1963-12-26 - Five Worlds at War (France)
Summary: The Skrulls finally invade
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
gamora coulson wanda bobbi tchalla 


Know thyself, know thy enemy. A thousand battles, a thousand victories. — Sun Tzu


A young boy of maybe four with dark hair and dark features is running along the shag carpet down the hallway of his family's home. In his hands, two army soldiers he smashes together with delight as his laughs echo through the home.

In the living room, Jim Johnson is catatonic in his arm chair with one hand gripping the armrest with all of his might and the other held up to his blonde beard in anguish. This is the moment he has been fearing since he met his wife nearly 15 years ago and, in truth, for a great deal of time before that.

Sally enters from the kitchen, her apron as perfect as her blonde curls and blue eyes. "Honey, what's wrong?" she asks as her gaze trails from him to the television.

"They're here," Jim replies ominously.


T'Challa, King of Wakanda, leans back in his chair and looks up at the ceiling with at least irritation and at most disgust. This secret meeting of Heads of State is going nowhere. They are supposed to be discussing a unified front against invasion from extra terrestrial forces. Pakistan is using this time to twist the dagger against India and Finland is barking something fierce about Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia being held in the USSR against their will. Perhaps NATO was not the best place to invite these people, but it made sense at the time to the powers that be.

All true statements. All important. But this is not the time for such discussions. T'Challa now fully understands his father's previous policy on isolation for his great nation.

As he slips out a side door, he nods to some SHIELD agents who have been asked to come as security. The place is crawling with them, and for good reason. T'Challa stretches his back out a bit as he stares outside the floor to ceiling windows and into the French forest that begins about 200 yards into the distance.

Something doesn't seem right.

The horizon seems to shudder and there is a low rumbling in the distance. As it gets closer, trees begin to fall before, out of the blue, 5 armored transports of some sort, hovering over the ground, emerge from the woodlands and convene upon the old office complex. T'Challa looks to the SHIELD agents and nothing really needs to be said. Dignitaries from all over the planet have converged together in order to plan on defeating the enemy. Just as the Skrulls seem to have wanted.

One of T'Challa's aids emerges from the conference room with a thick briefcase and the King takes no extra time to reach for it with one hand and loosen his tie with the other.


Even the bright sunshine can't seem to brighten Captain America's mood. The Act-F, both American and Soviet versions, have been practicing joint maneuvers all morning and it is not going as well as he had hoped.

Language is one problem, unfamiliarity another, but what really seems to bother Rogers is the lack of trust between the two groups. A dozen Soviet soldiers seem to be extremely wary of Steve and the rest of the Americans, and the feeling is mutual. It's a long cry from when they used to fight together back in World War II.

"Take five," he says before he realizes the Soviets have no idea what he's talking about. "Vremya otdykha," he adds, having no idea if that made any sense.


Gamora had received a mission and it required her to head out into the French countryside. A gathering of leaders and she was supposed to deliver a message. She's camouflaged in the woods, waiting for the appointed time when the big vehicles roll- no, /hover/, into view some way off through the woods. Brow furrowed, she's pretty sure she hasn't seen any hover-tech on Earth before now. Moving stealthily, she creeps through the undergrowth to get a better view of what's about to happen.


I gave a letter to the postman; he put it in his sack; bright and early next morning; he brought my letter back

Phil Coulson is in his hotel room, poring over reports and all manner of official matters of business. While he wasn't on site at the NATO conference - this by design, of course - he's positioned to receive reports when necessary.

The smooth voice of Elvis Presley is interrupted by the ringing of his telephone. Coulson goes to the receiver, and as he listens, his expression becomes grave.

"Of course. I understand."

Fifteen minutes later, a SHIELD helicopter is headed toward the arrival of an alien threat. Coulson sits in the copilot's seat; a handful of agents and assets, many of them handpicked, sit in the cabin behind. He's ditched the suit and tie in favor of SHIELD's unique blue field armor, and wears a headset upon his head. "Copy that, control. We'll handle overwatch from here, and will coordinate with the local military on their response. Is Act-F on site?"

After waiting for the response, Coulson removes his harness and makes for the cabin. He looks toward those gathered, including Agent Morse and Wanda Maximoff. "Alright, folks. This is what we were hired for. Everyone ready? Remember; keep it cool and try to limit collateral damage."


Security detail was typically boring for most people. Stand around, keep sharp, make sure no one kills your asset. Bobbi had had plenty of times, however where information gathered or the person she was protecting, were /far/ from boring. As radio static of reports outside filter through, she cuts her path toward the balcony rather than continue her sweep of the floor.

Both metal rods were pulled out with a relishing flourish and she frowned at the approaching vechicles that were beyond scope of her knowledge about technology.

Then she was darting back inside, passing on what she'd seen to agents she crossed, directing traffic and fighting her way out and to the landing pad where Coulson lands. She's there when orders are passed along, and offers a nod.

"It appears as if we have at least five transports present from the back of the building, possibly more."


The last time Wanda traveled to France, circumstances looked very different. Here in a quasi-official capacity limits her ability to roam, but neither need she look over her shoulder uncomfortably every few minutes. State officials and law enforcement agents go by without scrutinizing her any more than the others. Wrapped up in her dark leather coat, she peers moodily over the sylvan quilt rolled up to the building, and stares in wavelengths few men or women even realize exist. Trees thrash and fall, her expression tightened into wolfish dismay, eyes glittering and mouth a flat line.

Demonstrating her worth of an economy plane ticket is not easy, but it's about to be called upon. A last check assures the placement of sheathed weapons and other oddments, a patdown possibly amusing if not utterly purposeful. Neither T'Challa or Coulson needs to look her way to summon her to move away from the bracket between the windows, an unstoppable force of time pulling her to where she needs must be.

"Five?" A question to Bobbi in her accented voice is already splitting them up.



Sally holds a hand up to her mouth in shock. "Oh my goodness?! What do you think these terrible creatures want?"

The words seem to pain Jim and he closes his eyes for a moment. "They want to control." A sense of resignation comes over him as he looks to his wife, their adopted son, and the life they built together. "Earth is…" He sighs and shakes his head.

"Earth is really important to what they want. They think it'll help them—"

The conversation is stopped by a loud, rough wrapping upon their door.


Classical music serenades Bruce Banner as he lies in his prison cell, clad in white upon a white bed that sits on the white floor, surrounded by three white walls and a glass pane that separates him from the rest of the prison. He loves Bach and loves Air the best. And after a meal of meatloaf and mashed potatoes, and after that SHIELD guard slipped him a glass of chianti he struggles to think of a time that could be more perfect. Surrounding him is all sorts of art and pictures, made for him, his home, by Betty. He closes his eyes and rests his hands over his stomach as he listens to the radio.

Which is rudely interrupted by a bulletin.

"This just in to WFCU studios: Reports from Europe are that both France and the Soviet Union have come under attack by extra-terrestrial forces. Details are sketchy to this point, but it appears the aliens have attacked Supreme Allied Headquarters, in Rocquencourt, near Paris, and that a closed city in the Soviet Union known as Snezhinsk has also come under attack. Military officials have not yet commented on the matter…"


Gamora will see not only the large forces that come from the side where T'Challa is looking, but an equally massive force coming from the opposite side. Whether you're from Earth or from the Stars, it's a classic ambush and the Skrulls are setting up a kill zone with the world's leaders right in the middle!!!

Just after Bobbi gives the comments, she's joined by a black clad man with white lenses over his mask. If she is up on her research, she'll know that Black Panther also serves as the King of Wakanda. Either way he nods to her, and with a thick African accent, "I am the Black Panther. I shall help you in any way that I can."

Outside, the five transports that they can see, stop abruptly. A drawbridge lowers out the front and platoons of Skrulls begin to run out, firing energy cannons towards the building. The glass in front of them explodes and T'Challa attempts to tackle Bobbi and Wanda out of the way!



At a makeshift tent that the Act-Fers are using for their break, Steve is trying to stomach Russian meat and potatoes. It ain't like it used to be, that's for sure.

"You should have met my drill sergeant," Steve says to Sue with a grin. "Maybe you could have rubbed off on him a bit. That guy was torture."

Suddenly a man in a military suit is approaching in a small jeep. Steve stands as he arrives.

"We have just gotten word that one of our most important military installations has come under attack. We need to move out right away." Steve looks to Sue and frowns. "Well, ready or not it looks like we're going into war." As Steve sets the tray aside, somewhat thankful he won't need to suffer through any more of that food, he wishes they'd had more time.

Steve looks towards Crystal and that large dog that always seems to accompany her. He has an idea.

Within a few moments Soviet the Act-F agents approach the perimeter of hell on Earth. Out in front of them are four large spaceships that, while blackish purple, in color, appear like cracked peanut shells with sharp angles jutting out in odd, senseless directions.

"Why here?" Rogers asks Commander Stoichkov.

"This is our nerve center for our nuclear weaponry," the older man with white hair says as he looks out the cockpit window. "Only the highest echelon of our leadership realize this Snezhinsk is everything to us."

Out in front of the team it appears as if the Skrulls have carpet bombed the hell out of the place. Fire and destruction are everywhere below and, intermittently, a green energy blast drops from one of the four enemy spaceship, resulting in a huge explosion below.

"Sir, MiG support will be here in 20 seconds," one of the assistants says to Stoichkov.

"Can you put us on top of one of those ships?" Steve asks Crystal.


Gamora is too experienced a fighter to not recognize a classic pincer maneuver. Whatever her motivations for today had been, the humans don't deserve to be overrun by Skrulls. She figures the best way to alert the humans to the ambush is by drawing attention to it. Sprinting through the forest as silently as she can, she draws her blade on the way, twisting and flicking it into the full configuration.

She angles to make a homeplate slide under the lead vehicle, slice up through the one hover engine, and hopefully sending it off course and make a hell of a lot of noise in the process. With any luck she'll even get clear of the blast.


Reports are coming in over the command frequencies. Coulson frowns, and snatches up a remote transmitter box, fixing it to his belt before unplugging the headset and plugging it back into the battery powered pack. "Alright, patch me in to the French military command channels," he speaks into the mic, then grabs hold of a handhold above as the chopper makes to set itself down. "Alright, everybody out!"

Once the team is outside and greeted by the Black Panther, Coulson turns to view the invading alien soldiers with a frown. "Alright. Wanda, Morse, Panther! Move on them from a flanking position." He turns to the other SHIELD agents who have departed from the helicopter. "Franklin, Anders, Petrov, Gunther. Get in there and help coordinate an evacuation! Bobbi, I'll maintain radio contact. Go! Move!"

Coulson then jumps back into the chopper and signals the pilot to take off again. He holds on, but as the helicopter rises, he can feel something sick in the pit of his stomach.

Oh boy. Not now.

With a grimace, Coulson reaches into a pouch on his field uniform and withdraws a small, blue pill. He eyes it with a frown, before slipping it between his lips and swallowing.


A salute was given to Coulson, "Copy that sir." Before Tchalla's knocking her out of the way, interupts her ability to carry out those very orders immediately. Agent Mockingbird rolls as the glass shatters, coming up with a bounce and collecting her metal rods once more.

"Thanks." She offered toward the Black Panther, a nod of blonde curls before she's off and moving to carry out the orders Coulson had set for them.

She barely waited for Wanda or the Black Panther to join, expecting they'd jump to do much the same. Her goal for now? To get to the bottom floor and out the back, weaving between the chaos of the halls to find another window that was lower to the ground and get out that way.


Safety is a luxury that will not last. A lesson learned a long time ago, and as the forward advance subsides, Wanda is already retreating. Leaders of the relatively free world might have a chance if she can get her hands on them. "They come for the lead — "

That sentence will never be completed under a shower of crashing glass blowing out the windows. Her arms flung up to brace for impact and shelter her face reveal leather bracers reinforced by thin metal knives, and T'Challa takes her to ground with a clattering thud. Bruises on her shoulder will be noted and addressed later, and she covers her head until the dangerous rainfall ceases.

Rolling to a crouch, she checks for any energy bolts slamming into the wall. Scrambling up and after Bobbi leaves little time whatsoever for subtlety; SHIELD knows what she can do. A film of amaranthine radiance rolls over her amber-brown eyes, and she breaks into a purposeful jog after T'Challa and her fellow agent. A pair of mudras on the way wreath her in a nearly invisible glow, a shield formed tight around her.



"Zlorg, it's time you come with us. You know what is about to happen."

Two men wearing black sunglasses, black suits, and black ties are standing at Jim Johnson's door while Sally Johnson is asking what the hell a Zlorg is.

"Fine. Just give me a couple of minutes."

"Very well," says the other MiB. "We will wait for you in the vehicle."

Jim turns back towards Sally and walks back into the house, shutting the door. "Honey, I want you to listen very carefully. Whatever happens next I want you to know how much I love you and will always love you. When I leave I want you to get into the bomb shelter over at the school."

"Jim, you're not making any se—"

"Stan," he calls to his son. "Stan, grab me that locket from the dresser." Dutifully, his young son grabs his daddy's necklace, opened with a picture of his mother and himself.


Once Gamora strikes, the transport starts making sputtering noises and its front left side slams down into the ground. The ship begins to spin in slow circles, out of commission. However the aliens planned to escape they are now down one transport.

The Black Panther gets up and begins brushing glass off of his suit, hoping that Wanda and Bobbi are alright. He does not know this Coulson, but he nods. He takes the comment as an invitation to attack, and attack he does. He runs far faster than normal humans are supposed to be able to and, after dodging a pair of energy bolts in quick succession, he leaps in the air to give a double clothesline to two of the Skrulls who are too close together. He's up to his feet, slashing another across the face. The unfortunate alien screams in pain before his chest is struck with five claws and he's thrown!

Bobbi is able to get downstairs without any significant issue. She takes a side exit and all seems to be quiet on that end. It allows her to easily get in flanking position, unlike Black Panther who seems to have just gone and attacked straight on.

But when Wanda arrives, the Skrulls start to catch on to the flanking. Two energy shots come their way, only to be blocked by the Scarlet Witch's powerful shielding—no match for the mutant.


Things seemed to have zipped by at lightning place. One moment they were hundreds of miles away, the next they are in front of absolute carnage, and the next, the team is up above one of the ships being set down by Lockjaw.

"Crystal and Sue may want to take on the other ones using their flight. As for Tigra and me we can't do much in the air."

The wind is merciless, but Steve gets to work right away, slamming a hole into the hull of the ship and sliding inside. He reaches up to help Tigra in.

Leaning low, Steve looks back at Tigra. "I'm thinking we take control and use this thing to crash into the others. If we can figure out how to fly it." He shrugs his shoulders.

It's up to Crystal, Sue, and Mad Max if they follow Cap into the ship, but the three of them do notice that on one of the other alien crafts a man with white hair totally is thinking the same thing and gains entrance.

Inside, Cable's breach has the misfortune of being spotted. Almost immediately he comes under intense weapon fire, forcing him to stay under the cover of a hallway cover. From his knowledge the bridge isn't far.


With all the smoke and noise behind her, and the transports having to deal with the spinner, Gamora sprints pell mell toward the main battlefield. Having carried out her own sabotage, she figures the next step is in not looking like an attacker. So she shouts at the top of her lungs, "AMBUSH! AMBUSH FROM THE NORTH!" Her sword is sheathed on her back and all effort is focused on the sprint, and also getting ready to dodge fire from the people she's trying to help. Because that happens sometimes.


The SHIELD helicopter gains altitude fast. Coulson hangs on for dear life, feeling the effects of vigor kicking in and kicking fast. All in the line of duty… he'd made a snap judgement on assignment, and every time he feels compelled to take the drug, he wonders whether it was a mistake or not.

There is that fleeting moment of doubt that takes him away from everything else. When he snaps back to, the drug is doing what it does to him… speeding up his mental processing, even though his perceptions remain static. The brain can only process so much information, but on vigor, Phil Coulson's brain simply… processes it faster, and with greater capacity.

He can see the energy blast coming toward the chopper before the pilot can. "Jim, look ou-"


The entire rear half of the helicopter is blown to smithereens. Coulson hangs on for dear life as the chopper begins spinning out of control, alarms blaring from the cockpit. The world below spins just as violently, but Coulson has an advantage. An unfair one, but one nevertheless. He leaps toward the decimated end of the chopper, grasps hold of a tether cable, and clips it to his belt a moment before his legs are kicked out from beneath him.

Flying around the cabin, he barely has time to punch the release lever before it passes. The winch is let loose, and he goes flying out the rear end of the cabin, protecting his face from flying shrapnel while holding on to the tether for dear life. Down, down, down he goes, twisting and turning in the air in an uncanny somersault, before landing on the ground in a heavy tumble.

In a flash, he cuts the line loose before it can go dragging him along with the chopper's descent. He turns and watches the machine as it crashes right into a thrall of alien soldiers, going up in flames. Of course… as fate would have it, he's been dumped right at the edge of the battle field.


Out comes his SHIELD issue firearm, and he begins firing at the closest enemy he can find.


A snap of metal rods has Bobbi connecting the two separate weapons together into one long pole-arm as she sprints outside and for the nearest thing that looks hostile. Of course, there are basically tanks, which metal rods do very little against.

She shouldered it, still running for cover on the far side of the field before she drew both her pistols instead. She held her fire, and position— letting the heavier hitters of Black Panther and Wanda do what they desired first.

Only when she spotted foot soldiers or became a target of gunfire herself did she move, clinging to the shadows and waiting for a chance to get up close and personal with any enemy hostile she could find.

And then she'd loose the bullets in her pistols without so much as blinking.


Heavier hitter? The witch might laugh at anyone calling her such considering who she keeps company with. She isn't privy to Bobbi's thoughts or anyone else's, all attention focused upon the imminent threats. Wanda keeps up a solid pace, trying to maintain an unpredictable zigzag that makes her all the harder to hit with energy weapons. Her kinetic shield ripples when energy blasts strike it, deflecting the force around the bubble, up and out, in luminous shockwaves.

In the wake of violence erupting on all fronts, a shout over the chaos briefly distracts her. Whatever that woman running towards them intends, she'll take the warning in check. Knives and gun ignored, she doesn't cease to approach the Skree soldiers who shot at her.

"«Dispari»." Transian burns on her tongue as a ruby-bright ring encloses her fist and she whips her arm out, a vivid beam closing around her fingers. She unleashes it, and then flings the other with her left hand, a flashing lance of illumination. Force ricochets from her with precision, aimed directly for their chests, intended to slam them out of commission or where someone else can deal with them.

When it comes to clearing a hole in the field, Wanda serves rather well. The faint glow to her eyes only builds as she feels for the source of mystic energy in the ground, the leylines a conduit to call the Earth to its own defense.



Gamora's calls are heard by the agents and the latter are put on alert. Unfortunately her call leads to one Skrull in particular peeling back and taking a pair of shots at the alien woman!!!

Coulson's pot shots blow the brains out of a Skrull closest to him. That's the good news. The other good news is that the explosion seems to have caused the Skrulls some fear. The SHIELD agents can begin to see it in their eyes.


Bobbi fires upon Skrull after Skrull emptying her clips without even batting an eye lash. It does not seem as though this alien species is quite as formidable with firearms as the SHIELD trained humans. Their aim is not quite as good. Blackish green blood goes flying every which way as Skrull after Skrull is dropped.

Unfortunately, T'Challa is now surrounded by a force of angry Skrulls. He's unsure whether or not his suit can take one of these energy blasts, but resigns himself to believing that it would be an honorable death.

But before any of them fire, they're cleared out by a massive blast from the Scarlet Witch that clears the entire foreground in front of the Wakandan king. He turns to her, and the Panther gives a solemn nod of thanks.


"Well, I happen to be an expert at crashing airborne vehicles," Steve says as Tigra shoots past him in order to start laying the smack down on aliens. Just above her head the shield bounces off a bulkhead and cuts downward, taking out three aliens before returns towards Captain America.

"I bet it's this way. Assuming they follow the same sort of visual cues we do they'll probably want to face forward, right?" It's that sort of airtight logic that makes Steve Rogers a hero to many.

Inside, Steve can hear the loudspeaker and Mar-Vell's muffled voice. Hopefully whatever that is that came upon them is friendly. Then, back to Max. "What's a Kree?"

_ _

Sue hits ramming speed on the Skrull ship and hits it hard. Really hard. In the bridge, the Skrulls seems scattered and afraid. They begin muttering in words that are unintelligible to humans, but it's clear that they did not expect this much resistance. One of them even asks the Captain Skrull if they should abort.

_ _

A hallway full of Skrulls seem to debate the benefits and drawbacks of Cable's offer. Chatter from the other ship has been clear. They were hit by something invisible. Perhaps these humans have some sort of unknown tech. That could not be, could it? And who is this white haired fellow? He wasn't on any of their intelligence reports.

They raise their hands and surrender.


It happens in the blink of an eye. Another Skrull soldier is coming his way; Coulson's eyes dart toward the one he just killed, and then, to the alien rifle now lying on the ground.

The Senior Agent dives for the weapon, rolling on the ground to avoid a few green blasts that track him. He comes up with the disgustingly large alien rifle in his hand and blasts away at the one attacking him. It's a good thing he was on the ground; that thing has some real kick!

He looks down to the weapon, eyes wide. "… wow!"

Scrambling to his feet, Coulson calls upon his training and service as an Army Ranger. He runs to the left, and dives behind a smoldering piece of wreckage; the wreckage becomes dust moments later as two green blasts strike it. He pops up over the wreckage and returns fire, bracing the Skrull rifle against his shoulder and taking the punches as they come. His eyes track along the alien soldiers, pelting them one after the other, before his eyes come upon a tank rolling his way.

"Oh no you don't!"

Coulson runs for the tank, a dead on run that has the alien vehicle turning its gun upon him. He doesn't stop until the weapon pulls back and prepares to fire. Only then does he dive to the side, rolling along the round; the heat from the blast threatens to melt his boots! And yet, driven by the vigor, his perception is ramped up beyond belief. He's guessing that there's a weak spot near the treads of that alien vehicle. Why, he's not so sure. Maybe it's instinct? Maybe he saw something and his brain is trying to catch up to itself as to why he knows its a weak spot.

No time to think.

With another *BLAM!*, he fires the alien rifle at the tank's treads, hoping that he's right about that damn weak spot.


Gamora angled her sprint when it looked like the good guys weren't going to gun her down in her traces. This is going well! What could go wro-<WHAM>

Gamora spins as that energy blast catches her left shoulder from behind, loses her footing and dives into the dirt. Her ears are ringing from the hit, but then her internal systems go into overdrive. Her left shoulder is blackened and in bad shape, easily seen because the black leather sleeve is completely burnt off.

Rolling to her feet though, Gamora faces off with the soldiers who brought her down. Charging back at them, actually facing the people shooting at her, makes her almost impossible to hit with a weapon like that. She dives into the Skulls, slicing and dicing left and right, until she finally makes enough room for her scoop up one of those energy rifles.

Sheathing her sword, she opens up on the Skrull flank, walking slow and using cover when she can. Muttering, she asks, "And where the hell is Rocket when you actually need him…"


Blue eyes survey the battle field and note the red power flying from Wanda's fingertips, even as she shoots line after line of foot soldier down.

Shoot. Click. Reload. Shoot. Click. Reload.

It was an old repetative story that Bobbi was used to and she'd been prepared. But she only had so many clips left and there looked to be plenty more invaders.

"Wanda! Cover me!" She shouted over the din, running for one of the tanks and trying to dodge fire aimed her way. She slid over to one of the slow moving transports, coming up from a roll, firing off bullets as she went to clear her way. Then a jump up, a hand hold or two and she'd climbed on top of it.

A few breaths later, she was messing around with alien technology to get inside and take out the armored thing from the inside. Her guns weren't used, rather the twin steel rods in either hand. Close combat was her strength this time, and she played to it.

Once inside, and with the command crew cleared?

She planned to start firing on their own, or at the very least, ramming it into the others.


Stationary on a battlefield may be the least wise decision any soldier could make, even a soldier capable of flinging energy bolts without a battery pack and futuristic alien tech firearms. She doesn't stop until she is ahead of every other SHIELD agent and NATO soldier she can find, but when she does, it's an unnerving sight. Wanda takes the risk in check, calculating the dangers when holding her hands palm-down to the ground. Her dusky hair starts to float off her shoulders as her aura charges, the spillover from the leyline flooding the open conduit through her. Indescribable sensations accompany the rush of mystical energy, and the strain of it shows in her pale gilded face, rendering her useless for anything other than guiding the sluicing power flooded through her.

Pulse pounding in her ears, euphoria surging through her veins, the witch stands on her toes until she can almost contain no more power. Her breath drags and her lungs flutter, the pressure threatening to crack her as a vessel. But she holds, and a rising glow flares around her flowing hands as she shapes the mudras with painstaking accuracy.

"On behalf the Sorcerer Supreme," she snarls at the Skree through the cacophony, "get off my planet, you little assholes."

They might not hear her. On the other hand, they are certainly likely to notice the rippling bow wave given form with her at the epicenter. That wave slams forward into the Skree, gaining momentum and dragging up heat and salt from the very soil. Not simply salt: natron salts. The same substance used in ancient Egypt to mummify the dead to withstand rot for several millennia gains a charge of hyperactive particles, super-saturated and accelerated to coat and mummify anything large and living it touches.

It begins like sludge and hardens rapidly, dessicating the moisture out of the beings, a coating that at least immobilizes the aliens through their armour. Monsters become living statues, at least long enough for men to do something about them. Perhaps they live. Perhaps they die.

"Give them your sticks!" she shouts to Bobbi, whatever that means given so much concentration lies elsewhere than the parts of her mind given to translating into English. The drain is going to hurt, but buoyed up on the earth's support, she whispers, "Oh," almost gratefully.



Once Bobbi commandeers one of the transports, the Skrulls start running. This was not what they bargained for and once one gets past the menacing exterior and the frightful ability to change shape, the Skrulls show their true cowardly colors.

And they begin to run.

Gamora is busy putting Skrull parts to the left and the right as the field out in front of her begins to turn tail and run towards another transport.

Which promptly crashes into the ground as Coulson hits the sweet spot.

Scores of Skrulls run for the forest to desperately try and get aboard whatever ship they came in. This was not what they had intended or what their commanders told them would happen. They had been told, even at the start of the Terran Campaign, that Earthlings would be easily subdued.

And, then, suddenly, the lot of them, as well as the spaceship deeper in the forest are now completely motionless as Wanda has her way with them. One of the Skrulls has just enough moisture and energy to look at his commander in a gaze of shock before he can no longer move.



The ship that Steve is currently in shakes hard from the massive explosion of one of the other ships. Crystal's maneuver completely obliterates her opponent by driving a piece of molten rock through the hull and into the core, igniting it and sending pieces of shrapnel and Skrull guts down to the valley below.

The Skrull ship that Mar-Vell attacks completely freezes up and stays there, floating, like a giant ugly broken peanut shell painted black in the sky. It already has a biggole dent in the front from where Sue got to it. As it smashes into the other one and comes to the ground that leaves only Tigra/Steve/Maximus' ship and the one Cable has taken..


Aboard Cable's ship one of the Skrulls nods and shrugs his shoulders as if to acquiesce to Cable. It's better than getting nuked after all. Likewise, the Russians don't fire on him as he pulls the ship into orbit.


Steve opens up a door and immediately it's revealed as the bridge. Without thinking he presses the button on the device he was given from Crystal, made by Maximus. Immediately blue energy reaches out and stuns 6 Skrulls who all slump to the ground immediately.

Steve pushes one off of a control panel and begins to check some of the instruments. "This is not good. I think that device froze the controls." By the way that the ship turns and heads downwards as it begins to fall to the Earth, it looks like they're in a world of hurt. Or about to be.

Steve pulls the shield from his back and looks to Tigra. Get Max and get behind this. It'll keep you safe." Well, as safe as possible.

As Steve tries desperately to get hold of the controls and get them to work in order to pull up,he has flashbacks of World War II. And he thinks of Jack and hopes she won't take the news hard. There won't be an iceberg this time.

"Can anyone hear me?" Steve says into his radio. "This ship is going down. Try and make sure the coast is clear below."



Gamora's ability to lay waste is quickly winding down. Her enhancements can only take her so far after such a grievous wound. In a last ditch effort, she manages to unload the last of the weapon's energy magazine, blasting apart the Skrull sneaking up next to Coulson. Sure, he was already getting saltrified, but it looked great, and Gamora will take credit anyway.

"You!" she yells at Coulson. "You're SHIELD, right? I need…" She stumbled slightly, and ends up using the most advanced weapon any of these humans has seen as a crutch. The nose of it sinks into the dirt at her side, holding her up. "I need your help…" She looks utterly exhausted, and her arm is barely hanging on.


Coulson is about to take another shot at something, when Wanda's feat of brilliance and horror catches his eye. He looks up over the body of his gigantic, commandeered rifle, and his eyes go wide with horror.

"Sweet… Jesus…"

When it's all said and done, Coulson lowers the rifle to his side and rises from his protective crouch. The headset sits haphazardly upon his head, but he remembers it then, and reaches down for the battery powered communications box on his belt.

The thing's been smashed into disrepair, which explains the lack of static, or anything else, coming from the headset.

Ripping it free from his head, he drapes the item over his neck and begins searching the battlefield for his counterparts. His eyes find Wanda, but not Bobbi, nor the one known as Black Panther, but none of that matters. He jerks his head to the side, just in time to watch one Skrull getting blasted into pieces by Gamora's blast. "Whoa!" he calls out, and slings the rifle over his shoulder before rushing to Gamora's aid. "Hey, easy now, easy!" He pushes himself up and underneath her good arm, draping his arm around her to keep her held up. "Holy cow," he breathes, "you sure took a beating, didn't you?" A beat. "Agent Coulson. SHIELD."

And there's that winning smile.

"You wanna help me find my friends?"

Because his friends can no doubt help her with that nasty wound.


Bobbi didn't see the magical mayhem that Wanda was busy unleashing on the skrulls, or at least if she did, she had bigger things to focus on. Like how to steer the massive alien tank she'd taken over. Smashing buttons decidedly did not work.

But after a few false starts, she'd been able to at least turn the guns around and fire on the other transports and fleeing soldiers alike. When it became clear that there were no more reinforcements arriving and that the enemy was on the retreat, Bobbi moved to the hatch once more, popping her head out and surveying the damage to the area round her.

Her gaze fell on Coulson not too far away and .. someone..

"Sir, do you wish me to clean up those that remain?" The blonde was leaning over hte opening, arm slung over the side of the stolen tank, a grin on her face.


The spell actually worked. All those painstaking gestures repeated ad nauseum until her fingers cramped and formed defensive containment mudras in her sleep pay off royally, and possibly catapult Wanda to 'concerning employee #8' on Nick Fury's yellow list. Depends on what Coulson decides to report, assuredly. Someone will have to explain the battlefield full of statues painstakingly preserved for the benefit of forensic analysis later on. An unexpected blessing for the morgue, and somewhere soon, medical examiners and pathologists are going to turn cartwheels for a lack of bloaters to examine in fine detail.

Wonder creeps in behind the teetering emptiness in the wake of the magic leaving her. Almost floating, the white-tinged mist coils around her scarred leather boots and weaves around her ankles in affectionate turns, tethering her from wandering off.

The prospect junior agent Maximoff might simply meander over the horizon isn't a joke, either, given the distant glimmer in her glowing eyes after pyrotechnics fade down as Bobbi stops shooting things with energy weapons. Her state differs from the shellshocked warrior gone over the trench; rather, it's more like a rapturous witness to a very good performance.

Remembering how to walk decidedly takes more time. She wavers in her path towards Coulson and the injured woman, assessing the hideous state of a mangled arm, a badly scarred side. "«Can I…»" English, Wanda. Someone needs to hit the bar, and soon. Trying again, she asks, "Can I help? You are hurt." Licking her lips, she reaches up to straighten out her hair floating around her shoulders. There's no help for it, as soon as her tresses are released, they go back to misbehaving against gravity. To the others, another question in the same vein: "Are you hurt?"


ROLL: Wanda +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 41



T'Challa comes running back from the forest line, dodging Skrull statues as he does, his suit covered in green goo. He stops short of the team, watching Gamora who is clearly hurt. He knows first aid, true, but not something as fierce as one of these blast bolts.

The King of Wakanda came here to help the world find answers. Now, there are only more questions. He finds himself thankful that SHIELD and this mysterious green woman were also here. As to the statues, well, another question.


All around the ship begins to break apart, pulled and pushed on by every force imaginable and by some invisible ones too, like Mar-Vell's tractor beam and Sue's cushioning. They slow it down considerably, but are unable to stop the ship wholeheartedly. Cap pulls in Tigra and even Mad Max as well into a tight huddle. Hopefully Crystal and Cable's efforts, combined with the others will help them.


There's a loud ringing in Captain America's ears, but when he comes to, he's awake enough to notice the ringing and that means he's alive. He can't see anything because of the dust and debris. Everything is strangely quiet.

"Tigra? Are you alright?"

It will take a bit, but after the dust has settled, it seems the entire Act-F team has made it through this first battle of Earth.

But, if this attack is happening here, what could be happening in America, Steve wonders in his mind.


The blue sky is dotted with enemy craft as they hover over the central command of NORAD. As United States fighters approach the fleet of almost one hundred ships, they are easily blown out of the sky like slapping a mosquito.

Most of the Skrulls look similar with small changes to the uniform. All except for the one Skrull who wears a locket around his neck, clearly made on Earth.


Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License