Invincible: Blood of Two

"Promises are the uniquely human way of ordering the future, making it predictable and reliable to the extent that this is humanly possible." ....Hannah Arendt

The sun spilled through Marcus' blinds as he stirred awake, eyes blinking into focus. The familiar scent of breakfast floated upstairs, and he rolled out of bed, brushing his hair with one hand and heading into the bathroom. Toothbrush, face splash, change of clothes—it had become muscle memory now.

Downstairs, Mark was already munching on cereal, still groggy, hair a mess.

"So," Mark asked between bites, "what did Mom and Dad say last night? About you moving up?"

Debbie turned from the stove, flipping pancakes. "We talked about it, sweetheart. And we might let him take a test to see if he's ready. It's a big deal, though. It means he might be in a different class."

Mark slouched in his seat, suddenly quiet.

Marcus picked up on it right away. He leaned over to try and cheer him up. "Hey. If I do move up, I'll still see you. But... what if we trained together? Like, self-defense classes. You could catch up to me fast."

Mark blinked. "You think Mom would let me do that?"

"Only if your grades go up. That's the only way she'll even think about it. But if you try, I'll be right there with you."

Mark brightened. "Deal! I'll catch up in no time!"

Marcus ruffled his brother's hair. "I'll be waiting, little bro."

 ...........................

Class was in session when the intercom buzzed.

"Marcus Grayson to the principal's office."

All heads turned. Some kids whispered, others gasped.

"What did he do this time?"

Mark gave his brother a supportive smile. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Marcus said, shooting a subtle grin.

Marcus headed towards the principal's office entered only to find not just Mr. Colan, but also his mom and dad waiting for him.

Principal Colan turned. "Good afternoon, young Marcus, Just discussing the placement exam timing. Your parents are on board."

Debbie smiled at him. "Sweetie, what day would you want to do it?"

Marcus looked to Nolan, who gave him a strong, silent nod.

He turned back. "I'd like to do it now."

Colan raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Confident. I like that. Let me make a few calls."

Nolan put a firm hand on his son's shoulder. "You sure?"

"Yes, sir. Positive."

Minutes later, the principal led them into an empty classroom. Debbie and Nolan both sat with Marcus while Colan stepped out to get the test materials ready.

Debbie asked, "Where did you even learn half this stuff?"

Marcus smiled sheepishly. "I got bored during summer. I used your laptop sometimes. Just looked stuff up."

Not a total lie. The old Marcus did look things up—mostly comic book stuff.

Colan returned with a teacher Marcus hadn't met before. Early thirties, clean-cut, clipboard in hand.

"Mr. Grayson, this is Mr. Hargreeves. He'll be administering the test."

Debbie stood up first, offering a warm smile. "Thank you for taking the time to do this for Marcus, Mr.—"

"Hargreeves," the teacher supplied again with a polite nod.

Nolan extended a hand. "We appreciate you making room in your schedule today."

Mr. Hargreeves shook his hand firmly. "Happy to. Let's get Marcus settled, shall we?"

Debbie kissed Marcus' head. "We'll be right outside."

Nolan added, "You got this, son."

Outside the room, Debbie paced slowly, arms folded tight across her chest. Her gaze flicked from the closed door to Nolan; anxiety etched in every line of her face.

"He's just a little boy, Nolan. What if it's too much? What if they—"

Nolan gently placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Debbie, Marcus chose this. He's stronger than you think. Besides, it's just a test. He'll be fine."

Debbie attempted a smile, but it wavered. "He doesn't like being put on the spot. He always gets so quiet when strangers are around."

Nolan squeezed her shoulder. "You worry because you care. That's good. But Marcus thinks he is ready for this. Let's give him a chance to show it."

Back inside, Mr. Hargreeves set the papers down.

"Alright, Marcus. You'll be taking three tests today," Mr. Hargreeves explained, his voice kind but businesslike. "First up, cognitive reasoning—the IQ portion. This one measures how you solve problems and recognize patterns, like fitting puzzle pieces together in your head. After that comes the academic achievement test, which checks what you've learned so far in school: math, reading, writing, and science. It's just to see where you are, not to trick you. Finally, you'll face some scenario-based questions. These are a little different—they're about how you think and respond when real-life situations pop up, testing things like leadership, empathy, and the choices you make under pressure."

He slid a stack of papers closer. "You'll have an hour and fifteen minutes for each segment of the test, with short breaks in between. Think you can handle it?"

Marcus nodded. "Yes, sir."

"We'll take short breaks in between. Just relax and do your best. I'll be right here."

The timer started. Marcus was handed the first packet.

IQ test. Logic puzzles, sequencing, problem solving. Nothing he hadn't seen before. He breezed through, finishing with minutes to spare.

After a short break, the achievement test followed: math, reading, writing, science. Piece of cake.

Lastly, scenario-based questions. Hypotheticals about leadership, empathy, and decision-making. Marcus leaned in, remembering every lesson he learned in his old life.

When it concluded, which only took an hour and thirty minutes, Hargreeves gave a slight nod.

"You did great, Marcus. The results will be finalized by tomorrow. You can head home now."

Marcus stepped outside to see only Debbie waiting in a chair, reading her book.

"Where's Dad?"

"Got called in to help the Guardians with something," she replied, standing up. "How was it?"

"Fine," Marcus said. "Tiring. But fine."

They walked to the car.

"Hey Mom... if I pass and move up... can we change our deal?"

"What deal?"

"If I pass, I want to apply for self-defense classes."

Debbie eyed him in the rearview mirror. "Why do you want to join so badly?"

Marcus hesitated, watching the houses slide past his window. "Because I wanna be a hero. Just like Dad." His voice was soft but steady, the longing clear although the real reason was kept hidden from her.

Her heart melted a little. She reached over and squeezed his hand, her thumb brushing against the back of his fingers. "You know, being a hero isn't just about powers or fighting. It's about making good choices. About protecting people—even when it's hard."

Marcus looked up at her, searching her face for something, maybe reassurance or a measure of pride. "I know. But... I want to be ready if anything ever happens. I don't want to be scared."

Debbie smiled gently, her grip warm and steady. "That's brave, honey. Learning to protect yourself is important. We'll talk more about it if you pass, okay? But promise me you'll tell me if you ever feel overwhelmed?"

Marcus nodded. "I promise."

She ruffled his hair, softening a bit. "All right, let's get home. You earned a good dinner tonight."

They drove the rest of the way in companionable silence, the unspoken understanding settling between them like a warm blanket.

At dinner, Nolan listened as Mark recounted events from school that day.

"Then Kenny tried to throw a dodgeball and slipped on milk and—"

Debbie interjected. "Mark, we need to discuss something about Marcus."

Mark paused. "Is he okay?"

"He took the test today. The one we mentioned."

Nolan responded, "Really? How did it go?"

"He said it went fine," Debbie replied. "We'll get the results tomorrow."

Mark nodded. "He told me. I plan to study more so I can keep up. I don't want him to surpass me."

Debbie acknowledged his comment. "That's considerate and mature."

"I mean it," Mark said. "He's my brother. I want to keep pace."

Nolan looked at Marcus. "It appears you're already setting an example."

After dinner, the boys were sent up to their room.

Downstairs, Nolan dried dishes while Debbie wiped the counter.

"He asked me again about self-defense," she said quietly.

"And?"

"He said he wants to be like you."

Nolan looked up at her. "That's not a bad reason."

She sighed. "He's smart, Nolan. Smarter than I ever expected. But he still is still just a child."

"Maybe," Nolan said, folding a towel, "but maybe we underestimate how capable our kids are."

Debbie leaned into him a little, thoughtful. "He's different. There's something... wise in how he talks."

Nolan's gaze lingered upstairs. "We'll keep watching him. And guide him. That's all we can do."

The house settled into quiet, shadows stretching gently across the hallway as the last glimmers of light faded from Marcus's room. Marcus sat on his bed with a notebook open, not for school, but for intel. He was writing down everything he remembered about this world—hero organizations, villains, timelines, the Guardians of the Globe, potential threats. Anything that might help him prepare.

He sighed, stretching his small arms. "Man, doing all this again in a seven-year-old body is the worst. Homework, nap time, recess politics... and I still have to go through puberty again?!"

As he finished another page, he looked at the clock. 9:03 PM.

He listened to the slow creak of floorboards, the distant murmur of his parents, the thrum of the refrigerator in the kitchen below. For a moment, the ordinary hush of childhood threatened to lull him into forgetting—but the notebook beneath his pillow reminded him of everything at stake.

He lay back, eyes tracing patterns in the textured ceiling, mind refusing to drift. Images flickered behind his eyelids: masked heroes, the shimmer of capes under harsh city lights, news reports of disasters that hadn't happened—yet. He tried to piece the timelines together, to fit the chaos into some kind of order, but memories overlapped and blurred, details slipping away like sand through fingers.

Marcus rolled over, clutching his notebook for reassurance. Was he doing enough? Would his limited reach—his little hands, his curfew, his enforced bedtime—be enough to make a difference? Not like this.

A soft knock at the door snapped him back to the present. "Lights out, Marcus?" Debbie asked, peeking in with a gentle smile.

He nodded, tucking the notebook out of sight. "Yeah, Mom. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, honey. Sweet dreams." The door clicked shut.

He waited until her footsteps faded, then then went to sleep getting some much deserved rest.