Several months passed while Doom recovered from his battle in the arena. Already life was stabilizing under the new regime as the Empire consolidated their newly conquered province. Many Skrulls had settled on Earth and lived among the local populace. Alien technologies were integrated into the local systems. Even news stations had Skrull correspondents and anchors.
Loath as he was to admit it, in truth, Doom had barely survived his battle with Jonathan Storm. He had spent the vast majority of the first month in his surgical suite, replacing nearly his entire epidermis. Newly grown tissues were painstakingly grafted on as delicate robotic instruments debrided and cut away the terribly wounded flesh. The work was slow and agonizing. Even when he wasn't in the bay, he spent his days wrapped in bandages soaked in ointments and antibiotics.
Doom long had the technology to erase such trivialities as scars and burns, but he chose to retain the mutilations to his face, as reminder of himself. His wounded visage was as much his face as the bones underneath were. No, it was the mask that men trembled to behold.
Even more important compared to his physical body, Doom had spent a considerable portion of his etheric energies just to survive. He had been left considerably drained and weakened by the ordeal. He had put pieces in motion, and it was time for him to recover as well.
All this recovery time did give him a chance to catch up on all the vital state work and research that builds up unceasingly.
Presently, Doom was leaning against his dark mahogany desk, leafing through a stack of papers. He wore a simple hooded viridian robe, his skin still wrapped in medicated bandages as it healed. Bright morning sunshine beamed through the large windows to the office that Doom used in his capacity as monarch of Latveria. The room was situated high in Castle Doom and over looked the picturesque city below it. Banners depicting his emblem hung on the few walls without large book shelves, and rich green carpets decorated the stone floor.
He sipped his coffee, enjoying the bitter tang as he turned to the window and gazed upon his beautiful land. In moments like these, he even had wistful thoughts of an alternative world, one where he had not been burdened with the responsibly to guide and heal mankind. He certainly would have enjoyed the carefree life as a simple, if highly brilliant, scientist. Pouring over notes and laboratory results, he could appreciate the humble delights of pushing the frontiers of understanding ever outwards.
But such was his responsibility, he could only take a moment of such luxury.
Doom returned his attention to his research. Thus far, he had only small successes in determining what markers could differentiate a Skrull from a human. He stroked his chin as he gazed at the monitors feeding him information from the rendered down tissue samples.
Although he would never admit it openly, biology was one of his weaker sciences. While he could bend his mind to mastery of any discipline, Doom was a technologist first and foremost. He always considered biology the 'softest' of the sciences, and preferred the certainty of physics and computer science; metal over flesh. Nevertheless, he ran over his early results.
The Skrulls could imitate anything at the genetic level. More recently, they gained the capacity to imitate otherwise unique super human abilities. They could also change forms within seconds. Furthermore, the Skrull genetic code shared the same purine and pyrimidine base components of life on earth. These facts, unfortunately, ruled out a simple genetic test to find an alien marker in the DNA. He sat and steepled his hands in front of his face, hunching forward, deep in thought.
Gazing absent-mindedly into the screen, with whirs of numbers and letters dancing like grains of dust caught in the sun, Doom turned intellect to this problem. Logically, if the Skrulls shared the same constituent parts of known genetic life, what made them different?
This question implied genetic 'machinery' besides the DNA itself. Machinery that must be wholly alien. Doom quickly moved through files on the computer. He looked under the heading 'NUCLEAR ENVELOPE ENZYME BREAKDOWN.' Within, he found the aliens cells contained DNA Polymerase, RNA Transcriptase, and all the other typical genetic enzymes.
He examined the breakdown chart, and something about the numbers drew his attention. Summoning references on his other monitor, he compared the numbers. Sure enough, the alien cells contained far greater measures of these genetic enzymes than a normal human. In fact, they outweighed normal human quantities by nearly two orders of magnitude.
A soft 'Hmmm' escaped him as he mused through the implications.
This was a breakthrough, though it also meant that much of the previous genetic analysis was, essentially, wasted time. Doom quickly set the machinery of his lab to begin rendering and analyzing the enzymes in the Skrull nucleus. This would take more time, so he turned his attention to the other problems bedeviling him; these ones far more political in nature.
"Computer: Status of current Latverian humanitarian missions."
The display on his desk flickered as it helpful chimed, acknowledging his order. A series of numbers displaying numerous logistical statistics scrolled across the holographic display. San Francisco, Mirny, Sudan, and other missions yet to be launched. All areas devastated by the war, or ignored by the 'great powers', much to the suffering of numerous innocents.
Overtly, Doom was rebuilding life sustaining infrastructure; water, power and the like. Covertly, he was establishing bases that could be lunch points for a global resistance. Such areas could be used to bring in arms and to provide bastions against alien assault. Such fortification would be months away, assuming he discarded any pretence of stealth. Given a year, and thanks to his robotic labour force, the areas could be subtly built up and strengthened.
After he caught up with world reports, Doom strode off into his private sanctum, the cool air in the lab soothingly caressing his injured skin, and he summoned the stolen Skrull information on the main monitor in the lab. His next strategic goal was the alien fleet in high orbit. It must be neutralized, and if possible, captured.
The stolen information, combined with his own sensors, confirmed that the fleet was broken into several flotillas. Each was comprised of roughly one hundred arbitrarily designated 'battle cruisers', the rough displacement of two human super carriers. Each had crew of ten thousand. In addition there were small attendant escorts and logistic vessels.
He shook his head with disdain at the thought that scarcely five million orbiting Skrulls held all Earth hostage. Combined with ground troops, and civilians on unarmed colony ships, not to mention the capital ship, there were perhaps thirty-million aliens in total; certainly not enough to truly conquer and occupy a planet.
Thus, the question was begged: why would an interstellar empire send so few to take a populated planet?
The answer must be that they could not send more. But why?
Doom mulled this question for a short time, feeling that it would provide a line of opportunity to disable the alien ships. The fact that the Skrulls brought their high leadership, as well as a significant portion of civilians, confused matters and he paced the room as he thought.
Why would an empress relocate to what amounted to a newly conquered province? Why would an invasion bring such numbers of non-combatants in the initial wave, while also bringing insufficient ground forces to fully pacify the conquered ground? With the fleet, the Skrulls held a gun to every humans head, but without it, they could never hold significant territory. Was this a matter of doctrine, or was something else driving them? Furthermore, the aliens took great pains to take the planet relatively intact, and with as much of the local population as possible.
As he paced, it quickly became clear to Doom that the capital ship was one of the keys to victory. If he held it, he held the Skrull religious and political leadership, as well as a significant portion their civilians. Undoubtedly a potent bargaining chip.
Dooms machines clicked and whirred with their task, as his own mind cogitated these questions.
The sun was just about setting on cottage country in New York. Carol was prone in the high grass a short distance from the dusty country road. Her anticipation was growing, but she resisted the urge to poke her head up and search for her target.
She had been busy over the last few months. Since the prison break, she had broken-down the escaped heroes into small cells and scattered them across the eastern sea-board. The chains of communication were spotty, and simply passing messages between the groups was risky, so she tried her best spread out her people with experience among the cells.
She trusted them to do their best to make things difficult for the Skrulls. The missions had all been small scale, some as simple as defacing flags and putting up posters and graffiti. Occasionally, they hit slightly harder targets; sabotaging vehicles, cutting communications lines, and even intercepting patrolling Skrulls who had taken prisoners.
Today, she intended to step up their game to a legitimate rebellion.
Her cell (the largest, but quite dispersed across New York) had received word that some Skrull big-wig, around a Colonel equivalent, was passing through here after a tour through the wine country. She hoped to take the commander alive, but taking him out would also be fine. In fact, even if he escaped, it would give the aliens a bit of headshake; enough to make them nervous.
She had brought a small team to back her up for the attack. About two-hundred meters back, and situated on a small rising was Xi'an Coy Manh, though she just went by 'Karma'. She was on overwatch, posted in some bushes with an AR-15. More importantly, she was a telepath, and could keep the team updated and in coordination without the risks of radios. She was the one keeping an eye out for the approaching vehicles.
On the other side of the road, about fifty meters to the left of Carol, Anole was hidden. The young mutant was one of the few who managed to escape San Francisco, and he managed to cross the country undetected. Thanks to his lizard-like anatomy and camouflage skin, he was well adapted to survive the trek across America, and when he was found by Carol's western-most cells, he was sent her way. He said he went by Lizard Boy, but that didn't really roll off the tongue, so folks just called him by his name.
Following the road, about one-hundred meters to the east (Carol's right-side) was Ava Ayala, the White Tiger. Carol was uncomfortable bringing her along; the girl was obviously lying about her age. She clearly looked to be fifteen or sixteen, but she said she was eighteen. Regardless, she had inherited a magic talisman and was deadly with the metallic talons her suit possessed. Carol hated herself for bringing the kid along, but the young girl had proved herself to be stealthy and effective, which was just what she needed for this mission.
The task itself was simple: Karma would warn them when the Skrull's vehicle approached. Carol would lead and disable the vehicle and deal with the occupants. Anole and Ava would watch her back and engage if things got messy, and Karma would cover and keep their S-A updated.
'Target approaching; looks like three vehicles,' came Karma's telepathic whisper.
Carol bit her lip. She expected security, but three vehicles was a bit more than she hoped. She 'sent' a thought to Karma asking for further information.
'A black SUV in the front, followed by some…hover-limousine? And a Skrull tank behind it.'
Images came with Karma's description. Hover-limousine seemed as fair a description as any; clearly it was a high-end vehicle for the aliens. The big-wig would be in there. The 'tank' had the look of some kind of APC. It had a light turreted weapon on top and it was bulbous enough to look to carry a section of troops. It too hovered along, taking up the rear of the convoy.
Carol thought back to Karma: 'stick to the plan; I'll disable to limousine and the APC. White Tiger: take care of the SUV when it stops. Anole: watch our backs.'
She patiently waited for Karma to call out when the vehicle was in the strike-zone. After an agonizingly long minute she heard the psychic signal.
Carol pushed herself up from the grass, taking to the air. Once she was high enough, she did a quick u-turn, and came down on the front of the Skrull limousine like a meteor. The engine block provided no resistance as she carved through it like tin and cratered the dirt road underneath it.
The sudden impact caused the vehicle to flip, and the back end tumbled over her shoulder. She side-stepped the falling chassis, and turned her attention to the alien APC to her left. As she did, she could hear the squeal the lead vehicle breaking behind her.
Carol fired a photon blast into the following APC. Her shot crumpled the front armour of the bulbous vehicle, but didn't penetrate. She shifted her aim at one of the 'pontoons' of the vehicle, assuming the hover mechanisms were housed there. A blast of crimson photon energy blew the protruding pontoon off the APC, and it listed to side before dropping into the dirt. She pointed her palm at the weapon turret on top it, and another blast of energy hit the gun, causing the barrel to twist and deform like a plastic knife held over a candle flame.
She felt little pops across her back, and she became aware she was being shot. She snapped around, bright energy emanating from her hands as she prepared to defend herself, though she was taken aback when she saw what was shooting at her.
She suddenly realized she was being shot at by humans!
Four suited men had debarked from the leading SUV and were using it as cover. They were firing laser pistols are her; the weapons were no threat, but she was surprised enough to freeze up for a second. She couldn't comprehend that normal humans were putting their lives on the line for the Skrulls.
She saw a blur of white, and Ava leapt from the bushes. She had her talons out, and she pounced on one of the men from behind. In a flash she tore the man's throat out, ribbons of pulsatile red blood flowing down his dress shirt.
"Ava! Wait-" she called out, but was cut off by the terrible sound of metal rending beside her; a massive green arm punched through the undercarriage of the flipped limousine. Violently, the arm ripped down the metal, and a Super-Skrull pulled himself from the wreckage.
Damn, she had hoped that there wouldn't be any of these guys here.
The alien quickly scanned left and right before fixing it's eyes on her. The muscled Super-Skrull leapt at her in a single bound.
Carol fired a photon blast from each hand and caught the creature in the chest. It was knocked from the air, but looked more angry than injured. It smashed a fist into the ground, and the earth quaked under her. She lost her balance to the surprise attack, and landed clumsily.
As Carol picked herself up, she saw large bone spurs grow from the Super-Skrull. It flung them at her in a barrage, and she raised her arms to shield herself. Most of the spurs ricocheted from her enhanced physiology, but she felt a few penetrate into her forearm. She quickly chopped down with her other hand to knock the projectiles out of her flesh in a painful sweep.
While she was distracted with the spurs, the Super-Skrull took his chance and leapt upon her, growing a massive bone spur from it's wrist. The creature landed on Carol and she only just had enough time to catch the stabbing bone a few inches from her face. The alien's other hand pushed down on the side of her head, driving her face into the dust. Pebbles and grit dug into her cheek as she struggled to hold back the spur.
In the distance, she heard the sharp cracks of a rifle, and saw the alien shake it's head as bullets bounced off it's skull. Nearby, she heard the sounds of rapid fire energy weapons. She punched the creature in the jaw with her free hand as hard as she could, but the alien shook it off. It grimaced, showing a mouth full of fangs and a prehensile tongue; she felt sizzling acids drip from it's maw onto her skin.
Karma sent a telepathic message, 'I'm taking a lot of fire here! I'm gonna need-' before it was abruptly cut off with a painful 'twinge'.
Fury surged in her. I am not dying here she told herself.
She punched her fist into the Skrull's open mouth. The creature made a dumb confused noise before she fired a photon blast. The back of the alien's head exploded in a shower of brackish green blood and crimson energy. It went limp, and she heaved the body off of her.
As she looked around, she could see that Anole had engaged the section of Skrulls from the APC. Four of them were mangled on the ground, and he was smashing the fifth into the hull of the vehicle. Carol scrambled to her feet and blasted the last alien troop in the back as it aimed at the young mutant.
She looked over to Ava; she was fine, though her white suit was covered in deep red stains. Carol was slightly dismayed to see the men that Ava killed had retained their human forms in death. She didn't know much about the Skrulls, but she knew that they returned to their natural form upon death. Somehow, she had held out a little hope that they would've been disguised aliens.
"Go check on Karma!" she yelled at the blood-drenched girl, and Ava ran off to the hill.
Carol walked over to the wreckage of the limousine and looked inside the hole that the Super-Skrull carved in the undercarrage.
"Fuck."
She saw three bodies and a lot of blood; most of it red. The Skrull commander wasn't moving, but she could see he was still breathing, albeit shallowly and rapidly. The other body she recognized with a sinking feeling; it was the mayor of New York. His neck was twisted at an unnatural angle, and there was no way he had survived. The last body was a younger woman. She was probably the aide to the mayor; a pretty little thing in a well-tailored suit, though she had taken an ashen pallor. A spur of metal had punched into her thigh, and it looked like she bled out quickly.
"Fuck!" Carol repeated. She looked around for a moment as her mind swam, then angrily fired a photon blast through the chest of the Skrull commander.
This had indeed turned messy.
Pushing herself back out of the wreckage, she looked around for her team. Anole limped over. He had a pair of large holes blasted in his left thigh, though the wounds were cauterized by the energy weapons. She looked over to Ava as she came back; the young woman shook her head, and her meaning was abundantly clear.
Carol nodded for a second as she gathered herself. There would be time to ruminate, but for now they had to extract themselves before more Skrulls arrived.
"Ava; head back to the city and go to ground for a while. Anole, I'm taking you for medical care," she ordered.
Anole shook his head, "No, just put me somewhere safe; my healing factor can deal with worse than this-" he said through gritted teeth, patting his wounded thigh. "Besides, you need to get to ground too."
"Alright then," she replied, feeling a swell of pride for the young heroes. Even though this whole thing went poorly, they still acquitted themselves with bravery. She lifted Anole and took to the skies as Ava darted off into the high grasses of the fields.