A group of five young children around the age of ten could be seen pedaling their bikes through Central Park. Laughter and yells could be heard from them as they enjoyed themselves while under the bright sun. However, not all of the children were having fun.
At the back of the pack, a boy wearing second-hand clothes struggled to push the pedals on his old, worn-down bike.
"Hurry up, Sam! Why are you so slow?!" The leader of the pack called out as he came to a stop, causing his followers to stop as well.
"I-I'm almost there!" Sam called out, his face covered in sweat. This caused his 'friends' to laugh at him as they watched him struggle.
"Why are you still driving that piece of junk? Just buy a new one!" One of the boys chuckled.
"He's poor, remember? What a loser!"
Sam's eyes stung with a mix of frustration and embarrassment as he turned away from his friends, who were laughing as they pointed at him. He glanced down at his bike.
The frame was not only rusted but also bent at awkward angles, giving it a lopsided appearance. The back wheel sagged, nearly flat as if it had given up on him long ago. Its old chain had rough spots where rust had taken its toll, causing it to stick and lock up unexpectedly.
The bike had been a gift that Sam's struggling father had given him on his birthday after months of begging from the young boy. Despite not having much money to spare, Sam's father had managed to scrounge up enough money to buy a bike from a pawn shop. While not an extravagant bike like his friends, Sam was still ecstatic to have received it from the man who had raised him all alone.
Still, in his young, untested emotions, he couldn't handle being made fun of by his supposed friends. Sam's ears grew red, and his cheeks burned as he looked around the park to see a few people watching the scene with curiosity. The adults Sam was led to believe would act in situations like these did nothing but watch as he was laughed at.
With tears swallowing his vision, Sam hung his head. He didn't want everyone to see him cry.
Mysteriously, all the voices that once plagued the park hushed. The nearby chatters and his friend's laughter were nowhere to be heard. Curious about why everything was suddenly silent, Sam looked up and gasped.
There, floating a few feet in the air, was Atomic in his red and white glory. His frame glowed lightly as he descended, cape bellowing. When his feet made landfall, the glow vanished.
Atomic looked around at the adults in the park and then turned to Sam's friends. His gaze lingered longer on them, causing them to shift around uncomfortably. Within them, shame and guilt grew as the Hero's unspoken message was delivered to their young selves despite their young age.
After he was seemingly satisfied, Atomic walked over to Sam and kneeled in front of him. "Hello there! I was flying in the area and sensed that I was needed." The hero said with a friendly voice. He then turned to Sam's bike. "Wow! What a cool bike! Is this yours?"
"Oh, uh, yes, sir," Sam said nervously.
"That's awesome! Hey, what's your name? I'm Atomic," Atomic said as he placed a hand on Sam's bike.
"I'm… I'm Sam."
"Nice to meet you, Sam. Hey, what's your favorite color?"
"Well… I like blue." Sam said, his left hand clutching his old blue shirt. "Oh, what's yours?" He asked, remembering his manners.
"Personally, I like red," Atomic said, motioning to his primarily red suit. "But don't tell anybody, okay? That's our little secret."
Sam smiled and nodded. After a brief moment, Atomic shifted and leaned on his knee. "Being laughed at can be tough, Sam. That will never change as you grow older. But you need to remember to be proud of where you came from and who you are. Those people who laugh at you don't understand what you've been through. So you can't let them get to you."
"But… I don't know if I can do that, Mr. Atomic," Sam mumbled, ignorant of the flash of light beside him.
"I know you can do it, Sam. Just believe in yourself. And if you can't do that, just believe in the me who believes in you." Wyatt said and gave Sam a pat on the shoulder. He then stood to his feet and began to hover over the ground. "It was nice meeting you, Sam. I hope you enjoy your new bike!"
With a wave, Atomic shot into the sky and disappeared. Sam blinked, confused by the hero's parting words, and looked over at his bike, only to gasp at what he saw.
Gone was the old, beat-up bicycle with the bent, rusted frame and worn-down wheels. In its place was a sparkling new blue bike with chrome wheels and a cushioned seat. The chain was crisp and well-oiled, perfect for the various new gear shifts available on the bike. The bicycle even had an engraving of Sam's name alongside Atomic's logo.
Sam's face lit up with a radiant smile as he examined his bike. His so-called friends looked on in awe and jealousy at what remained a mystery to everyone else: an expensive, expertly crafted bike. Onlookers nearby couldn't help but smile at the sight; they, too, desired something created by Atomic.
"Thank you!" Sam called out.
From that day onward, Sam lived his life with Atomic's words in mind. They pushed him to great heights and grand achievements.
••o••o••o••
"Wyatt? Hey! Earth to Wyatt!" Serena growled and bonked Wyatt over the head.
He blinked and looked over to see her annoyed expression a few inches away from his face. "You say something?"
"Yeah, I did, you jerk. I asked what you thought of the movie." Serena asked as they exited the Apollo theater, the two having just finished watching a, in Wyatt's opinion, bland action movie. "I mean, I liked the special effects they used, but the main actor's performance was so wooden."
"Yeah, that's true. Remember the scene where he was supposed to be sad when his wife died? He looked like he was anything but sad," Wyatt said as they walked through the now-rebuilt streets of Harlem. All thanks to the hard work of New York's construction teams and a little help from Wyatt himself.
"Hmm, so you were watching the movie. You had that blank stare for so long that I thought you checked out. Is there something on your mind?" Serena asked as she popped some of her leftover popcorn into her mouth.
"You see, Wyatt... you don't have the X-Gene. You are not a Mutant." Charles said.
Wyatt frowned at the memory. He had always known, deep down, that he was not a mutant. His abilities were merely a carbon copy of Atom Eve's, a character from a completely different universe than his own.
Yes, universe. He refused to believe that he wasn't part of a greater multiverse. How else could he explain his arrival in a different version of the MCU, a universe already connected to the multiverse? If he lived in such a world, why couldn't the universe of Invincible exist as well?
On the subject of his powers, Wyatt had always understood that he was not truly a mutant. No, his abilities didn't stem from a mutation in his genes; they likely came from whatever powerful being he had encountered. As for why he was chosen to inherit these abilities, Wyatt had no idea. Despite all that, he held a small glimmer of hope that he might be a mutant.
Being a mutant would have given him a sense of belonging—a place to belong in the world. However, if Charles's test results were to be believed, Wyatt was not a mutant.
He lacked the infamous X-Gene.
He was something else entirely.
This knowledge left him feeling… alone.
He hadn't realized it, but acting as Atomic had provided the perfect distraction from his situation. Being a hero and protector gave him a sense of purpose—something to focus on and strive for.
But when he wasn't in the role of Atomic, he often fell into deep thought.
Wyatt had essentially died twice and was thrust into a fantastical, dangerous world without warning. He left behind a family he deeply cared about and loved, only to experience the heartache of losing another.
After the loss his younger self experienced, he found himself reluctant to form new bonds. He barely cared for his foster family and had a severe lack of friends. If any. The closest he had to a male friend was Hector, the one who introduced him to the gang that ultimately got him killed.
Fortunately, Wyatt did have Serena and Luigi in his life. A tiny part of him saw them as his own family. They were good people, and their presence kept him grounded until his rebirth.
Now, with his new friends at Xavier's school, Wyatt's previously abysmal social circle was expanding. Hopefully, their opinion of him wouldn't change once they hear he's not a mutant like them.
Despite this growth, he still couldn't shake the feeling of being a little lonely.
"No… not really," Wyatt finally said, lying through his teeth. "I've just had a lot on my plate lately."
"Really? Like what?" Serena asked as they were now halfway back to Luigi's restaurant, which Serena and her father lived above. "Actually, what do you do all day? You don't go to school, and you still haven't told me how you make your money. Wyatt, are you actually a drug dealer?"
Wyatt responded by taking her popcorn and eating a handful, eliciting an annoyed yell.
"How many times do I have to tell you? I don't sell drugs."
"Then where do you get all your money? You didn't even let me pay for my ticket and food. Don't tell me you like me or something?" Serena said mischievously and poked Wyatt in his side. She blinked in surprise as she felt firm muscle beneath his shirt. "Don't tell me you're also hitting the gym? Who are you, and what have you done with the lazy, good-for-nothing Wyatt I knew a year ago?"
Wyatt frowned as his mind flashed back to him being stabbed and having a heart attack. Events that had changed his life forever.
"Nothing. He just grew up and adapted," Wyatt said. "And what's wrong with me treating you every now and then?"
Before Serena could gather her thoughts to respond, she and Wyatt stopped dead in their tracks as Luigi's restaurant emerged into view. The once-inviting storefront lay in complete disarray, its shattered glass windows glinting ominously in the fading daylight. Scattered chairs were tossed haphazardly across the sidewalk.
Inside, the restaurant had descended into utter chaos. The vibrant walls, once adorned with cheerful murals of Italian landscapes, were now marred by streaks of spray paint. Tables were overturned and shattered dishes littered the floor.
"Papa!" Serena yelled in horror as she and Wyatt sprinted into the restaurant. Ignoring a few nearby observers.
"Luigi! Where are you?!" Wyatt yelled. As he was about to send a pulse of energy to scan the restaurant, Luigi walked around the kitchen doors. His face was bloodied and bruised.
Seeing her father in such a state, Serena rushed to his side and hugged him tightly. Wyatt helped the man sit down on a chair.
"W-what happened? Who did this?" Serena said with a shudder, her hands inspecting her father's form as tears trailed down her face.
"It's nothing, Serena," Luigi said unconvincingly.
"Don't lie to me!" Serena yelled.
"I'll call the police," Wyatt said, but Luigi quickly grabbed his wrist.
"No! No police!" Luigi yelled. This froze Serena and Wyatt. They had never heard the usually jubilant man yell.
"Papa… please," Serena begged. Luigi turned to his daughter and Wyatt. At the sight of their concerned faces, he broke.
"A year ago… business was slow. We were on the verge of losing the restaurant. I was desperate! I ended up… taking a loan. A loan I failed to pay back in time," Luigi said shamefully, his eyes glued to the floor. "This… this was-"
"This was a warning," Wyatt uttered, his eyes scanning the damage. An icy chill was beginning to swell within his chest.
"Yes… this was a warning. If I don't pay them back within a month. They'll…" Luigi's eyes moved around the shop and then to Serena before he turned away as if burned. "I should never have gone to them."
Serena frowned; she understood the unsaid implications of her father's words. Even so, she smiled and hugged Luigi.
"It's okay, Papa. We'll… figure something out. Nothing is going to happen." She said.
Luigi didn't reply. He merely hugged Serena back as if she would disappear any second.
Wyatt observed the scene from the sidelines, his gaze fixed on the father and daughter. It felt as though he was intruding on their moment, but the chaotic surroundings dispelled that notion. He turned his attention back to the restaurant's shattered entrance, his heart racing in his chest.
All Wyatt wanted was to put on his suit and go out to find those responsible for this mess—to make them pay for hurting Luigi and threatening Serena.
The rage he kept under lock and key was beginning to rise once again.
At the sound of a pained groan, Wyatt watched as Luigi grasped at his injuries. Seeing the man's injuries forced Wyatt to refocus. He knew it would be impossible to find those who did this. He had no idea what they looked like or what their names were. And he doubted Luigi would give him any more details.
He had to focus on what he could do.
After removing his backpack, Wyatt pulled out a first aid kit and began treating Luigi's injuries. He was glad he took the time to read the books on survival and how to apply first aid correctly.
After Wyatt was done treating Luigi, he and Serena helped the injured man up into their home above the restaurant. Thankfully, whoever destroyed the restaurant had avoided their home. Leaving everything intact.
Much to Serena's relief. She wasn't sure if she could keep up her façade of strength if her home were also left in tatters.
"Hey, Wyatt? Could you… stay tonight?" Serena whispered as they sat on the couch in the living room. She reached over and grabbed his hand. "I… I don't think-"
"Yeah. I'll stay," Wyatt said softly.
He had never seen Serena in such a state. She had always been so confident, witty, and headstrong. But the events of tonight had shaken her to her core.
"Thank you," She said and leaned her head on his shoulder.
Wyatt felt no excitement at having her body pressed against his. He wasn't able to smell how Serena smelt of fragrant flowers.
No, all he felt was how her body trembled. How her breath came out in shaky exhales. The way her tears soaked into his shirt.
If Serena were to look up at Wyatt's expression, she would have seen an expression of cold, barely contained anger.