Steve, Tony, Natasha, and the others all fell into silence.
Yes, that egomaniac loved the camera more than anything.
No one spoke up to object; they silently accepted the arrangement.
Jessica straightened her black combat suit and strode toward the cluster of microphones in front of the cordon.
Every lens was focused on her.
Jessica hadn't prepared a long speech.
"I am the Executive CEO of V.G.D., Jessica Jones."
She pointed at the group of fully armed comrades behind her.
"We are going to Australia now."
"We don't know how strong that alien named Gravik is. We also don't know how many of the people on this aircraft will make it back alive."
"But there is one thing I can guarantee to all of humanity."
"Vought's heroes will never take a single step back."
"We will use every means possible to bury that piece of filth once and for all!"
"Keep the faith! Await our victory!"
The speech was brief but filled with the determination of someone burning their bridges.
Without waiting for questions from the reporters, Jessica turned around.
"Everyone, board the aircraft!"
The heroes marched with firm steps onto three Nightingale Fighters arranged in a triangular formation.
"Boom—!"
The engines spewed blue plasma exhaust as they sped toward the Southern Hemisphere.
...
Within the vast territories of the Human Federation, many Resistance organizations spontaneously formed by ordinary citizens laid down their weapons that day.
Some organizations even disbanded outright, rejoining the ranks of laborers in an attempt to eke out a meager existence under Skrull rule.
However, there were still many resilient rebels who refused to bow to fate or kneel before these alien butchers.
Especially when they saw the promises made on the news by those Vought superheroes who had saved the World many times, the fire of hope in their hearts continued to burn!
But as they prepared to continue their sabotage missions, they encountered even more brutal suppression.
Ever since Gravik revealed the existence of the Skrulls in a global broadcast, many human soldiers, condemned by their consciences, had laid down their weapons and taken off their Federation uniforms, unwilling to point their guns at their own compatriots.
But humanity has never lacked a species known as "Collaborators."
In times of peace, they lived like rats in the sewers—selfish, greedy, and without any moral bottom line.
Yet in this moment of impending doom and alien rule, they keenly sensed an opportunity for "meteoric success."
In their eyes, the end of human civilization was a foregone conclusion, and the new rulers would need obedient lapdogs to manage the slaves at the bottom.
"This is our best chance to enter the upper class!"
An opportunist who had once been imprisoned for fraud was now wearing a crisp Federation uniform, loudly lecturing a group of temporarily recruited militants.
He brandished his pistol, pointing at a surrounded Resistance stronghold in the distance.
"Kill those stubborn fools! Use their blood to prove our loyalty to the Skrull lords!"
These human traitors shouted the absurd slogan, "Human tyranny has ended! Earth belongs to the Skrulls!"
While leveling advanced weapons provided by Skrull technology at the compatriots who once lived on the same land as them.
In the long river of human history, the most cruel are often not the foreign invaders, but those turncoats who raise their blades against their own people to show loyalty to a new master. Their methods are often more vicious and devoid of any restraint.
This raid was merely a microcosm of countless purge operations across the globe.
...
Brussels, Human Federation Headquarters.
Inside the supreme conference room, the atmosphere was quite relaxed.
Gravik looked at his subordinates below with great satisfaction.
"Well done, everyone."
Gravik nodded repeatedly after hearing the reports on the swift suppression of Resistance forces worldwide.
"It turns out that yesterday's 'little game' provided perfect positive feedback. Humanity's will to resist has begun to crumble; we don't even need to lift a finger—their own people will clean up the remaining trouble for us."
He turned to look at Pagon standing on his right, his eyes full of admiration.
"Pagon, your plan was perfect. Fear and power truly are the best tools for ruling these lower beings."
Pagon bowed slightly, a perfectly respectful smile on his face.
"It is all thanks to your invincible power, General. Without the deterrent you displayed, even the most perfect plan would be in vain."
Gravik laughed, enjoying the praise.
"Now, only those two tough bones, America and the XYZ Country, remain."
"In a moment, in front of the whole World—" Gravik clenched his fist, "I will crush all the superheroes they see as hope on the Nullarbor Plain."
"Then the will to resist in those two countries will completely collapse. The entire Earth will fall entirely under my rule!"
The Skrull high-ranking officials in the conference room raised their arms one after another, shouting loudly.
"For the Skrulls!"
"For Gravik!"
Gravik nodded with satisfaction, preparing to deliver an impassioned speech.
*Click.*
The door to the conference hall was suddenly pushed open from the outside.
In this heavily guarded Federation Headquarters, during a top-level meeting, someone actually dared to barge in without announcement?
Gravik frowned and turned to look with a dissatisfied expression.
"Who..."
His voice came to a screeching halt the moment he saw the newcomer.
The person who walked in had a face, physique, and skin texture that were exactly the same as his own!
After a brief moment of shock, an uncontrollable rage exploded in Gravik's chest with a "boom."
In Skrull society, the ability to mimic is their racial talent.
But this talent also comes with an absolute, untouchable iron rule.
In the supreme law of the Skrulls, it is strictly forbidden for any Skrull to transform into the likeness of another of their kind!
This law was bought with bloody lessons.
In the history of Skrull civilization, a brutal civil war once broke out.
In that war, mimicry among their own kind was used for the most extreme political struggles and military assassinations.
Today your adjutant might be an enemy in disguise; tomorrow your wife might slit your throat in your sleep.
The collapse of trust led to a tragic massacre among their own kind, nearly resulting in the extinction of their race.
Since then, there has been an iron rule in the Skrull supreme law: anyone who privately transforms into the likeness of their own kind is strictly forbidden! Upon discovery, they are executed immediately!
And now, this reckless fool before him had not only violated the highest taboo but even dared to take the form of him, the supreme leader of the Skrulls!
What was he trying to do? Replace him?!
"You damned piece of filth! Who gave you such audacity?!" Gravik roared.
"Guards! Seize him! Execute him on the spot! I want to strip the skin off his body!"
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
The scene Gravik expected—of guards swarming in and pinning the impostor down—did not happen.