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Game of Thrones: House of Black Dragon
Game of Thrones: BLOODTHIRSTY BASTARD
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The prisoner's sudden rampage threw the entire dock into chaos.
More importantly, this prisoner wasn't just agile and strong; he seemed to possess significant regenerative abilities.
The surrounding Skrulls immediately pulled their weapons and opened fire, but the few bullets that connected only resulted in minor blood splatters before the wounds closed up. The damage was negligible.
"Where is the security team?! Get combat personnel down here! Civilians clear the area!"
A Skrull, seemingly a supervisor, shouted orders at the top of his lungs while simultaneously backpedaling to safety.
Natasha and Bucky weren't surprised by this scene.
Based on the intel they had gathered recently, most of the Skrull leadership had refrained from undergoing genetic enhancement, preferring to wait for the "Super Skrull" project to succeed.
This led to a peculiar situation where the rank-and-file Skrull soldiers—those who had already been given superpowers—were significantly stronger than their commanders.
Soon enough, several super-powered Skrulls rushed forward to intercept the escaping prisoner.
Among them were the standard elemental types—fire and ice users—but Natasha also spotted several Skrulls morphed into Steve Rogers, charging the front line with replicated shields.
Just as the duo's infiltration plan was disrupted by this sudden violence, a Skrull behind Natasha grabbed the handle of her cart and shoved it, cursing under his breath.
"Stop gawking! Leave this to the combat team! We need to move these unconscious prisoners out of here, now!"
He glared at Natasha and Bucky.
The message was clear: You idiots, don't you know to run when things go south? What are you standing there for?
Natasha and Bucky exchanged a glance. Not knowing what else to say, they quickly grabbed their respective carts and followed the angry Skrull, winding through the corridors deeper into the base.
The alarm lights flashed incessantly, likely triggered by the commotion at the dock.
However, outside the immediate combat zone, the Skrulls in the rest of the base didn't seem too panicked. They continued their work methodically.
The group successfully transported the unconscious prisoners to a room resembling a morgue without further incident.
After the other Skrulls dropped off their carts and left, only three people remained in the room: Natasha, Bucky, and the Skrull who had yelled at them to run earlier.
The Skrull pulled out a tablet and started logging data. Noticing the two of them were still standing there like statues, he scolded them, exasperated.
"Why aren't you heading to the mess hall? What are you doing here? Planning to help me inventory the prisoners?"
He just wanted these two to get lost.
But Natasha's eyes lit up. She seized the opportunity.
"No problem, sir. We're not hungry anyway..."
The Skrull paused, lowering his tablet to look them up and down.
"Raised on Earth, huh? I hate you undisciplined types."
"Let me tell you, sucking up to me won't work. The quota for returning to space is already filled. If you want to go to the station and see the Queen, file your application earlier next time."
He waved his hand dismissively and went back to his inventory work.
Clearly, he thought he had made his point. These "country bumpkins" should have gotten the hint and left.
But he didn't notice that after he mentioned "returning to space," the two "bumpkins" exchanged a look and quietly took a step closer.
"Um... could you tell us what the station is like? We've only ever heard stories, never had the chance..."
It was Natasha again, playing the part.
The Skrull didn't seem surprised by the question, though his tone remained impatient.
"What do you think it looks like? It's called 'home,' but it's just a base. Only you Earth-borns think it's something special."
"Even a high-tech station is just halls, rooms, and corridors once you're inside. Did you think you get a panoramic view of the station from space or something?"
"If it were really that great, why do you think we're trying so hard to take Earth?"
Despite his impatience, this Skrull turned out to be a bit of a chatterbox with zero filter.
He complained constantly, yet his words dripped with a strange arrogance—the "I was born in space, unlike you mud-legged Earthlings" attitude.
As a veteran spy, Natasha knew exactly how to handle this type.
She subtly flattered his "noble" heritage while playing up her own ignorance, effectively milking him for information.
It worked like a charm. Before long, he had spilled everything from mundane details to classified intel.
For someone born on the Skrull mothership but stuck doing inventory duty in a remote outpost, showing off his "superior knowledge" to these Earth-borns was probably the highlight of his boring job.
But even he had limits.
When Natasha asked, "So, are all prisoners sent to the space station eventually?"
The Skrull paused. Suspicion finally flickered in his eyes as he looked at his two "kin."
"Wait a minute! You two—"
He didn't get to finish his sentence.
Natasha, having already closed the distance, kicked his wrist, sending the tablet flying into the air.
Almost simultaneously, she extended her arm. A "Widow's Bite" taser disc shot from her wrist, hitting the Skrull square in the chest.
Blue electricity crackled, and the Skrull stiffened, falling backward.
Before he could hit the floor, Bucky, metal arm disguised under a holographic projection, lunged forward and caught him by the throat.
CRACK.
With a sickening snap, the chatty Skrull went limp.
Natasha caught the falling tablet effortlessly. She glanced at the corpse on the floor, then looked at Bucky.
"No cameras here. You or me?"
Bucky looked at Natasha holding the tablet and made a quick decision.
"I'll do it."
He tapped his wristwatch, projecting a blue beam that scanned the body on the floor.
A moment later, blue light shimmered over him.
Although they were both green-skinned to begin with, the subtle facial features shifted. Bucky had perfectly transformed into the chatty Skrull they had just killed.
"Stuff him in a locker. We'll lure another one in for you."