Chapter Text
When Rex gets out of the grimy club bathroom, he searches for you in the crowd, hoping you’re still there. The dancefloor and bar area is swarmed with people, it’s the peak moment of the night. Lights flicker around the walls, bouncing off of dancing bodies. He can feel the bass thumping beneath his feet almost as hard as his heart is racing behind his ribs.
There you are.
He notices you right when the pink light hits your face, the view filling his chest up with warmth. He doesn’t—he can’t—take his eyes off you even for a second, grinning widely with ease and that hopeful naivety of young romance.
Suddenly, you get weak in your knees, catching the bar top last second and it’s like everything around him slows down. The way your eyes go wide; how your lips part, desperately trying to catch a deep breath. Rex picks up pace, storming through the crowd like a tank — separating a kissing couple that doesn't move away, elbowing people left and right, and shamelessly shoving some guy standing by the pillar. But he’s still a few feet away from you — there’s simply too many bodies to swim through.
His heart is hammering wild, but it’s different than before — feeling its beat in his throat like he does when he’s anxious, ringing in his ears almost deafening, mixing with an R&B tune coming from the speakers. He can feel his hands tremble, legs getting weaker, feeling something suffocating he hasn’t felt in a long while.
If he was in his suit, normally that’s when the adrenaline would kick in, giving him the ability to act quickly, precisely and based on muscle memory.
But he’s not. Not fighting aliens, chasing the Mauler Twins or kicking Machine Head’s goons. Instead, he’s glued to the floor, frozen like a statue at a nightclub where he has taken you in hopes of a good time. And now, of all life-threatening situations you two have been in together, it’s the only place he couldn’t keep you safe.
Cold sweats creep up Rex’s neck when he sees some skinny guy in a terrible haircut ogling at you from behind. Then, this motherfucker has the audacity to touch your shoulder, leaning in way too close, all the while you can barely hold up your head.
“Out of my fucking way!” Rex yells, shoving people away. Fury spikes up, finally taking over the paralyzing feeling of panic.
He gets to you and the creep in just a couple more steps and grabs him by the neck, shoving him with brutal force at the barstool. Someone quickly moves away, someone else gasps behind him. Rex grabs the rat face guy by the collar and leans in dangerously close, breathing heavily, eyes wild like an animal.
“Back. The fuck. Off,” he practically growls, making the man . “She’s with me.”
The man doesn’t look Rex in the eyes, only chuckles nervously. “Hey man, chill. I was just helping her—”
But Rex sees the smirk the dude tries to hide. He narrows his eyes, getting even closer to the creep's face.
“Fuck. Off. Before I beat you to pulp,” he spits out slowly, then shoves him away. The skinny guy loses stability and falls to the floor, hitting the bartop with his head on the way down. Someone in the crowd can be heard yelling to get the bouncer, but Rex couldn’t care less about that now.
He swoops you in his strong arms, holding you close tight. Anger starts losing to worry, his breath getting more shallow as he scans your face, hoping to find some life still on the surface of your consciousness. But he sees you can barely keep your eyes open, your gaze unfocused, unresponsive to the flashing lights flickering around.
“Hey, hey. I’m here,” he says urgently, taking your cheek in his hand. “Look at me.”
To his surprise, you do. He sighs in relief, though still filled with worry, his heart working overtime as you try to speak.
“I don— feel… s’good…” You slur your words with effort, head resting heavily on his palm.
“Did you—” He cuts off; he doesn’t even know what to ask. “Talk to me!” He squeezes your arm and shakes you gently. The club lights dance on your skin, highlighting your dazed face, your body rocked by strong shivers. You blink, your eyelids heavy like stones, eyes blank like an untouched canvas, pupils dilated to maximum, taking over your irises.
“This… dude… he talkedto me— before…” You manage, slurring your words heavily and trying your best to maintain eye contact with Rex.
He gapes, face frozen with an analysis running in the background. And when it clicks, he gasps and turns his head around, so fast he was blurry for a moment, searching for the fucker that did this to you. But you go limp in his arms, followed by a subtle sound blast next to his leg.
He inhales sharply—and finally decides to move. Rex lifts you, grunting with effort, and your head drops, flailing against his chest. His arms are strong and secure around your weak body, the sound waves quietly pulsing around you; his legs fast steady as he swarms through the crowd, yelling at people to move.
‘Rex…” you mumble.
He can’t make himself look down at you anymore; he just can’t stand the view of you being so fragile, your body violated by some low-life mouthbreather.
“Stay with me. I’m getting you out.”
Volume around you goes up and down in random spikes, your body rhythmically pulsing with sound blazes. One hits him in the chest, almost sobering him up completely.
He stops for a moment after running up two flights of stairs filled with drunk people, trying to catch his breath, which proves difficult in the humidity of a packed nightclub.
After getting to the main floor, with the exit finally in sight, the bouncer notices you two and steps in your way. Rex barely manages to slow down so as not to bump into the man, almost dropping you at that. He looks up angrily at the muscular guy towering over him.
“Whoah, whoah, whoa.” The bouncer holds his hands out. “Stop right there. What’s—”
“She’s been drugged. Now get the hell out of my way!” Rex shouts with fury, the one that demands respect. His eyes are open wide, lips parted, chest rapidly falling up and down and your head with it.
Normally, he would know better not to scream at someone who has at least two feet over him, but this situation is far from normal.
Not waiting for an answer, Rex swiftly goes around the big guy and kicks the exit door open so hard, it destroys the fringes. He doesn’t look back when he runs outside, the darkness sucking you both in.
The postlamp barely lights the alley between the club and another building, casting long shadows behind Rex holding you bridal style. Or more like a wounded soldier for that matter.
Cool autumn air hits him sharp; it’s like a thousand needles darting his throat when he takes a deep breath, bracing himself to eventually check up on you.
Your eyes are closed, quick shallow breaths warm his chest as your body buzzes, meddling with the soundwaves.
Okay, so. You’re still alive, he got you out safely from the club.
What now?
Hospital, right.
But what would they even do? How would they even treat you, pump your stomach? Besides, one strong, uncontrollable sound blast and you kill half the hospital staff.
Cold sweats creep up Rex’s neck, the evening breeze intensifying the adrenaline shakes that rock both his and your bodies. He knows how to fight, destroy, even kill. But healing? That’s not his strongest suit. He curses himself for being so fucking clueless. You’d have known what to do, of course. But you’re the one in need of being cared for, treated.
Your face is soft, slack when he sets his eyes on you again. It’s almost like you’re asleep, yet weirdly awake at the same time.
FUCK—what do I do now—
If only there was one place in the whole of the United States that could treat superabled humans…
Of fucking course—the GDA. Why hasn’t he thought of this sooner?
But how does he even get you there? With you this unstable right now? It’s thousands of miles away.
I need someone who can fly.
Rex can think of three people who can fly, one of which is your leader—who has no idea you’re even out.
So it’s between Bulletproof and… Mark Grayson.
You take him out of his thoughts, murmuring something against his shirt.
“What?” He whispers, leaning closer to your face. No response from you, only your breath warming his cheek. Rex stiffens, already imagining the worst.
“Open your eyes,” he says your name with worry. “Stay with me. It’s gonna be okay.”
He isn’t sure if he’s calming you or himself. A bit of both at this point.
Rex slungs you over his right shoulder, your body still vibrating with your powers spilling uncontrollably from you.
“Please don’t vomit on me,” he mutters and takes out his phone with his free hand.
Rex scrolls through his contacts list and begrudgingly decides who to call. As if it wasn’t obvious from the very beginning.
His thumb hovers over Mark’s contact. They aren’t exactly friends. He cheated on—lost Eve because of him. So yeah, Invincible owes him. He must come and save you.
Rex sighs deeply and clicks the dial, then immediately starts pacing. A few signals pass, stretching like a string.
“Come on… I really don’t wanna call Bulletproof—” he mumbles, steadying himself when one of your sound blasts almost sweeps him off his feet.
Mark finally picks up after what felt like an eternity, his voice thick with sleep.
“...Rex? What… Do you know, what time—”
“Mark, I fucking need you.” His voice goes up an octave.
“It’s Banter, she…” Rex swallows thick, words struggling to come out. “Her powers are going crazy, we’re at this club, some fucker drugged her—”
“Where?” Mark’s voice is suddenly awake now, concerned. Focused.
“Salt Lake City,” Rex looks up at the neon sign above the entrance. “Place called… Area 52?” He raises a brow, unamused.
You vibrate stronger against his body and he turns his head, flicking his eyes over your face.
“You need to take her to the GDA, to the med bay, I… I can’t help her. It’s my fault. Hurry up.”
“Hold tight. I’ll be there soon.”
And with that, Mark hangs up.
Rex puts his phone away and takes you back into his arms. If it wasn’t for your pulsating body, you would look dead.
“Come on… don’t fucking do this to me…” He takes your face into his hand. “Open your eyes. Please, Ban. Look at me.”
Your eyelids flutter slowly, your gaze looking almost like you’re daydreaming, trying hard to focus on him.
Rex feels a thick lump in his throat, eyes burning in the corners, his chest heavy like an elephant has stepped on it. He gets down to his knees and hugs you closer, holding you tight as your body shakes with more force than before.
Soft whispers of sweet promises spill out of his mouth, hoping to keep you awake, grazing his fingers over your cold cheek. After ten minutes or so of crouching in the back of what turned out to be a sketchy club, Rex finally hears a familiar thump to his left.
Mark’s in his sweats, a blanket in hand, hair ruffled and messy. But his eyes are sharp, like he wasn’t sleeping just minutes ago.
“Hey,” he says softly, flicking his eyes from you to Rex. “It’s just the two of you here?”
“Yeah, man. I wanted to— it was supposed to be—” he can’t bring himself up to explain, especially as it’s not the time, nor the place. “I promise I’ll explain later.”
Mark is staring at you two, trying to work out what’s happening here. The last he must’ve heard you and Rex were on a rough patch—gossip travels at the speed of light in the hero world. Then something shifts in his gaze and he exchanges a knowing look with Rex.
Mark strokes your head, pushing stray strands of hair from your hazed face. He drapes the blanket over you, gently, as if you were his own child.
“Please, just take her to the GDA.” Rex can’t control the trembling in his voice anymore. The adrenaline rush has died down, leaving him with nothing but the empty feeling of helplessness. He looks up at the hero on the verge of tears.
“She’s a hazard to herself.”
He stands up slowly and carefully passes your unconscious body to Mark. He takes you into his arms, looking at you with that gentle puppy gaze. If it wasn’t for the dire scenario, Rex would feel jealous. And maybe he does, as some blunt sharpness stings his heart.
“Don’t drop her,” Rex says quietly, brushing his hand on your arm. You’re ice cold to the touch, skin prickly. He adjusts the blanket, covering you right under your chin.
“Not a chance.” Mark takes you closer, more so to comfort Rex than to have a better grip on you.
“She doesn’t control her powers, so… watch out.”
“I will,” he says confidently, hovering above ground. “I’ll call you when I get there.”
“I fucking owe you, man.”
“Don’t even say that.”
Rex nods once, unable to speak anymore.
Instead, he focuses on Mark flying away with you in his arms. When he’s too far away to see in the night sky, Rex’s eyes drop to his shoes and he kicks a cigarette bud.
What the fuck do I do now?
He should’ve come with you, somehow. Find a way to be there with you, for you. Make sure you’re okay. But for once in his life, he doesn’t want to make it about himself.
Or crash the jet drunk flying.
He catches both sides of his head, almost ripping his hair out, shaking his head violently.
“Fuck!” Rex screams out and kicks the trash cans.
I only left you alone for a few minutes.
He starts stomping on the metal bins, leaving big dents.
I’m the one that took you here.
He starts hitting the wall, grunting heavily with each blow leaving blood smears on the bricks.
I’m the one responsible for this mess.
He stops, fists still clenched hard, nails digging into his palms.
So I’m the one to get it sorted.
His jaw tightens, teeth grinding hard.
I’m a Guardian of the fucking Globe.
He can’t make himself just leave this place without doing something.
I know what the fuck happens now.
He’s not leaving until he finds the fucker who hurt her.
The piece of shit who ruined the one thing that was supposed to show you… he cares.
Rex steps back inside the club through the broken backdoor, face stone-cold.
The crowd is still thick, smoke mingling between the dancing bodies.
He scans the main floor like a predator.
And there—by the same fucking spot—the sucker is laughing with some other girl.
Like nothing happened.
Like he didn’t harass you, violate you, touched you the way he wasn’t allowed to.
Rex knows how to move fast and unnoticed—he’s a trained assassin after all.
He might not be wearing his suit tonight, but his body takes over, leading him on autopilot.
Time to put his abilities into use.