Nolan's POV:
I never thought I'd find myself here.
The thought crossed my mind for perhaps the hundredth time as I watched Thragg - Grand Regent of the Viltrum Empire, the most powerful being in the known universe - furiously mash buttons on a PlayStation controller that looked absurdly small in his massive hands.
"This primitive input device fails to register the precision of my commands," he growled, eyes narrowed at the screen where his character had just been knocked out by mine.
Again.
"That's the fifth controller this week," I observed, trying to keep my tone neutral. No one mentioned the growing pile of fractured plastic and circuitry in the corner of the room. No one dared.
Thragg glared at the offending controller, which emitted an ominous cracking sound as his grip tightened. "The limitations of this simulation are... frustrating. In actual combat, I would have executed at least seventy-three different counter-maneuvers during that exchange."
"That's kind of the point of video games," I explained, not for the first time. "They're simplified versions of reality. That's what makes them fun."
"Fun," Thragg repeated, as if testing an unfamiliar word. "The concept continues to elude me. Efficiency in skill development is logical. Entertainment for its own sake is..." He trailed off, seemingly unable to find a suitable description.
Across the room, Conquest chuckled - a sound that still sent chills down my spine despite our months of forced proximity.
The ancient Viltrumite warrior, once the most feared enforcer in the Empire, sat in an armchair that creaked ominously under his bulk.
"You're overthinking it, as usual," Conquest told Thragg. "Just hit the buttons faster than he does."
Thragg's mustache twitched in what I'd come to recognize as irritation. "The timing mechanisms are inconsistent. The response windows do not align with realistic combat parameters."
"That's why Nolan keeps winning," Conquest said, a rare note of amusement in his gravelly voice. "He's not trying to apply actual combat logic to a children's game."
I winced at that characterization. "Street Fighter isn't exactly for children-"
"Another round," Thragg demanded, cutting me off. The controller in his hand gave another warning creak.
"Actually," I said quickly, glancing at the clock, "Debbie's probably finished making dinner by now. We should probably wrap this up."
The mention of my wife's cooking had the desired effect. Thragg's expression shifted from frustrated concentration to something approaching interest. "Your mate's culinary skills are... adequate."
From Thragg, this was practically effusive praise. In the months since Earth's integration into the Viltrum Empire, my family had somehow found itself in the bizarre position of regular social contact with the Grand Regent himself.
What had begun as formal meetings to discuss Earth's governance had gradually evolved into something resembling... well, not friendship exactly.
More like a peculiar form of familial connection that defied conventional description.
"Debbie will be pleased you think so," I replied diplomatically, setting my controller down. "She's making lasagna tonight."
"The layered protein and carbohydrate dish," Thragg noted with approval. "An efficient delivery system for multiple nutrient groups."
I suppressed a smile. Thragg's clinical descriptions of everyday human activities never ceased to amuse me, though I was careful never to show it.
The Grand Regent might be different since coming to Earth - more measured, less openly tyrannical - but he was still the most dangerous being I'd ever encountered.
Conquest rose from his armchair, stretching his massive frame. "I'll have to pass on dinner. Duty calls in the European sector."
"The insurgent situation?" Thragg inquired.
"Nothing I can't handle," Conquest replied, a familiar bloodthirsty gleam in his eye.
"Minimal casualties," Thragg reminded him, his tone leaving no room for argument. "The resistance group is to be contained and assessed, not eliminated."
Conquest's expression flickered with what might have been disappointment, but he nodded. "As you command, Grand Regent."
I watched this exchange with carefully concealed interest. The change in Conquest over these past months had been subtle but unmistakable.
The infamous "mad dog" of the Viltrum Empire seemed... less mad. More focused. Still terrifying, still capable of unspeakable violence, but somehow more contained.
The regular meetings with Thragg - ostensibly for strategic planning but increasingly resembling something closer to mentorship - had given the ancient warrior a stability I wouldn't have thought possible.
As Conquest departed, launching himself through the specialized exit hatch designed for Viltrumite flight speeds, I turned back to Thragg. "Shall we head to the house?"
Thragg nodded, setting down the cracked controller with deliberate care that didn't quite prevent another piece of plastic from falling off. "We should collect Eve first."
I nodded, unsurprised by the suggestion. Eve's presence at these family dinners had become a fixture, always arriving with Thragg in what had become an unmistakable pattern.
The Grand Regent's interest in Mark's relationship with Eve was about as subtle as a supernova, though his attempts at facilitating their connection were couched in terms of "tactical synergy" and "optimal genetic compatibility."
What had surprised me more was the relationship that had developed between Thragg and Eve herself.
Something almost... paternal.
Thragg's interest in Eve's family situation, particularly her strained relationship with her father, had evolved from clinical assessment to something resembling protective concern.
Not that I'd ever comment on it. I enjoy living, thank you very much.
"She's at the research facility today," I said as we exited the recreation room of Thragg's mountain fortress. "Testing new applications of her molecular manipulation."
"Her progress has been significant," Thragg observed as we walked through the gleaming corridors. "The precision of her control has increased by 47% since initial assessment."
"She's always been impressive," I agreed. "Even before your training programs."
Thragg gave me a sidelong glance. "Your son has chosen well, despite his reluctance to formalize their pair bond."
I had to stifle a laugh at his phrasing. "They're young, even by human standards. And Mark is... cautious about relationships, especially with everything that's happened."
"Inefficient," Thragg declared. "Their compatibility is evident. Prolonged courtship rituals serve no purpose when optimal pairing has been identified."
"Humans don't really work that way," I explained, not for the first time. "Emotional connection takes time to develop properly."
"A cultural limitation," Thragg dismissed, though without the contempt such a statement would have carried months ago. "Such connection can develop after they've gotten together for they as I stated before are already optimal."
We reached the launch bay, where Thragg's personal transport awaited.
Though he could fly faster than the vessel, he had taken to using it for transport within Earth's atmosphere - a concession to human sensibilities regarding sonic booms and the panic that tended to ensue when he streaked across the sky at speed.
As we boarded, I found myself reflecting on how much had changed.
Six months ago, I had been preparing to eliminate the Guardians of the Globe as the first step toward Earth's conquest.
Now I was heading to a family dinner with the Grand Regent himself, who had somehow become a regular guest at our table.
The universe had a strange sense of humor.
The flight to the research facility took mere minutes.
Located in what had once been a remote military installation, the complex now housed some of Earth's brightest scientific minds working alongside Viltrumite specialists to advance human technology.
Eve spent several days each week there, exploring the limits of her molecular manipulation abilities under controlled conditions.
As we landed, I noticed Thragg straightening his already perfect posture, adjusting his cape with uncharacteristic attention to its appearance.
Another small change I'd observed - he seemed to place more importance on formality when collecting Eve for these gatherings.
We found her in one of the main laboratories, surrounded by scientists taking measurements as she transformed raw materials into complex structures with mere gestures.
Her pink energy flowed like liquid light, reshaping matter at the molecular level with increasingly precise control.
"Grand Regent," one of the scientists acknowledged as we entered, the entire room immediately standing at attention. "Agent Grayson. We weren't expecting you."
"At ease," Thragg commanded. "We are here for Samantha Wilkins."
Eve looked up, her concentration breaking as the pink energy dissipated. "Thragg! Nolan! Is it dinner time already?" She glanced at a clock on the wall. "Oh wow, I completely lost track of time."
"Your focus on your work is commendable," Thragg stated. "However, nutritional intake should not be neglected."
Eve smiled, a reaction few humans managed in Thragg's presence. "Right. Wouldn't want to be inefficient."
I caught the slight teasing in her tone, something that would have earned anyone else a withering glare at minimum.
From Thragg, there was merely a slight inclination of his head, almost as if acknowledging an inside joke.
"Your progress today?" he inquired as Eve gathered her belongings.
"Pretty good," she replied. "I managed to reduce energy expenditure by about 15% while maintaining structural integrity in complex transmutations.
Dr. Sharma thinks we might be able to apply the technique to large-scale environmental restoration projects."
"Acceptable progress," Thragg nodded, which from him was high praise indeed. "The applications for planetary resource management are significant."
As we headed back to the transport, I observed the easy rapport between them with carefully concealed interest.
Eve showed none of the tension most humans exhibited around Thragg, and he, in turn, demonstrated a patience with her questions and observations that he rarely extended to others.
"How's my dad?" Eve asked as we boarded, her tone deliberately casual.
Thragg's expression hardened slightly. "Your biological father's status is unchanged. He continues to avoid communication attempts."
I winced internally.
Eve's father had been among the more vocal critics of the Viltrumite integration, despite - or perhaps because of—the personal benefits his daughter had received from the new regime.
His rejection of Eve's role in working with Viltrumite authorities had driven an even deeper wedge in their already strained relationship.
Thragg himself though subtle about it, had attempted to... help Eve's relationship with him, well, needless to say much, it nearly ended in disaster.
The Grand Regent thankfully had enough self control to not rip his heart out and make him eat it.
"Yeah, well, his loss," Eve said with forced lightness that didn't quite mask the hurt underneath.
"His perspective is flawed," Thragg stated firmly. "Your contributions to Earth's advancement are significant. His failure to recognize your value demonstrates his limited understanding."
Eve's smile this time was genuine, if small. "Thanks, Thragg."
The exchange still sent a chill down my spine, not because of any threat but because of its implications.
Thragg, the destroyer of worlds, the being who had ordered the execution of entire civilizations, was offering emotional support to a young human woman whose father had disappointed her.
And doing so with what appeared to be genuine concern.
It was moments like these that made me question everything I thought I knew about our species in general and Thragg in particular.
The Grand Regent I had known for centuries had been cold, calculating, ruthlessly efficient - not cruel for cruelty's sake, but utterly without sentiment or compassion.
This Thragg was... different. Still calculating, still efficient, still capable of terrible violence when he deemed it necessary.
But there were moments - brief, easily missed if you weren't looking for them - where something else showed through. Something almost human.
The transport lifted off, heading toward our suburban home.
As we flew, Eve filled the silence with updates on her research projects and questions about the video game session, which Thragg answered with surprising detail despite his evident frustration with the experience.
"You really broke five controllers?" Eve asked, amusement dancing in her eyes.
"The input devices are inadequately constructed for Viltrumite physiology," Thragg replied stiffly.
"He kept trying to execute moves that aren't in the game," I explained. "Apparently button mashing isn't an acceptable combat strategy for the Grand Regent."
"The simulation's limitations are arbitrary and illogical," Thragg insisted. "In actual combat, I would have executed a precision strike to the opponent's neural cluster, not this... 'hadouken' maneuver."
Eve laughed outright at that, the sound filling the transport cabin. "You know, there are games with more realistic combat mechanics. Maybe we should try those next time."
"Perhaps," Thragg allowed, though his tone suggested skepticism.
As we approached our neighborhood, I felt the familiar tension that always accompanied Thragg's visits.
Despite months of integration, the sight of the Grand Regent walking down a suburban street still caused neighbors to retreat behind closed doors and draw curtains.
Our family's close association with the ruler of Earth had made us something of a curiosity - and occasionally a target for both adulation and resentment.
We landed a block away from the house, as had become our custom to minimize disruption. As we walked the rest of the way, I noticed Thragg scanning the surroundings with his usual vigilance.
"The security perimeter is functioning optimally," he noted, referring to the advanced Viltrumite technology that now protected our home - a necessary precaution given our high-profile status.
"Good to know," I replied, though the constant surveillance was something I'd never quite gotten used to. Another compromise in our new reality.
As we approached the house, the front door opened to reveal Debbie, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. Her smile was genuine if still tinged with the wariness that never quite left her when Thragg was present.
"Right on time," she called. "Dinner's just about ready."
"Mrs. Grayson," Thragg acknowledged with a formal nod. "Your hospitality is appreciated."
"Debbie, please," my wife corrected, as she did every time. "We've been doing this for months now."
"Debbie," Thragg conceded, the informality seeming almost uncomfortable for him despite the repetition.
Inside, Mark was setting the table, looking up as we entered. "Hey, Dad. Eve." His eyes moved to Thragg, his expression carefully neutral. "Grand Regent."
"Mark," Thragg returned the greeting. "Your combat training has been progressing adequately?"
"Yes, sir," Mark replied, the formality automatic now. "General Kregg says my aerial maneuverability has improved by 23% since last assessment."
"Acceptable," Thragg nodded. "Though your reaction time in multi-vector attacks remains suboptimal."
"We're working on it," Mark assured him, with just a hint of the frustration he normally kept carefully hidden.
I watched the interaction with mixed feelings.
Mark's relationship with Thragg remained the most complex of all of ours.
As a half-Viltrumite with extraordinary potential, Mark received special attention from the Grand Regent - training sessions, strategic instruction, even historical education about Viltrumite culture.
The attention was both an honor and a burden, one that Mark shouldered with remarkable maturity for his age.
"Eve!" Debbie exclaimed, breaking the moment of tension. "How's the research going? Any breakthroughs?"
As Eve launched into an enthusiastic explanation of her latest projects, I helped Mark finish setting the table.
The domestic normalcy of the scene contrasted sharply with the presence of the being who had once been - still is - the most feared entity in the universe,
now standing somewhat awkwardly in our living room, listening to two human women striking conversation.
"Dinner's ready," Debbie announced after a few minutes. "Everyone, please sit down."
We took our places at the table - a specially reinforced one that had been a gift from Thragg after the third time our regular furniture had collapsed under Viltrumite strength -
Mark having had the most trouble since Thragg was constantly training him to be stronger.
The Grand Regent sat at what had become his customary position opposite me, with Eve to his right and Mark to his left. Debbie sat at the other end of the table, serving the lasagna.
"This smells delicious, Mrs. - Debbie," Thragg corrected himself mid-sentence.
"Thank you," Debbie replied, passing him a plate sized for Viltrumite appetites. "I added extra layers this time. You seemed to enjoy it last week."
"Your attention to detail is commendable," Thragg acknowledged, examining the layered pasta with what might have been appreciation.
Conversation flowed more easily once we began eating. Mark discussed his recent training sessions, Eve elaborated on her research, and Debbie shared updates on her community projects.
Thragg, for his part, listened more than he spoke, occasionally asking clarifying questions or offering observations.
To an outside observer, it might have almost appeared normal - a family dinner with a particularly formal guest.
"The integration of medical technology in rural areas has exceeded projections," Thragg noted at one point. "Your coordination of the volunteer medical corps has been efficient, Debbie."
My wife blinked in surprise at the direct compliment. "Thank you. The volunteers have been amazing. And having access to Viltrumite healing technology has transformed what we can accomplish."
"Human adaptability continues to impress," Thragg acknowledged. "The speed with which your species incorporates new methodologies is... unexpected."
"We're pretty good at rolling with the punches," Mark commented.
Thragg's brow furrowed slightly. "An idiom referring to resilience in the face of adversity. Appropriate."
I caught Debbie's eye across the table, sharing a moment of silent amusement at Thragg's literal interpretation.
These moments of almost-normalcy had become more frequent as the months passed, though they never quite erased the underlying reality of our situation.
"So," Debbie said, changing the subject, "what game were you playing today? Eve mentioned something about Street Fighter?"
"A primitive combat simulation," Thragg confirmed, a hint of frustration returning to his voice. "With arbitrary limitations that bear little resemblance to actual combat dynamics."
"He's just mad because I beat him seven times in a row," I added, unable to resist.
Thragg's eyes narrowed slightly. "The interface is poorly designed for beings of superior strength and reflexes. The commands are unnecessarily complex for basic maneuvers."
"That's kind of the point," Mark explained. "It's about timing and memorizing move combinations, not actual fighting skill."
"An inefficient method of entertainment," Thragg declared. "Though..." he paused, seeming to consider his words carefully, "I understand its value as a social bonding activity among humans."
The admission, small as it was, caught me by surprise. Another example of how Thragg had been... evolving since his arrival on Earth.
His interest in human activities had initially been purely strategic - understanding the species under his rule.
But lately, there seemed to be something more to it, something almost like genuine curiosity.
"Maybe we should try a different type of game next time," Debbie suggested diplomatically. "Something strategic rather than reflex-based."
"Perhaps," Thragg allowed. "Though I find the concept of 'games' fundamentally puzzling. Simulated challenges with no practical application seem an inefficient use of time."
"Not everything has to be efficient," Eve pointed out. "Sometimes fun is its own reward."
"A human perspective," Thragg noted, though without the dismissal such a statement would have carried months ago.
As dinner continued, I found myself observing the dynamics around the table with again (this is most definitely not ending soon, this is too absurd a situation ) a sense of surreal detachment.
My son, discussing combat techniques with the being who, if circumstances were different, if Mark didn't listen to me and fought against me, might have been his greatest enemy.
My wife, serving seconds to the ruler of the empire that had conquered her planet.
Eve, debating the merits of recreational activities with a being who had once ordered the destruction of entire civilizations.
And me, Nolan Grayson, once Omni-Man, agent of Viltrum, now... what? Liaison? Advisor? Something between subject and confidant to the most powerful being in the known universe.
The meal concluded with Debbie bringing out dessert - a chocolate cake that had become one of Thragg's favorites, though he would never admit to having preferences for something as trivial as taste.
"The combination of cacao, sugar, and dairy proteins is... satisfactory," he commented as Debbie served him a slice.
"High praise from the Grand Regent," I translated for Debbie's benefit, earning a slight twitch of Thragg's mustache that might have been annoyance.
As we ate dessert, the conversation turned to upcoming events - a global summit on Viltrumite-Human integration policies, a new phase of the technological transfer initiative, Mark's training schedule for the coming week.
"Eve will join you for the high-atmosphere maneuver training," Thragg informed Mark. "Her molecular manipulation abilities like always will provide optimal conditions for practicing multi-vector evasion techniques."
Mark and Eve exchanged glances that contained a wealth of unspoken communication. Neither objected to the arrangement - they had long since accepted the pattern of Thragg's not-so-subtle matchmaking attempts.
"I've been working on some new shield configurations that might help," Eve offered. "They should provide more realistic combat scenarios."
"Acceptable," Thragg nodded. "Your initiative demonstrates appropriate commitment to improvement."
I caught the slight softening in his tone when addressing Eve - another of those small tells that I'd learned to recognize over the months.
Whatever Thragg's grand strategic plans might be, his interest in Eve's development seemed to extend beyond mere utility.
After dessert, as had become our custom, we moved to the living room.
These post-dinner conversations had evolved into something of a strategic briefing session, where Thragg would update us on developments across the Empire and solicit opinions on Earth-specific matters.
"The breeding program continues to exceed projections," Thragg reported as we settled into our seats. "The genetic compatibility between Viltrumites and humans has proven even more advantageous than initially calculated."
I noticed Debbie's slight discomfort at the topic - the breeding program remained one of the more controversial aspects of the integration, despite the strictly voluntary nature of participation and the extensive benefits provided to human partners.
"The medical benefits have been significant as well," I pointed out, steering the conversation toward less sensitive ground. "The cancer eradication initiative is ahead of schedule in most regions."
"Yes," Thragg agreed. "Human medical researchers have adapted Viltrumite techniques with unexpected efficiency. Director Stedman reports a 78% reduction in terminal disease rates globally."
"Cecil's been surprisingly cooperative lately," Mark observed. "Considering how opposed he was to the integration initially."
"Director Stedman is pragmatic," Thragg stated. "He recognizes beneficial outcomes regardless of ideological preferences."
Eventually, as the evening grew late, Thragg rose from his seat. "The meeting has been productive. The meal was... satisfactory."
"You're welcome," Debbie replied with a small smile, long since accustomed to Thragg's formal manner of expressing gratitude.
"Eve, you will return with me to the research facility," Thragg stated. "There are matters regarding tomorrow's experiments that require discussion."
Eve nodded, gathering her things. "Thanks for dinner, Debbie. It was delicious as always."
As they prepared to leave, I noticed Mark watching Eve with an expression that contained equal parts affection and frustration - the look of someone who wanted to say something but couldn't find the right words or moment.
Thragg, surprisingly, noticed it too. "Mark Grayson, you will accompany us to the research facility. Your input on your atmospheric training parameters would be... valuable."
Mark blinked in surprise at the transparent excuse, but nodded. "Sure. Let me grab my jacket."
As the three of them departed - Thragg in the lead, Mark and Eve following slightly behind, already deep in conversation - I found myself standing beside Debbie in the doorway, watching them go.
"This is still the strangest thing," Debbie murmured, leaning against me. "The Grand Regent of Viltrum, having dinner at our table, playing matchmaker for our son."
"Life takes unexpected turns," I agreed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
"He's different than you described," she continued. "From before, I mean. When you first told me about him, after... everything. He seemed more..."
"Tyrannical?" I suggested. "Ruthless? Coldly logical to the point of being almost mechanical?"
"Yes," Debbie nodded. "All of that. But now he's almost..."
"Human?" I finished for her.
"I was going to say 'tolerable,'" she corrected with a small smile. "But yes, there's something more human about him than I expected. Especially with Eve."
I nodded, having observed the same phenomenon. "It's like he's protective of her. Almost paternal, in his own Thragg-like way."
"A papa bear protecting his cub," Debbie suggested, then immediately glanced around as if worried Thragg might have somehow heard her. "Not that I'd ever say that to his face."
"I too like living too much to make that comparison out loud," I agreed with a chuckle.
As we watched the three figures rise into the night sky - Thragg's cape billowing dramatically, Mark and Eve flying close beside him - I found myself contemplating the strange new world we inhabited.
Earth under Viltrumite rule was not what I had expected when I first arrived on this planet decades ago.
It was not the brutal conquest I had been trained to facilitate, nor was it the resistance I had later come to fear.
It was something new, something unprecedented in Viltrumite history - a genuine integration, with benefits flowing in both directions in a peaceful manner.
And at the center of it all was Thragg, the Grand Regent whose methods and motivations seemed to be evolving in ways I never would have predicted.
The being who had once been the embodiment of Viltrumite ruthlessness now sat at our dinner table, played video games (however poorly), and took a personal interest in my son's relationship prospects.
The universe truly seemed to have an endless capacity to surprise.
As the flying figures disappeared into the distance, Debbie and I turned back into our home, closing the door on another surreal evening in our new normal.
"Next time," Debbie said thoughtfully as we began clearing the table, "we should try board games instead. Maybe something strategic, like chess."
I couldn't help but laugh at the image of Thragg hunched over a chessboard, his massive fingers delicately moving tiny pieces. "I'm not sure we have a set strong enough to withstand his grip when he loses."
"We'll reinforce one," Debbie decided with a smile. "After all, we've gotten pretty good at adapting."
Indeed we had. And somehow, against all odds, so had Thragg.
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(Author note: Well, this is the final slice of life chapter before action starts. I can't promise that the action will be continious, though I can promise that the next chapter will have it.
Well, do tell me how you found this chapter, Thragg though having been human in his first life, understanding what humans do and why, still because of his Viltrumite habits,
having lived with the Viltrumite ideology of efficiancy for thousands of years, still has trouble getting back into that human state.
Do tell me how you found the Eve and Thragg almost father-daughter type relationship.
Hilariously, Roberta could possibly be in the future mistaken as Eve's mother, because she looks like an older her, and since there are so many long lived people,
well, it could all be called "graceful aging" for those who don't know.
So yeah, I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)