Midtown Manhattan. The Frieza Tower.
Even though many of the glass panels had been shattered in the previous battle, the suffocating sense of pressure had intensified, all thanks to the figure standing in the center of the lobby.
Frieza, with his hands clasped behind his back, was surveying his domain, pacing with that unique, leisurely gait—as if he were strolling through his own private garden.
In the ground-floor lobby, the elite white-collar workers, who were usually quite worldly, were now hunched over their desks, desperately trying to bury their faces in their keyboards.
The air was so quiet you could hear the faint gurgle of bubbles inside the water cooler.
"Gulp..."
Someone swallowed hard, and the sound echoed deafeningly in the dead silence.
"Oh dear me..."
Frieza stopped, his crimson eyes scanning the room, that signature, spine-chilling smile on his face.
"What is the matter, everyone?"
"I recall that when I used to visit and inspect the work, you would enthusiastically cheer, 'Hello Boss!' as if I were your dear old dad."
"Why does it look like you're all attending a funeral now?"
Silence. Absolute silence.
Who would dare speak?
The man standing before them was the very fiend who had just flattened Washington D.C.! Who knew if misspeaking even a single syllable would lead to instant vaporization?
Frieza sighed inwardly, frustrated by his trembling, fearful staff.
This generation of employees has terrible nerves.
However, as a man who aspires to become the biggest real estate mogul in the universe, he knew how to manage people. Simple fear would only ensure compliance. If he wanted them happily grinding crazy overtime, he had to sweeten the pot.
"Hmph hmph..."
Frieza chuckled softly, raising one finger and wiggling it elegantly.
"There's no need to be so stressed, my family."
"Though I am now the Emperor of the Universe and the ruler of this planet, I remain your boss: Frieza."
"I think you all know that the great me is always very generous to employees who work hard."
Frieza paused here, a sharp glint in his eye.
"As long as you put in the effort, follow my orders, and treat this company like home..."
"Your previous benefits? They are all doubled!"
"Furthermore, top performers will get a complimentary trip to Mars for vacation, or even a scholarship to study on Xandar! All expenses paid by me!"
The moment the words left his mouth, a male employee with glasses and a high hairline suddenly looked up from the previously lifeless crowd, his eyes blazing with the fever of a sycophant.
"Is that true?! Boss!"
"Long live Boss Frieza!!"
The sudden outburst startled his nearby colleagues.
Frieza looked toward the sound and nodded with satisfaction.
Yes. This was exactly the reaction he was looking for.
"You. You have a good eye for business."
Frieza pointed at the man, his smile widening.
"Since you have such foresight, effective immediately, you are the new department director."
"As for the former director..." Frieza didn't even glance at the trembling, heavy-set man in the corner. "Send him to clean the restrooms."
The announcement landed like a depth charge.
A promotion and a double salary, all decided with a single sentence?
The newly promoted employee shook with excitement, dropping to his knees and shouting:
"Thank you, Boss Frieza! I will dedicate my life to you until my dying breath!"
With that example set, the expressions of the other employees changed.
Fear? What the heck is fear when facing double the pay and a promotion?!
"Hail the Boss!"
"We pledge our lives to the Frieza Group!"
Watching his staff cheer wildly, Frieza's mood brightened considerably.
It seems that no matter which universe you're in, the old adage about money making the world go 'round holds true.
"Sometimes, 'Boss' sounds even better than 'Highness' or 'Emperor.'"
Humming an unknown tune, Frieza turned and headed for the training room.
Just as he reached the door to the training room, a sequence of synchronized, yet utterly humiliating, chants could be heard inside.
"We must be graceful! We must be cruel!"
"We are the strongest in the universe—The Ginyu Force!"
Frieza pushed the door open.
Inside, the blue-skinned brute Apocalypse, alongside a spandex-clad Loki, was standing on a platform, directing a group of oddly shaped individuals through a corporate culture training session.
Red Devil, Magneto, and Taskmaster...
These villains, who normally terrified the Marvel Universe, were striking the classic, toe-curling poses of the Ginyu Force.
Standing on one leg, hands on their hips, heads tilted back.
The sight was so ridiculous it almost burned the eyes.
But Frieza was thoroughly pleased, even bursting into applause.
"Clap! Clap! Clap!"
"Splendid, absolutely splendid!"
Frieza walked in like a general inspecting his troops.
"It seems you have truly grasped the essence of the Force."
"Apocalypse, and Loki, you both have done an excellent job."
Frieza patted Apocalypse's thick shoulder, laying out a tempting promise with practiced ease.
"Keep up the great work, and when I conquer the next new planet, I guarantee both of you will get a seat as a Planetary Governor!"
At the sound of "Planetary Governor," Loki's eyes instantly lit up like floodlights.
Apocalypse also shuddered with anticipation. As an ancient being who had lived countless millennia, he was subservient now, but his ambition remained.
Being a Planetary Governor? That's far better than playing house with a bunch of mutant kids on Earth!
"We pledge our very lives to the Boss!!"
Their combined voices were so loud the ceiling plaster rained down.
"Very good."
Frieza nodded contentedly, then waved his hand expansively.
"Come, let's go to my office."
"This building is so drab, it simply doesn't suit the style of an Emperor of the Universe."
"I need to bring in an engineering team for a redesign."
Back in the penthouse office, several structural engineers wearing hard hats—their legs shaking uncontrollably—were already waiting.
"I don't care what technology you use, or how much it costs."
Frieza sat in his executive chair, making a circular, spaceship shape with his hands.
"I want the new headquarters to be round, hovering, and look exactly like a cosmic spaceship!"
"It should also have a few thrusters on the bottom, so I can take off and fly when I'm in a bad mood."
The designers listened, bewildered, cold sweat pouring down their faces.
This was asking the absolute impossible of civil engineering!
Meanwhile.
In the underground lab at Stark Industries Headquarters.
Tony Stark, sporting massive dark circles under his eyes and hair like a bird's nest, was frantically manipulating data on a holographic projection.
Beside him stood a dark-skinned, serious young man: T'Challa, the Prince of Wakanda.
"Mr. Stark, the Vibranium fusion rate has hit 98%," T'Challa said, his voice laced with disbelief as he reviewed the data. "I've never seen an alloy of this strength."
"Not enough... nowhere near enough!"
Tony chewed on his fingernails, his eyes bloodshot.
"J.A.R.V.I.S.'s analysis of that monster's combat power suggests his physical strength is at least ten times the Hulk's, and his energy output is incalculable."
"We need something stronger, tougher, and more resilient!"
As Tony swiped his finger, a massive, exaggerated armor model appeared on the holographic display.
It was several sizes larger than a standard Iron Man suit, even more bulky and heavily armored than the future Hulkbuster. Every plate was forged from Wakandan-supplied Vibranium, its interior embedded with countless miniature arc reactors for power.
The codename: Anti-Frieza Armor: Prototype.
"Simulation results are in, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice chimed.
"Power Output: 10,000 tons."
"Defense Rating: Capable of withstanding impact at nuclear blast epicenter."
"Energy Shield: Fully Charged."
Staring at the terrifying metrics, Tony finally let out a long breath and collapsed into his chair.
These numbers were five to ten times stronger than the design he'd planned for the Hulk! This was a mobile fortress!
"Hope it's enough..." Tony rubbed his temples, a flicker of exhaustion in his eyes.
He patted T'Challa's shoulder.
"Your Highness, I'm leaving you in charge here to continue testing."
"I have someone else I need to visit. I hear he's got a few good toys."
Elsewhere, the Baxter Building.
Dr. Bruce Banner looked slightly awkward.
He adjusted his glasses, facing the man whose body could stretch like rubber: Reed Richards, Mister Fantastic.
"Dr. Banner, long time no see."
Mister Fantastic showed no surprise, as if he had predicted this moment.
"I know exactly why you're here."
Reed gestured toward the depths of his lab, where strange devices were dimly visible.
"That guy, Frieza, is definitely a big problem."
"But science always finds a way, doesn't it? Come on in."
S.H.I.E.L.D. Underground Secret Base.
Captain America, Steve Rogers, sat at a steel table, holding a yellowed file marked "Top Secret."
On the file cover was a photo of a man with long blonde hair and a golden suit. The man's eyes looked confused, but they carried an unsettling sense of power.
Codename: Sentry.
This was S.H.I.E.L.D.'s deepest, most dangerous trump card.
"Do we really have to wake him up..."
Cap ran his finger over the photo, a look of hesitation in his eyes. He knew from the records that the man's psyche was extremely unstable, and if he lost control, he could be even worse than Frieza.
But this might be their only hope.
Just then.
Beep beep beep!
An old-fashioned pager on the corner of the table suddenly went off.
It was the only personal item Nick Fury had left behind before his supposed death.
Cap snatched the pager up.
On the screen, a short message was flashing:
[Received. Returning at full speed. -- C.D. (Carol Danvers)]
Seeing the message, the tension in Cap's face finally eased.
He took a deep breath and clenched his fist.
"Did you finally make it in time?"
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