Walking through the dream realm of the unconscious agents, Marcus encountered a fascinating spectrum of human psychology laid bare. Each sleeping mind revealed its owner's deepest nature through the landscape of their subconscious fears and desires.
Some dreams were utterly desolate—endless voids where the dreamers felt themselves drowning in dark waters, struggling against currents of despair and hopelessness. These belonged to agents who had been worn down by years of morally ambiguous operations, their souls eroded by compromise and betrayal.
Other dreams resembled apocalyptic wastelands where natural disasters raged without end. Earthquakes split the ground beneath cities, tsunamis swept away entire populations, and volcanic ash choked the sky. In these nightmares, humans could only huddle in ruins and crevices, barely surviving against forces beyond their comprehension or control.
But among the darkness, Marcus found islands of hope. The dreams of legitimate S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, despite being filled with dangers and fears, consistently showed the dreamers standing protectively in front of loved ones—family members, colleagues, innocent civilians. Even in their unconscious state, these people's fundamental drive was to shield others from harm.
"Fury's got some decent people working for him after all," Marcus observed with genuine approval.
He gestured gently, and the nightmarish landscapes in these agents' dreams transformed. Burning cities became peaceful meadows filled with wildflowers. Raging storms calmed into gentle rain. Monstrous creatures dissolved into butterflies and songbirds.
Snap.
The sound of Marcus's fingers echoed through both the dream realm and physical reality. Immediately, nightmare energy flowed from his position like poisonous smoke, seeking out every Hydra operative in the facility.
The effect was grotesquely spectacular. The sleeping Hydra agents began convulsing as their bodies twisted and contorted beyond human limits. Bones cracked, joints bent in impossible directions, and flesh warped until each corpse resembled a broken mannequin that had been deliberately mangled.
"Perfect," Marcus said with satisfaction as he emerged from the dream realm. "Much more efficient than shooting them individually."
Another snap of his fingers released the legitimate agents from their enforced slumber. Throughout the Triskelion, people began stirring awake, confusion evident in their movements as they struggled to understand what had happened.
"What... where am I?" Agent Morgan mumbled, rubbing his eyes as consciousness returned. The last thing he remembered was aiming his weapon at shadows in the corridor.
When his vision cleared and he saw the twisted corpses surrounding his position, Morgan's training kicked in immediately. His hand went to his sidearm as he scanned for threats, trying to piece together how he'd lost consciousness in the middle of a firefight.
"Hostiles neutralized while I was unconscious?" he whispered to himself. "How is that possible?"
Similar reactions echoed throughout the building as agents discovered they'd somehow fallen asleep during combat and awakened to find their enemies eliminated by unknown means.
The Skrull operatives had their own concerns. During their enforced slumber, they'd involuntarily reverted to their natural green-skinned forms—something that should only happen upon death or deliberate transformation. The fact that they'd lost control of their shapeshifting abilities was deeply troubling.
"Emergency protocols," one of the Skrulls muttered as he quickly resumed his human disguise. "If anyone noticed the transformation..."
"Well, look who's awake," Marcus announced cheerfully as he materialized in the main corridor, his voice carrying easily through the facility.
The reaction was immediate and uniform—every person in the building recognized him instantly. For the Skrulls, Marcus represented salvation, the being who had rescued their people from Kree persecution. For the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, he was simultaneously a powerful ally and the organization's most dangerous uncontrolled asset.
Marcus's threat assessment level within S.H.I.E.L.D. had remained at maximum since his first appearance. His demonstrated ability to single-handedly destroy military units, repel alien invasions, and manipulate cosmic-level energies made him essentially a walking weapon of mass destruction.
"Mr. Marcus," Agent Hill stepped forward, her voice carefully neutral despite the circumstances. "What brings you to the Triskelion?"
As Fury's deputy director, Hill had both the authority and responsibility to address the situation, even though she was well aware that Marcus could probably level the entire facility if he chose to.
"Ask your boss," Marcus replied with a casual shrug, idly spinning the Vectis rifle in his hands. "He hired me for pest control services."
Hill's expression remained professionally composed, but internally she was processing the implications. The twisted corpses throughout the facility were clearly Hydra operatives, but how had Marcus identified them so precisely? And more importantly, what methods had he used to eliminate them while leaving legitimate agents unharmed?
Pulling out her secure communicator, Hill established a direct line to Fury. The conversation was brief and conducted in coded phrases, but the director's confirmation was clear enough.
"I've spoken with Director Fury," Hill announced after ending the call. "You were indeed operating under his authorization. On behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., thank you for resolving this crisis."
"Fair trade," Marcus replied with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Besides, I've always been curious about these particular reptiles. They claim that cutting off one head just makes two more grow back—I want to see exactly how many heads they actually have."
The casual way he discussed mass murder sent a chill through everyone present. There was something genuinely unsettling about Marcus's tone when he talked about eliminating Hydra operatives, as if he viewed them less as human beings and more as interesting specimens to be studied.
"Anyway, the extermination is complete," Marcus continued, his form beginning to shimmer as void energy gathered around him. "The rest of the cleanup is your department."
Within moments, he had dissolved into energy and vanished, leaving behind only the lingering scent of ozone and the evidence of his lethal efficiency.
Hill waited until she was certain Marcus had departed before addressing the surviving agents. Her expression was grim but determined as she surveyed the aftermath of the most significant internal purge in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s history.
"Listen carefully," she announced, her voice carrying throughout the facility via the emergency communication system. "The Hydra infiltration of S.H.I.E.L.D. has been completely eliminated. What you see around you represents the end of a decades-long security compromise."
The assembled agents listened with varying degrees of shock, relief, and professional interest. Some had suspected the existence of moles within the organization, but the scope of the infiltration was staggering.
"Your orders are as follows," Hill continued. "First, document the location and condition of all deceased personnel. Second, search for any intelligence materials, communication devices, or operational plans that might reveal additional Hydra assets outside this facility. Third, prepare all remains for immediate cremation—we're not taking any chances with Hydra's reported resurrection capabilities."
She paused, allowing the weight of her words to sink in.
"Finally, understand that whatever personal relationships you may have had with the deceased are now irrelevant. These individuals were enemy agents operating under deep cover. Any sympathy or hesitation in carrying out disposal procedures will be noted in your permanent record."
The coldness in Hill's voice was intentional and necessary. S.H.I.E.L.D. had been betrayed at the most fundamental level, and the organization's survival depended on complete loyalty from its remaining personnel.
As the agents began implementing their orders, Hill couldn't help but reflect on the surreal nature of the situation. In less than an hour, Marcus had accomplished what would have taken S.H.I.E.L.D. months of investigation and internal warfare to achieve.
The question that troubled her most was simple: if Marcus could eliminate threats this efficiently, what would happen if he ever decided that S.H.I.E.L.D. itself was the problem?
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