The morning sun filtered through the windows of Debbie Grayson's temporary apartment at the GDA complex, casting warm rectangles of light across the modest living space.
The scent of fresh coffee and pancakes filled the air as Mark moved about the kitchen with practiced ease, flipping pancakes while simultaneously keeping an eye on the eggs sizzling in another pan.
Lelouch sat at the small dining table, sipping coffee while reading through a digital copy of the latest scientific journals this world had to offer.
His violet eyes scanned the information with rapid efficiency, mentally cataloging differences between this Earth's technological development and the one they had come from.
Mikasa stood by the window, her posture relaxed yet alert as she gazed out at the GDA grounds below. Her red scarf was wrapped loosely around her neck, a habit she maintained across worlds and lives.
"Mom should be up any minute," Mark said, sliding another perfectly golden pancake onto the growing stack. "She's been sleeping better, but the doctors still have her on some mild sedatives."
Lelouch looked up from his reading. "Understandable. The psychological trauma she's experienced would challenge anyone's mental resilience."
"She's strong," Mikasa observed quietly. "Adaptable. She reminds me of you in that way."
Mark smiled at the rare compliment. "Thanks. I get it from her, I think." He paused, his expression growing more serious.
"Look, I know this is weird - having breakfast with my mom from my previous life while you guys are here from our current one.
But it means a lot to me that you're making an effort."
"We're family," Lelouch stated simply, though internally chuckling a bit as it seems to have become a catchphrase of theirs.
The bedroom door opened, and Debbie Grayson emerged, dressed in casual clothes provided by the GDA.
Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail, and though dark circles still lingered beneath her eyes, her smile was genuine as she saw the scene in the kitchen.
"Something smells amazing," she said, approaching Mark and placing a kiss on his cheek. "You didn't have to go to all this trouble."
"It's no trouble," Mark assured her. "Besides, I wanted everyone to have a proper breakfast together."
Debbie turned to Lelouch and Mikasa, her expression warm but slightly uncertain. "Good morning. I hope you both slept well?"
"Very well, thank you, Mrs. Grayson," Lelouch replied with the polite charm that came naturally to him. "The accommodations are quite comfortable."
"Please, call me Debbie," she insisted, taking a seat at the table. "Mrs. Grayson makes me feel old."
"Where's Goku this morning?" Mark asked, bringing the platter of pancakes to the table.
"He mentioned something about exploring the city," Mikasa answered. "He said he wanted to get a feel for this world's energy patterns."
Mark nodded, understanding the unspoken meaning. Goku to them was likely assessing potential threats and establishing a mental map of this universe's power dynamics.
It was what he always did in new situations - quietly observing, learning, preparing.
As they settled around the table and began to eat, Debbie studied the two teenagers with undisguised curiosity. "Mark has told me a little about your life together, but I'd love to hear more. How did you all meet?"
Lelouch and Mikasa exchanged a glance, silently negotiating who would speak. Lelouch took the lead, setting down his coffee cup.
"We met at the Gotham East Side Children's Home," he explained. "One of the less desirable orphanages in the city. I arrived when I was six, shortly after Mikasa. Mark came a few months later."
"The conditions were... challenging," Mikasa added, her tone matter-of-fact rather than seeking sympathy. "Limited resources, overcrowding, staff who viewed us as burdens rather than children."
Debbie's expression softened with compassion. "That must have been difficult for you all."
"It was," Lelouch acknowledged. "But we adapted. Formed our own support system."
"Goku was the one who brought us together," Mark interjected, a note of pride in his voice. "Even though he was just a kid himself, he somehow knew how to take care of people. He'd share his food, stand up to bullies, help with homework."
"He sounds remarkable," Debbie said, her eyes on Mark's face, noting the admiration there. "Especially for someone so young himself."
"He is," Mikasa stated with simple certainty.
"When he turned eighteen and aged out of the system, he could have just left," Mark continued, though he already told her this, he felt it fitting to continue from where they ended.
"That's what most kids do - they get out and never look back. But Goku fought to become our guardian. Worked multiple jobs, took classes, did whatever it took to keep us together."
Debbie nodded, her expression thoughtful. "And you've been a family ever since."
"Yes," Lelouch confirmed. "Not a conventional one, perhaps, but a family nonetheless."
"Family isn't about convention," Debbie said with a soft smile. "It's about who stands by you when you need them most."
The conversation flowed more easily after that, moving from their shared past to individual interests and experiences.
Debbie listened attentively as Lelouch described his passion for chess and strategy games, nodding appreciatively when he mentioned his academic achievements.
"You remind me a bit of Art," she commented. "Nolan - I mean our family friend. He has that same intelligent mind."
"Art Rosenbaum? The superhero suit tailor?" Mark asked, surprised. "I wouldn't have made that connection."
"Not in personality, perhaps," Debbie clarified. "But in how intelligent both are."
When the conversation turned to Mikasa, she spoke briefly about her interest in martial arts and physical training, her responses characteristically concise.
Yet even through her economy of words, Debbie seemed to recognize something in the quiet girl - a depth of character, a protective instinct that resonated with her own maternal nature.
"You've been looking after Mark for a long time, haven't you?" Debbie asked gently.
Mikasa looked up, momentarily surprised by the insight. "We look after each other," she replied after a pause. "All of us."
"But you're especially vigilant," Debbie observed. "I can see it in how you position yourself in the room, how your eyes check the entrances and exits. You're always ready."
Mikasa didn't deny it. "Old habits," she said simply.
"Good habits," Debbie countered with unexpected fierceness. "In a world that can turn dangerous in an instant, being prepared isn't paranoia - it's wisdom."
Something shifted in Mikasa's expression then - a subtle softening, a recognition of kindred spirit. She nodded once, the gesture conveying more than words could have.
As they finished breakfast and began clearing the table, Debbie touched Mark's arm gently. "They're wonderful, Mark. I can see why they mean so much to you."
Mark's eyes brightened with genuine happiness. "They're the best," he agreed. "I don't know what I would have done without them."
"You would have managed," Lelouch stated confidently. "You've always been remarkably resilient."
"A family trait, apparently," Mikasa added, glancing toward Debbie with quiet respect.
Debbie smiled, touched by the observation. "I think I'd like to hear more about your adventures together. If you're willing to share, that is."
And so, as they settled in the living room with fresh coffee, Mark began recounting stories from their shared childhood - the time Lelouch organized an elaborate scheme to expose the orphanage director's embezzlement;
the day Mikasa single-handedly defended them against a group of older bullies; the night Goku snuck them all onto the roof to watch fireworks over Gotham Harbor.
Each story revealed another facet of their unusual family, painting a picture of four individuals who had formed an unbreakable bond through shared hardship and genuine care.
Debbie listened attentively, occasionally asking questions or offering observations.
Her eyes frequently returned to Mark, watching how he lit up when describing their exploits, how naturally he included Lelouch and Mikasa in his narrative, how clearly they had shaped the person he had become in this other life.
"And then there was the time Lelouch challenged the chess champion at Gotham University to a match," Mark was saying, grinning at the memory. "He was fourteen, and this guy was like, twenty-three with all these tournament wins."
"The age difference was irrelevant," Lelouch commented with characteristic confidence. "Chess is about intellect and strategy, not physical maturity."
"He destroyed the guy in twelve moves," Mark continued proudly. "The university newspaper called it 'the most elegant checkmate in collegiate history.'"
"You exaggerate," Lelouch said, though a small smile played at his lips.
"I'm really not," Mark insisted. "They literally printed that."
Debbie laughed, the sound bright and genuine - perhaps the first real laugh since Mark's death and resurrection. "I would have loved to see that," she said.
"You still might," Mark replied. "Lelouch hasn't lost a match since he was seven."
The morning stretched into afternoon, the conversation flowing easily between them.
Debbie shared stories of Mark's childhood in this world, his determination to become a superhero like his father, his friendship with William.
There was an unspoken agreement to avoid direct mentions of Nolan, though his presence hovered at the edges of her narratives like a shadow.
Yet even this tacit acknowledgment of pain couldn't dampen the warm atmosphere that had developed among them.
By mid-afternoon, something remarkable had happened. The initial awkwardness had dissolved entirely, replaced by a comfortable familiarity.
Debbie's questions became more natural, less tentative. Lelouch's responses grew less formal, more genuine.
Even Mikasa contributed more frequently, her usual reserve softening in the face of Debbie's genuine interest and warmth.
"I should probably check in with Cecil," Mark said eventually, glancing at the time. "He wanted to discuss some security protocols for when we eventually go public about what happened."
"Of course," Debbie said, rising from her seat. "Don't let me keep you from your responsibilities."
"We'll accompany you," Lelouch offered, standing as well. "I'd be interested to learn more about this world's security infrastructure."
"Actually," Debbie interjected, a hint of hesitation in her voice, "I was hoping Mikasa might stay and help me with something. If she wouldn't mind, that is."
Mikasa looked surprised but nodded. "I don't mind."
Mark and Lelouch exchanged curious glances but didn't question the request. After they had departed, Debbie turned to Mikasa with a warm smile.
"I hope you don't feel ambushed," she said. "I just thought it might be nice to get to know each other a bit better, one-on-one."
"It's fine," Mikasa assured her, though her posture remained slightly guarded.
Debbie moved to the kitchen, opening a cabinet to reveal several grocery bags. "Cecil had some supplies delivered this morning. I thought we might bake something. Mark mentioned you enjoy cooking."
Mikasa's expression softened slightly. "I do. It's... calming."
"For me too," Debbie agreed. "Especially after everything that's happened. There's something reassuring about creating something tangible, something nourishing."
As they began to unpack ingredients - flour, sugar, butter, chocolate chips - a comfortable silence settled between them.
Debbie occasionally gave instructions or asked questions, but she didn't push for conversation, seeming to understand Mikasa's preference for quiet focus.
They worked side by side, measuring and mixing, their movements gradually synchronizing in the familiar rhythm of kitchen work.
Mikasa's precision complemented Debbie's more intuitive approach, resulting in a smooth collaboration.
"Mark speaks very highly of you," Debbie said eventually, as they waited for the oven to preheat. "He says you've saved his life more times than he can count."
Mikasa's hands stilled momentarily. "We protect each other."
"Yes, he said that too," Debbie replied with a knowing smile. "But he also said you're the most reliable person he's ever known. That if the world was ending, you'd be the one he'd want beside him."
Something flickered in Mikasa's eyes - a complex emotion, quickly contained. "Mark exaggerates."
"I don't think he does," Debbie countered gently. "Not about the people he cares for."
She turned to face Mikasa fully, her expression serious now. "I want to thank you, Mikasa. For being there for my son when I couldn't be. For protecting him, for being his family."
Mikasa seemed momentarily at a loss for words, unused to such direct expressions of gratitude. "He's worth protecting," she said finally, her voice soft but certain.
Debbie's eyes glistened with unshed tears, but her smile remained steady. "Yes, he is. And I'm so grateful he found people who recognize that - who see his worth beyond his powers or his potential."
As they continued their baking, the conversation flowed more naturally.
Mikasa gradually revealed small details about herself - her preference for practical clothing, her morning training routines, her fondness for stargazing on clear nights.
Simple things, ordinary things, yet each disclosure felt significant coming from someone so habitually reserved.
In turn, Debbie shared stories of her own life - her career as a real estate agent, her first meeting with Nolan (carefully framed to focus on the genuine happiness of those early years rather than the betrayal that followed), her pride in watching Mark grow into his own person.
By the time the cookies were cooling on the rack, filling the apartment with the comforting aroma of chocolate and vanilla, something had shifted between them.
Not friendship, precisely - that would take more time - but understanding. Recognition of shared values, shared priorities.
They had both devoted themselves to protecting Mark, in their own ways. And in that devotion, they found common ground.
An older sister and a mother getting to know one another.
----------------------------
Meanwhile, across the vast expanse of space, in the throne room of the Viltrumite homeworld, Grand Regent Thragg stood before the assembled elite of his race.
The damage from his encounter with Goku had been meticulously repaired, all physical evidence of his humiliation erased from the chamber.
Yet the memory remained, burned into his consciousness with perfect clarity. The casual power. The absolute dominance. The existential threat to everything he had worked to preserve.
Before him stood the forty-eight remaining pure Viltrumites - the last survivors of a once-mighty race that had ruled a significant portion of the galaxy.
General Kregg stood at the forefront, his massive frame and scarred visage marking him as one of their greatest warriors.
Beside him, Anissa's striking features remained composed, though her eyes reflected curiosity about this unusual full assembly.
Conquest, one of their most brutal and effective conquerors, stood with arms crossed, impatience radiating from his posture.
"I have summoned you to announce a significant change in our conquest protocols," Thragg began, his deep voice resonating through the chamber.
"Effective immediately, all planetary acquisitions will be conducted with minimal civilian casualties. Non-lethal subjugation is to be prioritized whenever possible."
A murmur of confusion rippled through the assembled warriors.
This directive ran counter to thousands of years of Viltrumite practice - their conquests had always been swift, brutal, and absolute.
Resistance was met with overwhelming force, populations culled to manageable levels, survivors broken to submission through demonstrations of unstoppable power.
"With respect, Grand Regent," Conquest stepped forward, his voice a rumbling growl, "such methods would significantly extend the timeframe of our operations. Fear is our most efficient tool. Without it-"
"Did I ask for your assessment?" Thragg interrupted, his tone deadly quiet.
The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Conquest, for all his fearsome reputation, took an involuntary step back from the cold fury in Thragg's eyes.
"No, Grand Regent," he replied, lowering his gaze.
"This directive is not a suggestion," Thragg continued, addressing the entire assembly. "It is not open for debate or interpretation.
It is the new standard by which all Viltrumite operations will be conducted. Those who cannot adapt will be removed from conquest duties. Permanently."
The threat hung in the air, clear in its implications.
In a species where strength and combat prowess determined status, being "removed from conquest duties" was tantamount to demotion to the lowest ranks - a humiliation few would survive with their pride intact.
"I apologize for my presumption," Conquest said stiffly, the words clearly unfamiliar on his tongue. "I will implement your directives precisely, Grand Regent."
Thragg nodded once, accepting the submission. "You are all dismissed. Return to your assignments with these new parameters in mind. Anissa, remain behind."
The Viltrumites filed out of the throne room, their expressions ranging from confused to concerned.
None dared question the order directly, but the whispered conversations that would follow this meeting were inevitable.
When only Anissa remained, Thragg moved to a viewing platform overlooking the capital city.
The gleaming spires and elegant architecture below stood as testament to Viltrumite achievement - and to what they stood to lose if they failed to navigate this new threat appropriately.
"Nolan is dead," Thragg stated without preamble.
Anissa's composure slipped momentarily, genuine shock registering on her features. "Omni-Man? How is that possible? He was one of our strongest."
"The details are... complicated," Thragg replied, choosing his words carefully. "What matters is that our plans for Earth must be adjusted accordingly."
"Do you wish me to take his place?" Anissa asked, her mind already calculating the strategic implications. "Continue his mission?"
"In a manner of speaking," Thragg turned to face her directly. "I want you to infiltrate Earth, but with a different approach. Your primary objective will be intelligence gathering - and specifically, making contact with a particular individual."
Anissa waited, her expression professionally neutral despite her growing curiosity.
"I want you to seduce the son of a god," Thragg said, his voice perfectly serious.
Anissa blinked, certain she had misheard. "I... beg your pardon, Grand Regent?"
"You heard me correctly," Thragg confirmed. "There is a being on Earth - or connected to it - whose power represents a significant threat to our operations.
This being has children, three to be exact. Apparently he has taken Nolan's son as a ward, but has another as well, Lelouch he is called. He is human, not physically powerful, manageable.
Your mission is to get close to him, gather information, and report back to me directly.
But most importantly I want for you to make him fall in love with you, for the god cares greatly about his children's wants. No, not only that he falls for you, but that you fall for him as well.
Only a true love will be accepted otherwise he may erase you for trying to manipulate his son."
Anissa studied Thragg's face, searching for some explanation for this bizarre directive.
In all her years serving the empire, she had never received such an unusual assignment - nor had she ever seen the Grand Regent display such... caution.
No, she realized with a chill. Not caution.
Fear.
Thragg, the mightiest Viltrumite in existence, the unquestioned leader of their race for centuries, was afraid. The realization was so shocking that she momentarily forgot protocol.
"What exactly are we dealing with?" she asked directly. "What could possibly-"
She stopped herself, suddenly remembering the rumors that had circulated among the palace staff. The throne room, mysteriously damaged and hastily repaired.
Guards speaking in hushed tones about an intruder that no one had seen enter or leave. Thragg's uncharacteristic seclusion for days afterward.
Thragg's expression darkened, but he seemed to recognize the necessity of providing some context for such an unusual mission.
----------------------------
Flashback:
Three days earlier, Thragg had stood in this same throne room, surrounded by the evidence of his humiliation. The cracked floor where his face had been pressed into the stone.
The shattered throne. The lingering energy signature that defied analysis by Viltrumite technology.
With a gesture that would have shocked any who witnessed it, Thragg sealed the chamber and drew a complex symbol on the floor - a pattern that no Viltrumite would recognize, comprised of angles and curves that seemed to hurt the eye if observed too directly.
"Penemue," he spoke the name with distaste. "Your presence is required."
For a moment, nothing happened. Then the air in the center of the room began to distort, twisting and folding in on itself until a figure stood where none had been before.
The demon Penemue bore little resemblance to the fearsome creatures of human mythology.
He appeared as a slender humanoid with pale blue skin, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit that seemed to shift colors depending on the angle of observation.
His eyes, completely black without iris or sclera, gleamed with intelligence and barely contained manic energy.
"Thraggy, my old friend!" Penemue exclaimed, spreading his arms wide as if expecting an embrace. "It's been, what, three centuries? Four? You never call, you never write..."
"Silence," Thragg commanded, his patience already wearing thin. "I did not summon you for pleasantries."
Penemue dropped his arms, affecting a wounded expression. "Always business with you Viltrumites. No appreciation for the social niceties."
He glanced around the damaged throne room, a knowing smile spreading across his features. "Ooh, redecorating? I must say, the 'recently devastated' look is very in this season."
"I require information," Thragg stated flatly, ignoring the demon's antics. "About a being who was here. Recently."
Penemue's demeanor shifted subtly, his manic energy focusing into something sharper, more analytical.
He moved around the room, occasionally pausing to run a long-fingered hand over damaged surfaces or to inhale deeply, as if scenting the air.
"Interesting," he murmured, all pretense of frivolity momentarily abandoned. "Very interesting indeed."
He crouched beside the deepest crack in the floor - the place where Thragg's face had been pressed with such irresistible force - and passed his hand just above the surface.
The air shimmered with a faint purple light, responding to whatever arcane technique the demon was employing.
"Oh my," Penemue straightened, his expression suddenly serious. "Oh my, oh my, oh my."
"Speak plainly," Thragg demanded. "What do you sense?"
Penemue turned to him, genuine surprise evident in his alien features. "You had a visitor, Thraggy. A very special visitor indeed." He tilted his head, studying the Viltrumite with newfound interest. "And you survived. How fascinating."
"What manner of being was it?" Thragg pressed, his patience wearing dangerously thin.
Penemue began pacing, his movements jerky and excited. "The energy signature is... well, it's unmistakable, really. Quite distinctive.
Quite terrifying, if I'm being honest, which I rarely am as a matter of principle." He waved his hands in elaborate gestures as he spoke, trailing faint purple light through the air.
"It's the same presence that made our universe's section of Hell tremble not too long ago," he continued, his voice dropping to something approaching reverence.
"Quite the accomplishment, that is. Hell is its own multiverse, you know. Vast beyond comprehension. For any being to generate enough power to make even a portion of it shudder..."
Thragg felt a chill pass through him at these words.
He had heard Penemue speak of Hell many times over the centuries of their acquaintance - always with a mixture of fear and respect that the demon rarely showed for anything else.
"This being," Thragg said carefully, "it threatened the extinction of our entire race. Was that within its power?"
Penemue laughed - a high, slightly unhinged sound. "Oh, Thraggy. That's like asking if a supernova could toast your breakfast.
Yes, it's within its power. It's so far within its power that the question itself is almost adorable in its naivety."
The demon resumed his examination of the room, occasionally muttering to himself or making strange gestures in the air. "What's most interesting," he said after several minutes,
"is that the energy signature is deliberately visible. Your visitor could have concealed all traces of their presence, yet chose to leave them for you to find. To see. To understand."
Penemue turned to Thragg, his black eyes gleaming. "They wanted you to know what you were dealing with. Wanted you to be afraid."
Thragg's fists clenched at his sides. "I fear nothing."
"Then you're a fool," Penemue replied bluntly. "And I've never taken you for a fool, Thraggy. Arrogant, certainly. Ruthless, absolutely. But not foolish."
The demon approached him, all traces of his usual manic humor gone. "I can show you," he said quietly. "Show you what this being is capable of. What it has done in other times, other places."
Thragg hesitated, suspicion warring with necessity. Penemue was not to be trusted - no demon was - but he was also Thragg's only source of information about this new threat.
"Show me," he commanded finally.
Penemue's hand shot out with surprising speed, pressing against Thragg's forehead.
Normally, such a move would have resulted in the demon's immediate dismemberment - but something in Penemue's expression, some warning in those black eyes, stayed Thragg's instinctive response.
"See," Penemue whispered.
And Thragg saw.
Images flooded his mind, each more terrible than the last. A being with Goku's face but clothed in black, rose-colored energy swirling around him as he hovered above a burning city.
The same figure, hand outstretched, as an entire planet crumbled beneath him. Galaxies of life winking out of existence one by one, their light extinguished by a power that defied comprehension.
And through it all, laughter. The joyous, terrible laughter of a being who viewed the destruction of entire civilizations as nothing more than necessary pruning.
When the visions finally ceased, Thragg found himself on his knees, cold sweat beading on his forehead.
He looked up, intending to demand more information from Penemue - but the demon was gone, vanished as suddenly as he had appeared.
Only a faint echo of his voice remained, whispering in Thragg's mind: "Be careful what gods you challenge, Thraggy. Some of them bite back."
-----------------------------
"Earth harbors a being of... significant power," Thragg told Anissa, returning to the present moment.
"A being who has taken a personal interest in that world. Understanding the nature of that connection is vital to our future operations."
Anissa absorbed this information, her mind already processing implications and approaches. "And you believe seduction is the most effective method of gathering this intelligence?"
"I believe it provides the most natural cover for prolonged close contact," Thragg replied.
"Viltrumites are physically compatible with humans - Nolan proved that much. A romantic entanglement would allow you access to information that might otherwise remain hidden."
Though unspoken Thragg was also saying that it would as well make it so the god would not destroy them in care of his son's feelings.
He turned away, gazing out at the city once more. "This mission is of the highest priority, Anissa. The future of our race may well depend on your success."
Anissa straightened, recognizing the gravity of the assignment despite its unusual nature. "I understand, Grand Regent. I will not fail."
"See that you don't," Thragg said quietly. "For all our sakes."
As Anissa departed to prepare for her mission, Thragg remained at the viewing platform, his thoughts dark with the memory of Goku's casual dominance and Penemue's terrifying visions.
"The son of a god," he murmured to himself, the words carrying a weight that even he, with all his strength, found difficult to bear.
------------------------
(Author note: So... Thragg's terrified.
Now do you think it will work? Thragg's plan that is?
I personally find it quite... bizarre writing Thragg like this. Like I know logically he is quite intelligent, he is Grand Regent after all, being a tyrant focused on power most or not.
Still, though it is cool in my eyes.
Well, Anissa is going to go to earth soon.
Do tell me what you think will happen.
Also Penemue called Goku a god not because he doesn't think Goku is a fallen angel unlike Darkblood, but because he himself considers fallen angels like Lucifer, Gadreel, etc. as gods.
And Thragg himself would never admit losing to anyone but a god.
So yeah, I hope that clarified everything and I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)