New World, New Stakes, New Ways

The penthouse office of Gabriel Moretti gleamed with the trappings of wealth - Italian marble floors, original artwork adorning the walls,

floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of what had once been Chicago's financial district, now one of two such districts in the merged world.

Moretti himself sat behind a desk of polished mahogany, his tailored suit impeccable as he addressed the assembled lieutenants of his criminal organization.

"Let me be absolutely clear," he stated, his voice carrying the calm authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed.

"All high-profile operations are suspended indefinitely. No bank heists, no armored car robberies, no assassinations of public figures. Nothing that might attract superhero attention."

A murmur of discontent rippled through the room. Vincent Caruso, Moretti's distribution chief, leaned forward with a scowl.

"With all due respect, boss, we're looking at a gold mine here. Two versions of every bank, two sets of wealthy marks, two of everything. We should be doubling our operations, not scaling back."

Moretti's expression remained impassive as he studied Caruso. "The merged world presents opportunities, yes. But it also presents unprecedented risks. The heroes are on high alert, coordinating across what used to be dimensional barriers."

"So we be careful," Caruso pressed, his voice taking on an edge of insubordination. "We've always managed to stay under their radar before. What's changed?"

"Everything has changed," Moretti replied, his tone hardening slightly. "Or weren't you paying attention to the global address? To the news about what's coming?"

Caruso scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "That alien invasion bullshit? Could be months, years before anything happens. Meanwhile, we're leaving money on the table."

The room fell silent as Moretti slowly rose from his chair, his movement deliberate, controlled. He nodded almost imperceptibly to two of his security personnel, who immediately moved to flank Caruso.

"Restrain him," Moretti ordered quietly.

Before Caruso could react, the men had grabbed his arms, forcing him to remain seated. Moretti circled his desk unhurriedly, approaching the restrained man with measured steps.

"Are you a fucking cuck, Vincent?" he asked, his voice deceptively soft.

Without waiting for an answer, Moretti slapped Caruso across the face with enough force to snap his head to the side. Blood trickled from the corner of Caruso's mouth as he stared up in shock.

"Did you not listen to a single word in those recent announcements?" Moretti continued, his controlled demeanor giving way to genuine anger. "These Viltrumites aren't just invaders. They're a dying species looking for breeding stock."

He struck Caruso again, harder this time.

"Do you understand what that means? They're coming to take our women. Our wives. Our daughters. To breed them like animals."

Another blow landed, Caruso's head rocking back with the impact.

"Is that what you want, Vincent? Some alien freak to come take your wife? Your sixteen-year-old daughter? To fuck them and breed them right in front of your face while you watch, helpless?"

Moretti gestured, and his men forced Caruso to his feet, only to drive a fist into his stomach that sent him crumpling to the floor. Moretti crouched, grabbing a fistful of Caruso's hair to yank his head up.

"Is that what gets you off? You into that shit?" he hissed, his face inches from Caruso's. "Maybe I should have some guys bring your wife and daughter here right now. Give the boys some relief. Would you like that, Vincent?"

"No," Caruso gasped, blood bubbling on his lips. "Please, boss... not my family. I'm sorry."

Moretti studied him for a moment longer, then released his grip, letting Caruso's head drop to the marble floor. He straightened, adjusting his cuffs before spitting on the prone figure.

"Get him out of here," he ordered. "Get him patched up."

As his men dragged Caruso from the room, Moretti turned to face the remaining lieutenants, all of whom sat in stunned silence.

"Let me be perfectly clear," he said, his voice returning to its previous calm. "Those superpowered heroes are the only ones with a snowball's chance in hell against these Viltrumite bastards.

We will not waste their time with our bullshit. We will not distract them from preparing our defenses."

He returned to his seat, smoothing his tie as he settled back into his chair.

"That said, we're not going out of business. We'll focus on quiet operations - digital theft, insider trading, protection rackets.

Nothing flashy, nothing that bleeds. And meanwhile, we'll be making our own preparations."

He leaned forward, his gaze sweeping across the assembled criminals.

"I've already reached out to contacts in weapons development. We're investing heavily in research that might give us something effective against these aliens. If the heroes fail, we need our own contingencies."

Moretti's expression hardened once more. "Any other objections?"

The room remained silent, every man present having received the message loud and clear.

"Good," Moretti concluded. "Now get out. We have work to do."

-----------------------

The park was relatively quiet given the beautiful weather, most people still adjusting to the new reality of their merged world.

Original Mark had chosen this location carefully - public enough to feel casual, private enough for the conversation ahead.

Beside him walked Nolan, his imposing frame drawing occasional wary glances from passersby who had seen the global address.

Despite the recognition, no one approached - whether out of respect or fear was difficult to determine.

"He should be here any minute," original Mark said, scanning the sky. "I told him to meet us by the fountain."

Nolan nodded, his expression betraying a hint of nervousness that seemed out of place on the normally composed Viltrumite. "How much does he know about... me?"

"I explained the basics," Mark replied. "That you're not the same Nolan who left us. That you chose differently."

"And he still wanted to meet me?"

Mark smiled slightly. "Are you kidding? He's been asking about you non-stop. Oliver's always had this... complicated relationship with the idea of his father.

Meeting a version of you who actually chose to stay and protect Earth? That's a big deal for him."

Before Nolan could respond, a streak of blue and white descended from the sky, landing with practiced precision a few feet away.

The figure straightened, revealing a boy who appeared to be around twelve years old, though his serious expression made him seem older.

Oliver Grayson - half-Viltrumite, half-Thraxan - studied Nolan with open curiosity. His eyes, intelligent and analytical, took in every detail of the man before him.

"You're late," Mark said, though his tone was light.

"Had to help Mom with something," Oliver replied, his eyes remained fixed on Nolan. "So. You're him."

Nolan stepped forward, extending his hand. "I'm Nolan. Not the one you knew, but... yes."

Oliver ignored the hand, continuing his assessment. "You look exactly like him."

"Oliver," Mark began, a note of warning in his voice.

"It's alright," Nolan interrupted, lowering his hand. "He has every right to be cautious."

Oliver's head tilted slightly. "Mark says you're different. That you chose Earth over Viltrum."

"I did," Nolan confirmed. "Because of someone who made me see what I would lose if I didn't."

"The one called Sukuna," Oliver stated. "The one who's missing."

Nolan nodded. "Among other things, he helped me understand that family is more important than empire."

Oliver's expression remained skeptical. "The other you said similar things. Before he left again."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Mark shifted his weight, clearly unsure whether to intervene.

"I can't speak for him," Nolan finally said. "I can only tell you who I am, what I've chosen. And hope that in time, you'll judge me by my own actions, not his."

Oliver considered this, then suddenly asked, "Can you fly faster than Mark?"

The abrupt change in subject caught both men off guard.

"I... yes," Nolan admitted, glancing at Mark. "Though he's getting faster all the time."

"Show me," Oliver demanded. "Race me to the lake and back."

Mark raised an eyebrow. "Oliver, that's not why we-"

"I'd be happy to," Nolan interrupted, a small smile touching his lips. "If that's what you want."

Oliver nodded decisively. "It is."

Without another word, the boy launched himself into the sky, a blur of blue and white against the clouds. After a moment's hesitation, Nolan followed, quickly catching up to the smaller figure.

Mark watched them go, shaking his head with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "Well, that's one way to break the ice," he muttered, before taking off after them.

By the time Mark caught up, Nolan and Oliver were already circling back from the lake, flying side by side.

To his surprise, they appeared to be engaged in conversation, Nolan gesturing as he explained something while Oliver listened intently, absorbing every word with the remarkable learning capacity unique to his Thraxan heritage.

They landed back at the fountain, Oliver's serious expression now replaced with barely contained excitement.

"Mark!" he called out as his brother touched down. "Did you know the atmospheric friction calculations for supersonic flight can be mentally adjusted for varying densities?

Nolan was explaining how to sense the air pressure differences before you hit them!"

"Was he now?" Mark replied, shooting Nolan a curious look.

Nolan shrugged, looking almost embarrassed. "Just some basic flight techniques. Things every Viltrumite learns early on."

"Not every Viltrumite," Oliver corrected. "My father never taught me those things."

The statement hung in the air, weighted with unspoken meaning. Nolan seemed unsure how to respond, clearly wary of overstepping.

"Well," Mark said, breaking the tension, "maybe Nolan could show you some more techniques sometime. If you're interested."

Oliver considered this, studying Nolan with renewed assessment. "You would do that?"

"Of course," Nolan replied without hesitation. "Anytime you want."

A small smile - the first since his arrival - tugged at Oliver's lips. "Tomorrow, then. Same time?"

"I'll be here," Nolan promised.

Oliver nodded, apparently satisfied. "Good. I have to go now. Mom needs help with the new apartment. The other one got destroyed during the merger."

Before either man could respond, Oliver was airborne again, calling back over his shoulder, "Don't be late tomorrow!"

As they watched him disappear into the distance, Nolan let out a long breath. "That went... better than I expected."

"He likes you," Mark observed. "Which is saying something. Oliver doesn't warm up to people easily - another version of dad or not."

"He's remarkable," Nolan said, genuine admiration in his voice. "His flight control at that age, his understanding of the principles involved... he's advanced even by Viltrumite standards."

Mark nodded. "It's his Thraxan side. They only live about nine months normally, so they've evolved this incredible ability to learn instantly.

Oliver got that, plus the Viltrumite longevity. He was a baby just a few months ago, if you can believe it."

"Extraordinary," Nolan murmured. "And he's already grasped complex aerodynamic principles that took me years to master."

"Yeah, that's Oliver," Mark said with a hint of pride. "Too smart for his own good sometimes. He absorbs everything you tell him. It's like he has this perfect memory combined with instant comprehension."

"Do you think..." Nolan hesitated. "Is it inappropriate for me to spend time with him? I don't want to confuse him, or make things more complicated."

Mark considered the question seriously. "I think he needs this," he finally said. "A father figure who actually gives a damn. Who'll teach him things instead of just expecting him to figure it out on his own."

"And you're okay with it?" Nolan asked, uncertainty evident in his voice. "Me stepping into that role?"

"Look," Mark said, turning to face Nolan directly. "This whole situation is weird as hell. You're not my dad, but you're also not... not my dad. And Oliver's got even more reason to be confused about it all."

He ran a hand through his hair, gathering his thoughts. "But I think... I think we could all use a little family right now. Even if it's a weird, dimensionally-challenged family."

Nolan's expression softened. "I'd like that. Very much."

"Then it's settled," Mark declared. "Flying lessons tomorrow. And maybe dinner after? Mom's been asking about you both."

"Your mother wants to see me?" Nolan asked, genuine surprise in his voice.

Mark grinned. "Well, not my mom specifically. The other Debbie - your Debbie. But yeah, she mentioned having us all over. Said something about needing some normalcy in this crazy new world."

"Normalcy," Nolan repeated, a hint of wonder in his voice. "That sounds... perfect."

As they began walking back through the park, Mark found himself studying Nolan's profile. The face was identical to his father's, yet somehow different - less burdened, perhaps, or simply shaped by different choices.

"Can I ask you something?" Mark said suddenly.

"Of course."

"Do you ever think about him? The other Nolan, I mean. Wonder where he is, what he's doing?"

Nolan was silent for a long moment. "All the time," he finally admitted. "He's me, in a very real sense. Made different by circumstance, by timing, by the absence of intervention at a critical moment. But still... me."

"Do you think he regrets it? Leaving Earth? Leaving... us?"

The question hung between them, laden with years of unresolved pain.

"I can't speak for him," Nolan said carefully. "But if he feels anything like I do... then yes. Every day."

Mark nodded, accepting the answer without further comment. They continued walking in companionable silence, two men from different dimensions finding unexpected common ground in their shared connections.

As they reached the park exit, Nolan paused. "Thank you," he said simply.

"For what?"

"For giving me a chance with Oliver. For... allowing me to be part of your family, complicated as it may be."

Mark shrugged, though his expression was serious. "Family's family. Even when it comes from another dimension."

Nolan smiled - a genuine expression that transformed his usually stern features. "I'll see you tomorrow, then. I shouldn't be late for Oliver's lesson."

"No," Mark agreed with a laugh. "You definitely shouldn't."

As Nolan took to the sky, Mark watched him go, reflecting on the strange turns his life had taken.

A merged world, a duplicate father who wasn't quite his father, a half-brother with a complicated relationship to both versions of their shared parent.

None of it made sense by any normal standard. And yet, somehow, it felt right - like pieces of a puzzle finally finding their proper arrangement, even if the picture they formed wasn't what anyone had expected.

With a small smile, Mark launched himself skyward, heading home to prepare for family dinner.

----------------------------

(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all liked this chapter!

I know it's short, and not much happens, but I'm testing things out a bit since I'm unfamiliar with writing Oliver so I'm being cautious for now.

So yeah, do tell me how you found the chapter and I hope to see you all later,

Bye!)