Max applied a smooth stroke of cerulean blue to his canvas, his ears tuned to the conversation happening on the couch behind him.
Hearing the name of the planet Torfa spoken through the holographic communicator sent his mind drifting back to the pivotal events of 1997.
The timeline had fractured, deviating heavily from the original sequence of events Max held in his memories.
In the early months of 1997, Talos and his remaining refugees on Earth had come to a formal agreement with Nick Fury.
The Skrull leader shook hands with the human spymaster, pledging his people to serve as an unseen intelligence network.
They would use their shape-shifting abilities to infiltrate, gather data, and act as S.H.I.E.L.D.’s ultimate spies.
However, December of that same year brought a massive disruption to Fury’s grand design.
Captain Marvel returned to Earth for her unannounced visit.
She brought more than just alien technology for the Rambeau family.
She brought a star map detailing the exact coordinates of Torfa, a lush, habitable planet hidden deep within the cosmos, far from the reach of the Kree Empire.
Max knew he was the architect of this discovery.
Every time Carol had reached out over the years, Max had made a point to remind her of her promise.
He had planted seeds in her mind, urging her to prioritize a safe haven for the refugees over fighting endless skirmishes across the galaxy.
His persistence bore fruit.
Faced with the reality of a true home, Talos found himself torn between his new world and his oath to Nick Fury.
The Skrull leader proposed a compromise.
He honored his agreement, declaring that any Skrull who wished to fight and gather intelligence could remain on Earth in Fury’s employ.
But the children, the injured, and the non-combatants would claim Torfa.
Using Carol’s ship, Talos broadcasted a secure, encrypted signal into the deep reaches of space.
The colony flourished.
Max considered this massive gathering the most significant alteration he had made to the universe thus far.
Max rinsed his brush in a cup of water and selected a shade of forest green.
The distance of space did not sever the connections forged on Earth.
Whenever Carol established a link using the holographic disc, she patched the signal through the Torfa colony.
Max and Monica maintained regular contact with Talos’s daughter, G’iah.
The girls shared stories, laughing over the vast differences in their cultures.
Through G’iah, Max and Monica made friends with the other Skrull children adjusting to their new lives.
Max paid special attention to the group dynamics visible in the blue holographic projection.
He always noticed one particular Skrull boy lingering in the background.
His name was Gravik.
He was a stoic, quiet child who carried the heavy burdens of an orphan of war.
Max made sure to include Gravik in their conversations, offering steady words and a listening ear to the boy, hoping to anchor him and prevent the resentment that festered in the original timeline.
Max set his wooden palette down on the floor and closed his eyes.
He shifted his awareness from the living room, plunging his consciousness into the vast network tethered to his soul.
His magical growth over the past four years had not only expanded the dimensions of his personal realm, but it had also stretched his reach across the physical globe.
The range of his shadow projection no longer ended at the borders of Louisiana.
His influence blanketed almost the entirety of the North and South American continents.
His Shadowkhan numbers had swelled to a staggering ten thousand members.
They did not rest.
They did not slack off.
Max maintained a strict, unyielding directive for his invisible legion.
The ten thousand ninjas operated as a continent-spanning network of guardian angels.
Max observed a flicker of distress in the network.
A multi-car collision on a rain-slicked highway.
With a thought, he dispatched a squad.
Thousands of miles away, shadows detached from the twisted metal of the wreckage.
The Shadowkhan materialized in the pouring rain.
They did not reveal themselves to the conscious survivors.
They moved to the critically injured, the ones fading before the sirens could even be heard.
The ninjas placed their hands over the bleeding wounds and projected Max’s golden healing light.
They did not perform miraculous, instantaneous cures that would draw the attention of the authorities.
They simply stabilized the failing organs and stopped the hemorrhaging, refusing to let the wounds worsen until human paramedics arrived on the scene.
Once the ambulances appeared, the ninjas melted back into the asphalt.
Max opened his eyes, picking up his brush to finish his painting.
He orchestrated a massive web of salvation from his spot on the rug, balancing the lives of thousands while his mother and sister laughed with the stars.