Washington D.C., late night.
The White House underground bunker, currently the most secure location on Earth.
Alexander stared at the three strings of red code on the large screen, each representing a lost connection, his brow deeply furrowed.
They were the signals belonging to Maria, Natasha, and Sharon.
Total annihilation.
He had anticipated this outcome but the conclusion arrived far too swiftly.
They didn't even make a ripple?
"Mr. President."
Alexander turned, looking at the president seated behind the Oval Office desk, who was frantically wiping sweat with a handkerchief.
"I regret to inform you, Plan B has failed. Our three excellent agents... I fear they are beyond saving."
"What are we supposed to do now?!"
The President sprang to his feet, his chair screeching against the floor.
"Starting tomorrow, we only have two days left. That lunatic wants to turn Earth into his private garden. And he intends to kill every single one of us."
"Nukes didn't work, agents didn't work. Are we just going to sit here and wait for death?!"
The most powerful man on Earth was, at this moment, reduced to an image of a helpless child.
This overwhelming sense of powerlessness brought him to the brink of collapse.
"Calm yourself, Mr. President."
Alexander adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, a flicker of cold malice crossing his eyes.
"Conventional methods are useless but we still possess allies."
"The King of Wakanda has agreed. They will provide all their Vibranium reserves, along with technology fifty years ahead of our time."
"Stark is working around the clock, rushing to construct a set of Anti-Frieza Armor."
Hearing the names Vibranium and Stark, the President's eyes finally regained a sliver of hope.
"Will it actually work?"
"I can't be sure." Alexander admitted honestly, knowing that offering false hope now would only backfire.
"But this is our final card."
The President slumped back into his chair, covering his face with his hands and letting out a painful groan.
"God help us... why did this monster have to appear during my term in office?"
If Frieza isn't dealt with, forget about re-election—the very existence of the United States of America is at stake.
What is the point of this Frieza Games? To let the entire world witness the government's utter helplessness?
Where is our authority? Where is our dignity?
Alexander watched the President's pathetic display, sneering internally.
Outwardly, however, he leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "Actually, Mr. President, we have one more option."
"An option that is... less than honorable, perhaps, but one that might guarantee a killing blow."
The President snapped his head up, his eyes bloodshot. "Tell me!"
...
The following day, early morning.
The sunlight at the manor in Frieza's island was exceptionally bright, streaming through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows onto the luxurious bed.
Frieza slowly opened his eyes.
The feeling of absolute control brought him immense satisfaction.
"Master, you are awake."
A soft voice, tinged with a slight tremor, sounded beside the bed.
Sharon, dressed in an extremely daringly cut OL secretary outfit, stood by the bed with her head bowed, holding toiletries.
It was the power of the Asgardian magical contract that forced her body into instinctive obedience.
Although humiliation and hatred still lingered in her eyes, her movements were as gentle as those of a true maidservant, even more meticulous than a professional.
Frieza stretched languidly, savoring the service provided by the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.
Brushing his teeth, washing his face, getting dressed.
Sharon performed every step of the routine meticulously. As she knelt on the floor to tie the laces of his expensive leather shoes, her legs trembled uncontrollably.
"Did you sleep well last night, Miss Sharon?"
Frieza stood, adjusted his tie, and nodded in satisfaction at the impossibly handsome villain reflected in the mirror.
"Thanks to you..." Sharon bit her lip, her voice barely a whisper. "It was... adequate."
"Oh ho ho ho... That is good to hear."
Frieza, in high spirits, turned and headed toward the dining room.
As he passed Sharon, he lightly patted her shoulder. "Are your legs still steady?"
Sharon's face instantly flushed crimson, a mixture of shame and utter helplessness.
"Of... course."
Upon entering the dining room, two other striking sights were already waiting.
Maria and Natasha.
However, they weren't wearing their usual sexy uniforms. Instead, they were clad in Frieza's favorite corporate uniforms: white and purple tight-fitting combat suits, complete with pointy shoulder pads.
Seeing this sight, Frieza frowned slightly. "Did I not make myself clear?"
Frieza took his place at the head of the table, picked up his knife and fork, and looked at the two women with obvious distaste.
"When you are at home, you should dress more casually, more comfortably."
"Like those backless dresses, or short, lace-trimmed skirts."
"Battle suits are for going out to fight. Wearing them at the dinner table—don't you find it rather distasteful?"
Maria and Natasha exchanged glances, their eyes burning with humiliation.
"Yes... Master."
The two had no choice but to comply.
The next moment.
Right in front of Frieza, amidst the aroma of breakfast, the two top S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were forced, through tears, to shed their battle suits and change into the scantily-clad outfits Frieza had specified.
The sight was more intoxicating than the finest red wine.
Frieza cut a piece of steak, put it in his mouth, and chewed slowly, his eyes alight with amusement.
This was power.
The ability to make the arrogant bow their heads, and the virtuous become utterly compliant.
Was there any seasoning more delicious than this?
"Master."
After changing, Maria suppressed her shame, approached him with a tablet, and began her report.
"We just received word that the White House has initiated a request for the highest level of communication. The President wishes to meet with you."
"Oh?"
Frieza raised an eyebrow, pausing with his knife and fork.
"Meet me? That mortal figurehead who can only read from a script?" Frieza let out a sneer, his eyes filled with contempt.
"Who does he think he is? What right does he have to stand face-to-face with me, the Emperor of the Universe?"
"Tell him I am unavailable."
Maria hesitated, then continued, "He claims... he is coming to discuss the transfer of Earth's sovereignty. Furthermore, he has prepared a formal surrender protocol."
Upon hearing this, Frieza put down his utensils and wiped his mouth.
"A surrender?"
"How intriguing."
If it was a genuine surrender, it would certainly save him the trouble of mass slaughter.
If it was a deception, it would be even more amusing.
He was just starting to worry that his daily Fear Points quota was accruing too slowly.
Frieza elegantly finished wiping his mouth and rose to his feet.
"Since they are showing such sincerity, this great Emperor will grudgingly go and observe."
"After all, as the newly appointed planetary governor of Earth, it is only proper that I inspect my domain."
"Loki. Hill. Put on your uniforms. You are coming with me."
"As for the two of you..."
Frieza glanced at Natasha and Sharon. "You will stay here and clean the manor. I will inspect your work when I return."
"Yes, Master."