Chapter 236: Skrull Arc (4)
"Next," Aryan commanded. The revelations continued to grow more alarming.
A military officer appeared, clad in the sharp white uniform of the Royal Navy, decorated with multiple medals and high-ranking insignia.
"Commodore Robert Fairbanks," JARVIS identified. "Royal Navy. He commands the Vanguard-class submarine fleet that carries the United Kingdom's nuclear deterrent."
"They have the ultimate trigger," Namor said, his voice a low growl of menace. "They can start a global nuclear war whenever they want. They can unleash Armageddon at their discretion."
"They are waiting," Tony clarified quietly but firmly. "They have the weapons, the financial resources, media control, and the highest levels of government. Yet, they have not attacked. They are observing and expanding. Essentially, they are farming us for information and resources."
"There is one final target," Aryan said. He pointed at the last file, still face-down in the holographic display, its contents kept hidden until now.
Tony hesitated. He looked at the other Council members, then back at Aryan. "This last one is particularly sensitive. It carries significant personal implications. Specifically, for Nick Fury."
He gestured, and the final file flipped open.
The image revealed a striking African-American woman with kind eyes, a warm smile, and an aura of quiet strength.
"Priscilla Fury," JARVIS announced. "The wife of Nick Fury."
"Fury's wife?" Wanda echoed, her voice a mix of shock and profound sadness.
"Her real name is Varra," Tony explained, providing the alien name. "She is a Skrull. She has been on Earth for decades, possibly since the 1990s. She married Nick Fury and has lived by his side for years."
"Does Fury know about this?" T'Challa asked, staring at Varra's image. The question exposed a deep vulnerability.
"Unknown," Tony admitted. "Fury is one of the most paranoid men on the planet. If even he has been deceived this long, if he truly does not know, then it highlights the depth of the Skrull infiltration. Conversely, if he does know, if he has been aware of Varra's true nature all along, then he is compromised beyond measure. He has allowed an alien presence into the highest levels of global security."
"Or," Aryan interjected, cutting through the tension, "he could be manipulating her. He might be using her as a tool, feeding her information without ever trusting her. Fury plays complex games."
The room fell back into heavy silence. The revelation of Varra felt particularly unsettling. It suggested the Skrulls had penetrated the personal lives of some of Earth's most guarded figures. It implied there was no real safe space, no unbreached sanctum.
"One million," Aryan repeated, his gaze fixed on the now-empty space where the holographic map had been. The number hung in the air, a ghostly presence.
He stood up from the table and walked to the transparent aluminum wall, looking out at the dazzling lights of Geneva.
"They are refugees," Aryan said, his voice steady. "Their home world, Skrullos, was destroyed by the Kree Empire. They came to Earth seeking a new home and perhaps a fresh start. But they chose a path of covert domination. They decided to infiltrate and control rather than integrate or ask for help."
He turned back to the Council, his eyes scanning each member.
"New Skrullos, the colony in Russia, is a sovereign nation that remains undeclared," Aryan stated. "The United Kingdom acts as a puppet state, its government completely compromised. NATO, the most powerful military alliance, is neutralized."
"What is the plan, Aryan?" Namor asked, his voice low with primal intensity. He seemed ready to unleash Talokan's might on London.
Aryan looked at the empty center of the table and the faces of his Council.
"We do not start open warfare," Aryan asserted, his voice firm. "Open warfare would devastate our infrastructure, create global panic, and reveal our full capabilities to the wider galaxy before we are ready."
He met Deven Ray's gaze.
"We are the Illuminati," Aryan declared. "We work in the shadows with precision. Our objective is clear: we will remove the entire Skrull population from Earth."
"How do we do that?" Tony asked, his eagerness returning. "There are over a million of them. Their network is worldwide."
"We prepare our forces," Aryan explained the main strategy, his gaze unwavering. "We will make sure that everyone involved in this operation, from field operatives to command staff, is thoroughly vetted and entirely human. Our plan is to capture every possible Skrull, from their high-value infiltrators in positions of power to the hidden population in New Skrullos."
He pointed to the ghostly images of the high-value targets.
"Lawton, Caspani, Ross, Hyuk-Bin, Stearns, Fairbanks," Aryan listed, ticking them off with cold precision. "These individuals, along with every other Skrull detected, will be secured."
"And Varra?" T'Challa asked, his previous ethical concerns now pushed aside by the massive scale of the threat. "Priscilla Fury?"
"Varra will be secured along with all other identified Skrulls," Aryan stated, his voice calm and firm. "No exceptions will be made. Every single Skrull on Earth will be captured."
Tony turned off the holographic displays. The glowing red dots vanished, leaving behind the polished black obsidian surface of the table. The room returned to its usual state.
"We have the intelligence," Aryan said, his voice steady. "Now, we prepare for action. This meeting is adjourned. Begin operational planning immediately."
The next morning, Aryan sat in his executive office high above New York City. The sprawling city lay beneath him, bathed in the golden light of the rising sun. He held a simple ceramic cup, steam rising from his coffee, and gazed out at the iconic skyline. Somewhere down there, millions of people were waking up, starting their day and heading to work, unaware that their Prime Minister was a shapeshifting alien. They had no idea that an irradiated nuclear plant in Russia now concealed a hidden alien city.
They did not need to know. Not yet.
Aryan took a slow sip of his coffee. The taste was rich and complex.
"Red Queen," he thought, his mental voice calm.
"Yes, Aryan?" Her voice echoed in his mind, a constant reassuring presence. "How may I assist your thoughts?"
"Archive the complete data on the Skrull population and their infiltration," Aryan ordered silently. "Encrypt it with security beyond all known Earth protocols. Only the Illuminati Council can have direct access."
"Understood. I have also flagged three potential political targets in the United States Senate. Their Morphic Resonance signatures are faint, suggesting very recent replacements, perhaps within the last forty-eight hours."
"Monitor those individuals," Aryan thought. "We will not strike these new targets yet. We let them settle into their roles. This will provide deeper insight into their operational structure."
"Understood. New monitoring protocols established for all identified US Senate targets. Regarding the primary infiltration... the United Kingdom?"
"The United Kingdom is a critical vulnerability," Aryan admitted, still gazing at the distant horizon. "We will need to address London soon. But not today. We won't rush."
He set the coffee cup down on his polished desk, making a barely noticeable sound.
"Today, I have a date with Wanda."
Indeed, Red Queen teased, a hint of playful amusement in her mental voice. Enjoy your outing, Aryan.
Aryan allowed himself a small smile.
Chapter 237: Skrull Arc (5)
The month of planning was detailed. It involved silence, careful data analysis, and strategic coordination.
The Sentinel Complex was the central hub. The Illuminati Council met daily, focusing on the specific details of the upcoming operation. They continuously refined the target list, monitoring the global movements of over one million Skrulls.
Aryan sat at the head of the obsidian table, relaxed but exuding authority. The atmosphere in the room was clinical, without unnecessary emotion.
"We have confirmed the locations," Tony said, his voice calm and steady. "We have identified every target. The immediate question is how to remove them."
Namor studied the holographic map of New Skrullos, where red dots clustered within the Russian exclusion zone. "A flood would be efficient," he suggested, his voice deep. "The radiation suggests they are tough, but even Skrull physiology needs oxygen. They can't breathe water."
"We are not executioners," Aryan said firmly, leaving no room for disagreement. "We are guardians of this planet. Genocide is not, and will never be, the goal of this Council. Our purpose is preservation, not extermination."
"Then we must imprison them," T'Challa suggested, looking thoughtful. "However, a physical prison for over one million shapeshifters is impossible logistically. Their ability to change forms would lead to guards being infiltrated, constant breaches, and inevitable escapes."
"Then we transfer them directly to the Phantom Zone," Aryan proposed, cutting straight to the solution.
Namor frowned, clearly rejecting the flood suggestion. "That will be a logistical nightmare, Aryan. Transporting a million individuals, even sedated, poses immense challenges. Besides, the Phantom Zone requires the Six-Key Protocol for activation, which we all share. Coordinating that across multiple teams for a mass transfer would be incredibly complex."
"The logistical challenges are significant, but manageable," Aryan replied, steady in his gaze. "The Phantom Zone requires the Six-Key Protocol for access. I have already secured temporary digital keys from Sefirah Castle. These highly encrypted tokens are configured for a six-hour operational window, after which they will dissolve and become permanently inactive. I will issue four unique keys to the EDF High Generals overseeing the global sweep and two to the ERO Commanders leading the assault on New Skrullos. This allows for simultaneous activation and prisoner transfer at multiple points worldwide. Once that six-hour window closes, the gates will lock indefinitely, accessible only by the permanent Illuminati Council protocol."
"The immediate capture is critical," Tony interjected, steering the conversation toward tactics. "Considering the number and distribution, from New Skrullos's dense urban area to a major global city like London, we can't afford any panic or even localized alarm. Our methods must be discreet."
"A strong sedative," T'Challa suggested. "Wakandan chimera-gas. It is a potent neuro-agent, designed to target the nervous system directly instead of the respiratory system. This avoids standard biological filters. We have created a version specifically for Skrull physiology, using the tissue sample Tony provided. It quickly induces a coma without lasting damage."
"So, we neutralize them non-lethally," Deven Ray summarized. "We package them and transfer them into the Zone. The world wakes up, and the Skrulls are simply... gone."
"The Earth Defense Force will manage the global targets," Aryan ordered, outlining the command structure. "The EDF is trained for covert urban extraction. They will secure the politicians, bankers, media figures, and military personnel identified as Skrull impostors. Their focus is on secrecy and non-lethality."
"And the colony in Russia?" Namor asked, eyeing the dense cluster of red dots.
"The ERO," Tony replied. "The Enhanced Response Operators. New Skrullos is essentially a fortress, protected by radiation and alien technology. We need our Super Soldiers for that scale of operation. They will set up an unnoticed perimeter to ensure containment and prevent any escape."
Aryan nodded, making his decision. "Set the date. This operation must leave no trace."
The Night of the Operation
The chosen date was a new moon night. The sky above Earth was completely dark, reflecting the covert nature of the impending operation.
The time was precisely 03:00 Greenwich Mean Time.
Synchronization was perfect. Around the world, thousands of EDF and ERO tactical teams moved into their assigned positions, an invisible force.
Phase One: Global Extraction
A natural fog rolled in from the Thames, enveloping London in a swirling white shroud. It was an unexpected environmental factor, but it provided an advantage for the deep-cover operation.
EDF Alpha Team was positioned on the rooftop of a nondescript building next to Number 10 Downing Street. They donned advanced stealth armor, blending perfectly into the night. Their faces were hidden by HUD helmets, showing real-time tactical data. All communication was through encrypted neural links, ensuring no radio noise.
"Target One," the Team Leader signaled silently via his neural interface. "Prime Minister's residence. Priority extraction."
The street below was empty, illuminated only by distant lampposts. The lone police officer on guard at Downing Street was human and oblivious. He did not notice the team descending silently on motorized rappel lines, their descent nearly frictionless. They landed softly and soundlessly in the secluded courtyard behind the historic building.
They quickly deployed the specialized chimera-gas, injecting it with precision through the ventilation ducts of the Prime Minister's residence. The Wakandan-engineered chimera-gas was completely invisible, odorless, and tasteless.
In the opulent master bedroom, the Prime Minister, the Skrull X'lar, was in a deep slumber. The undetectable gas filled the air, causing her breathing to grow deeper and slower as her neural functions gradually slowed into a medically induced coma.
The EDF team breached the reinforced window. A specialized glass cutter, using focused sonic vibrations, separated the pane from its frame almost silently.
Two operatives entered the room, their movements fluid and precise. They quickly confirmed the Prime Minister's vital signs.
"Target sedated, vitals stable," one operative signaled via neural link.
They carefully placed X'lar into a containment bag made from a unique polymer that inhibited cellular shifting, preventing any shape alteration. They zipped it securely and efficiently carried the inert form out through the breached window.
Above the courtyard, a stealth VTOL aircraft hovered, its Stark repulsor engines silent, displacing no air. They hoisted the bag containing the Skrull Prime Minister smoothly into the aircraft.
The entire operation, from insertion to extraction, took precisely four minutes.
————-
At the naval base in Faslane, Scotland, the fog was denser, clinging to the massive grey submarines.
Commodore Robert Fairbanks, the Skrull Z'ark, was in his cramped, highly secure quarters on the HMS Vanguard, a Trident-class nuclear submarine. The vessel was docked for maintenance, its systems temporarily offline.
EDF Bravo Team, composed of highly trained frogmen, surfaced from the frigid waters of the harbor, nearly invisible in the fog and darkness. They expertly climbed the barnacle-encrusted hull of the submarine, making no sound.
They bypassed the airlock security, a complex system of pressure plates and biometric scanners, using a custom-built Stark decryption algorithm that disabled the digital locks silently. The heavy steel hatch opened inward with a soft hissing sound.
They moved through the submarine's winding corridors. The human crew was deep in their bunks, fast asleep. The EDF operatives glided past like ghosts, creating no disturbance, strictly adhering to the non-contact protocol.
They reached the Captain's quarters.
An operative slid a thin fiber-optic cable under the heavy steel door. The tiny camera transmitted an image to his HUD: Z'ark, still in human form, was awake, reading a tactical report in dim light.
"Breach and clear," the Team Leader signaled.
The door blew inward with a controlled charge, producing a noise barely louder than a clap of hands, designed to dissipate sound instantly.
Z'ark, startled, stood up. His skin began to ripple, revealing a greenish hue. He opened his mouth, preparing to shout a warning or a defiant cry.
Before he could speak, an operative fired a dart gun. The dart, carrying a concentrated dose of the modified chimera-agent, hit Z'ark in the neck.
His shout died silently. His eyes rolled back, and his skin rippled stopped. He collapsed immediately.
The operatives caught him before he hit the floor. They quickly confirmed his identity with a handheld biometric scanner.
"Keyholder secured," the Team Leader reported via neural link. "Nuclear codes confirmed safe."
They swiftly carried the unconscious Z'ark out, retreating through the submarine with the same stealth as their entry.
Chapter 238: Skrull Arc (6)
Washington D.C. was quiet under the dawn sky. Though it was late evening in the US, the operation ran on Greenwich Mean Time, making it the darkest hours.
An EDF covert unit approached a suburban house, blending seamlessly with its surroundings, a symbol of domestic peace.
"Target: Priscilla Fury," the Team Leader whispered within the neural link. "Codename: Varra. Nick Fury's wife."
They confirmed that Nick Fury was not present; he was in a deep-cover safe house in Europe, completely unaware. But his Skrull wife was here.
The team efficiently disabled the perimeter alarm. They skillfully looped the security camera feed, replacing it with a recording of an empty house.
They entered through the back door, their movements silent. They wore specialized, soft-soled boots that eliminated all sound, making them truly ghost-like.
They moved upstairs, each step measured and precise.
They entered the master bedroom. Varra was sleeping peacefully, a book resting on her chest and reading glasses beside her. She appeared entirely human and innocent.
The operative assigned to the capture approached the bed, looking down at Varra. He felt a brief flicker of something in his eyes—a momentary hesitation. This was the wife of the world's most dangerous spy, and her absence would surely trigger a global manhunt.
He pushed down the fleeting emotion. The order was clear.
He carefully placed a specialized gas mask over her face. Varra took one involuntary breath, then another. Her body completely relaxed, sinking into a chemically induced slumber.
"Target secure," he transmitted.
They gently wrapped her in a containment sheet identical to the one used for the Prime Minister. They carried her downstairs, their movements so careful that not a single piece of furniture moved, and no neighbor's sleep was interrupted.
They loaded her into a unmarked van waiting quietly in a nearby alley. The van, equipped with stealth technology, vanished into the pre-dawn darkness without a trace.
————
Around the world, in many locations, these scenes of quiet action repeated.
In Seoul, billionaire Jack Hyuk-Bin was taken from his penthouse suite. In Brussels, NATO Secretary General Sergio Caspani was removed from his heavily guarded hotel room. In New York, news anchor Chris Stearns was extracted from his high-rise apartment.
Hundreds of EDF tactical teams, working in perfect coordination, struck at the same time against senators, financial executives, intelligence operatives, and senior military personnel.
Every target on the Illuminati's high-value list was neutralized, secured, and rendered harmless.
The captured Skrulls were then brought to pre-designated EDF collection points. These were plain warehouses or underground bunkers, located throughout major cities to be discreet and easily defensible.
Inside these secure areas, the EDF High Generals awaited their arrival, holding their temporary digital keys.
General Anya Sharma, a stern and efficient leader, stood in the London facility. She held a tactical tablet in her hand. On the screen, a complex digital key pulsed softly, displaying a fractal code of great complexity.
"Activate Phantom Zone Projector," Sharma ordered.
Technicians immediately complied, turning on the portable Phantom Zone Projector. It stood in the center of the warehouse, a metallic ring about two meters in diameter, humming with contained energy.
The ring vibrated. The space within the ring distorted, shifting into a ethereal grey vortex, a window to another dimension.
"Commence prisoner transfer," Sharma commanded.
EDF operatives, moving with practiced discipline, stepped forward with containment bags. They marched in an orderly line.
One by one, they lifted the bags and threw them into the vortex.
The bags vanished. They did not move to the other side of the room. They simply ceased to exist in this dimension, instantly transported to the waiting void of the Phantom Zone.
"Next," Sharma ordered, her voice expressionless.
In Seoul, Washington, Brussels, and countless other cities, temporary gates to the Phantom Zone were open. The silent harvest was nearly complete, with the captives moved to their new prison.
Phase Two: The Silent Siege of New Skrullos
While urban centers were being carefully cleansed, the main operation unfolded in the barren heart of Russia.
Chernava-2, the abandoned nuclear power plant, created a stark scene of crumbling concrete, rusted metal, and skeletal cooling towers that rose like grim tombstones against the starless sky. The Geiger counters on the ERO's advanced armored suits clicked constantly, reminding them of the lethal radiation in the area.
But the EDF were not alone. They were providing logistical support.
The ERO, Enhanced Response Operators, were the front line. They were the elite of Earth's Super Soldiers.
Five hundred ERO soldiers had stealthily surrounded the entire exclusion zone. Each was a pinnacle of human enhancement, possessing strength, speed, and senses far beyond normal human limits. They wore lead-lined powered armor that resisted radiation, equipped with built-in filtration systems, and capable of operating autonomously for long periods.
Once the perimeter was sealed, they formed an unbreakable noose around the vast complex.
"Perimeter sealed and secured," reported the ERO Commander. His voice echoed through the night.
"Deploy the Somnambulist agent," ordered General Vladimir Volkov, the EDF General overseeing the operation from a command center located five miles from the exclusion zone.
"Somnambulist" was the code name for the heavy duty mass dispersion variant of the chimera-sleeping agent, designed for large-scale saturation.
A fleet of fifty heavy-lift drones, made for maximum payload and silent operation, rose from the tree line near the nuclear plant. They flew quietly over the decaying structures, positioning themselves above the massive cooling towers and the ventilation shafts that led into the vast underground city.
"Payload drop initiated," came the command.
The drones released their cargo. Hundreds of canisters fell silently into the darkness below.
They detonated in the air with a silent burst, creating a thick fog. The heavy gas descended slowly into the facility. It seeped into every vent, every crack, every broken window, moving relentlessly through the desolate streets of the Skrull colony.
Inside New Skrullos, the colony's alarm system began to wail, a delayed and useless warning.
A Skrull guard on the outer perimeter saw the white mist approaching and raised his energy rifle. He opened his mouth to shout a warning to his comrades. The gas enveloped him instantly. He collapsed before he could utter a sound.
Chapter 239: Skrull Arc (7)
Deep underground, within the vast network of bunkers and tunnels, four hundred thousand Skrull families were sleeping. The Somnambulist agent, forced into their ventilation systems, filled every room, every living space.
Mothers, fathers, children. Warriors, scientists, civilians. None of them awakened. They simply slipped further into an unavoidable sleep.
In the central command center, a team of Skrull warriors rushed to activate emergency seals on their doors. It was too late. The gas was made to penetrate even their supposedly airtight seals. They collapsed over their consoles, their efforts ending abruptly.
Ten minutes after the payload dropped, the entire city of four hundred thousand souls, hidden for decades, fell into total silence.
"Bio-scans confirm mass unconsciousness across Sector 4," the ERO Commander stated calmly. "Moving in for extraction."
The ERO advanced. They moved with terrifying speed and efficiency. They leaped over fallen fences and razor wire. They tore through reinforced steel doors with their armored hands, bending metal like it was cardboard.
They entered the colony.
It was a city of sleeping bodies. They lay everywhere: sprawled in the streets, resting in makeshift beds, slumped over control panels, caught mid-task.
"Secure the population," the ERO Commander ordered.
From the surrounding perimeter, thousands of EDF logistics trucks, modified for radiation protection and mass transport, moved into the exclusion zone.
The ERO soldiers began the labor-intensive task of heavy lifting. Each Super Soldier could pick up multiple Skrull bodies at once, their movements smooth and tireless.
They carried them systematically to the central plaza of the abandoned plant.
In the center of the large concrete plaza, a massive Phantom Zone Projector had been set up. It measured ten meters in diameter, a silent ring that sparked with contained energy.
The ERO Commander, holding his temporary digital key, authorized the activation sequence.
The vortex opened. This time, it was a giant window into the swirling grey fog, large enough to take in hundreds of bodies at once.
"Commence transfer," the Commander ordered.
It became an industrial process. The ERO and EDF operatives loaded the unconscious prisoners onto automated skids and conveyor belts. The skids rolled smoothly directly into the swirling vortex.
Hundreds of bodies per minute.
The process lacked malice or violence. It was simply the methodical removal of an entire population.
The hours passed. 03:00 GMT turned into 04:00, then 05:00.
The large pile of sleeping Skrulls in the plaza's center steadily shrank. The underground city, once full of life, slowly emptied.
The ERO conducted thorough searches of all bunkers, tunnels, and reactor areas. They used advanced thermal imaging to find any stragglers, any individuals who might have hidden away. They found a few, children clutching toys under beds, desperate warriors trying to seal themselves in forgotten rooms.
Everyone was taken. No one was left behind.
By 05:45 GMT, the first signs of dawn began to show on the eastern horizon.
The plaza was completely empty. The streets of New Skrullos were deserted. The abandoned nuclear plant was once more a ghost town, its silence now absolute.
"Final bio-scan complete," the ERO Commander reported via neural link. "Sector 4 is clear. Zero biological signatures detected within the exclusion zone."
"Close the Gate," General Volkov ordered from the command center.
The ERO Commander swiped his finger across the glowing digital key on his tablet. The huge vortex trembled violently. It collapsed in on itself with a burst of silent static electricity. The large metal ring of the projector went dark.
At the same time, the temporary key dissolved into the grey dust. Its authorization was lost forever.
The Aftermath
At 06:00 GMT, the world began to stir, slowly waking to a new day.
In London, the sun rose, casting long shadows across Westminster. The morning police shift arrived at Number 10 Downing Street. They found the Prime Minister's bed neatly made but empty. There was no sign of a struggle or forced entry. It appeared she had simply risen early and left without a trace.
In Washington D.C., the morning milkman drove his route past the quiet Fury residence. It was completely silent, outwardly unremarkable.
In the Atlantic, the HMS Vanguard sat still in its dock in Faslane. The crew awoke and began their duties. They searched for Commodore Fairbanks. He was gone, his quarters empty, his personal belongings untouched.
In the barren heart of Russia, the wind whistled mournfully through the empty cooling towers of Chernava-2. The lingering radiation was the only remnant of its decades-long secret.
The Earth Federation headquarters in Geneva received the final signal.
"Operation Clean Sweep complete," the message read. "All targets secured. Casualty count: Zero."
—————
The sun rose slowly above the jagged peaks around Geneva. Its first hesitant rays reflected off the polished surfaces of the Sentinel Complex, giving the glass and steel structure a golden glow. Inside the circular conference room, the Illuminati Council gathered once again. The air felt different, heavy with the lingering scent of ozone from the night before. A calm had settled in, replacing the frantic tension that had gripped them just hours earlier. Outside, the world began to wake, unaware of the silent transformation it had experienced.
Aryan Spencer sat at the head of the obsidian table. He maintained perfect posture, exuding an almost unnatural stillness. He wore an elegant suit that was understated yet sharp. His expression was unreadable, a calm mask hiding the monumental events he had orchestrated.
To his right, Wanda Maximoff sat with quiet intensity, her earlier anxiety replaced by focused anticipation.
Tony Stark, to Aryan's left, showed signs of a long night but an undercurrent of satisfaction ran beneath his fatigue.
T'Challa sat regally, watching the proceedings with his usual piercing gaze, while Namor appeared less bored than usual, a hint of respect visible on his face.
Deven Ray, the Chancellor, radiated calm confidence, ready to address a world that was unknowingly on the edge.
"Report," Aryan commanded, his voice soft but resonating with authority.
Tony Stark pushed himself upright and projected a summary onto the polished black obsidian table. The holographic display flickered to life, displaying a series of carefully compiled data points. "Operation Clean Sweep is 100% complete," Tony announced, his voice firm. "Every target marked by the satellite scan has been secured. We have apprehended everyone from the highest-profile infiltrators to the most remote Skrull operatives. Phantom Zone containment is confirmed stable at all entry points."
"The prisoners?" Aryan asked, his gaze fixed on the shimmering data.
"Transferred," Tony confirmed, a hint of accomplishment in his tone. "Over one million individuals are currently waking up in the replicated city we established in the Zone. Initial reports of atmospheric and environmental stability within the dimension are optimal. Supplies for that many people are confirmed to be more than sufficient for the foreseeable future."
T'Challa leaned forward, his expression changing to one of profound revelation. "We found something else," he began, his voice low, compelling everyone's attention. "In the deepest basements of several captured urban locations, and within the bunkers of New Skrullos, our ERO teams discovered something disturbing."
He tapped the table, and the holographic display shifted. Images appeared: rows of high-tech stasis pods, faintly glowing like coffins. Inside each pod, suspended in a translucent amber fluid, was a human being. Their eyes were shut, their bodies unnaturally still. They looked fragile and vulnerable.
Chapter 240: Skrull Arc (8)
"The originals," Wanda whispered, her voice barely audible, empathy flowing through her. The sight of so many lives held in silent captivity was a chilling testament to the Skrulls' invasion plan.
"Yes," Tony confirmed, his expression grim. "The Skrulls, in their careful planning, did not kill every human they replaced. Many of those with complex memories or those needing constant updates for their covers were kept alive. They were held in chemically induced comas inside these stasis pods. Their neural pathways were linked, allowing the Skrulls to harvest recent memories, ensuring their impersonations remained flawless. It helped them maintain their cover, functioning as a living database of human experience."
"What is the current status of these hostages?" Aryan asked, focusing on the humanitarian aspect.
"Alive," Deven Ray stated, taking over the report. "But severely weakened. Prolonged stasis, even if medically managed, results in muscle atrophy and severe malnutrition. We have started emergency protocols. They are now in dedicated EDF medical facilities around the world. They are receiving continuous intravenous nutrition, undergoing gentle physical therapy, and beginning psychological debriefing. They are profoundly confused and disoriented, but medically stable. They will recover with time and care."
"Not all of them, though," Tony added, his voice serious. He swiped the display to show a second list, notably shorter, listing hundreds of names. "Some stasis pods were empty, their life support systems drained and inactive. Others contained only human remains. If a target was deemed no longer useful, or if they showed any sign of resistance before the neural link could be established, the Skrulls killed them. We have confirmed three hundred and seven casualties among the original human population." The number, though relatively small compared to the million Skrulls, hung heavily in the air.
"The world is already reacting," Namor said, his impatience with medical details now shifting to a more urgent alarm. "London woke up this morning to find its Prime Minister's residence empty. NATO has no Secretary General. Financial markets in Seoul and Brussels are already shaky, reacting to the sudden disappearances of key figures. The scale of these absences is too large to hide."
"Panic is indeed spreading," Deven Ray agreed, his expression thoughtful. "The global internet is already flooded with wild rumors: mass kidnappings, a coordinated assassination ring, even theories of a 'celestial rapture.' We have reached a crucial point. Keeping absolute silence isn't an option anymore."
Aryan looked directly at Deven, his gaze unwavering. "It is time for the Leader to speak," he said firmly. "We control the narrative. We will provide answers. But we will provide our answers."
"How much truth do we reveal?" Deven asked, seeking clarity.
"The truth, mostly," Aryan clarified. "We reveal the existence of the Skrulls. We explain their invasion. We clarify the disappearances as rescues. But," he emphasized, "we will carefully protect our methods. We won't mention the ERO's enhanced capabilities or specific details about the satellite network's detection technology. We'll attribute the initial intelligence to 'fragments of encrypted data left by the former SHIELD organization.' It is a believable lie, drawing on established history."
"And what about the ultimate solution for the Skrulls?" Deven asked.
"The Phantom Zone," Aryan replied simply. "The public already knows it as a secure confinement facility. It is trusted. It offers a humane solution without bloodshed."
Aryan nodded, signaling the end of their strategy discussion. The next step was public.
The Broadcast
At exactly 10:00 AM Greenwich Mean Time, an extraordinary global event occurred. Every screen on Earth, billions of television sets, streaming devices, digital billboards, even individual tablets and phones, changed abruptly. The content they had been displaying vanished, replaced by a single image: the official seal of the Earth Federation, a stylized globe cradled by two interlocking armored wings, depicted in bold blue and silver. An anticipatory silence enveloped the world.
Then, the image shifted.
Chancellor Deven Ray sat at a carefully arranged desk in a spacious office in the Sentinel Complex. Behind him, a panoramic window offered a view of the majestic Swiss Alps, adding an air of authority and competence. He wore a perfectly tailored suit, sitting tall and exuding calm and sincerity. His expression was serious yet reassuring, carefully balanced to project both the weight of the moment and the strength of his leadership.
"Citizens of Earth," Deven Ray began, his voice deep and clear, carrying across the globe without any static. "Last night, the Earth Federation, in close cooperation with the Illuminati Council, conducted the largest and most complex security operation in human history."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle into the minds of millions.
"For decades," Deven continued, his gaze steady, "unbeknownst to most of our population, we have not been alone on this planet. We have been observed. We have been infiltrated. We have been mimicked."
The screen split. To the left of Deven Ray, a carefully edited video feed began to play. It showed EDF soldiers in standard tactical gear moving with disciplined precision through the crumbling concrete structures of Chernava-2. The footage displayed them breaching heavily rusted doors leading into shadowy underground bunkers. The cameras scanned rows of alien-designed technology, strange consoles, and unfamiliar structures, all suggesting a hidden civilization. The video highlighted the soldiers' methodical efforts, their reliance on teamwork and standard equipment, while carefully omitting any sign of the ERO's superhuman speed or strength.
"These images are from a recently uncovered site deep within the Russian Federation," Deven explained, his voice calm yet urgent. "Until last night, this was a hidden city, a clandestine colony, occupied by an alien species we call the Skrulls."
As he spoke, the video feed changed. A clear image of a Skrull in its natural reptilian humanoid form appeared. Its large pointed ears and ridged chin were visible, providing a direct glimpse of the alien in our world.
"The Skrulls," Deven said, his voice filled with controlled revelation, "are legendary shapeshifters. They can physically duplicate any biological form they encounter. They used this ability to hide among us, to live undetected, and to replace us."
The footage changed again, showing the chilling stasis pods discovered by the EDF teams. Screen filled with the inert forms of humans suspended in amber fluid. Then, EDF medics in protective gear were seen carefully extracting these frail figures from captivity. The rescued humans were thin and pale, their limbs weak from disuse, but undeniably alive.
"The widespread disappearances gripping the news today, the inexplicable absences causing alarm," Deven proclaimed, his voice rising with a sense of rescue, "are not mostly due to death or abduction without hope. They are the result of a coordinated rescue operation."
He looked directly at the camera, his gaze intense and sincere. "To truly understand why this happened, why such a deception could occur on our planet, we must go back to 1989."
A timeline graphic appeared beside him, displaying "1989."
"In that year, a human pilot named Carol Danvers," Deven recounted, shifting to a historical tone, "an extraordinary woman, gained unprecedented abilities following a cosmic accident. She was kidnapped by the Kree, and pulled into their war against another species."
"She returned to Earth in 1995," he continued, the graphic showing her return, "initially thinking she was a Kree warrior on a mission to hunt what she believed were dangerous Skrull invaders seeking refuge on our world."
"But she discovered an important truth," Deven said, his voice carrying bittersweet irony. "She learned she was not Kree. She was an Earthling. The Skrulls she pursued were not conquerors at that time but victims fleeing a genocide by the Kree Empire."
Chapter 241: Skrull Arc (9)
"Carol Danvers, choosing compassion over conflict, chose to help them," Deven stated, his voice softening, a hint of human empathy entering his carefully modulated tone. "She bravely defeated the Kree forces present on Earth, putting an end to the immediate threat. But her mission was far from over. Before she departed our solar system, embarking on a selfless quest to find the desperate Skrull people a truly habitable home somewhere in the vast galaxy, she gave them a solemn command, a powerful promise that became their anchor in a universe that had otherwise abandoned them."
Deven's voice dropped, becoming almost a whisper, conveying the profound weight of that moment. "She told them: 'Hide. Wait. Remain concealed on Earth until I can find a safe haven for you, a world where you can finally be free. I will return for you.' It was a promise of sanctuary, of hope, a lifeline offered by a hero. And the Skrulls, displaced, war torn, and utterly desperate, believed her."
The timeline graphic then displayed a large question mark stretching from 1996 to 2011, symbolizing the expanse of unknown time.
"Years turned into decades," Deven narrated, painting a picture of prolonged abandonment. "The Skrulls waited. They remained in their hidden places, holding on to Carol Danvers' promise. But silence over such a long time breeds resentment. Desperation, when unaddressed, can radicalize even the most peaceful intentions. They felt abandoned. They looked at our world, green and full of life and decided they could wait no longer for a hero who never returned."
"They chose to take it." Deven's voice hardened, making it clear this was inevitable.
"This, citizens, was the start of what we now call the 'Secret Invasion'," he declared, naming the unseen war. "They began a slow infiltration of our societies. They replaced our political leaders, compromised our military commanders, and infiltrated our financial and corporate structures. Their goal was to destabilize our society from within, to weaken our defenses, and then to formally claim Earth as their new Skrullos."
"How did we finally uncover this hidden threat?" Deven rhetorically asked, anticipating the pressing question.
"Through painstaking detective work and careful analysis of fragmented data left by the former SHIELD organization," he explained, weaving the deception into his narrative. "It was a record of anomalies, of unexplained incidents. The experts at the Illuminati Council and the Earth Federation took almost a year to decode, verify, and track every infiltrator, every Skrull signature across our planet."
His voice grew firm and resolute. "Last night, after a year of silent preparation, we acted."
The video feed shifted again, displaying a powerful montage. It showed EDF soldiers loading unconscious Skrulls still in containment bags into secure transport vehicles. The footage conveyed scale and determination, deliberately avoiding advanced technology or enhanced operatives, focusing entirely on the efforts of ordinary soldiers. The footage abruptly cut before revealing any Phantom Zone projectors or ERO Super Soldiers.
"We launched synchronized raids in over one hundred cities around the world," Deven announced, his words carrying authority. "We hit their primary colony in Russia. We captured every infiltrator in their sleep, using a specially engineered sedative to ensure no resistance and zero casualties."
"The result," Deven proclaimed, his voice full of triumph, "is total victory for Earth."
"We captured over one million alien combatants," he revealed, emphasizing the scale of the operation. "We suffered no casualties among our forces, no damage to civilian infrastructure, and crucially, not a single shot was fired against the Skrull population."
"And the Skrulls themselves?" Deven asked, anticipating humanitarian concerns. "We did not execute them. We are not monsters. They were humanely transported to the Phantom Zone"
The screen returned to earlier medical bay footage, showing a moving reunion. A rescued human, still thin and pale from captivity, reaching out to embrace a weeping family member. The raw emotion was clear.
"We have successfully recovered thousands of human hostages," Deven said, his voice softening with relief. "These are the people who were replaced and kept in stasis. They are weak and disoriented but alive. They are receiving the best medical care and psychological support we can provide, and their reunions with family have started."
Deven's face showed a hint of empathetic regret. "Sadly, not everyone survived. We have confirmed that some individuals known to be missing were killed by the Skrulls years ago before their identities were taken. We are in the process of identifying these remains. Their families will be notified with dignity and compassion."
He leaned forward, his gaze sweeping across the unseen audience of billions.
"This monumental victory does not belong to a select few," Deven declared, his voice rising passionately. "This victory belongs to the brave men and women of the Earth Federation Defense Force. Their relentless training, absolute discipline, and unwavering commitment to duty saved our planet from silent conquest. They moved through the night to secure a brighter future for us all."
"I also want to express humanity's deep gratitude to the Illuminati Council," Deven said, acknowledging the unseen planners of the operation. "For their unmatched dedication, vast resources, and constant vigilance. They recognized this existential threat when no one else could. They carefully planned and executed the precise solution."
"The crisis is over," Deven concluded, his voice full of certainty. "The Secret Invasion has been decisively stopped. Your rightful leaders will return. Your world is secure, and its future is now firmly in our hands."
"Thank you."
The broadcast ended abruptly. The powerful seal of the Earth Federation, now a symbol of bold action and global rescue, faded slowly to black.
———
In the quiet of the Sentinel Complex, the Council watched as global reactions spread across a dozen live news feeds and social media displays. The narrative, carefully crafted by Aryan and flawlessly delivered by Deven Ray, was already taking hold. Carol Danvers, once a symbol of hope, was now being subtly recast as a tragically neglectful hero, her promise of a broken bond that indirectly led to Earth's danger. The Skrulls, initially presented as desperate victims, had, through their invasion, sadly turned into clever villains. And the Earth Federation, guided by the Illuminati, stood clearly as the planet's true savior.
"Public approval ratings are rising across every demographic," Tony noted, his eyes on the detailed analytics projected onto the table. "Fear, which peaked just hours ago, is quickly turning into overwhelming relief and then transforming into strong anger."
"Anger at Carol Danvers?" Wanda asked.
"Exactly," Tony confirmed. "The story that she left them here, that she created the very mess we just fixed, is gaining significant traction. It's a strong emotional hook for the public."
"It is a useful narrative," Aryan said, his voice calm and practical. "It ties the world to us. We are the ones who stayed. We are the ones who identified the threat, who carried the burden, and who ultimately resolved it without outside help. It strengthens the Federation's legitimacy and the Council's importance."
"The medical facilities are, of course, overwhelmed," T'Challa reported, already shifting his focus to the huge task of recovery. "However, the rescued humans are stable. Prime Minister Lawton has just fully regained consciousness and is demanding immediate contact with her government staff and a secure phone line."
"Let her speak," Aryan instructed. "Let all of them speak. Allow them to reconnect. Let them share their stories. The horror of their prolonged captivity in those stasis pods, the terror of their stolen identities, their personal narratives will only support the Federation's decisive actions. It will validate the need for the 'Clean Sweep' and reinforce the justice of the Phantom Zone."
The Secret Invasion was, as far as the world knew, officially over. The truth, or at least, the meticulously curated version of the truth that Aryan Spencer and the Illuminati Council deemed necessary for humanity's stability and their own consolidating power, had been revealed.
Chapter 242: The Great Exhale (1)
The silence inside "The Rusty Anchor," a packed sports bar in downtown Boston, was heavy enough to crush a man's chest.
Three hundred people stood frozen, their necks craned upward at the massive 80 inch screens mounted above the bar. The smell of stale beer and greasy fries hung in the air. The low hum of the refrigeration units sounded like a roar in the dead quiet.
On the screen, the golden seal of the Earth Federation faded to black. Chancellor Deven Ray's face had vanished, but his words were still bouncing around the room like shrapnel.
One million.
Shapeshifters.
Captured.
Clean Sweep.
"No way," a voice whispered from the back. It was a construction worker, still in his high vis vest, holding a half empty pitcher of lager. His hand was shaking so hard the beer sloshed over the rim. "No fucking way."
That whisper broke the spell.
"Did he say the British Prime Minister?" a woman in a business suit screamed, her voice cracking. She scrambled for her Umbrella One phone on the table. "He said Lawton was one of them! Pamela Lawton! She's been running the UK for three years!"
"It's a lie!" a man at the bar slammed his fist down, rattling the glasses. "It's a power grab! The Federation just arrested a million people and called them aliens!"
"Shut up, Jerry!" the bartender yelled back, his eyes glued to his own phone. "Look at the feed! Look at the Umbrella News feed! They're showing the footage from the detainment centers. Look at their skin… oh my god, look at them changing back."
Three hundred people simultaneously tried to access the internet. On the main screen, the feed cut from the Federation seal to a live news desk at the Global News Network (GNN).
[CHANNEL: GNN (Global News Network)]
[PROGRAM: SPECIAL REPORT, OPERATION CLEAN SWEEP]
Anchor: Anderson Cooper.
Guest: General Thaddeus Ross (Former U.S. General, now EDF Senior Advisor).
Anderson Cooper: "If you are just joining us, the Earth Federation has just concluded a mandatory global broadcast. Chancellor Ray has confirmed that a decades long infiltration by a shapeshifting alien species known as the Skrulls has been neutralized in a synchronized global operation."
Cooper: "General Ross, the Chancellor mentioned 'zero casualties' during the capture of the main colony in Russia. We are seeing footage now… these are EDF soldiers?"
General Ross: "That's correct, Anderson. What you're seeing on screen are the standard Earth Defense Forces, the EDF. These men and women executed a perfectly coordinated containment operation. They used an aerosolized sedative developed by the Wakandan Science Division. The hostiles were asleep before they hit the floor."
On screen: High definition footage shows endless rows of uniformed EDF soldiers moving through a sprawling industrial complex in Russia. They are carrying unconscious green skinned bodies onto massive transport hover carriers.
Cooper: "And the prisoners? The Chancellor referred to the 'Phantom Project.' He described it as a maximum security facility located in the Marianas Trench. Can you confirm this?"
Ross: "It's the most secure structure ever built by human hands, Anderson. It sits at the bottom of the ocean, under pressures that would crush a submarine like a soda can. It's powered by Stark Resilient energy cores and built with Umbrella Corporation's advanced alloys. Those one million combatants aren't dead, but they are contained where they can't hurt anyone, guarded by the pressure of the ocean itself."
Cooper: "And the access? The 'Six Key Protocol'?"
Ross: "That's the safeguard. No single leader can open that prison alone. It requires unanimous biometric authorization from all six Chiefs of the Illuminati Council. It's checks and balances, Anderson. The ultimate lock for the ultimate threat."
———
[LOCATION: A Living Room in Seoul, South Korea]
Min jun sat on the floor, his knees pulled to his chest. His mother was sobbing on the sofa behind him.
"It wasn't Dad," Min jun whispered, scrolling through the Korean translation of the Federation dossier on his tablet. "Mom, look. The DNA scan confirms it. It wasn't Dad."
"He was so cold," his mother wept, clutching a framed photo of a smiling man. "For two years, he wouldn't touch me. He forgot your birthday. He fired half his staff. I thought… I thought he just stopped loving us."
Min jun tapped the screen, expanding a video file attached to the dossier named Subject: Jack Hyuk Bin, Recovery Status.
The video played. It showed a sterile white room with the Umbrella Corporation logo on the wall. An EDF medic was helping a man out of a specialized stasis pod. The man looked skeletal, his eyes adjusting to the light. He looked exactly like Min jun's father, but frailer.
"Where is my wife?" the man in the video croaked, his voice weak, speaking Korean. "Is Min jun okay? How long was I asleep?"
Min jun felt tears prick his eyes. "Mom! Look! That's the real Dad! The EDF found him. He was sleeping in a pod in Russia. The… the thing in the house… the thing that yelled at you… the Federation took it to the Trench."
"A monster," his mother gasped, staring at the screen. "I was living with a monster."
Min jun stood up, a burning anger in his chest giving way to an overwhelming relief. "The Federation caught it, Mom. They put it in the Phantom Project. And they're bringing Dad home. Look, there's a flight manifest. He's on an Umbrella medical transport. He'll be in Seoul in four hours."
——-
[INTERNET THREAD]
[MEGATHREAD: FEDERATION ANNOUNCES SKRULL INVASION NEUTRALIZED]
User: TechStart_719
Holy shit. holy shit. holy shit. ONE MILLION?
User: ConspiracyDave
Wait, so you're telling me the UK Prime Minister, the Head of NATO, and half the corporate board of Roxxon were green slime aliens, and nobody noticed until the Illuminati decided to clean up?
User: WakandaTech_Fan
@ConspiracyDave They noticed. That's the point. The broadcast said Stark developed "Morphic Resonance" scanners. They could hear the aliens humming at a sub atomic level. We didn't stand a chance without that tech.
User: PizzaRat_NY
Can we talk about the Marianas Trench prison? The "Phantom Project"? They built a super max prison at the bottom of the ocean. That is some serious sci fi engineering. And the "Six Key Protocol" makes me feel way better. At least Chancellor Ray can't just throw anyone down there without Stark and the Kings agreeing.
User: Aryan_Stan_Account
Notice who funded it? The broadcast credits Umbrella Corp for the "structural integrity and logistics." Aryan Spencer basically paid to save the world again. The man provides free healthcare, free internet, and now he catches aliens. Can we just elect him King of Earth already?
User: Skeptic_Eye
My neighbor is acting weird. How do I get a scanner?
User: Umbrella_Support_Bot
@Skeptic_Eye Please remain calm. The Umbrella One smartphone update (v.10.4) includes a localized biometric verification patch using the IR camera. You can verify family members now. Green checkmark = Human. Please report anomalies to the EDF hotline.
Chapter 243: The Great Exhale (2)
3
[LOCATION: Times Square, New York City]
The massive digital billboards that usually flashed ads for Stark Industries and Umbrella fashion were synchronized. Every single screen displayed the Federation's soothing blue and gold.
A crowd of thousands had gathered. There was an almost reverent hush. The stability of the "Origin" currency meant no one was panic selling stocks, the markets were calm.
A young man climbed onto the roof of a stalled taxi. He cupped his hands around his mouth.
"THEY GOT 'EM!" he screamed, his voice cracking with hysteria and joy. "THEY GOT THE BASTARDS!"
A ripple went through the crowd. A woman near the front, holding a baby, looked up at the giant screen showing a diagram of the Phantom Project facility deep underwater.
"My sister," she told the stranger next to her, a businessman in a trench coat. "She's been missing for six months. The police closed the case. They said she ran away."
The businessman looked at his Umbrella One phone. "Check the list. The Federation just dumped the entire database of rescued humans online."
The woman fumbled with her phone, her fingers trembling. She typed in a name. A spinning blue circle, then a green checkmark.
STATUS: RECOVERED.
CONDITION: STABLE.
LOCATION: UMBRELLA MEDICAL CENTER, ALBANY.
She dropped to her knees on the asphalt, sobbing. "She's alive. Oh god, she's alive."
The businessman put a hand on her shoulder. He looked around at the towering screens. "It's over," he said, his voice loud enough for those around him to hear. "We didn't even know we were at war, and the Federation already won it."
"Thank god for the Illuminati," someone muttered nearby. "Thank god for the Kings."
———-
[CHANNEL: FOX NEWS]
[PROGRAM: TUCKER CARLSON TONIGHT (Special Report)]
Tucker Carlson: "Aliens. Replacing our leaders. For years, we were called crazy for asking questions. For asking why Senator Ross voted for that bill, or why the Prime Minister of the UK suddenly changed her stance on energy. Now we know. They weren't them."
Carlson: "But here is the question nobody is asking. The sheer competence of the Earth Federation. They located one million hostiles and removed them in six hours. Six hours. The EDF moved like a single organism. And look at the technology, a prison under the ocean? Scanners that can see DNA from orbit?"
Political Analyst: "Tucker, the public approval rating for the Federation just hit 98%. People are scared of what could have happened, and they are grateful that Aryan Spencer, Tony Stark, and the Chancellor were five steps ahead. The 'Six Key Protocol' is being hailed as the ultimate safeguard against tyranny."
Carlson: "It's impressive. I'll grant them that. It's the most impressive military operation in human history. But it begs the question: If they can find a shapeshifting alien in a bunker in Russia, what can they find in your living room? We are safe, yes. But privacy? That's gone. We traded it for the Phantom Project."
————
[LOCATION: A High End Apartment in London]
The TV was muted, but the images of Pamela Lawton being led away in cuffs by armored EDF soldiers played on a loop.
Sir Edward, a member of the House of Lords, poured himself a stiff scotch. His hand was steady, but his eyes were terrified. He sat opposite his wife, Lady Margaret.
"She was at our wedding," Margaret whispered. "Pamela. We had tea last Tuesday. She… she didn't take sugar. She always took sugar."
"It explains the trade deal," Edward muttered, downing the drink. "The erratic behavior. We thought it was stress. Or early dementia."
"Edward," Margaret leaned forward. "If the Federation can catch the Prime Minister… if Illuminati has technology that can distinguish a clone from a human from space… what else do they know? About the accounts? The Cayman accounts? The dealings with those shell companies?"
Edward looked at his Umbrella One phone sitting on the coffee table. It was sleek, black, and suddenly looked like an interrogation device.
"The Leader said 'Clean Sweep'," Edward said, his voice hollow. "He said they are removing the rot. They caught the aliens because they had full surveillance. That means they have full surveillance on us."
"We should donate," Margaret said quickly, standing up. "To the Federation Infrastructure Fund. A large amount. Right now. Show we are… supportive. Patriots of the Earth."
Edward nodded slowly. "Yes. A very large amount. Transparency, Margaret. It's the new world order. We have to look clean."
———-
[LOCATION: Umbrella Corp HQ, New York, The Lobby]
The lobby of Umbrella Tower was usually a bustling hub of commerce. Today, it was a shrine.
Hundreds of people had gathered outside the glass doors, to leave flowers. Candles flickered on the sidewalk. Signs were taped to the glass.
THANK YOU ARYAN.
UMBRELLA SAVED MY DAD.
THE SOVEREIGN OF SANITY.
Inside, the security guards stood at ease. They didn't need to hold back the crowd. The crowd was peaceful.
A reporter from the New York Times stood near the entrance, speaking into a camera.
Reporter: "The mood here is hard to describe. It's not a victory parade; it's more like a vigil of gratitude. Aryan Spencer, the CEO of Umbrella, hasn't made a public appearance yet, but his company's technology is being credited with the 'Morphic Resonance' breakthrough that made this purge possible. People here feel that without Umbrella's infrastructure, without the connected world he built, this invasion would have succeeded. He's being called the 'Architect of our Survival'."
———-
[LOCATION: The Sentinel Complex, Geneva, Observation Deck]
The observation deck was lit only by the blue glow of the massive tactical screens displaying global sentiment analysis.
Aryan Spencer stood with his hands in his pockets, looking down at the hologram of Earth. The red dots of the invasion were gone. The globe was washing over in an unified blue.
Tony Stark sat nearby, spinning a holographic projection of the Phantom Project's schematics. "The Trench Prison narrative is holding. 99% of the population believes it's a physical facility. Nobody is questioning the physics of fitting a million people in a tube underwater. They just assume 'Illuminati Tech' and move on."
"Because they want to believe it," Aryan said softly. "The truth is too much. A super max prison in the ocean? That, they can understand. That makes sense to them."
Deven Ray walked in, holding a tablet. "The audit is complete. The capture of the Skrulls gave us their intelligence caches. We have the blackmail files they were using on half the world's governments. We know every corrupt politician, every bribe and every dirty secret the aliens uncovered."
"And?" Namor asked from the shadows, his arms crossed.
"And now we own the truth," Aryan said, turning to face them. "The aliens did the spy work for us. We use that leverage. We urge the corrupt to resign 'for health reasons.' We clean the slate. The 'Clean Sweep' doesn't stop with the green skins."
Wanda stepped up beside Aryan, placing a hand on his arm. "The world is thanking you, Aryan. Listen to them."
She tapped a console, and a montage of audio feeds played, prayers in Hindi, cheers in Spanish, tearful thank yous in English.
"They feel safe," Aryan noted, his expression unreadable. "Good. Safety buys us time. Time to build the Aegis."
Chapter 244: Watchers in the Dark (1)
3
The air in the safehouse smelled faintly of the metallic tang of aging server racks. It was the last command post of a dead empire.
Nick Fury stood with his arms crossed, his heavy leather trench coat creaking slightly as he shifted his weight. His single eye was fixed on the bank of monitors covering the far concrete wall. The glow from the screens cast long shadows across his scarred face.
Around him, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Maria Hill, and Phil Coulson stood in varying states of rigid tension. They were dead to the world, legally erased by the Earth Federation's amnesty protocols, hiding from the very order of peace they had spent their lives trying to build.
On the central screen, the face of Chancellor Deven Ray was calm. "...and so, the Federation successfully executed a synchronized extraction of the infiltrators. The colony within the Russian Federation has been neutralized. The shadow network spanning our governments and corporations has been excised."
The footage on the screen cut away from the Chancellor's podium in Geneva to the operational feed.
Rows of Earth Defense Force (EDF) transport ships descended upon a dilapidated nuclear plant nestled deep in the Russian tundra. They flooded the facility, deploying thick clouds of a violet gas, and within seconds, the green skinned targets were collapsing to the ground.
Then, the chyron at the bottom of the screen updated with the final tally.
OPERATION CLEAN SWEEP.
HOSTILES SECURED: 1,004,312.
The silence in the bunker was deafening. It was a physical weight, pressing against their eardrums, constricting their chests.
Clint Barton was the first to break it. He was leaning against a humming server rack, methodically cleaning the edge of a combat knife, but his hand had stopped moving minutes ago. The blade rested against his thumb, drawing a thin bead of blood he didn't seem to notice.
"A million," Clint whispered, the word scraping out of his throat like gravel. "He said a million, Nat."
Natasha Romanoff's eyes were darting across the auxiliary screens, reading the scrolling data dumps that Illuminati's global servers were pushing to the public web in the name of "Directed Transparency."
"I see it, Clint," Natasha said, but her knuckles were white where she gripped the edge of the tactical table.
"We spent seventy years building S.H.I.E.L.D. into a fortress," Maria Hill said. Her voice was stripped of its usual cool professionalism. She was typing furiously on a tactile keyboard, trying to trace the Federation's broadcast origin, trying to find a digital seam, a lie, anything. She found nothing but impenetrable layers of Illuminati's quantum encryption. "We thought we were the premier intelligence agency on the planet. We had satellites that could read a license plate from orbit. And there were a million shapeshifting aliens living in our backyard? Living in our houses? For how long?"
"Decades," Phil Coulson said softly.
He was standing slightly behind Fury, his face pale, his usual affable demeanor completely stripped away. Unlike the others, he wasn't looking at the screen with shock. He was looking at Fury with a mix of fear and devastation.
Natasha spun around, her movement sharp. "What did you say, Phil?"
Fury kept his eye glued to the screen, watching the EDF soldiers load the green skinned bodies onto massive hover carriers. He felt a coldness spreading through his chest that had nothing to do with the bunker's temperature. It was the feeling of the ground dissolving beneath his feet. The collapse of SHIELD, the destruction of the Triskelion, the revelation of Hydra, that had been a war he understood. Men against men. Fascism against freedom.
But this? This was a humiliation so total it felt like a cosmic joke.
"Director?" Natasha's voice dropped an octave. She stepped toward Fury. "Phil said 'decades.' Why does Phil know a timeline for an alien invasion that the rest of us just found out about on the morning news?"
Fury finally turned. He looked at each of them. These were his people. The best of the best. The ones who had chosen the dark underground over the comfortable lie of the Federation.
"Because we were there," Fury said, his voice a low rumble.
The room exploded.
"You knew?" Clint pushed off the server rack, his knife clattering onto the metal table. "You knew there were shapeshifters on Earth?"
"I knew there were refugees," Fury snapped, his composure cracking, the first real display of emotion the team had seen from him in years. "In 1995. A handful fleeing a genocide by Kree empire. They were desperate. They helped us save the planet from a Kree warship. They swore they just wanted a temporary home."
"A few dozen," Maria Hill repeated, pointing a shaking finger at the screen where the tally of captured hostiles was climbing. "That is not a few dozen, Nick. That is a standing army. That is a biological replacement of the human race."
"I didn't know about this!" Fury roared, slamming his hand onto the metal table. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the confined space. "I didn't know they were replacing world leaders! I trusted them to integrate. I trusted them to keep their heads down while we found them a planet!"
"Who is 'we'?" Natasha stepped into his personal space, her eyes blazing with a fierce sense of betrayal. "Who else knew? Did Pierce know? Did the World Security Council know?"
"No," Fury said, breathing heavily. "Just me, Coulson and a few others who are dead or gone. It was strictly compartmentalized. Top secret clearance wasn't enough. You had to be there."
"You compartmentalized an invasion," Natasha spat, her voice dripping with venom. "You kept us looking for low level surveillance and internal security while a million aliens walked into the Pentagon, into Downing Street, into NATO. We were chasing our tails because you kept the biggest threat to humanity in your back pocket."
"I didn't know they had turned," Fury insisted, but the words tasted like ash. "I thought they were allies. Talos... their general. He was my contact. He was supposed to be keeping them in line."
"Talos?" Hill asked sharply. "Who is Talos?"
"He was... a friend," Coulson answered, stepping forward to deflect the heat from Fury. "Or we thought he was. He was a good man. He just wanted to protect his family."
"Friends don't build colonies in abandoned Russian nuclear reactors, Phil," Clint said bitterly, rubbing a hand over his face. "Friends don't replace the British Prime Minister and rewrite global trade laws. Both of you got played."
On the main screen, the broadcast shifted. Deven Ray was speaking again.
"We have removed the rot," Deven Ray said, his eyes piercing the camera. "We have done what the old world could not. We have identified the imposters. We have secured them. And we have done it without firing a single lethal shot."
"Look at the data dump," Hill interrupted, her voice trembling slightly. "The Federation just released the 'Recovered Human' database online. It's... it's massive. They're releasing the names of the people the Skrulls replaced. The humans they found in stasis pods inside that nuclear plant."
"Pull it up," Fury ordered. He needed to see the damage, to quantify his failure.
Hill patched the Illuminati global data feed to the main monitor. It was a scrolling list of names, photos, and recovery statuses. It was a graveyard of SHIELD's intelligence failures.
NAME: Pamela Lawton
POSITION: Prime Minister UK
STATUS: RECOVERED
NAME: Sergio Caspani
POSITION: Secretary General NATO
STATUS: RECOVERED
NAME: Everett K. Ross
POSITION: CIA Deputy Task Chief
STATUS: RECOVERED
Chapter 245: Watchers in the Dark (2)
3
"They were perfect," Natasha said, her eyes tracking the technical specs Illuminati had just released alongside the video. "'Morphic Resonance.' Stark figured out how to hear them humming at a sub atomic level."
"Scroll down," Fury said. His voice was tight. "Show me the high value civilian assets."
Hill scrolled. The list was endless. Corporate CEOs, Research scientists, High ranking generals and Prominent journalists.
Then, the screen stopped.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She looked up at Fury, her face drained of all color.
"Nick," she whispered. "Don't."
"Show me," Fury commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Hill hesitated, then pressed a key. The highlighted entry expanded. A photo appeared on the screen. It was a woman with dark hair, a warm smile, and kind eyes.
NAME: Priscilla Fury (Varra).
SPECIES: Skrull (Hostile Combatant).
STATUS: CAPTURED.
LOCATION: PHANTOM PROJECT, SECTOR 4.
Coulson looked at the floor, squeezing his eyes shut. Natasha and Clint exchanged a glance, their anger momentarily replaced by a horrific realization.
"Priscilla," Natasha said softly. "Nick... your wife."
Fury stared at the name. Varra. The name he hadn't spoken aloud in front of anyone but Coulson in twenty years. The woman he went home to when the weight of the world was too much. The woman who made him dinner. The woman he debated literature with. The woman who had held his hand when his mother died.
He knew she was a Skrull. That was the arrangement. They had loved each other across species lines. It was their secret. But he thought she was his Skrull. He thought she was loyal to the pact, loyal to Earth, loyal to him.
Hostile Combatant.
If she was in the Phantom Project, it meant she was part of the infiltration. It meant she had been lying to him for fifteen years. She had been observing the Director of SHIELD in his sleep.
"She was one of them," Fury whispered, the realization shattering the very last pillar of his confidence. "She was part of the invasion force."
"Or she was forced," Coulson offered weakly. "Blackmailed by her own people."
"Skrulls don't get forced, Phil," Fury said, his voice cold. "She was in deep cover. The deepest. I brought the enemy into my own bed."
He turned away from the screen, walking to the dark corner of the bunker where the coffee pot sat burning on the hotplate. He needed to do something with his hands or he was going to put his fist through the thick concrete wall.
"They have her," Fury said, his back to them, staring at the black liquid dripping into the pot. "They have my wife. And they put her in the Trench."
"The Phantom Project," Hill corrected automatically, pulling up the public file. "Nick, look at this facility. The specs they released... are insane. It's an impenetrable fortress."
Fury poured coffee into a stained mug. His hand was steady. "Talk to me, Hill. Give me the tactical."
Hill pulled up the schematics that Deven Ray had "transparently" shared with the world. A complex 3D rendering of a massive cylinder appeared on the screen, buried beneath the ocean floor.
"Location: Challenger Deep, Marianas Trench," Hill recited, her eyes scanning the data. "Depth: 36,000 feet. The external pressure is roughly eight tons per square inch. The structure is built from a proprietary Vibranium Adamantium alloy blend provided by Wakanda and Stark Industries. It's powered by three hyper shielded Arc Reactors."
"Entry points?" Clint asked, slipping back into soldier mode, analyzing the schematic for weak points. "Airlocks? Submarine docking bays? Vents?"
"None," Hill said flatly. "Zero. It's a sealed monolith. The only way in or out is through a localized molecular transporter, 'The Gateway.' And it is completely air gapped from any external network."
"So how do they access it?" Natasha asked.
"The 'Six Key Protocol'," Hill read. "Biometric, retinal, and bio signature authorization required simultaneously from all six Illuminati Chiefs at the Sentinel Complex in Geneva. All six must be present and consenting to open the Gateway."
"So we can't break in," Clint said, tossing his knife onto the table. "Even if we had a submarine that could survive the crush depth, which we don't, we can't get through the wall. And even if we could get through the wall, we can't open the door without kidnapping six of the most powerful people on Earth at the exact same time."
"It's worse," Hill added, bringing up a sonar map of the Pacific Ocean. "Namor installed a 'hydro acoustic tripwire' net around the entire trench. If anything larger than a tuna swims within ten miles of that facility, the Talokanil swarms it. And Stark has orbital railguns locked on the coordinates 24/7. It is the most heavily guarded square mile in the history of the planet."
Fury took a sip of the bitter coffee. It tasted like ash.
"It's perfect," Fury muttered. "It's a perfect prison. They built a hole in the bottom of the world, threw the key away, and dared anyone to come looking."
"They put a million people down there in six hours," Natasha said, shaking her head in disbelief. "Logistically... that shouldn't be possible. The intake processing alone... the food requirements for a million inmates at the bottom of the ocean..."
"They aren't feeding them," Fury said, a dark realization dawning on him. He pointed to the energy schematics. "Look at the localized energy signatures inside the cells. Cryogenic regulators. Wakandan stasis fields. They aren't just sitting in cells playing poker. The Illuminati put an entire species on ice."
"It's humane," Coulson noted, pointing to the public sentiment analysis running on the side screen. "Look at the polls. 98% global approval. The world thinks the Illuminati are saints. They didn't kill the invaders. They 'contained' them. They saved the human hostages. There are vigils in Times Square thanking Aryan Spencer and Tony Stark right now."
"They won," Fury said, the weight of the words pressing down on him. "They actually won. SHIELD spent seventy years fighting shadows, compromising our morals, building Insight Carriers... and we got infested by Hydra and Skrulls. These... children... formed a club, built a better mousetrap, and cleaned house in a year."
The bitterness in the room was palpable. They were the best spies in the old world. In this new world they were dinosaurs, where algorithms predicted threats before they happened, where super soldiers moved in the shadows, where gods sat on councils.
"So what do we do?" Clint asked, looking at Fury. "We can't expose them… because honestly, what are we going to expose? That they're too good at their jobs? That they saved the world too fast? That they built a prison so secure that nobody can break out?"
"We do what Fury said before," Natasha said, her voice hard. "We become the contingency because nothing is this perfect."
"And Varra?" Coulson asked gently, looking at Fury.
Fury placed the mug down. "Varra is a hostile combatant. She made her choice."
But his eye betrayed him. There was a flicker of desperation that Nick Fury never showed.
"Hill," Fury said. "Can we communicate with the facility? Is there a channel for legal counsel? Diplomatic envoy?"
Hill laughed, a dry sound. "Nick, there is no legal counsel. The Federation dissolved the UN. There is no Supreme Court for this. The Illuminati is the law. The only way to talk to someone inside the Phantom Project is to be one of the six people with a key."
Fury stared at the screen. The diagram of the Marianas Trench looked like a black maw. His wife was down there. The woman who knew his secrets. The woman who might hold the key to understanding why the Skrulls turned.
Why now? Fury thought. Why did they wait fifteen years and then mobilize? Why did Talos lose control? Or was Talos playing me too?