The cleanup took less than an hour.
Carol hauled the unconscious Kree soldiers into their own drop-ship, tossing Yon-Rogg onto the metal deck alongside his elite operatives.
She keyed the navigation console, locking the autopilot coordinates for Hala, the Kree homeworld.
She slammed the ramp shut and watched the vessel shoot into the night sky, carrying a very clear message back to the Supreme Intelligence.
The battle was over.
The Rambeau farmhouse returned to a state of quiet domesticity, albeit with a few extraterrestrial houseguests.
In the living room, Monica had taken it upon herself to act as the official Earth ambassador to the Skrull refugees.
She brought out her board games and action figures, coaxing Talos’s daughter, G’iah, out of her shell.
Within an hour, the three children—Monica, G’iah, and Max—were sitting in a circle on the rug, laughing and trading toys.
Max played his part, babbling and sharing his blocks, securing his place in their fast-forming friendship.
In the dining room, the adults sat around the table, eating leftover casserole.
Nick Fury pushed his food around his plate with a fork, his mind churning.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the space ninjas.
The existence of powered individuals wasn’t a shock to a S.H.I.E.L.D.
agent.
Fury knew the world was changing; he knew about mutants.
But the mutants he had encountered in scattered reports always possessed unique, individualized abilities.
This organization was different.
The ninjas all shared the exact same shadow-manipulation abilities, the same light-blue skin, and the same glowing red eyes.
They weren’t human.
And then there was their leader.
The golden-eyed phantom holding the crowbar.
*”Do you think you are the only organization protecting the world, Mr.
Fury?”*
The phrase echoed in his head.
It was a bizarre, chilling greeting.
If Fury submitted a field report detailing an alien invasion, a shapeshifting war, a woman shooting lasers from her hands, *and* a secret society of magic space ninjas who knew his name, Director Keller would lock him in a psych ward.
He took a bite of cold casserole.
He would investigate the ninjas on his own time.
S.H.I.E.L.D.
didn’t need to know.
Across the room, Talos leaned against the doorframe, watching his people.
His gaze settled on Norex.
The Skrull engineer was hovering near the children, shifting his weight from foot to foot and casting nervous glances toward the backyard.
Talos narrowed his eyes.
He noticed the two massive, charred holes burned straight through Norex’s uniform—one on the chest, one on the abdomen.
Talos stood up, gesturing for Norex to follow him out the back door.
Maria noticed the silent exchange.
She tapped Carol’s arm, and the two women stood up, followed closely by Fury.
They stepped out onto the back porch, hanging back in the shadows to listen.
Down in the grass, Talos crossed his arms.
He spoke in sharp, clicking syllables—the native Skrull tongue.
*”What happened to your uniform?”* Talos demanded.
Carol leaned close to Maria and Fury, keeping her voice to a whisper.
“He’s asking about the blast holes.”
He remained silent for a long minute before replying in a low, shameful murmur.
*”Yon-Rogg.
He discovered the deception.
He shot me.”*
Carol translated for the humans.
Fury raised his single eyebrow, looking at the Skrull engineer’s unblemished green skin visible through the burnt fabric.
*”He shot you?”* Talos pressed, his voice rising in confusion.
*”Those are plasma burns.
Direct hits to the core organs.
How are you standing here?
Did the Kree administer treatment?”*
Norex shook his head, looking back toward the house.
He didn’t say a word.
Maria let out a heavy, tired sigh.
She rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on.
She stepped off the porch, crunching the gravel beneath her boots.
“The Kree didn’t heal him, Talos,” Maria said, drawing the Skrulls’ attention.
She looked back at Carol and Fury, resigning herself to the truth.
“Max did.”
The crickets seemed to stop chirping.
“Excuse me?” Fury said, stepping into the light.
“My son,” Maria clarified, her voice tight.
“He…
he has gifts.
Healing light.
He saved Monica a few weeks ago when she took a bad fall.
I told him to keep it hidden.
He must have seen Yon-Rogg shoot your man and ran out to fix it.”
Talos stared at the house, then back at Maria, stunned into silence.
Carol’s demeanor shifted in a heartbeat.
The easygoing smirk vanished, replaced by the hardened glare of a cosmic warrior.
She stepped in front of Maria, her eyes flashing with a faint, residual photon glow as she looked at Talos and Fury.
“You listen to me,” Carol said, her tone carrying the weight of a threat.
“Both of you.
That boy is a civilian.
If either of you breathes a single word of this to S.H.I.E.L.D., or the Skrull council, or anyone else…
you will answer to me.
Are we clear?”
Talos nodded immediately, pressing a hand to his chest.
“You have my word.
The boy saved my friend’s life.
He is a hero to the Skrulls.”
Fury held his hands up.
“Hey, I already decided to keep half of today’s events off the books.
What’s one more secret?” He gestured to the bloody bandage strapped over his left eye. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
“Though, if the kid is dealing out miracles, you think he does optometry?”
During the descent from the Kree cruiser, Goose had lashed out, scratching Fury directly across the eye.
The wound burned with a strange, unnatural heat.
Maria considered it.
“I can ask him.”
“I would caution against getting your hopes up, Fury,” Talos warned, stepping back toward the porch.
“A scratch from a Flerken is not a normal wound.
The tissue damage is necrotic.
It resists cellular regeneration.”
A few minutes later, Maria brought Max out onto the porch.
Fury knelt down, peeling the bloody gauze away to reveal three nasty, deep claw marks across a ruined, milky eye.
“Can you fix him, baby?” Maria asked softly.
Max looked at the spy.
He nodded, playing the part of the obedient, helpful child.
He reached out, pressing his small, chubby hands over Fury’s face.
Max tapped into his mana.
He pushed the *Healing* magic into the wound.
He felt the strange, cosmic venom left behind by the Flerken actively fighting his spell.
Instead of wasting thousands of mana points trying to purge the venom, Max focused his magic solely on the optic nerve and the retina, restoring their function without altering the surface damage.
The golden light faded.
Max pulled his hands back.
Fury blinked.
His right eye widened.
He covered his good eye with his hand, staring at Maria, Carol, and Max with his left.
“I can see,” Fury breathed, sheer disbelief washing over his face.
“I can see everything.
Clear as day.”
“But look at it,” Carol pointed out, gesturing to the hall mirror just inside the door.
Fury stood up and walked to the mirror.
He stared at his reflection.
Despite having 20/20 vision in the eye, the cosmetic damage remained.
The three deep scars cut across his brow and cheek, and the eye itself was a cloudy, milky white.
The Flerken venom had permanently scarred the tissue, even as Max’s magic restored the mechanics of sight.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Fury muttered.
He turned around, spotting Goose sleeping on the sofa.
Instead of drawing his gun, the hardened spy walked over and gently scratched the alien monster behind the ears.
“You’re a mean one, but I can’t stay mad at you.”
Max waddled back into the house, looking up at the spy with a wide, innocent grin.
“You look cool, Uncle Pirate.”
Fury snorted, a rare, genuine smile breaking across his scarred face.
“Uncle Pirate.
I can live with that.”
The night stretched on, a rare moment of peace for a fractured family, a rogue alien, and a spy who had just taken his first step into a larger universe.