Chapter Text
Mark awoke to the sound of a familiar piano intro. He groaned, the light from a small window parallel to his bed shining annoyingly in his eye. His yellowed eye reacting harshly, pupil quickly dilating to a thin slit. The soft piano smoothly turned into upbeat vocals of one Vanessa Carlton, technically an “old” artist by Prime standards, but Mark couldn’t find himself getting into the newer stuff. He always preferred music from the 2000’s to 20’s.
Makin’ my way downtown, walkin’ fast, faces pass and I’m homebound
Mark rolled over ever so slightly, just enough to stretch his arm over to the nightstand and smush his hand over many buttons, one of which happened to be the snooze button, effectively buying him five more minutes to force his bones into action. He sat up reluctantly, swinging his legs over to the side of the bed in order to form a sitting position. He stretched his arms out over his head, eliciting a few pops from his old joints.
“Creakin’ like old machinery” Mark muttered to himself, finally taking the last movement to fully get out of his bed.
He shuffled over to the window, pulling the blinds down in an effort to once more darken the room. This action didn’t achieve much, as the old blinds were worn down over years of being left practically untouched in a less than clean house. Mark glanced over at the alarm clock, 8:12, not too late, but certainly not preferable. It gave him around thirty minutes to get his shit together and figure out wherever Overlord wanted him today. He shoved open his closet door, grabbing a handful of clothes he was about 20 percent sure are somewhat clean, and made his way to the closest bathroom.
e lived in your standard suburban house, every good villain needs a good cover, and there are no other affordable houses in New Haven. Fucking Overlord and his shitty wages, gotta be a villain to keep yourself afloat in this economy but the only job opportunities in that field pay jack shit. Because Mark lived in aforementioned suburban house, he had the great joy of an obnoxiously bright white bathroom greeting him every single miserable morning, and today was no exception.
He peeled off the night shirt he’s probably worn every night for at least the past week, tossing it vaguely in the direction of the corner dedicated to somewhat dirty clothes he’ll probably wear again within the next few days, and paused for a moment. Mark allowed himself a moment to look in his smudged and cracked mirror, raking his gaze over his own form. While it never changed each time he looked, he every so often found himself looking over his destroyed body, picturing what it would look like if he didn’t fuck it all up with Ashe and getting himself involved with Overlord.
The left side of his body was adorned in dark green scales, ones that merged uncomfortably with his human skin, but he never bothered to tell anybody. They itched where the two textures conjoined but he learned to live with the ever present feeling of ants under his skin, and the irritableness that accompanied the scales shedding. Besides his reptilian features, Mark carried with him decades of stories through scars. Littered all across his body, though mainly prevalent on his upper section of it, bullet wounds, knife wounds, small burns, and various cuts, all compiled together to tell the world of the mistakes he’s made and how despite his very convincing suburban dad front, he is not, and cannot be, normal. He chose the path he is on and now he must live it-whether it’s as Wavelength or Mark fucking Winters, he’s stuck here now.
Pulling the grey shirt over his head, Mark pushed out those unwelcome thoughts and dragged through the rest of his rather lacking morning routine.
-
The door to Mark’s Prius slammed shut, and the thought flashed through his head that he should probably buckle his seat belt, but he ignored the sensible part of his brain (as he’s found himself doing a lot more recently), and quickly turned on the car. Twisting around for a moment, Mark grabbed the duffel bag that sits in the back row and tossed it into the passenger seat. He quickly checked once that all was accounted for, mask, various tubes, and spare memory wiping needles he always kept on hand.
Closing the bag once more, Mark pulled out of his driveway, checking the digital clock for the second time that morning as he left.
8:50
Mark cursed, not knowing how he managed to spend too much time getting ready for the day despite not even having eaten breakfast, but it’s not like he can change it now. He wasted no time in speeding off to the more urban part of New Haven, pulling out his phone to try and find out where he was supposed to even be going for the day. At one point he glanced up from his phone to have found himself running a red light, and barely swerved out of the way of a Honda Civic. He swiftly righted his car once again in the proper lane, barely bothering to pay any mind to the chorus of honking horns he left in his wake.
After a few minutes of driving, Mark turned a sharp corner onto a lesser known street of downtown New Haven and pulled his car up to a stop by a parking sign. Mark shoved open the door to his car, stepping out into the quiet street. He glanced behind the Prius, finding the alley he was looking for about twenty feet away. Mark spared one quick glance back at the duffel bag in the passenger seat before thinking better of it. He slammed the door closed and made his way over to the entry way of the alley, his reptilian eye quickly adjusting to the lack of light and allowing his vision to become heightened.
Mark swiftly scanned over the entire alley, looking for someone.
They were spotted almost immediately, leaning in an odd way. He could tell the person probably tried to look inconspicuous and nonchalant, but was failing miserably. Their knees were bouncing slightly, their weight shifted from shoulder to shoulder every few seconds, and their eyes darted from the entrance of the alley to the gate that closed it off and back. Mark swore he could almost hear them muttering to themselves about something, but he couldn’t find himself to care too much about it. Who was he to concern himself with whatever expendable employee Overlord sent his way as a messenger. They were exactly that, replaceable and worthless, nothing more than a carrier pigeon of sorts for the tasks and messages Overlord can’t send out himself.
“Hey,” Mark huffed out, catching the attention of the nervous person across the alley.
They flinched slightly, and their eyes widened a fraction, before they stuttered out a reply.
“Oh-oh! Mr. Wavelength!” The person got up from off of the wall and brushed non-existent dirt off their pants. “Right, uh, the assignment..” The person trailed off for a moment, their eyes drifting to the ground beside Mark’s shoe.
“Kid, just tell me where to be so I can get out of this shit hole already.” Mark muttered, thankfully doing enough to snap the person back to reality for a few moments more.
“Yeah, right, sorry Mr. Wavelength sir!” They sputtered out, straightening out their posture. “Overlord wants you to show up at a meeting for him. At Blackwood Tech.” Mark was surprised at this, he never really did meetings or assignments of that sort, he was a brute force kind of guy, not one to talk it out with accountants or CEO’s.
“Did he say what the meeting’s about?” Mark questioned, trying to sound neutral, but there was an underlying tone of curiosity woven into his words. The messenger didn’t seem to pick up on it though, typical of the grunts, not yet accustomed to over-analyzing every action of the people around them.
“No, sorry, he just said to ‘bring the fancy tube mask thing’.” The person used air quotes for that last part, nose wrinkled the slightest bit in confusion. “He said that while it is a meeting, he still wants you to be intimidating, or something like that.” The messenger shrugged, letting their shoulders droop for the first time since starting the lackluster conversation.
“Fuckin’ great, alright.” Mark grumbled, then he turned back around to head to his Prius, leaving the messenger alone in the alley.
-
The drivers’ side door slammed shut for the fourth time that day, and Mark stepped out onto the pavement that surrounded Blackwood Tech. He let out a long sigh coming out filtered through the mask he now wore. Pulling on his fur jacket, Mark pricked a few tubes into the proper spots on his back and sides, running through his sleeves and into his skin. The pain was momentary and small, like a little thorn in your ankle that you find after running through the forest.
Now fully in Wavelength garb, Mark walked up to the double doors at the entrance of the building. As soon as he stepped up, the doors opened, leading into a dark hallway.
Creepy ass scientists and their automated doors n’ shit
Mark stepped inside, not entirely sure on where to go from there, but he figured that the information on where to go must not have been that necessary if Overlord didn’t include it in his instructions. Mere moments after getting through the doorway, the doors closed behind Mark. Startled, although he wouldn’t admit it, Mark whipped his head around to look at the doors. Seeing nothing, he turned back around, only to be met with a lanky figure standing directly in front of him.
“Fuck!” Mark exclaimed, caught off guard. “Christ, does it hurt to say something before you pop up in front of someone like a fuckin’ ghost?” Mark took a step back, trying to create space between them.
“Wavelength.” The person nodded at him, acknowledging his presence and nothing more. “I believe you heard about our meeting, yes? Overlord seemed confident in you for this job,” The person paused for a moment, eyes raking over Mark, scrutinizing every detail. “I have my doubts.”
The fuck?
The person plastered a smile back onto their face, looking directly into Mark’s eyes, yet it felt as though they were looking through him. “Just tell me where you need me to be.” Mark said, the voice modulator in his mask making it come out rougher than usual, but in this case, he thought it to be a rather good thing.
“Alright then, follow me Wavelength." The person turned around and started walking down the hallway, setting a brisk pace. Mark followed, trying to walk next to the person. They walked for an oddly long amount of time, and Mark could practically hear the thought bouncing around his skull as to how big this place really was. It didn’t look impressive from the outside, appearing no larger than a small warehouse maybe, though not that he was inside, Mark got the feeling it's probably much bigger than he originally thought.
Their walk came to a stop as the person pushed open a pair of double doors, stepping into the room and holding the door open for Mark as he followed. Once the doors closed, a light turned on in the center of the room, illuminating a large table. Mark walked up to the table, stopping just short of it, peering over at the empty surface. “So what did ya’ need me here to discuss that Overlord couldn’t handle?” Mark asked gruffly, still looking down to the table.
“Oh we didn’t need you here for that Wavelength.” Mark heard the person behind him say, and he glanced up at the odd statement, catching the sly grin on their face. Before Mark could think up a response, he heard heavy footsteps coming from the other side of the table. “The fuck you mean?” Mark said through gritted teeth, throwing his gaze over to where the sound was coming from.
A figure stepped into the illuminated area, and Mark’s eyes narrowed behind his mask, unease growing by the second. Overlord stood at the end of the table, his obnoxiously yellow suit highlighted in the blue tinted light. His alligator mouth twisting into an annoying smirk at seeing Mark so confused.
“Overlord,” Mark muttered, meeting the gaze of the powerful man before him.
“What’re you doin’ here?” Mark asked, “Your little messenger boy told me you weren’t gonna be here for this meeting.”
Overlord's smile somehow grew wider, even though it already practically took up half his reptilian face.
“Yes, yes, of course, the meeting.” Overlord tossed a glance over his shoulder, and around half a dozen men stepped into the lit area of the room. As if this entire situation wasn’t already enough to get Mark’s brain sending warning signals like crazy, all of the men were adorned in all black suits, fabric covering their faces and shapes under clothes that looked suspiciously like guns and other weapons.
Mark tried desperately to keep cool and appear unbothered by the new people, not entirely sure if he succeeded or not.
“Again,” Mark said, fingers grabbing onto the table with force that could kill a man. “What did you need me here to discuss?”
While most of the few interactions Mark had with Overlord in person felt at least a little uneasy, this was something different. This had his brain screaming “Danger! Danger! Run! Run!” Though Mark, the intellectual he was, wrote it off as “lizard brain things”. He’d been employed to Overlord for years now, the man would have to be positively crazy to get rid of Mark now, even if their whole work deal revolved around a cruel deal that kept Mark working just so his kid wouldn’t be harmed.
Overlord stood up straighter, waving one hand around in the air as he talked “Well Wavelength, as one of my most beloved employees-” Overlord flashed Mark a sly grin at that last word, and Mark grimaced, “I simply wanted to discuss some of the terms of your employment.”
Face to face? Overlord doesn’t do that, he usually sends one of his messenger boys.
At the word employment, the masked men move forward, advancing on Mark. The person who led him in before suddenly grabs Mark's upper arms, attempting to hold him in place. Now Mark finally registers that this is probably not just his “lizard brain” talking and this is not Overlord's normal theatrics. Mark wrenches himself out of the person’s grip, stumbling backwards. His back hits the wall, knocking the wind out of him.
“God fuckin-’” Mark gasps out, immediately pushing himself back off the wall. The masked men completely block off the open space around the table now, effectively cornering Mark in.
“Now Wavelength, cooperation is key!” Overlord cackled from where he stood.
The men stepped even closer and it was at this point Mark realised this probably wasn’t normal and he should stop taking the lizard thing into account every time he has an out of place thought.
“God dammit, Overlord!” Mark yells out, trying to build a strong flow of energy through the tubes of his suit as fast as possible.
The tubes that circle around Mark's back start to light up with energy, bringing one of the masked men to lunge forward and grab one, yanking it backwards and out of Mark's skin.
“Fuck-” Mark curses, about to continue and address Overlord again, but too soon he is cut off by a punch to his jaw. Mark curls in on himself slightly, trying to gain his bearings and fight back.
“Don’t wanna fight fair huh?” Mark taunts, despite being in absolutely no position to do so.
The man who had originally ripped one of Mark’s tubes out of his back throws the tube to the ground, then steps forward closer to Mark, looking like he's going in to grab him.
Mark thankfully had enough time to charge up by then, waiting for the man to be mere inches away from his throat before letting a harsh flow of electricity jump up through the air into the man's hand. The hand recoils quickly, and its owner hisses at the unexpected pain.
“Fuckin’ asshole,” they mutter, and Mark grins at that, though it’s quickly wiped away by the same man socking Mark so hard in the face he could hear some of the internal components of his mask crack and break.
Mark's head hits the wall again, leaving him dazed once again. Thankfully his limited survival skills kick in, sending a continuous stream of energy out all around him, effectively forming a barrier around him that would electrocute anyone who would get close.
The rest of the people in the room wait around the outside, not wanting to shock themselves, Overlord glares Mark down from the opposite side of the room, and he slides an object across the table to the first man who led Mark here in the first place.
The man picked it up right as it reached the edge of the table and stepped forward to the outside of Mark's energy field. Mark could feel the fatigue set into his body with each second longer he kept the electricity coursing through the air, but he pushed himself to his feet and kept it going, even if it wavered every so often. Mark cursed under his breath as he patted down the pockets on his pants and jacket, realising he didn’t grab any other sort of weapon before walking into Blackwood Tech. He failed to realise it, but those few moments of lowered concentration on his energy output lowered the radius of the electricity field just enough for the man to lunge forward while Mark’s guard was down and jam a needle into the non-scaled side of his neck.
At that the output was cut off completely and Mark’s glass covered eyes widened as he realised now that he was utterly fucked. He was from the beginning, even if he managed to get out of the building through the wall of Overlord’s workers, he still had Overlord himself to worry about and the danger he would be putting Ashe in by disobeying Overlord.
Mark felt drowsiness overcome him, likely from the needle this asshole had just stabbed into his neck. Right, the needle. Mark clawed at where it barely stuck into his skin still, effectively dropping it to the ground.
“Moth’r-fuckrss” Mark mumbled trying to lift a fist at the man to punch him, but clearly the needle's contents had already done enough of what it needed to, slurring his speech and weakening his entire body.
Mark could see the man smirking, god he wanted to wipe that smug look off his face, that pretentious dick.
“Thank you for your contribution to Blackwood Tech’s research, Mr. Winters.” The man whispered, and Mark was certain now, if he wasn’t already before, that he was going to kill this guy as soon as he could actually control his body again.
Despite his best efforts, Mark felt his eyes drift closed, locking onto Overlord’s disgusting, sharp-toothed grin before leaving him to darkness.
-
Mark’s eyes drifted open slightly, he leaned against an oddly shaped.. wall? Something solid at least, it was cold he knew that, and it had his back bent at an uncomfortable angle that made it ache more than it already did at his age.
He didn’t get the chance to see much, but he did see a bunch of tubes next to him, tinted yellow with odd figures slumped inside of them, a girl, and an older man, neither of whom he recognises, but it could just be his fuzzy brain.
Not too long after waking up Mark feels his brian pulled back down into a forced sleep, forcing his eyes closed once more.
-
When Mark opens his eyes for a second time, the first thing he sees, or rather, hears, is a familiar Australian accent, “Good evening, Prime Defenders,”
Prime Defenders? That shit with that clones’ kids, the annoying red haired one, the weird purple one, and the ghost kid? Those Prime Defenders? The ones Ashe was running around with?
Fuck, they were the ones Ashe was running around with, that probably means…
Mark tried to pull himself to his feet, tried to will his body to get up and get his kid out of here wherever she probably was, but he couldn’t. Whatever drug Overlord found to sedate Mark earlier damn well did the trick, Mark’s eyelids felt heavier than the sun at this moment, but he kept them open, open just long enough to his kid, to see Ashe, standing off to the left next to the ghost kid.
Oh no, oh no, oh no, Ashe..
Mark was dragged back to his drug induced sleep once again, pulling him away from his worries about Ashe.
-
Somehow, the scene Mark woke up to this time was much worse than before.
He saw the red haired kid stuck in one of the yellow tube things, punching at the glass and.. Yelling? Maybe? It was hard to hear him and Mark didn’t care all that much.
His gaze dragged across the room, landing on Overlord standing smugly like he always did, with that look he always had when he knew he was about to get the end result he wanted out of something.
Fuck, Ashe. Where’s Ashe, they need to get out of here.
Mark finally spotted Ashe again, looking down to her waist where that damned book was. He didn't know why the kid insisted on keeping it, but Mark couldn’t bring himself to tell her no, it was a tether to their mom, she did originally teach them how to use it all those years ago, but Mark still couldn’t bring himself to look at it too long, it only came with bad memories and thoughts he didn’t want, didn’t need to resurface.
Ashe reaches down to grab the book, and Mark catches a glimpse of the ghost kid looking back worriedly at Ashe. Mark hears something for the first time since waking up, Ashe looking at the ghost kid, William, Mark remembers now, and she smiles, a solemn look on her face. “I’m sorry William, we’re out of options.”
No, no, no, no, no, no. Ashe no, please. Mark tries to yell out for his kid, but his mouth won’t move, and his hands wont reach outwards, and he can’t move his fucking legs to stand up, and he can’t do anything, he can’t help his kid.
Mark watches helplessly as the pages in the book begin to flip at a speed he’s never seen before. He watches as red spreads across Ashe’s body, starting from her fingertips and all the way up to their face, and runes inscribe themselves into her skin. Her hair goes out behind her, shiny silver pushed out far enough that Mark can see the small section of blonde roots, just like his.
Mark watches as Ashe, half corrupted by the Trickster, falls through a door and appears behind Overlord, “shooting” him with a toy gun, which in turn, sends a giant fist to Overlord's reptilian jaw, pushing the obnoxious alligator over a set of railing on the platform he was standing on, collapsing to the floor below, unconscious.
Then Mark watches as Ashe, the Trickster, sends a giant pinwheel towards another kid Mark hadn’t noticed before, another red one, Mark vaguely remembers his name, Inferno, was it? He couldn’t bring himself to care in the moment, more focused on watching Ashes movements with a pain he could feel in his chest, though he wasn’t sure why.
Mark sees out of the corner of his eye, Tide, when the fuck did he get here, collapse onto the floor, and William calls out to him, conflicted between who to help, Ashe or Tide. Mark silently hopes William will help Ashe over the clone, but he knows it doesn’t matter anyways, Ashe could barely fight the Trickster with help all those years ago, now she’s without the guidance of someone who knows about this stuff, about the Spirit World and the book.
Still Mark clings on to hope, at one of the few moments in his life he ever has, but he finds that it’s all he has at this moment. Where he can’t move, can’t speak, can’t help in any meaningful way. He tries to send out a burst of electricity, but without his tubes, and in his current state, he can barely manage a spark.
Mark watches Ashe return to the lowest section of the floor, in front of William. He hears her speak, their voice is soft, quiet, resigned.
Mark hates that, he hates that she's okay with not fighting it, but at the same time he knows that fighting it will only bring them more pain in the long run, and it will all be the same, but he hates it anyways. Goddammit he hates it.
Mark watches all four of the kids, the red haired one having broken out of his glass cylinder earlier during the altercation. They talk quietly, and they look dismayed to say the least. Ashe is her ever positive self during this time, reassuring words seem to be all that leave their mouth, even as the red skin of the Trickster takes over more and more of their body. After a minute or two, Ashe, steps backwards, offering a reassuring smile once more at the three other teens, then hopping backwards to float in the air, headphones on, air drumming to a song Mark couldn't hear.
The kids wait for a split second, then move towards where Mark and the other two slumped figures were in tubes, breaking glass and grabbing them, dragging them towards an elevator.
No, no, please let me go, let me help her. Mark thinks, he tries to say it, but the boy carrying him doesn't notice anything. Mark watches one last thing, he watches his kids body get corrupted by redness, and when it fully overtakes her, Mark watches them laugh. It's haunting, and Mark recognises it, from all those years ago, back when the Trickster took one of the only other things that mattered to him, and Mark hears it now as it takes the last thing he cares about, Ashe. Then the elevator doors close, and Mark's vision blacks out once again.
-
Mark's eyes open, awoken to a familiar piano intro.
Makin’ my way downtown, walkin’ fast, faces pass and I'm homebound.