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The interrogation room was cold. Talos's mind was an open vault, its contents spilling out in a torrent of names, dates, and safe house locations.
"Beto, disguised as a senior S.H.I.E.L.D. agent… coordinates are known… Pagon, a university professor at NYU… Carl, a doctor at Los Angeles General…"
Hermione's face was utterly impassive, her gaze fixed on the alien's empty, dilated pupils. She simply absorbed the intelligence, mapping out the Skrull presence on Earth with ruthless efficiency.
Beside her, Jasper Sitwell watched the display of absolute mind control, a shiver running down his spine that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. This was it. This was the power his pathetic HYDRA leaders had tried to grab with outdated guns and simple threats. He felt a profound sense of self-congratulation. I got off the ship early.
Later that night, the prison wing of the Triskelion was quiet. Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor as agents in tactical gear approached Talos's cell.
"Minister Pierce's orders," Brock Rumlow—or rather, the Skrull wearing Rumlow's face—said, his voice a low growl. "Transferring the asset for immediate off-site debriefing."
The cell door was opened with a loud clack. The masked Skrulls revealed their true, green forms. "Talos, let's go," one urged.
Talos, still under the deep fugue of the Imperius Curse, simply followed, allowing his fellow refugees to lead him out of S.H.I.E.L.D. custody. He didn't know it, but this entire operation—this seemingly vital rescue mission—was merely the first domino in Hermione's endgame.
Under the massive, star-dusted anonymity of the night sky, Talos was led into the gaping maw of an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. He walked through the industrial doorway and froze.
The warehouse was packed. Hundreds of Skrulls, the entire hidden population of the planet, were gathered there. Disguised as doctors, lawyers, soldiers, and shopkeepers, they had shed their human forms and stood in their true, green skins, a sea of worried, confused faces under the harsh, bare bulbs of the ceiling.
"Why are we all here?" Talos asked the Skrull who had led the rescue team, his voice rough. "Why did you call the whole tribe?"
"We didn't call them, Talos," the senior Skrull, Gravik, hissed, his eyes narrowed with profound suspicion. "We thought you did. Someone sent an encrypted signal through the old, secret channels—the signal only the Queen can use—saying you were in distress and calling for immediate rendezvous." He looked pointedly at Talos. "Who else knew our signal codes, Talos? Who else knew where to find us?"
Before Talos could stammer out a defense, a cold, clear voice cut through the mass confusion.
"That would be me."
The air shimmered and cracked, and Hermione appeared in the doorway, a small, dark-robed figure backlit by the light of the moon. She was utterly alone, yet she commanded the silence of the entire room.
Gravik's face contorted in a mixture of rage and disbelief. He pointed a shaking finger at Talos. "You traitor! You sold us out to an Earth child!"
"I didn't! I swear!" Talos shrieked.
Hermione sighed, the sound echoing in the vast, tense space. "Honestly, Muggles and Skrulls. Always bickering."
She raised her new wand, the Uru metal cold and absolute in her hand. She spoke two words in a cold, precise whisper.
"Animus Iunctum." (Soul Link)
A visible, shimmering web of silver energy shot from her wand, invisible to the untrained eye, but terrifyingly real. It touched every single Skrull in the room—from the highest-ranking general to the smallest child. They were all linked. All connected by a single, shared conduit of pure magic.
She waited a beat. Then, her voice amplified by the silent, crushing weight of her own psychic force, she issued a simple command.
"Those who support Talos, step to the left. Those who support Gravik, step to the right."
The hundreds of Skrulls moved as one, bodies jerking into action with the mechanical, unquestioning obedience of automatons. In seconds, the unified tribe had fractured into two distinct, warring camps.
Then, she gave her final order, her voice devoid of pity.
"Kill each other."
"Interficite Invice!"
The sheer, terrifying horror of the Imperius Curse, amplified by the Ancient Magic of the Link, was absolute. The Skrulls' souls were seized, their minds wiped clean of memory, loyalty, and kinship. They became automatons of pure, homicidal rage, recognizing only the enemy camp.
The warehouse exploded into brutal, close-quarters combat. Plasma rifles roared, knives flashed, and the sounds of bone breaking and alien flesh tearing filled the night. They were fighting with a single-minded, unstoppable ferocity, their actions governed not by their own will, but by the cold, absolute command of the wizard standing in the doorway.
Talos, the only one spared the Link, watched in screaming, horrified impotence as his entire race was consumed by a self-inflicted, devastating wave of mutual slaughter.
The battle was fast, brutal, and conclusive. Within minutes, the screaming faded, replaced by the heavy, ragged gasps of the few survivors.
Hermione waited until only one Skrull remained standing. The final survivor—a tall, powerful warrior who had just killed his own comrade—stood alone, his chest heaving, covered in the blood of his kin.
The warrior looked down at the bodies, then up at Hermione. His eyes were empty, his expression still locked in the trance of the Imperius Curse.
"Commit suicide," Hermione commanded.
The warrior calmly put his weapon under his chin. A final shot echoed through the empty warehouse.
The warehouse was silent. The only sound was the deep, satisfied hum of Hermione's Dark Harvest, feeding on the bounty of hundreds of freshly extinguished souls.
She walked towards the last standing figure: Talos. He was slumped against a pillar, his eyes wide with a horrified, disbelieving terror.
"You… you demon!" he finally croaked, his voice raw with a grief that went beyond mere pain. "Why are you here? What have you done to us?!"
Hermione just smiled, a cold, clinical smile of absolute power. "You called them all here, Talos," she said. "Don't you remember?"
She raised her wand, pointing it at his temple. A mysterious wave of magic penetrated his mind.
"Aspectus Memoria."
Talos's eyes widened as his own recent memories, manipulated and reinforced by Hermione, flooded his consciousness. He saw himself, disguised as Fury, sending the urgent, secret signal. He saw himself, alone, calling his entire race to this single, abandoned warehouse.
His memory had been wiped clean of the true circumstances, replaced by the narrative she had created. He saw his own face, his own hands, commit the ultimate betrayal. He had destroyed his own people.
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