Invincible: Blood of Two

"Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work," ....Ciphr

Marcus woke up just before the sun peeked over the horizon. His body might've been seven years old, but his internal clock was still sharp—wired for early starts from his old job. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, taking it all in before sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Another day. Another dollar.

He brushed his teeth, washed his face, and got dressed —Star Wars socks, a clean T-shirt, and jeans with no grass stains. A small victory.

Downstairs, Debbie was already making breakfast. Nolan sat at the table reading the paper in his usual stance.

"Morning, baby!" Debbie called as he came down the stairs.

"Hey, champ," Nolan added without looking up.

Marcus slid into his seat as Mark came down, yawning like a baby bear.

"Ughhh, do we have to go to school again?" Mark groaned.

"That's kind of how school works," Marcus muttered, grabbing a pancake.

"Language," Debbie said, automatically.

"I didn't even say anything bad!"

"You were about to."

Mark pouted and poured way too much syrup onto his stack.

The morning carried on with the usual buzz of cereal clinks, Nolan muttering about the news, and Debbie reminding Mark—again—to brush the back of his teeth next time.

Eventually, the bus came. Debbie kissed their heads, Nolan gave them a nod, and off they went.

By mid-morning, class was dragging. Again.

Marcus sat through it patiently, trying not to roll his eyes as Mrs. Lipton explained multiplication using apples and cookies.

Then came the voice over the intercom.

"Marcus Grayson, please come to the principal's office."

The entire class let out a collective gasp like someone had just been called to walk the plank.

"Ooooooh!"

"What'd you do?"

"You're in trooouuble!"

Even Mark whispered across desks, "Did you do something bad?"

Marcus gave him a calm look. "We'll talk later."

He walked down the hallway like a soldier headed into battle—but in truth, he was just hoping this would lead to progress.

Principal John Colon was a well-dressed man in his mid-fifties, with slicked-back hair, glasses, and a calm, sharp voice.

He smiled as Marcus stepped in. "Come in, Marcus. Close the door."

Marcus did as he was told.

"Your teacher told me you've expressed interest in being moved up a grade. That's a pretty mature request. Mind if we talk about it?"

Marcus nodded, sitting down straight like he'd practiced this in front of a mirror.

"I just think I could be better challenged in a more advanced environment."

Colan leaned back. "Alright then, how about a few questions?"

What followed felt more like a mini-SAT than a second-grade check-in.

He was quizzed on fractions, algebra, reading comprehension, even geography and basic science.

Marcus answered everything easily. Maybe a little too easily.

The principal's expression shifted from curious to impressed.

"…Well, Marcus. That's more than just a good performance. That's exceptional."

Marcus didn't smile. He just nodded once.

Colan added, "The next step would be for us to talk to your parents and schedule a proper placement exam. That okay with you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Let's aim for some time this week. You'll need to let them know."

When Marcus returned to class, Mark leaned over with wide eyes.

"Dude. What happened?"

Marcus shrugged and whispered, "I'll tell you later."

That night, dinner started like usual—pasta, salad, family noise.

Mark was the first to launch into the day's recap. "And then Kenny tried to jump off the jungle gym and got stuck, and it was so funny—"

Debbie chuckled. "Was he okay?"

"Yeah, but they had to call the nurse."

Mark picked at his noodles. "Oh—and the principal called Marcus to the office. That was kinda weird."

Debbie raised a brow and slowly turned to Marcus.

"…Really? Marcus?"

Marcus opened his mouth to answer, but that's when a violent whoosh shook the room.

Nolan burst through the back door in superhero attire: a bodysuit with a white top, bright red bottom, white boots with a central red accent, gloves in the opposite colors, and a scarlet cape and underwear. A crimson "O" stands out on his chest. His arms and chest were streaked with green liquid that smelled of seawater and burnt rubber.

"Hey, I'm back," he said casually, going in for a kiss.

Debbie blocked him with a finger. "You are not getting green kaiju juice on my face. Shower. Now."

Nolan smirked. "Spoilsport."

He vanished in a blur of speed—and returned moments later in a fresh shirt and slacks, his hair still damp. He grabbed a drink and leaned against the counter like nothing happened.

"So," he said, "what'd I miss?"

Debbie gestured at Mark. "He was just telling us about how the principal called Marcus today."

Both parents turned to him.

Marcus set his fork down. "I asked my teacher about being moved up a grade. She told the principal. He quizzed me today, and… I did well. He wants to set a formal placement exam, but only after talking to you both."

Nolan blinked, surprised. Debbie's eyes widened.

"Wait, really?" she asked. "You want to skip grades?"

Mark looked confused. "Why are you surprised?"

Debbie leaned in, voice soft. "Sweetheart, moving up a grade isn't just about being smart. It means different teachers, older kids, more pressure…"

Marcus nodded slowly, understanding, but holding firmly.

"I know. But I can handle it. I want this."

Mark suddenly looked uneasy.

"…So, you wouldn't be in my class anymore?"

The room went quiet.

Debbie gently placed her hand over Mark's.

"Not yet, honey. We're still just talking. Your brother, Dad, and I will discuss it after dinner, okay?"

Mark looked down at his plate, poking a meatball with his fork.

"…Okay."

After dinner, Mark ran off to read comics, still a little down. Marcus lingered at the table with his parents.

Nolan folded his arms. "You know, what you did was impressive, Marcus. Most kids wouldn't even think to ask, let alone actually prove they were capable."

Debbie was more cautious. "But there's more to growing up than just academics. You're still… well, seven. Your body is. There are things you'll miss out on if you skip ahead too far. Social development. Friendships. Confidence."

Marcus looked between them. "What if we make a deal?"

They both raised eyebrows.

"If I pass the official exam—top marks—you let me move up. Whatever grade I test into. If I don't... I'll stay where I'm at and never bring it up again."

Debbie stared at him for a long moment, clearly surprised that a seven-year-old was negotiating like a lawyer.

She looked at Nolan. He gave a small nod.

"Alright," she said. "Deal. But you better ace that test, young man."

Marcus smiled. "Oh, I plan to."