The HYDRA faction buried inside S.H.I.E.L.D. was erased almost overnight, leaving behind nothing but wreckage and disbelief. What shocked people most wasn't just the purge itself, but the realization that HYDRA—an organization thought to have died with World War II—had quietly revived and grown stronger than ever. It wasn't some miracle or coincidence, but the inevitable consequence of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s own decisions decades ago.
After the fall of the Nazis, S.H.I.E.L.D., desperate for talent, had launched the infamous Paperclip program and absorbed a number of former HYDRA scientists and operatives. They believed time would dilute loyalty and erase ideology, but they had underestimated just how deeply that serpent's roots had embedded themselves. When the fire reignited, it didn't just burn—it spread uncontrollably, tearing S.H.I.E.L.D. apart from within.
Cut off one head, and two more shall take its place. That old HYDRA creed wasn't just propaganda; it was proof of their terrifying resilience.
Before Alexander Pierce died, he had spoken of welcoming back a "miracle existence." Whether that referred to some symbolic figure or an actual entity remained unclear, but the phrase lingered like a shadow. It hinted that HYDRA's ambitions might have reached far beyond what anyone had imagined.
Carol was furious after the purge.
What enraged her most wasn't just HYDRA's infiltration, but the loss of the psychic scepter she had entrusted to S.H.I.E.L.D. That weapon wasn't supposed to disappear like this, especially not into enemy hands.
After Locke had extracted the scepter's power using the Ultimate Evolution Module, he had handed the artifact itself over to Carol. It was meant to serve as a powerful tool for Earth's defense, something that could push human technology forward. When S.H.I.E.L.D. requested to study it, she had agreed, believing it would benefit scientific progress and global security.
That decision now felt like a mistake.
The scepter, once secured in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s research division, had been quietly taken by HYDRA during the chaos. It vanished without a trace, slipping through their fingers just as everything else fell apart. The realization left Carol seething, her anger laced with guilt.
She felt like she had failed him.
Still, when she thought about it more carefully, the guilt softened slightly. Locke himself didn't seem particularly concerned, which only made her emotions more complicated.
From Locke's perspective, everything unfolding felt strangely familiar. The timeline seemed to be snapping back into place, as if events were correcting themselves regardless of interference. The scepter falling into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hands, only to be stolen by HYDRA and trigger a chain reaction—this was exactly how things had played out before.
"Interesting," Locke muttered with a faint smile.
He looked at Carol, his tone relaxed and almost amused. "It's fine. I'm sure it'll come back eventually. Maybe it'll even surprise me."
"You're leaving?" Carol asked softly, her arms tightening around him.
She hadn't even bothered to get dressed, pressing herself against him as if trying to memorize his presence. There was reluctance in her voice, something she didn't bother to hide.
Locke lowered his head and kissed her forehead, his touch calm and reassuring. "I'll be gone for a while. But as long as you think of my name, I'll hear you."
He paused briefly before continuing, his voice carrying quiet confidence. "With the Space Stone's power, distance doesn't mean anything to me. And as long as you keep feeding me… how could I ever stay away for long?"
"Idiot," she muttered, though there was no real anger behind it.
Carol buried her face against his chest, letting out a soft huff, her usual tsundere edge returning just enough to mask the emotions underneath.
Far beyond Earth, deep within the endless expanse of the universe, lay the planet Garonne.
Thousands of years ago, it had been a thriving world with a technological civilization comparable to modern Earth. Its people had advanced rapidly, building cities and systems that reflected intelligence and ambition. But that progress had come to a brutal halt when the Kree Empire arrived.
The invasion had been swift and merciless.
The Kree didn't conquer—they exterminated. The native population was slaughtered without hesitation, erased so thoroughly that their existence faded into nothing more than fragments of forgotten history. Once the bloodshed ended, the planet was stripped of its identity and transformed into a resource hub under Kree control.
Now, thousands of years later, Garonne was firmly within the Kree's sphere of influence.
And then something new arrived.
From the depths of space, several objects streaked toward the planet like blazing meteors. They tore through the vacuum at terrifying speeds, cutting across the darkness before plunging into the atmosphere. Friction ignited them in fire, turning them into streaks of burning light as they descended toward the surface.
Alarms erupted across the planet.
"Warning! Unknown high-energy objects have entered Garonne's atmosphere!"
"Warning! Incoming objects confirmed—trajectory impact imminent!"
The leading "meteor" moved faster than the rest, its speed so extreme that interception systems couldn't even lock onto it properly. Missiles launched into the sky, but they were useless, unable to match its velocity.
Then it hit.
Locke's body slammed into the ground like a falling star.
The impact was catastrophic.
A massive shockwave exploded outward from the point of collision, tearing through everything in its path. Within dozens of miles, structures crumbled instantly. Mountains cracked and collapsed. Entire districts were flattened as if wiped clean by an invisible hand.
Dust and debris surged into the sky, swallowing the landscape in a choking haze. The force alone was enough to reshape the terrain, leaving behind nothing but devastation.
But the destruction didn't stop there.
Locke had chosen his landing point carefully.
Directly beneath him was the core command center of the Kree forces stationed on Garonne. In a single instant, the entire structure—and everyone inside it—was obliterated. Over a hundred thousand Kree lives vanished in that moment, reduced to nothing by the sheer force of his arrival.
Moments later, three more figures descended from the sky.
Fiora, Derek, and Spencer followed behind, but unlike Locke, they didn't dare replicate his method. Watching his impact had been enough to make even them uneasy. It wasn't just power—it was overwhelming, apocalyptic force.
They slowed themselves midair, carefully dissipating their energy before landing smoothly on the ground.
"That… was insane," one of them muttered under their breath.
To them, Locke's descent hadn't looked like a landing—it looked like a man-made nuclear strike.
On the ground, surviving Kree forces scrambled into action.
"It's Kryptonian Supermen!" someone shouted in panic.
Attempts were immediately made to contact the Accuser, Ronan the Accuser, who had been overseeing operations on the planet. The response came back almost instantly—and it froze everyone in place.
The Accuser was dead.
Not just him, but the entire central command had been wiped out.
"My God…" a voice whispered over the comms. "The Accuser is gone? Then who's in command now?"
Emergency protocols activated without delay.
"Establish temporary command immediately! All interstellar bases report your status!"
Static crackled across the communication channels as reports began flooding in.
"Interstellar Base One—Leo—is under attack! Two Kryptonian Supermen have breached our defenses!"
"Two?" someone echoed, disbelief creeping into their voice.
"That's right! They're using heat vision—our forces can't withstand it! We're requesting immediate support!"
Another transmission cut in, frantic and distorted.
"Interstellar Base Three—Libra—is also under attack! A female Kryptonian has destroyed our perimeter! We're collapsing—requesting reinforcements!"
The temporary command center descended into chaos.
Messages overlapped, alarms blared, and no one seemed to have a clear picture of the situation. Every report painted the same grim reality—their forces were being overwhelmed effortlessly.
"What the hell is going on?" one officer shouted. "Wasn't Krypton destroyed? Why are there so many of them?"
In the Kree Empire's understanding, Kryptonians were already rare enough as it was. A single Superman-level individual was considered an anomaly, a threat that required careful handling.
Now there were four.
And each one carried the same terrifying abilities—strength beyond measure, flight, and those devastating beams of heat vision that cut through their armies like paper.
Garonne had become a battlefield overnight.
And the Kree command structure, already crippled by Locke's arrival, had no idea how to respond.
....
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