Chicago was, by most accounts, a perfectly unremarkable Tuesday. Food trucks were doing their lunch rush on Michigan Avenue. A couple argued about where to eat.
Suddenly, the serene atmosphere was completely upheaved. A streak of yellow and blue tore through the upper floors of an office building across the street like the building had been made of cardboard.
Below, the street transformed — a thunderous shockwave slammed downward, flattening cars into twisted sheets of metal and blasting storefront windows into glittering glass dust. The blur carved a trench through the asphalt road as it skipped across the ground like a stone over water.
The streak of yellow continued tumbling down the street — crashing through a person and turning them into a cloud of red mist before finally coming to a halt.
Now that the figure was at rest, it was clear who it was — Invincible, or rather Mark Grayson.
…
Somewhere else in Chicago.
Perched up on the roof of a parking garage, overlooking the chaos unfolding indifferently was a black-haired man with red eyes.
Welp, there goes my peace for the foreseeable future, the man thought with a sigh, placing his hands in the pocket as he entertained the thought of jumping off the ledge.
Wait is this edgy?!
He looked down at the four-story drop to the parking lot below. Okay yeah that's a little edgy, he conceded. Standing on a ledge, brooding over destruction, dark hair swinging dramatically in the wind — it's almost like I'm a protagonist!
His gaze soon turned toward the swaying structure Mark was straining to support; seconds later, the inevitable collapse began, just as he'd anticipated.
The upper floors tilted, then snapped downward as the internal supports failed in rapid succession. What had been a towering structure a second ago turned into a collapsing mass, thousands of tons of concrete and steel cascading straight onto the already ruined street below.
A wall of debris swallowed everything in its path — cars, storefronts, the fractured remains of the road — crushing it all beneath an avalanche of gray. The shockwave that followed blasted outward, kicking up a suffocating cloud of dust that consumed the entire block.
Whatever hadn't already been destroyed disappeared into it.
The man recoiled back in disgust, "Yikes. Would've really hated it if that was me. I definitely would have died if that was me. No chance in hell I survive that. That's not even a 'walk it off' situation, that's a 'become part of the pavement' situation."
If someone wondered why he was so casual while dozens of people were possibly being crushed to death, it was because he had memories of eating literal fucking crying babies.
He had the full pathetic checklist — tragic backstory, worthless parents, no friends, and a loser lifestyle with the only escape being cheap fanfics on the internet.
And then he died… Yep, no fancy death — no meteors falling from the sky, nuclear war, ROB's or any other bullcrap. He just dropped down and died, maybe it was because he wasted his life rotting behind a screen but whatever.
Too late to worry about it now.
Then he found himself in Invincible. At first, he thought it was just another normal world but then when he saw fucking Omni-Man stopping an alien invasion he realised he was in literal fucking hell.
Thankfully, whoever transmigrated him had a bit of compassion and gave him the powers of Sukuna from JJK. But what he didn't have to give him was Sukuna's damn memories, especially all of them!
He didn't need to see Sukuna relieving himself or him butchering and eating penises!!
That gave him nightmares till four!
To be honest, that really fucked him up. He couldn't go a second without puking till eight.
Man, his entire moral compass was overturned because of that. That was basically a villain origin story.
After all, after you see a person eating a child's dick and jerking off to the thought of that; you've got nothing left to see.
Also, curse the being who gave him the name Ryomen Sukuna! Did he want him to be an edgelord? Couldn't there have been a simpler option like Sam or something?
"Oh wait, it's my turn now."
Sukuna commented as he watched Omni-Man tower over the kneeling and broken Mark, clutching a dead hand off a woman he tried to save.
"Well then, here we go!"
He stepped off the ledge, the wind rushed past him, tugging at his clothes as the ground rose rapidly to meet him.
…
"Liar!" Mark roared, flying up to meet his father. He swung aimlessly and yet his fists still managed to connect.
But in the end, it barely managed to scratch Omni-Man's paint job.
Although Mark was a Viltrumite, capable of tearing through buildings and turning entire cities into rubble — he was still outclassed. Badly. One might add.
Viltrumite's grew stronger with age.
And Omni-Man had centuries on him.
Every punch Mark threw carried enough power to level blocks, but against his father, it amounted to little more than the annoying buzz of a mosquito.
This wasn't a fight between equals.
It was a stark lesson.
A brutal one-sided lesson between their values.
The next second, Omni-Man stopped Mark right where he stood but before he could force him down to the ground and into the metro station, inevitably leading to one of the most infamous and horrifying events of the Chicago incident.
A sudden slash caught him off-guard.
The fabric of his white suit shredded instantly, and a thin line of blood pooled from his chest wherein laid a diagonal slash that stretched from his shoulder and down across his chest.
Sukuna had entered the battlefield, and with him came Omni-Man's death… or so he hoped.