Eternal City's methods for extracting intelligence were not limited to crude torture. Some individuals could endure extreme physical pain while holding fast to their beliefs—interrogators, even when facing such unyielding targets, could not help but feel respect. However, the end goal of interrogation was always information, and any means to that end were considered acceptable. That was where the bio-genetics lab staff, who had recently gained a preliminary understanding of Skrull brains, came into play.
In the past, S.H.I.E.L.D. had used a memory-altering machine.
It was a brutal surgical device that used ultra-fine probes to repeatedly stimulate specific neurons in the brain with electric currents. When a subject tried to recall a memory, the agonizing pain and repeated stimulation would condition their neurons to redirect them to a different memory. Agent Coulson himself had undergone this procedure. Yet Eternal City abandoned this method not for ethical reasons but because it was crude and unreliable. The subject could still recover their memories—just like Coulson. The theory behind the procedure was as flawed as the prefrontal lobotomy of the last century, its only "improvement" being that it looked a little more sanitary than using an ice pick.
Thanks to collaborative brain science research with Wakanda, synaptic neural sensors originally developed to control power armor were now applied to interrogations. Through precise and careful surgery, interrogators could question hypnotized subjects and dig out memories buried deep within their neurons. This type of procedure was not without side effects. Most subjects did not survive it. Those who did often became imbeciles after prolonged sessions of probing and stimulation. But sometimes, a single piece of intelligence was worth far more than a subject's life. When necessary, interrogators had no choice but to proceed.
Indeed, while the memory-enhancing drugs could cause subjects to lose all control over their bodily functions from pain, the interrogators themselves did not have it easy either. Most were individuals personally selected by Solomon—those deemed to have "potential." In the magical world, that meant they were gifted, but not gifted enough to cross the threshold into true arcana. Instead, they could awaken certain mental abilities through rituals and drugs. Solomon personally designed every detail of these rites and prescriptions to grant interrogators specific talents. Without them, even if the subject was strapped to the table, nothing meaningful would be extracted. Only by diving into the subject's mindscape and shattering subconscious defenses could the truth be revealed.
Diana, Stephanie's nervous little secretary, trembled as she walked deeper into the dungeon after receiving her assignment.
After undergoing an elaborate security screening, she found herself facing dozens of doors. Behind each one was a narrow corridor lined with gray concrete. As she stepped into one such corridor as instructed, a sudden scream from the darkness startled her. At the same moment, the heavy iron door beside her slammed loudly, and hundreds of voices, speaking in incomprehensible tongues, burst through the small window in the door.
A scarred, green-skinned arm with torn fingernails shot out and grabbed her sleeve, yanking her forward.
Through the narrow window, Diana saw what was imprisoned inside—and it terrified her. She was looking at herself: a snarling, grotesque version of herself, staring back through the iron bars. Stunned for a second, she immediately screamed. Though she was a descendant of the Hydra faction, Dr. List had never shown her any of Hydra's inner workings. Like Gideon Malick's protective treatment of Stephanie, Diana remained relatively innocent, even knowing her family's affiliation.
As dull thuds and tortured screams rang out around her, the force pulling her vanished. She opened her eyes and saw a soldier clad in black ballistic armor standing before her, face fully concealed by a helmet and respirator, holding a stun baton.
"Miss Malik… wants me to…" she stammered.
The guard nodded coldly and knocked on the iron door with her baton, signaling the prisoner to quiet down.
"Don't worry." Though her voice was muffled through the respirator, Diana could tell it was a pleasant female voice. "Don't get close to the cells. These green-skin bastards will try anything to break out. Follow me. Don't fall behind. If you get grabbed, I can't guarantee your safety. What's your name?"
"D-Diana List." She sniffled. "Do I need to say my middle name?"
"No, that's enough." The black-armored guard let out an amused tone. Though her face was hidden, Diana was certain the woman was laughing at her for being so timid and naive. Her face turned bright red with embarrassment.
The guard had Diana sit in a patrol cart and drove her deeper into the dungeon. Diana would later recall almost nothing of what she saw—everything along the way looked nearly identical, especially in the dim lighting. She couldn't even make out the numbers painted on the walls. Only when the guard pointed it out did she realize they had reached their destination.
She thought the worst was behind her. But when she reached the interrogation room and stood behind the one-way glass, she nearly fainted at the sight of true cruelty. A Skrull alien with its skull surgically opened. An interrogator in a white robe, face twisted in agony as he endured the toll of the process. As Dr. List's granddaughter, Diana found the scene utterly horrifying.
Interrogating Skrulls was a challenge for even experienced interrogators.
Before the destruction of their homeworld, Skrull society had included a faction of spellcasters—proof that Skrulls had significant spiritual potential. Since their origins were similar to humans, some Skrulls possessed extremely powerful mental abilities. Facing such adversaries, interrogators who had gained psychic powers through ritual and drugs sometimes proved insufficient.
Hence, a standard procedure had been established.
Interrogation teams worked in trios. One interrogator would enter the subject's mind. A second stood by to pull the first out if needed. If the second failed and both were compromised by the subject, the third—armed with weapons—was tasked with killing both to prevent the Skrull from using their minds to escape.
What Diana saw through the glass was an interrogation of a particularly defiant Skrull.
"You'll get the report in half an hour," said the black-armored guard. Beside her stood the third interrogator, also dressed in white robes. Diana didn't understand why he remained so tense even behind one-way glass, but she focused instead on what the guard had just said.
"This is already the second time this week we've used this method." The guard's voice was almost casual, like small talk, but she had revealed something important. "But no alien can last more than three hours in Mithra's hands. Don't worry—the interrogators won't let the Lord down. We'll soon know exactly how many more of these green-skinned freaks are still on Earth."
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