Mark sat on the terrace of the small inn, leaning back in a wooden chair as he took a slow sip from his cup of coffee. The morning air was crisp but not cold, carrying the scent of freshly baked bread from a nearby boulangerie. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long golden rays over the rolling green hills in the distance. Birds chirped lazily in the trees, and every now and then, a soft breeze rustled the leaves, the only sound beyond the quiet murmur of the few other guests enjoying their breakfast.
It was peaceful.
No crime. No emergencies. No weight pressing down on his shoulders.
On the small wooden table in front of him sat a plate with a croissant, lightly buttered, alongside some fresh fruit and eggs. It was simple but good—something about the ingredients here just tasted better. He didn't rush through the meal, didn't feel the need to scarf it down like he was always used to doing. Instead, he took his time, letting himself enjoy it.
Next to his plate, a book was propped up, displaying dense notes on advanced engineering—hypersonic travel, high-efficiency fuel systems, and aerospace design. It wasn't something he needed to study, but ever since his abilities had expanded, his mind had started to process things in ways it never had before. Understanding complex physics and engineering principles came as naturally to him now as breathing. His hand moved idly over the notebook next to him, sketching out a rough design. A new kind of engine, one that could function with a quarter of the fuel normally required, using a combination of hyper-compressed combustion and an innovative intake system that reduced energy loss.
He stared at the sketch for a long moment, tapping the pen against the page. This could work. Not just for planes, but for everything. It could revolutionize transportation.
He had never thought about applying himself to this kind of work before. He had spent so much time fighting, running, reacting to the world's problems—but what if he could fix things another way?
The thought lingered in his mind as he took another sip of his coffee.
The morning stretched on, quiet and undisturbed. No alarms, no calls, no distractions. Just the sound of the world waking up around him, the warmth of the sun on his skin, and for the first time in a long time, a moment where he could just be. Mark took another sip of his coffee, eyes scanning over the rough sketches he had drawn in his notebook. His mind was still running through the calculations, adjusting variables, trying to work out if the efficiency gains he had mapped out were even practical. He tapped the pen against the table, thinking.
"Excusez-moi, monsieur."
He looked up to see a waitress standing beside his table, a warm smile on her face as she held a fresh pot of coffee. She was young, maybe in her early twenties, with dark brown hair tied back in a neat bun and soft hazel eyes. Her uniform was simple—white blouse, black apron—but it fit well against the rustic charm of the small café.
"Would you like more coffee?" she asked in lightly accented English.
Mark nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks."
She poured into his cup carefully, and as she did, he caught the slight pink tinge on her cheeks.
"You are... not from here, no?" she asked, looking at him curiously.
Mark smirked. "What gave it away?"
She giggled softly, setting the pot down. "You have an American accent. And you do not drink coffee like the French."
He raised an eyebrow. "And how do the French drink coffee?"
"With more pastries," she said with a small smile, gesturing to the lone croissant on his plate.
Mark chuckled. "Noted."
She hesitated for a second, then nodded politely before moving to tend to another table. Mark shook his head slightly, still smirking as he turned his attention back to his notebook.
'Eve, thoughts?'
A moment later, the cool, measured voice of his AI companion chimed in his head.
[Your approach is inefficient.]
Mark rolled his eyes. 'You don't hold back, huh?'
[You are attempting to reduce fuel consumption by making incremental improvements to existing technology. That is a human way of thinking. The problem is not the efficiency of the combustion cycle, but rather the fuel source itself.]
Mark leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin. 'So what, you're saying I should ditch the combustion model entirely?'
[Correct. A combustion engine, no matter how advanced, will always be limited by the chemical energy available in its fuel. Even if you were to push efficiency to its theoretical maximum, the gains would be marginal. You need to consider an alternative energy source.]
Mark frowned, tapping the pen against his page. 'Like what? Nuclear? Solar? Those both have their own problems.'
[Nuclear fission is technically viable, but impractical for general transport due to shielding requirements. Solar is useful but limited by daylight exposure and energy storage constraints. You should consider zero-point energy extraction or harnessing gravitonic flux dynamics.]
Mark blinked. 'You do realize that last one is just sci-fi nonsense, right?'
[Incorrect. It is a potentially viable energy source that your species has yet to harness.]
Mark exhaled through his nose. 'Alright, smartass, how would I harness it?'
Eve was silent for a second. Then—
[Accessing restricted data...]
Mark sat up straighter. 'Wait—restricted by who?'
[Viltrumite archives.]
Mark narrowed his eyes. 'You've had access to Viltrumite tech this whole time?'
[Certain elements of their scientific database. Most of it is incomplete, but I have recovered enough theoretical models to construct a prototype.]
Mark stared down at his notebook, mind spinning. He had been thinking about this all wrong. If he did have access to Viltrumite knowledge, then maybe he wasn't just limited to making better engines—maybe he could create something entirely new.
'Alright... run me through it.'
[Would you like a complete breakdown, or a summarized version?]
Mark smirked. 'Give me the short version. I'll work out the details myself.'
[Understood.] Eve's voice was cool, precise. [A gravitational energy harness operates by converting localized gravitational distortions into usable power. This can be achieved by manipulating high-density matter to create a controlled flux reaction. By stabilizing this reaction, energy output can be sustained indefinitely, eliminating the need for conventional fuel sources.]
Mark exhaled, flipping the page in his notebook and starting a fresh sketch. 'So you're saying I could create an engine that pulls energy from gravity itself?'
[Essentially, yes.]
He shook his head. 'That's... insane.'
[It is advanced. But within your capabilities.]
Mark let out a low whistle, watching as his hand moved over the page, sketching out rough concepts based on Eve's explanation. His mind was already breaking down the possibilities—applications far beyond simple transportation. If this worked, it could revolutionize everything.
'And you just decided to tell me this now?'
[I was waiting for you to ask the right question.]
Mark chuckled. 'Smartass.'
Mark leaned over the table ready to get engulfed in the process of deconstructing the information and forming something else. At least until Eve's voice chimed in his head, calm and eobitic as always.
[Mark before you engage in such activities I should remind you, you should not be overworking yourself. You came here to rest, not to develop groundbreaking technology.]
Mark sighed, closing his notebook and leaning back in his chair. 'Yeah, well, I don't even know how to rest. What am I supposed to do, sit here and stare at the scenery all day?'
[There are numerous activities available to you that qualify as "rest" while still being engaging.]
Mark raised an eyebrow. 'Oh yeah? Like what?'
[Suggestions: Fishing. Hiking. Horseback riding. Local vineyard tours. Cycling through the countryside. Swimming in the river. Exploring historical sites.]
Mark blinked. 'Fishing?'
[Yes. It is an activity that promotes patience and relaxation.]
'Yeah, but it's also boring as hell.'
[It is only boring if you lack the ability to appreciate tranquility.]
Mark scoffed. 'That's just a fancy way of calling me impatient.'
[Accurate.]
Mark chuckled, shaking his head. 'Alright, what else?'
[Hiking. The surrounding hills provide an excellent opportunity for physical activity while also allowing you to take in the natural beauty of the region.]
'Sounds like more work, not less.'
[Horseback riding, then. It requires skill and focus, but it is also highly therapeutic.]
Mark exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 'Do I look like a guy who rides horses?'
[You have the physical coordination required to excel at it.]
'That's not the point, Eve.'
[Then perhaps a vineyard tour would be preferable. You would experience local culture, sample wine, and engage in casual social interaction.]
Mark made a face. 'Drinking with a bunch of strangers? Yeah, sounds like tons of fun.'
[Would you like me to continue listing options?]
Mark sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He hadn't really thought about what he was supposed to do with his time here. Maybe Eve had a point—maybe he should try something new.
'Alright... I'll think about it,' he muttered.
[Acceptable.]
Mark smirked slightly. 'You really know how to nag, you know that?'
[It is part of my function.]
Mark let out a long sigh, rubbing his temple before finishing the last of his coffee. Maybe Eve was right. Maybe he did need to actually try relaxing. He packed up his notebook, slid his chair back, and tossed a few bills on the table before stepping off the terrace onto the cobblestone street.
The town was quiet in the best way possible. Not dead, but peaceful—slow-moving, with people going about their day at a leisurely pace. No one rushing, no one shouting. It was almost unnerving how different it was from the constant chaos he was used to. He walked past small bakeries, fruit stalls, and little cafés with people sipping wine in the midmorning sun.
He almost felt like he could get used to it.
His walk eventually took him past a small fishing shop. He stopped, staring at the display of rods and tackle boxes through the window. The idea of sitting still for hours doing nothing sounded awful—but then again, maybe that was exactly what he needed.
"Fuck it," he muttered to himself before pushing the door open.
Inside, the shop smelled like wood and something vaguely fishy. An old man, maybe in his seventies, stood behind the counter, reading a newspaper. He looked up and smiled.
"Bonjour, monsieur. Comment puis-je vous aider?"
Mark scratched the back of his head. "Uh, yeah, I need some fishing gear. Just... whatever's good."
The old man chuckled. "Ah, an amateur." He set down his newspaper and stepped out from behind the counter. "No worries, I will set you up."
Within minutes, Mark had a collapsible fishing rod, some bait, and a small tackle box. The old man gave him some basic instructions, most of which he barely listened to, before Mark paid and walked out.
Before heading to the river, he made one last stop—a small wine shop with shelves lined with expensive-looking bottles. He figured if he was going to actually sit by a river all day doing nothing, he was going to need some alcohol to make it bearable.
After a few minutes of browsing, he picked out something that looked decent, paid the cashier, and finally made his way down to the river.
It was a quiet spot, nestled between two trees with a bit of shade. The water was clear, slow-moving, and there was no one else around. He set up his rod, cast the line, then sat back against the trunk of a tree, opening the wine.
It was boring.
The first hour passed with nothing happening. No bites, no movement, just him sitting there drinking. He checked his phone a few times but quickly realized he had no signal. So he just sat there. Drinking. Thinking. Watching the clouds pass by.
More hours passed. The bottle of wine was half gone. He hadn't caught anything, but he was starting not to care. The buzz helped. For the first time in a long time, he actually felt... calm.
Then, something caught his eye.
Further down the bank, maybe a hundred feet away, a figure stepped out from the trees. A woman.
Mark squinted, watching as she casually undressed, pulling off her top and slipping out of her jeans. His eyes widened slightly as she stripped down to nothing, stepping into the river without a care in the world.
The fuck?
He wasn't sure whether to look away or keep watching. He wasn't some creep, but something about her seemed... off.
Then he saw her face.
His muscles tensed instantly. His fists clenched. His buzz disappeared in an instant.
You've gotta be fucking kidding me.
Even from this distance, he recognized her. Short black hair. Athletic build. Strong posture. He had seen her before. One of the Viltrumites sent to take him. He'd had a small fight with her after he'd beaten that other Viltrumite, she was a lot stronger than him. Dammit this was supposed to be his relaxing holiday. Mark gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to break his fishing rod in half. Of all the fucking places, of all the times, they just so happened to be in the same town?
He took a slow, deep breath, trying to steady himself.
Just my fucking luck.
Mark clenched his jaw, his hands tightening into fists as he stared at the female Viltrumite in the river. Every part of him wanted to fight her, to handle this now so she wouldn't be a threat later. But he wasn't an idiot—he'd gotten a small reading on her the last time they fought. He knew that she was strong, maybe even stronger than him. Fighting her recklessly could get him killed. And he couldn't afford to take stupid risks anymore. Not with Kara waiting for him. Not with his son waiting for him.
He exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to relax. 'Just get my shit and leave. Play it smart. Chances are, she's just here to clean up and move on.'
Slowly, he stood up, keeping his movements controlled and quiet. He left his fishing gear behind—it wasn't worth the risk to bring, plus fishing was boring as fuck. Every step he took was slow, carefully placed so as not to disturb the underbrush. He just had to slip away, get back to the hotel, and figure out what the hell she was doing here from a safe distance. He turned, keeping his breathing steady, his body loose, ready to bolt if needed. Just a few more steps, and he'd be far enough away to take off without making too much noise.
Then—
Snap.
His boot landed right on a dry twig, the sound echoing louder than a gunshot in the dead quiet of the riverbank.
'Son of a bi—'
Before he could finish the thought, something slammed into his face with the force of a goddamn freight train.
His body shot backward instantly, launched across the riverbank like a ragdoll. He barely had time to register the impact before he hit the ground, skipping across the dirt and rocks like a stone on water. His body slammed through the first tree—splinters exploded around him as the trunk shattered. He crashed through the next one just as violently. Then another. And another. Each one slowed him down, but only barely, the force behind the hit sending him careening through the landscape like a goddamn meteor.
Then, he hit the hill.
His body cratered into the earth, a shockwave bursting outward as dirt and debris exploded into the air. The whole hillside shook from the force, sending dust rolling down the slope. He lay there for a moment, vision blurry, pain radiating through his face.
For a split second, he thought about just staying down. Maybe if he pretended to be dead, she'd leave him alone.
'Yeah, no fucking way that'd work.'
Mark groaned, pushing himself up, shaking the dirt from his face. His jaw ached—the hit was harder than anything he'd been hit with in a while.
He spit out a bit of blood, wiping his mouth as he pushed himself to his feet. His eyes flicked toward the riverbank, and sure enough, there she was—floating above the trees, arms crossed, looking down at him like a predator sizing up its prey. Though thankfully—or not—she wasn't naked anymore and had put on her skin tight uniform.
"Well," Anissa said. "That was disappointing."
Mark flexed his fingers, rolling his neck as he stared at Anissa. His body was already thrumming with the adrenaline of battle, his muscles tight, ready to move at a moment's notice. His lip was already bleeding. The hit to his face still lingered, she was definitely stronger than him. Not quite at his father's level, but dangerously close.
Anissa hovered above him, her expression unreadable, but her breathing was heavier than before. She had come here expecting something else. Someone else. She had seen him fight Lucan, seen the brutality in his strikes, the raw fear he had put in her comrade's eyes. That version of Mark had intrigued her, had excited her in ways she refused to admit.
Yet here he was now, and she saw none of that. No merciless aggression. No bloodthirst. Just a man who looked tired, irritated, restrained.
She had not noticed him when she had first landed at the river, washing off the remnants of a village she had dealt with. Had she known he was here, she would have attacked him sooner. The Mark she had seen before would have taken advantage of her state, would have beaten her into the dirt without hesitation. But this one? This one had tried to run.
It made her stomach twist. Why?
She forced herself to push the thoughts away. It didn't matter. Her duty came first. Thragg wanted Mark, and he wanted the child.
She met his eyes, voice even. "Come with me. Lead us to your child, and we need not fight."
Mark laughed. A short, humorless thing filled with pure, unfiltered rage. His eyes burned as he glared up at her.
"Over my dead body."
Anissa's jaw clenched. "Very well."
They exploded toward each other, fists clashing midair with an impact that shattered the ground beneath them. The shockwave ripped through the trees, sending water roaring away from the riverbank. Mark barely had time to react before he was launched backward, flipping midair to avoid a follow-up punch. He barely crossed his arms in time to block Anissa's knee, but the force sent him rocketing through the hill behind him, dirt and stone erupting in his wake.
She's stronger than me. The thought came bitterly as he caught a passing tree, using it to whip himself back toward her. He ripped the tree from its roots and swung it like a baseball bat. It shattered against Anissa's body, but she barely flinched, bursting through the debris and burying a fist into his stomach.
Mark choked, nearly vomiting as pain exploded through his torso. He forced himself to twist midair, narrowly dodging her next strike before retaliating, his fist slamming into her jaw. The impact staggered her, sending her back a few feet.
She wiped the blood from her lip, spat to the side. Then she looked at him, unimpressed.
"Weak."
Before he could react, she was on him again, tackling him through the forest. Trees snapped and collapsed in their wake, dirt carving a deep groove through the ground as they plowed through the landscape. Mark growled, bringing his elbow down into her spine—once, twice, three times. Each strike sent shockwaves rippling through her body, but she refused to let go.
Finally, after the fourth blow, she released him. Mark didn't hesitate—he grabbed her by the head, twisting their positions, and drove her into the earth. His fist came down like a hammer, slamming into her face again and again and again.
Anissa snarled, her leg snapping up, hooking around his arm. Before he could react, she twisted her hips, yanking him off her, planting her foot against his throat, and kicking him away. They both skidded across the ground, but neither stayed down for long.
They rushed at each other again, trading blows at insane speeds. Mark's fists struck hard, his movements sharper, more aggressive. But Anissa was trained. She flowed between attacks, slipping under his punches, deflecting his elbows, countering each move with precision. Mark ducked under a punch, slammed his fist into her ribs, then twisted into an upward elbow that caught her under the chin. The shockwave split the ground beneath them.
Anissa barely hesitated. She snapped her head forward, cracking her skull against his nose, then grabbed him by the collar and drove her knee into his face. Before he could be launched back, she snatched his leg and ripped him forward, slamming her fist into his gut so hard his ribs cracked.
"Why are you holding back?!" she roared, each word punctuated by another devastating blow.
Mark grunted, barely managing to block the next hit.
"Where is the Viltrumite I saw destroy Lucan?!" Anissa shoved him back, her voice filled with rage.
Mark staggered, wiping blood from his mouth.
"Where is the ruthless killer I saw then?!"
She brought her leg up, an axe kick tearing down toward him. The force flattened the trees around them, sending dust and debris into the air.
When the dust settled, Mark was kneeling beneath her, her ankle caught in his hand.
His head slowly lifted. His eyes were cold. Unforgiving.
"Fine." His grip tightened around her leg.
A gravitational pulse exploded from his body. The shockwave ripped Anissa off her feet, hurling her backward.
Before she could process what was happening, she stopped midair.
Then, she was yanked back—hard.
Mark shot toward her at the same time, his arm lashing out like a guillotine.
His forearm slammed into her throat, the impact crushing her windpipe instantly. She spun wildly, gasping as her body struggled to function.
But she was a Viltrumite. She wouldn't let herself be held back by such paltry injuries.
She twisted, barely dodging his next hit, then righted herself.
Her chest heaved. Her throat throbbed. But she didn't care.
A smile crept onto her face.
Finally.
Finally.
There it was.
The real Mark.
She saw it in his eyes now—that same cold viciousness, that same unrelenting fury.
She licked her lips, her blood pumping with something more different than just battle-lust.
"Now that's more like it."
She wiped the blood from her mouth, her breathing uneven but not from exertion—from exhilaration. This was what she wanted. The fire in her veins burned hotter now. The Mark she had seen before, the one who put fear into Lucan, the one who fought like a true Viltrumite, had finally shown himself.
She flexed her fingers, resetting her crushed throat as she floated back up, her smile widening. "There you are."
Mark didn't reply. He was already moving.
She barely had time to react before his fist buried itself into her gut, sending a shockwave that cratered the ground beneath them. She grunted but twisted midair, trying to counter with a backhand, only for Mark to disappear from her sight in an instant. Shit.
Above!
She looked up just in time to see him reappear, hands already raised. His fists hammered down on her shoulders like sledgehammers, sending her rocketing into the dirt below. The ground split apart from the impact, dust and debris shooting skyward in a wide arc.
Mark didn't let up.
He shot downward at full speed, fists glowing with gravitational energy as he slammed into her with a double hammer strike. Anissa screamed as the ground beneath her shattered like glass, sending a shockwave across the entire forest. Trees were uprooted by the sheer force, their trunks snapping like twigs. He had somehow increased his strength, she could feel it in the way her bones creaked.
She coughed up blood, her vision flickering for a moment before she forced her body to respond.
She twisted, driving her elbow into Mark's ribs, but he absorbed the blow, only grunting. Instead, he grabbed her wrist before she could pull back, and in the next instant, he twisted her entire arm behind her back. The sound of bone snapping echoed through the valley as he dislocated her shoulder without hesitation. Her vision caught the sight of a black metallic armour that had sounded the area she had shot her elbow into. She had used almost her full force when delivering that attack, whatever that was it had to be strong.
Anissa roared in pain, but Mark wasn't finished. He pivoted his stance and launched her across the battlefield, her body splintering through a dozen trees before she finally stopped herself midair. Her arm was hanging limply by her side, her entire body screaming in pain.
And yet, she laughed.
She grinned, spitting blood to the side as she reset her arm with a sickening pop.
"That's more like it."
Mark wasn't playing games anymore. He wasn't testing the waters. He was out for blood.
She cracked her neck, rolling her shoulders before dashing forward with renewed fury. Their fists clashed in the air, the shockwaves tearing apart everything in their vicinity. Their movements were blurs of destruction, each strike carrying enough force to shatter mountains.
Mark ducked under a swing and drove his fist into her ribs—only for her to grab his wrist, twist it, and pull him into a brutal knee to the jaw. His head snapped back, but he countered immediately, twisting his entire body midair and slamming his foot into her temple.
Anissa snarled as she flipped with the momentum, righting herself before closing the distance again. Their battle raged, the sky darkening with debris as they exchanged brutal blows.
And for the first time in a long time—Anissa felt alive.
Mark shot forward, his fist drawn back, the air around him distorting from the sheer force of his acceleration. Anissa matched his speed, a grin splitting her face as she twisted her body mid-flight, weaving through the air like she was weightless.
They collided.
Fists slammed into faces. Elbows cracked against ribs. The shockwaves from their blows split the trees below, sending entire sections of the forest into disarray. They moved fast, their bodies blurring as they zipped across the sky, darting in and out of range, each strike carrying the force of a meteor. Mark threw a right hook, aiming to cave her face in, but Anissa bent backward midair, dodging by inches. Instead of pulling back, she let her momentum carry her into a full backward roll, spinning in the air before launching a kick upward. Her foot snapped against Mark's chin, sending him flipping backward.
She didn't stop.
Anissa twisted sideways, her body curving through the air like a serpent. She shot toward him at an angle he didn't expect, her knee burying into his stomach. Mark grunted, his teeth clenched as he fought to stay steady, but Anissa was already moving again, her body twisting around him. Her fist crashed into the side of his skull. Mark reeled, but before he could recover, she slid underneath him, grabbing his collar and whipping him down. He shot toward the ground, a crater erupting as he hit the earth at Mach speeds.
Mark barely had time to process the hit before she was on him again, striking from above, her fists hammering down in quick succession. He twisted, rolling out of the way before launching himself upward, but Anissa matched him, her body spinning in every direction at once, her strikes unpredictable.
"You're so linear, Mark!" she taunted, dodging one of his punches with ease. "You fly like a human!"
Mark snarled, flipping backward, inverting his gravitational pull to launch himself above her. He snapped open his palm, and a blue sphere materialized right in front of her.
The air around it warped, dragging everything in its immediate vicinity toward it.
Anissa's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she spun out of its range, narrowly avoiding being sucked in. She barely had time to react before Mark appeared behind her, his fist glowing red.
The red sphere exploded point-blank against her back.
A detonation erupted, sending her rocketing across the sky, her body flipping uncontrollably as she struggled to correct herself.
Mark was already moving.
He inverted his gravity again, shifting his trajectory in an instant. Anissa recovered just in time to see him above her, his knee already driving down toward her skull. She barely dodged, but Mark twisted midair, adjusting the pull of gravity around her, forcing her into an awkward position.
Before she could react, he planted his boot into her side, sending her hurtling toward the earth.
She caught herself at the last second, flipping just before impact, but Mark was already waiting for her. He snapped his fingers again—another blue sphere appeared, this time directly behind her.
Anissa jerked backward, dragged toward it uncontrollably. She grit her teeth, flipping midair, narrowly avoiding being sucked in again.
Mark was already there.
His fist collided with her cheek.
She saw white.
For a moment, everything blurred, her ears ringing from the sheer force of the hit. But she refused to go down. Her body twisted, using the impact to roll with the punch instead of against it.
She snarled, driving her forehead into Mark's nose again.
His head snapped back, but she didn't let up.
She grabbed him by the collar before driving her knee into his ribs. Mark coughed, blood splattering from his lips, but his body moved before he could think. He twisted the gravitational pull, suddenly dropping Anissa upward, sending her spinning into the sky.
She recovered quickly, but Mark had already thrown another red sphere at her.
It detonated.
The shockwave sent her careening uncontrollably, her entire body burning from the force of the blast. She barely managed to right herself, but Mark was already there, a blue sphere forming behind her.
She gritted her teeth, barely able to dodge as the pull of the sphere yanked at her.
This wasn't going how she expected.
She realized, for the first time, that she might not win this fight.
Breathing heavily, her body covered in bruises, one of her arms broken, Anissa floated midair, wiping blood from her chin.
Mark mirrored her, his own breathing ragged, fists clenched.
For a few long seconds, neither of them spoke.
Then, Anissa exhaled through her nose, a smirk curling at her lips.
"Mark," she said, cracking her neck. "I'll admit—I might've underestimated you."
Mark didn't reply, just wiped the blood from his mouth.
"Let us be honest with each other," she continued. "You can not kill me, and I'm not gonna be able to take you in. We both know that."
Mark's eyes narrowed.
Anissa spread her arms. "If I cannot convince you with my fists than I shall do so with my words.
"Truce?"
(AN: So Mark and Anissa have met and now they're going to have a discussion with each other. What could happen. Who knows? Not even me. I steal all my content from my past self or is it my future self? Idk. Anyway I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Let me know if you want more smut in it. Just kidding the answer is always yes.)
If you like my stuff consider supporting me.
Patreon.com/captainalfie78works