "You want to confront him."
"I want to look him in the eye and ask him why he lied to me. Why he built weapons to kill me. Why he let Anders happen."
Nolan was quiet for a moment. Then he smiled. It was not a happy smile.
"That is a dangerous thing to do," Nolan said.
"I know."
"If you go there, if you accuse him, he will try to stop you. He will use everything he has. The Reanimen. The Guardians. The weapons he built to kill Viltrumites."
Mark nodded. "I know."
"Are you ready for that?"
Mark looked at his hands. They were steady. They did not shake.
He thought about Chicago. About the choice he had made. About the four million dead.
He thought about his mother's face when she said I don't know who you are anymore.
He thought about the voice in his head.
You could save them all. If you were strong enough. If you were willing.
"Yes," Mark said. "I'm ready."
They flew south, toward Washington, toward Cecil, toward whatever came next.
The sun rose higher. The sky turned blue.
Mark did not look back.