*Beginning of Everything

Mary Grayson was born on Earth-147, daughter of Debbie and Nolan Grayson, a human writer and an alien hero, at least at first glance. From an early age, Mary showed an extreme sense of justice, admiring her father and eagerly awaiting the awakening of her own powers. When they came, at age 17, Nolan finally revealed the truth: he wasn't a protector of Earth, but an agent of the Viltrumite Empire, sent to conquer the planet.

Unlike what he expected, Mary wasn't devastated. She was thrilled. For the first time, the world made sense. It wasn't about saving, it was about winning. Nolan's betrayal of Debbie cut her deeply, but only briefly. Mary saw humanity as fragile and lost. And even though she loved her mother, she began to see her as a reminder of a weaker phase. After confronting a few heroes, killing others, and burning down resistance from the inside out, Mary chose her father's path. But unlike Mark in another reality, she didn't stop. She never looked back. Mary became the champion of Earth's conquest. The perfect Viltrumite.

Debbie survived, but never spoke to her daughter again. And Mary never tried.

*Invincible War – Earth 147

Angstrom Levy, a genius obsessed with the multiverse, planned to save infinite realities using multiversal technology. After being stopped by another Mary, the one from Earth-17, and having his body disfigured, he went insane. His mind fractured. Failure turned to fury. He decided then to destroy Mary-17's life the same way his had been: through pain, and through versions of herself.

Using dimensional portals, he began recruiting dozens of alternate Marys, especially the cruelest, most broken, and loyal to the Empire. Mary-147 was the first. The most violent. The coldest. She didn't need convincing. The promise of war, challenge, and blood was enough. And the chance to prove that the only version worthy of existing... was her.

*Second Day of the Invasion — Chicago, Earth 17

The first day of the war ravaged the East Coast. Mary-147 led the execution of three local heroes and crushed defensive forces with her bare hands. On the second day, she flew over the city of Chicago, still under reconstruction after the chaos of the initial attack.

The sky was thick with smoke and distant screams. Buildings were cracked, streets torn apart. When she landed, the concrete cracked beneath her boots. Silence. The kind that precedes fear. Soldiers backed away. Civilians ran. But one, just one, didn't move. He wasn't a Viltrumite. He wasn't special. But he stood tall. Eyes locked. Fists clenched. Defending what was left. Mary looked at him with a mix of mockery and amusement. He posed no real threat. But there was something about standing firm in front of her. Something almost fun.

She stepped forward, examining him like a rare insect. Then, she arched an eyebrow and let out a crooked smile, the kind that comes before an execution.

"Such a shame to waste a pretty face like that..." she said, sarcasm dripping from every word. "...just to be impaled by the hands of a Viltrumite warrior."