Invincible:Detonate

The second I saw them, I knew I'd overstayed my welcome.

Machine Head didn't do casual visits. If his guys were here, it meant one of two things—either someone owed him money, or someone was about to get introduced to the fine art of back-alley dental work.

Unfortunately, I was sitting at the biggest stack of chips in the room.

The goon in front—big guy, bald, built like a fridge—scanned the table before locking eyes with me.

"You."

Fantastic.

I kept my expression even. "Me?"

He cracked his knuckles. "Boss wants a word."

I glanced at my chips, then at the exit. Not great odds either way.

"Listen, fellas," I said, forcing a casual grin. "I just got here. Pretty sure you got the wrong guy."

Fridge Guy wasn't buying it. He took a step closer. "You been real lucky tonight."

Ah. So that's what this was about.

Machine Head ran half the gambling in this part of town, which meant his guys kept an eye out for anyone winning too much, too fast. The second they smelled something off, they dragged you in for a little… conversation.

I could try to talk my way out, but something told me these guys weren't big on negotiation.

And running? That only worked if you had a head start.

Which left me with one option.

I sighed, shaking my head. "You know, I really wanted to keep things low-key tonight."

Fridge Guy frowned. "What?"

I didn't answer.

Instead, I flicked one of the poker chips into his face as hard as I could.

Boom.

It wasn't a full charge—just a tiny pulse of energy—but it was enough to send him stumbling back, cursing.

The room exploded into chaos.

Someone yelled. A chair scraped back. The dealer dove for cover.

I was already moving.

I grabbed the table's edge and shoved, sending cards, chips, and half-empty drinks flying as I vaulted over it. The second guy—tall, wiry, real mean-looking—lunged for me.

I grabbed a handful of chips, squeezed, and chucked them at his face.

Boom!!!!!!

The tiny concussions threw him off just enough for me to duck under his swing.

I hit the ground in a roll, came up near the door, and booked it.

Behind me, Fridge Guy was still cursing, and Mean Guy was scrambling to his feet. Someone might've pulled a gun.

Didn't matter.

I was already gone.

I hit the alley at full speed, my heart hammering.

Machine Head's goons weren't going to let this slide. I'd just cheated in his casino, blown up his guys, and ran. If I didn't get ahead of this fast, I was going to have way bigger problems than a couple of suits chasing me through the city.

But you know what?

I had cash.

A couple thousand in chips stuffed into my pockets, plus whatever I could pawn off.

And most importantly?

I was still breathing.

I ducked into the shadows, adrenaline still pumping, and forced myself to slow down. Think.

Machine Head wouldn't waste time sending more guys after me. He'd want to know who I was, how I pulled it off.

Which meant I had a small window before things got ugly.

I needed a new identity. A base of operations. A way to control what happened next.

Because if I kept reacting, I was going to get killed.

And I wasn't about to let that happen.

Not in this world.

Not ever.

I slipped into a side street, cutting through the maze of alleys as fast as my legs would carry me. My lungs burned, and my body was still sore from earlier, but I pushed through. I had to.

Machine Head's guys were professionals—they wouldn't run around like headless chickens. They'd spread out, check security footage, talk to their people.

I had maybe an hour before they figured out where I was staying.

Which meant I wasn't staying there anymore.

I needed to disappear. Fast.

I pulled my hoodie up and kept moving. The city at night was alive with noise—cars, distant sirens, the occasional drunk yelling at nothing—but I barely noticed. My brain was running through options, plans, contingencies.

I needed a new base of operations. Somewhere they wouldn't look.

Somewhere I could think.

My first instinct was to find a cheap motel and lay low. But that was too obvious.

The problem was, I had no real connections in this world. No allies, no friends, nobody I could call up and crash with.

So I had to improvise.

I remembered passing an abandoned building a few blocks from my old spot. A half-burnt-out apartment complex, condemned and forgotten.

It wasn't ideal, but it was better than a hotel with security cameras and credit card records.

I doubled back, sticking to side streets and avoiding well-lit areas. A few minutes later, I was there.

The place was a wreck—cracked windows, boarded-up doors, graffiti covering every inch of exposed brick.

Perfect.

I climbed through a broken window, landing softly inside. The air was stale, filled with the scent of dust and mildew, but I didn't care.

I was off the grid.

For now.

I dumped the stolen cash onto the floor, took a deep breath, and focused.

I had money, but that wouldn't be enough. If I wanted to stay ahead of people like Machine Head, I needed more. More power. More control.

I needed to push my abilities further.

I grabbed one of the bolts, I had stashed during my little B&E incendent held it between my fingers, and willed it to explode.

Boom!!

It popped like a firecracker, the energy barely more than a spark.

Not enough.

I grabbed another and tried again, pushing harder.

BOOM!!!!!!!

This time, the force sent me stumbling back. The explosion was sharper, more concentrated.

Better.

I sat down, breathing heavily, and stared at my hands.

I wasn't just Rex. I wasn't just some guy with a second chance at life.

I could be more.

I would be more.

I needed some air

I went to the roof of the old broken down building.

I perched on the edge of the rooftop, breathing in the cool night air. My heart still pounded in my chest, but the panic had started to dull. I wasn't safe, but I was alive. That counted for something.

I checked the street below. Empty. I could hear sirens in the distance, but they were fading. It wasn't just the escape that had me feeling off. It was the unsettling fact that I was already thinking about how to use this to my advantage.

Rex's body was… well, it wasn't bad. It wasn't exactly a super soldier, but the enhanced strength was noticeable. The ability to blow stuff up on command? That was what I could work with.

The whole control the explosions thing was a double-edged sword. The more I experimented, the more I realized how much potential I had. The fact that I could focus on smaller areas of detonation, or just target specific pieces, was progress. I wasn't just throwing out random blasts anymore.

But it wasn't enough. I had to push further. Maybe get some of that ranged detonation I'd been toying with. Internal explosions? That felt more like something I could manage.

I rolled my shoulder, feeling the strain. The fight earlier had taken more out of me than I'd let on, but that was nothing compared to what was coming. The more I figured out, the more I realized I could control. And once I had the control?

I was going to carve out my place in this world.

I crouched low, moving towards the fire escape at the side of the building. A thought flickered across my mind: I could leave this city, find somewhere quiet, somewhere I could really test the limits of these powers. Or maybe—maybe I could use this world's chaos to my benefit.

What would that look like?

I glanced back down to the street. The people were still running, a few looking up, some trying to help others. What was it that they always said in those cheesy action movies? The world doesn't need another hero.

I wasn't a hero. That was clear.

I wanted something more.

I stepped off the roof, landing lightly on the next building.

For the first time in a while, I felt in control.

And that was a dangerous feeling.

A soft chuckle left my mouth as I moved further into the city. I didn't care about the Guardians. Hell, I didn't even care about Invincible.

They had their own fights to deal with. I had mine.

And I had no intention of playing by anyone else's rules.