Washington D.C., Late Night.
Deep beneath the White House, the presidential bunker stood as arguably the most secure location on Earth.
Alexander Pierce stared at the big screen, his brow furrowed as he looked at the three streams of red code that represented a loss of contact.
They were the signals for Agent Hill, Natasha (Romanoff), and Sharon Carter.
Wiped out.
He had expected this, even intended for them to be sacrificed, but the end came too quickly.
Did they not even make a ripple?
"Mr. President."
Pierce turned around to face the older Black President, who was sitting behind the Oval Office desk, constantly mopping his brow with a handkerchief.
"I regret to inform you, Plan B has failed. Our three excellent agents... I'm afraid they are lost."
"So what do we do now?!"
The President shot up from his chair, which scraped loudly against the floor.
"We only have two days left starting tomorrow! That maniac wants to turn Earth into his private backyard! And he's going to kill all of us!"
"Nukes are useless, agents are useless, are we just supposed to sit here and wait to die?!"
The most powerful man on Earth was acting like a helpless kid. This sense of powerlessness was driving him to the brink.
"Calm down, Mr. President."
Pierce adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, a flash of malice in his eyes.
"Conventional methods are indeed useless, but we still have allies."
"The King of Wakanda has agreed. They will provide their entire Vibranium reserve, as well as technology fifty years ahead of our time."
"Stark is working around the clock, building a 'Hulkbuster Armor' equivalent—a 'Frieza-Buster' Suit."
Hearing the names Vibranium and Stark, a glimmer of hope finally returned to the President's eyes.
"Will it actually work?"
"I don't know," Pierce said frankly. There was no point in giving false hope now. "But it is our last play."
The President slumped back into his chair, covering his face with his hands, letting out a painful groan.
"Oh, God... why did this monster have to show up on my watch..."
If they couldn't deal with Frieza, forget about re-election, the existence of the United States of America itself was in question!
What was with this "Frieza Game" stunt? Letting the whole world see the government's incompetence?
What kind of authority was that? What about their international standing?
Pierce watched the miserable-looking President and sneered internally, but on the surface, he leaned in and lowered his voice.
"Actually, Mr. President, we have one other option."
"One that is... less than honorable, but may be our one-shot kill."
The President's head snapped up, his eyes bloodshot. "Spit it out!"
...
The Next Day, Morning.
The sun shone particularly bright over the Long Island mansion, filtering through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows onto the luxurious bed.
Frieza slowly opened his eyes.
The feeling of absolute control made his mood unbelievably good.
"Master, you're awake."
A soft, slightly trembling voice sounded by the bed.
Sharon Carter, dressed in an incredibly daring professional secretary outfit, stood by the bed with her head down, holding his toiletries.
It was the power of the Asgardian magic contract that forced her body into instinctive obedience.
Although her eyes still held traces of humiliation and hatred, her movements were as gentle as a genuine maid. Even more professional than a paid one.
Frieza stretched lazily, enjoying the service from the former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.
Brushing his teeth, washing his face, getting dressed.
Sharon performed every step flawlessly. When she knelt to tie the laces of his expensive leather shoes, her long, beautiful legs were trembling uncontrollably.
"Did you sleep well last night, Miss Carter?"
Frieza stood up, adjusted his tie, and nodded in satisfaction at the unnaturally handsome villain in the mirror.
"Thanks to you..." Sharon bit her lip, her voice barely a whisper. "It was... okay."
"Oh ho ho ho... that's good."
Frieza was in high spirits and turned to walk toward the dining room.
As he passed Sharon, he lightly patted her shoulder.
"Are your legs still steady?"
Sharon's face instantly flushed deep red, a mix of shame and resignation.
"Of... course."
Upon reaching the dining room, two other scenic views were already waiting: Maria Hill and Natasha Romanoff.
However, they were not wearing their usual sexy uniforms. Instead, they wore Frieza's preferred corporate colors—a white-and-purple skin-tight battle suit, complete with two pointed shoulder pads.
Frieza's brow slightly wrinkled at the sight.
"Didn't I tell you?"
Frieza sat down at the head of the table and picked up his knife and fork, looking at the two women with slight distaste.
"When you're at home, you need to dress a little more homey, a little more casual."
"Like a backless dress, or a short, lace-trimmed skirt."
"This kind of battle suit is for going out and fighting. Doesn't wearing it at the breakfast table just kill your appetite?"
Hill and Natasha exchanged glances, their eyes full of humiliation.
"Yes... Master."
They had no recourse.
The next moment.
In front of Frieza, amidst the aroma of breakfast.
The two top S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had no choice but to tearfully remove the battle suits and change into the ridiculously small amount of clothing Frieza had designated.
The scene was more intoxicating than any fine wine.
Frieza cut a piece of steak, put it in his mouth, and chewed slowly, his eyes full of amusement.
This was power.
To make the proud bow their heads, and the virtuous become submissive.
Was there any more delicious seasoning than that?
"Master."
After changing her clothes, Hill fought down her shame and approached with a tablet to report.
"We just received a message. The White House has sent a top-level communication request."
"The President... wants to meet with you."
"Oh?"
Frieza raised an eyebrow, his knife and fork pausing.
"Meet with me? That mortal leader who can only read teleprompters?"
Frieza scoffed, his eyes full of contempt.
"Who does he think he is? What right does he have to meet face-to-face with this Emperor of the Universe?"
"Tell him His Majesty is busy."
Hill paused, then continued, "He said... he wants to discuss the transfer of ownership of Earth. Not only that, he has prepared a surrender agreement."
Hearing this, Frieza put down his utensils and wiped his mouth.
"Surrender?"
"Intriguing."
If it was a genuine surrender, it would save him a lot of trouble and killing.
If it was fake...
Well, that would be even more fun.
He was just thinking his fear meter was filling up a little slowly today.
Frieza elegantly wiped his mouth and stood up.
"Since they are so sincere, this Great Emperor will condescend to take a look."
"After all, as the newly appointed Planet Manager of Earth, it's only right that I inspect my territory."
"Loki! Hill! Put on your uniforms and come with me!"
"As for you two..." Frieza glanced at Natasha and Sharon. "Stay home and clean up. I'll inspect it when I get back."
"Yes, sir!"