The Viltrumite Agenda

Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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[▪︎Prime Tower, Los Angeles▪︎]

[▪︎16th July 2003▪︎]

[They are talking Prime. They are giving out complaints, the public is giving out complaints, in fact, the whole freaking world is complaining about what you did!]

Cecil's frustrated voice resounds everywhere in the room as he gives his remarks.

"I don't see what their problem is. I already explained that the threat was worth the risk. Even with what I did, he was barely injured so imagine if I didn't, plus we have an agreement concerning stuff like this. And since when did you care about the public's complaints?"

Sitting on a hovering circular chair in the middle of the laboratory, facing a round waist-high glowing spherical table— surrounded by rows of equipment—I retort calmly and chuckle as the table lights up.

[...I don't but you and I both know they need to think we care. Listen, I don't want to sound ungrateful or anything like that because I perfectly understand what you did but others don't see it that way.

[Right now, your enemies—those who hate your guts—in Congress are blowing up what you did and feeding the press with baseless conspiracies behind the scenes that will increase fear and sway the masses from your side.

[If they succeed, it won't be long before they pass bills to limit your power or the freedoms of heroes in general. GOD knows they've wanted to do this for a long time and you've essentially provided them with the ammo to do it.

[We are working on preventing that from happening but you'd have to limit your damages.

[...I'm not sure Americans or even the world will be happy if you destroy another island with a country-sized asteroid again.]

Cecil sighs and explains fully, his tone and voice now calm while in front of me, a large and wide screen pops up on its surface.

"Sure, I'll tone it down, I promise."

I say casually, showing my uninterest, and this makes Cecil sighs again as the screen starts showing a recorded feed of Allen and his blue-skinned busty, and curvy alien girlfriend enjoying their time in a restaurant on one of the space stations of Talescria.

[...I'll take your word for it. Even though there's international pressure and all this drama, there's a silver lining. Supervillain activity is taking a huge dump according to statistics due to their increasing fear of you, especially in the Americas, and by our estimates, it won't be going up anytime soon.

[I hate saying this but good job. Without you, we would probably be having another Omni-man incident and that's not something I'd like to go to sleep thinking about.

[Invincible's been released since he's all healed up now so he'll be up in the game soon. I'll be on the sides cleaning up your messes and dealing with the idiots but please don't go wild again. That's all I have today so I'll leave you your business.]

"Later Cecil."

I mutter and the next second, the call ends.

Sigh, these government sore losers just want trouble.

Oh well, it's time Congress got restructured, especially that sneaky old president who thinks I don't know he's the one behind all of this nuisance.

But that's for later, right now I have an important video to watch and analyze.

Back to the screen, Allen and his girlfriend continue to chill and have fun. Eating, drinking, and occasionally kissing as around them the other alien citizens go about their business in the cyberpunk-themed restaurant.

Suddenly, without warning, an explosion occurs in the restaurant. The camera shifts from the restaurant to a considerable distance away from the Ecumenopolis, in the reaches of space where Allen is now surrounded by adult Viltrumites—three of them.

Able-bodied male Viltrumites donning their usual skintight grayish-white robe-like uniform with sleek mustaches adorning their hard stern faces.

They start asking him questions about Nolan and Mark but Allen only responds with sarcastic answers so without wasting much time, they start beating him up as if he's a punching bag.

Blow after blow, Allen's blood spews out as they tear holes in his body that expose his entrails, and after a little more than a minute, the Viltrumites nod to each other and fly away speedily—disappearing after a few moments.

Alone, floating in the cold space is Allen's body surrounded by a small pond of his own thick reddish-orange blood.

His only eyeball is out of its socket, his arms which have been cut off are floating by his sides, and his entrails are outside of his body escaping through a basketball-sized hole in his waist.

The video cuts as a small spacecraft stops near him and opens up as a team of professionals swim out and manages to salvage his body and parts.

...Wow, the Viltrumites aren't willing to play any longer.

[This video was gotten two days ago. After this encounter, the Viltrumites were nowhere to be seen even after the Coalition's special forces chased after them, following their trail.

[Where they even came from is a mystery since they moved too fast for the surveillance satellites to even catch a glimpse of their initial trail.]

Seraph says as millions of thoughts concerning the motives of the Viltrumites run all over my mind.

This is a calculated move on their part. Their preparing for a final showdown and this is their attempt of removing all possible threats.

The important question is who gave them the information that managed to compel the Viltrumite High Command to send three soldiers to eliminate Allen?

Is there a spy? No, there is a spy in the Coalition's governmental body, it's a certainty.

This means that in one way or the other, they'll also send soldiers after me.

Hmm, if it was the old me, I would be frowning now but ever since my mind evolved, I've been in this perpetual state of calmness.

A state where only logic and rationality rule so instead of there being a little form of anxiety or caution, there's nothing.

My mind is only focused on how to either deal with them, push them away or manipulate them and that's what I like.

"What are Allen's vitals?"

I ask softly.

[As of ten hours ago, he's been stabilized. He is still standing between a very thin line between life and death but according to my predictions, he'll survive.

[Plus, if he does survive, then it means there's more to the experiments they did to him and it may contribute to the vessel's completion.]

Seraph explains seriously, making me arch an eyebrow.

"Is that so? Then, focus on his recovery and if possible, aid in it. And also who are the spies?"

I question.

[Roger that. The spies in question are the communication managers of the Coalition, the two Bilorians. To be more specific, the male among the couple.]

Seraph replies, and nodding with a sly smile I jump off the hovering seat.

Interesting, Thaedus really needs to check his inner circle...his old-fashioned mind will be the end of him.

...But wait, if the Viltrumites are now playing the spy game then I guess I'll also have to play. The only problem is no one knows where their main headquarters is, not even the deployed Viltrumites since it's alway s on the move.

The only way the Viltrumites now regroup is by sending a high-ranking official to meet up with the deployed Viltrumite and then move back to the previous location of the base where the high-ranking official will send a beacon to the main base for coordinates.

Luckily, I already have a spy in their midst. It's only a matter of time—a short one—before the nanobots take over his mind and after that, he'll be coming back.

...Maybe its time I speed up my plans.

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