The clock had struck midnight, and Wim was still hard at work, striving to refine the lightning generator into a stable, usable weapon. He toiled alone, driven by a desire to earn Garus' approval. The curse Garus had placed on him still lingered in his mind, though Wim remained unaware it was a mere bluff.
As Wim wandered through the company's halls, he noticed an eerie silence that unsettled him. Normally, security guards patrolled the building at all hours, ensuring its secrets were safe from espionage. Yet tonight, not a single soul seemed to be around.
"Hey, do you know where the other guards went?" Wim asked as he approached a lone guard stationed on the first floor.
The guard looked up, his expression strange.
"They're all asleep," he replied, pointing toward a nearby corner.
Wim followed the gesture and was startled to see a group of guards sprawled haphazardly on the ground. The sight set off alarms in his mind—this was no ordinary nap. They had been attacked.
Wim spun on his heel, ready to flee. As he ran, he pulled out his phone to call for help, only for the guard to rush forward and knock it from his hand.
"Who are you?" Wim demanded, staring at the man in shock.
The guard let out a sinister laugh, his body shifting and warping. In seconds, his features transformed into a sharp-eared, wide-mouthed creature with green skin.
"Who am I?" the creature sneered. "That doesn't matter. What matters is that I can look like anyone I please. Now come with me. We're heading to AIM*."
Wim's heart sank at the mention of his former employer. It had been over two months since he'd fled from their clutches, hoping he'd finally left their pursuit behind. Yet here they were again.
As the alien forced Wim along, he wracked his brain for an escape plan. But as a mere researcher with no combat skills, he stood no chance against his captor, who remained vigilant every step of the way.
"Don't even think about running," the Skrull growled, his tone icy. "I won't hesitate to break your legs. Truth be told, we could've grabbed you much sooner, but the General only just gave the order."
"What general?" Wim asked, puzzled. "Since when does the military work with AIM?"
The alien ignored him, shoving him into a waiting vehicle. Once the car started moving, the Skrull pulled out a small, palm-sized device and pressed a button. Back at the Azeroth Technologies building, faint electrical currents coursed through the bodies of the downed guards. They rose stiffly, returning to their posts like marionettes on strings. Moments later, their awareness returned, none of them recalling anything beyond a brief nap.
Wim sat tensely in the car, fear tightening his chest as he pondered what MODOK might do to him. The memory of his father's suffering at AIM's hands was seared into his mind, chilling him to the core.
Before long, the car arrived at AIM's headquarters. Wim was escorted to an office door. From inside, a familiar voice called out.
"Come in."
The voice belonged to MODOK. Once a low-level researcher, a lab accident had mutated him, granting him superhuman intelligence. Emerging on a floating chair, Murdock's grotesquely oversized head was encased in a helmet fixed to the chair for support. A crimson gem embedded in the helmet glinted ominously.
MODOK glided forward, his sharp eyes locking onto Wim.
"Wim, why did you betray me?" he asked coldly. "I had plans to elevate you to the top of this company. After all the traitors I've purged, we're desperate for capable management."
Fury flared in Wim's chest as he recalled his father's fate. "You're the traitor! AIM will crumble because of you."
MODOK's expression remained impassive. "Perhaps we have our differences. But this isn't the time for debate. I know you're now leading military research at Azeroth Technologies. Tell me where they store their most valuable data."
Wim's eyes darted nervously. "I'm exhausted. I can't think straight. Ask me tomorrow."
The truth was, Wim was the only one who knew the location of Azeroth's research archives, and he had no intention of revealing it. He knew MODOK's ruthlessness all too well. Even if he complied, he would be killed afterward.
"Fine," MODOK said, his voice laden with menace. "Rest tonight. But I'll be back in the morning, and I expect answers."
Turning to the alien general standing beside him, MODOK added, "General Kallruth, continue infiltrating Azeroth Technologies. Oh, and have someone impersonate Wim."
Kallruth's brow furrowed. "Watch your tone, human. We are partners, not subordinates. Do not order me around."
"Of course, we're partners," MODOK replied smoothly. "That's why I'm counting on you."
Kallruth turned to one of his soldiers. "Koren, return to Azeroth Technologies and assume Wim's identity."
"Yes, General," the soldier responded.
Listening to their exchange, Wim couldn't help but blurt out, "MODOK, you're working with aliens?"
"Does it matter?" MODOK retorted. "Unlike your father, I'm not shackled by outdated ideals. Results are all that count." He gestured to a subordinate. "Take him away and keep a close watch on him."
The Skrull general, Kallruth, hailed from a once-powerful alien race capable of mimicking others to infiltrate and dominate their societies. Once mighty, the Skrulls had provoked the Kree, igniting a war that decimated their numbers. Their homeworld was later devoured by Galactus, reducing them to scattered survivors. Now, desperate and few in number, they had turned their sights on Earth, allying with MODOK in a sinister plot.
Lying on a cot, Wim tossed and turned, his mind racing. He could only hope that someone at Azeroth Technologies would uncover the alien infiltrator and that Garus would come to his rescue.
[TL/N: AIM is short for Advanced Idea Mechanics.]
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