Any lingering resentnt Nick Fury had was gone.
He had finally accepted reality.
He had trusted the Skrulls.
And in doing so, he had nearly dood Earth.
"I only intercepted part of the transmission," Drex Valen said calmly. "The Skrulls may still co. This war started because of your decisions, Nick Fury. History will rember you as a criminal on the scale of Hitler."
He gave a casual shrug.
Nick remained silent.
There was nothing he could say.
No excuse could undo what had happened.
He wasn't a genius inventor like Tony Stark, capable of building a solution overnight. Nor was he a scientific powerhouse like Bruce Banner. He had no miracle answer waiting in reserve.
"Anyway, I've wasted enough ti here."
Drex rose from his chair.
"I still have preparations to make. If the Skrull fleet arrives, soone has to organize Earth's defense."
The cell door sealed shut behind him.
As soon as he was gone, Fury slamd his fist into the wall.
The impact split his knuckles open.
Blood ran down the concrete.
Then he slowly sank to the floor.
Eight hundred years.
That was his sentence.
If he sohow survived even a century of it, he'd be fortunate.
Barring a miracle, there would never be a release waiting for him.
anwhile, at DC Headquarters.
What had once been a comic book company had beco sothing very different after Drex Valen acquired it as part of one of his more eccentric projects.
Following his ideas, the company had produced a long series of blockbuster films that never existed in this universe.
The results had been staggering.
Critical acclaim.
Massive box office success.
A global audience.
Drex himself had earned a reputation as the most imaginative screenwriter in cinematic history, though he couldn't have cared less about the title.
Films like n in Black, Superman Returns, Man of Steel, X-n, and many others had all been brought to life under his direction.
Tonight, one of the building's security guards was enjoying a quiet shift.
A mountain of pizza boxes sat beside him.
A giant cup of ice-cold cola rested on the desk.
As he lazily watched a movie projected across a nearby screen, he had no idea that a group of Skrulls had already slipped into the area.
The aliens stopped when they noticed the footage playing.
"Looks like we got lucky," one of them remarked. "This place appears to store historical records."
Monts later, the three-hundred-pound guard was unconscious.
The Skrulls took over the room and began examining everything they could find.
One wall contained stacks upon stacks of DVDs.
Although they had never encountered DVDs before, their technological knowledge allowed them to understand the devices quickly.
"Earth's historical archives?"
The Skrull squad leader considered the possibility.
Studying humanity's history seed like a logical place to start.
Perhaps they could finally discover why the Chitauri were so afraid of Earth.
What the Skrulls didn't know was that humanity possessed a peculiar art form known as cinema.
Movies were not records of reality.
They were products of imagination.
Wild ideas.
Fictional stories.
Fantasy brought to life.
Hollywood, in particular, had a habit of saving the world through Arican heroes before the credits rolled.
The Skrulls had visual dia of their own, but only for practical purposes.
Historical archives.
News reports.
Docuntaries.
Every recording they created was expected to reflect reality.
As a result, they had never developed anything resembling fictional films.
From a Skrull perspective, the entire concept made little sense.
Why manufacture false events?
Why create fake stories, fake characters, fake locations, and fake conflicts?
What purpose could deception possibly serve?
Their species simply didn't think that way.
The cultural gap was enormous.
"I wonder how old these records are," the squad leader mused. "Technician, have you figured it out yet?"
"Done, Captain."
The technician quickly deciphered the equipnt.
He ejected the DVD the guard had been watching.
The disc struck the floor and cracked.
Then he selected another title from the collection and inserted it.
A holographic image imdiately appeared above the projector.
Everyone gathered around.
The opening logo of an Arican film studio filled the air.
Monts later, English text appeared.
SUPERMAN RETURNS
Several hours later...
The entire Skrull squad was huddled together.
Shaking.
"This... this has to be a record of one of Earth's supre champions!"
The captain's voice trembled.
Another Skrull looked close to panic.
"This world is insane! No wonder the Chitauri refused the mission!"
They had watched the entire film.
And by the end of it, they were thoroughly terrified.
Especially the final sequence.
The Earth champion had single-handedly hurled an entire continent-sized landmass into space.
Afterward, he had fallen from the upper atmosphere while completely exhausted...
...and survived.
The image alone left them cold.
How was anyone supposed to fight sothing like that?
No fleet could stop a being capable of such feats.
He could fly through deep space under his own power.
Circle the entire planet in minutes.
Lift continental masses.
Fire devastating energy beams from his eyes.
Judging by the effortless way he used those powers, destroying an entire battle fleet would probably be trivial.
But strangely enough, that wasn't what frightened them most.
What truly disturbed the Skrulls was the social behavior displayed in the docuntary.
The woman partnered with Earth's ultimate champion had entered a relationship with another man while the champion was gone.
She later gave birth to the champion's child.
The Skrulls couldn't understand it.
Why hadn't the champion simply killed the rival male?
Or reclaid the woman by force?
Or eliminated both of them?
Perhaps human morality was simply incomprehensible.
The Skrulls chose not to dwell on the issue.
A far more terrifying revelation had captured their attention.
The child.
The champion's son.
The boy had inherited part of his father's power.
At only five or six years old, he could casually shove a piano weighing hundreds of kilograms dozens of ters across a room.
The implication was horrifying.
Humanity's strength wasn't limited to producing exceptional individuals.
Their power could be inherited.
Passed directly through bloodlines.
One powerful human could create descendants who shared that power.
To the Skrulls, such a species sounded impossible.
Perfect.
Potentially eternal.
As long as even one of these supre humans survived, the species could rapidly rebuild its strength through reproduction alone.
The thought sent chills through the room.
Then the technician spoke.
His face had gone pale green.
"You're all missing the most important detail."
Everyone turned toward him.
The technician pointed at the date listed in the film's records.
"This docuntary was recorded in 2009."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The Skrulls stared at one another.
If Earth had possessed beings like this back in 2009...
...then how many stronger ones might exist today?
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