"Talos, I need your help with something."
Nick Fury's expression softened into what passed for a smile on his typically stern countenance.
"What's the matter?" Talos asked, his reptilian features arranging themselves into a look of genuine curiosity. He knew Fury was not one for social calls or idle conversation.
The arrangement between them was pragmatic but mutually beneficial. Talos and his immediate family, along with a small contingent of trusted Skrulls, had been granted sanctuary on Earth. The remainder of their people remained hidden aboard a cloaked vessel orbiting beyond the Moon's dark side. S.H.I.E.L.D.—or more accurately, Fury himself—provided for their basic needs and security, while select Skrull warriors occasionally assisted with sensitive operations requiring their unique abilities.
A coldly logical observer might characterize this as a simple transaction: survival resources exchanged for specialized combat and intelligence capabilities. But the reality was more nuanced. Over decades, something resembling friendship had formed between the last prince of a dying race and Earth's most paranoid protector.
"I need to utilize your species' mimetic abilities," Fury stated without preamble. "There's a matter I need to verify."
"Go on," Talos encouraged, his interest genuinely piqued.
Fury drew a measured breath, his single eye fixed intently on Talos's face. "I need to confirm the full extent of your transformative capabilities. Specifically, when you assimilate tissue samples, you gain access to the subject's recent memories and abilities. Correct?"
He leaned forward slightly. "I'm not referring to ordinary humans. I'm talking about individuals with extraordinary—even reality-altering—capabilities."
Understanding dawned on Talos. Fury intended to leverage the Skrulls' biological mimicry to access information or abilities from enhanced individuals—possibly without their knowledge or consent. The ethical implications were complex, but Talos had long ago accepted that survival often necessitated moral compromise.
A smile spread across his alien features as he nodded. "Of course. Though there are limitations."
His expression grew more thoughtful. "If the subject possesses particularly potent abilities, an average Skrull might only partially replicate them, and the simulation would likely be unstable."
Pride crept into his voice. "However, I possess a partial golden bloodline, which allows me to simulate subject abilities and access memories with far greater fidelity than most."
As he spoke, Talos felt a pang of regret. A full golden bloodline—the rarest and most prized genetic heritage among his people—would enable perfect mimicry of any being, regardless of their power level. His own diluted lineage, while exceptional, still had limitations.
Yet this limitation was quickly overshadowed by anticipation. For the Skrulls, assimilating powerful beings was more than espionage—it was their primary means of biological advancement. Whatever Fury was planning, it potentially offered Talos access to new capabilities that could benefit his entire species.
"Very well," Fury nodded, apparently satisfied. "I have multiple tissue samples in my possession."
"They originate from an organization of sorcerers—practitioners who manipulate what they call 'magic.' While the average sorcerer possesses moderate capabilities, their elite members wield power sufficient to reshape reality itself."
Fury produced a sleek smartphone, tapped several commands, and placed it on the ground between them. Instantly, a high-definition holographic display materialized above the device.
The projection displayed scenes that even Talos—a veteran of interstellar conflict—found disturbing: massive spatial distortions tearing through the atmosphere above Manhattan; a S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier wrapped in otherworldly flames; figures on wooden broomsticks soaring through the sky, wielding what appeared to be simple wooden sticks yet unleashing devastating energy.
Talos couldn't fully suppress the flare of excitement in his eyes. These "sorcerers" possessed versatile abilities that exceeded many of the cosmic powers he had encountered during the Skrulls' long exile.
Noting Talos's reaction, Fury continued quietly. "What you're seeing are merely apprentices—students. Yet their combat effectiveness exceeds our most advanced special operations teams."
His voice lowered further. "Their capabilities extend beyond conventional warfare. They can adapt to virtually any battlefield condition instantaneously."
"And their masters..." Fury's expression darkened. "Their elite can manipulate forces that defy scientific understanding—abilities that can extinguish life across continents without leaving a trace of evidence."
Fury's mind flashed to the memory of Lockhart unleashing some form of spectral entity that had systematically eliminated every HYDRA facility globally in a matter of hours. The thought of those incorporeal manifestations—actual human souls, if Lockhart was to be believed—moving through walls and barriers as if they didn't exist, killing with a touch...
"Talos," Fury's tone became deadly serious. "I strongly advise against allowing these sorcerers to discover your mimetic capabilities. If they perceive you as a threat, there is no place on Earth—perhaps not even in our solar system—where your people could hide."
He hesitated before adding: "Recently, someone earned the enmity of one particularly powerful wizard. Within hours, every single one of their facilities worldwide was neutralized."
A rare admission of vulnerability crossed Fury's features. "In my assessment, if they decided to act against you, even your people in lunar orbit would find no sanctuary."
Shaking his head, Fury concluded: "Their advanced magic operates beyond rational explanation or conventional defense."
The gravity in Fury's warning gradually transformed Talos's expression from excitement to sobering concern. The survival of his people was his paramount responsibility—the final burden carried by the last prince of a dying empire. This vulnerability represented a significant risk factor.
And yet...
"I understand your concerns," Talos replied, his voice steady. "I assure you, discretion is our most refined skill. No one will discover our activities."
The urge to assimilate and adapt to powerful beings was encoded into Skrull genetics—an evolutionary imperative that had ensured their survival across countless hostile environments. Their philosophy was simple but effective: become stronger by absorbing the strongest, but remain hidden from those you cannot overcome.
Despite the genuine unease triggered by Fury's warning, Talos couldn't deny his growing anticipation. The potential benefits were simply too great to ignore.
"Very well," Fury said, reaching into his tactical vest. "Let's conduct an initial test."
He produced a small vial containing a viscous liquid in which floated a fragment of vibrant red tissue—no larger than a fingernail.
"This sample was recovered from a young apprentice who sustained a minor injury during the New York incident," Fury explained, handling the vial with almost reverent care.
Without hesitation, Talos accepted the container. He removed its stopper and drained the preservative fluid, leaving only the small tissue fragment resting in his palm.
Closing his fingers gently around the sample, Talos closed his eyes in concentration. His consciousness extended beyond conventional perception, analyzing the genetic structure, the energetic patterns, the cellular memory, the magical resonance—everything that defined this fragment of another being.
Under Fury's watchful gaze, Talos's body began to transform. His imposing height diminished, his frame becoming leaner, more youthful. The textured green skin smoothed and paled to a human complexion. His distinctly alien features rearranged themselves, softening into the visage of a young man barely out of adolescence—handsome in a boyish way, with an underlying determination visible in his expression.
Within moments, where the Skrull leader had stood now appeared a human teenager, perhaps seventeen or eighteen years old.
"Talos, what are you experiencing?" Fury asked, leaning forward with poorly concealed eagerness.
Talos's eyes—now human in appearance—opened slowly. He raised his left hand experimentally and then—
Whoosh!
A slender wooden wand materialized in his grasp, seemingly conjured from nothing. Subtle waves of energy radiated outward from his form, creating an almost imperceptible distortion in the air around him.
With practiced motions that had never been practiced, Talos raised the wand and executed a precise flicking gesture. An incantation in Latin flowed from his lips with perfect inflection:
"Expelliarmus!"
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