Midtown Manhattan, Frieza Tower.
Although many of the glass curtain walls here had been shattered in the previous battle, the suffocating sense of oppression only grew heavier due to the figure standing in the center of the lobby.
Frieza stood with his hands clasped behind his back.
He was inspecting his domain, walking with his characteristic stride, as if taking a leisurely stroll through his own backyard.
In the first-floor lobby, the elite white-collar workers, who were usually accustomed to grand situations, now kept their heads bowed, wishing they could bury their faces in their keyboards.
The air was so quiet that you could even hear the sound of bubbles rising in the nearby water dispenser.
"Gulp..."
Someone gulped, the sound jarringly loud in the deathly silent lobby.
"Oh my."
Frieza stopped, his crimson eyes sweeping across the room, his face bearing that signature, spine-chilling smile.
"What seems to be the matter, everyone?"
"I recall that when I used to come for inspections, you would enthusiastically cheer, 'Hello, Boss!' as if greeting your own father."
"Why does everyone look like they're attending a funeral now?"
Pin-drop silence.
Who dared to speak?
The person standing before them was the ruthless individual who had just leveled Washington D.C..
Who knew if saying the wrong punctuation mark would result in instant vaporization?
Looking at these trembling tools of production, Frieza sighed inwardly with resignation.
The mental fortitude of this batch of employees is lacking.
However, as a man determined to become the universe's largest real estate mogul, he certainly understood the art of managing people.
Simple fear could only make them obedient, but if he wanted them to willingly work the '996' schedule (9 am to 9 pm, six days a week) without complaint, he needed to sweeten the deal.
"Heh heh."
Frieza chuckled, elegantly wiggling a finger.
"There's no need to be so tense, my family. Although I am now the Emperor of the Universe, the owner of this planet, I am still your boss, Frieza."
"I believe you all know very well that I, the Great Emperor, have always been very generous to diligent employees."
Pausing here, a sharp glint flashed in Frieza's eyes.
"As long as you work hard, obey my commands, and treat the company as your home, all previous benefits and compensation will be doubled."
"Furthermore, for those who perform exceptionally, whether you want to vacation on Mars or study abroad on Xandar, I will cover everything."
The moment he finished speaking, from the previously lifeless crowd, a male employee with glasses and a slightly receding hairline suddenly lifted his head, his eyes blazing with the zealous light of a sycophant.
"Boss, is that true?"
"Long live Boss Frieza!"
This sudden outburst startled his surrounding colleagues.
Frieza looked toward the sound and nodded with satisfaction.
That's right. This was the effect he wanted.
"You have a bright future."
Frieza pointed at the employee, the corner of his lips curving upward.
"Since you have such good foresight, effective immediately, you are the Director of this department."
"As for the former director..."
Frieza didn't even glance at the trembling fat man in the corner. "Have him clean the toilets."
This sentence landed like a depth charge.
Promotion and a raise? Just based on one sentence?
The male employee trembled with excitement. He immediately dropped to his knees, and shouted, "Thank you, Boss Frieza! I swear to dedicate myself to your service until my dying breath!"
With this example set, the expressions of the other employees changed.
Fear? Compared to double salary and a promotion, fear meant nothing.
"Long live the Boss!"
"We pledge our lives to the Frieza Corporation!"
Watching the employees cheer three times for eternal life, Frieza was in high spirits.
Indeed, no matter the universe, the old adage that money makes the world go round holds true.
"Compared to being called 'Great Emperor,' 'Boss' sounds quite appealing sometimes."
Frieza hummed an unknown tune and turned toward the training room.
Just as he reached the doorway, a synchronized but extremely embarrassing chant echoed out.
"We must be elegant! We must be cruel!"
"We are the strongest in the universe—the Ginyu Force!"
Frieza pushed the door open and entered. He saw the blue-skinned behemoth, Apocalypse, standing on a platform alongside a spandex-clad Loki, leading a training session for a group of bizarre-looking individuals below.
Azazel, Magneto, and Taskmaster...
These villains who usually dominated the Marvel universe were now striking the classic, cringe-inducing poses of the Ginyu Force.
Standing on one leg, hands on hips, head tilted back.
The scene was too beautiful, it was an eyesore.
But Frieza was very pleased, and he couldn't help but applaud.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
"Excellent."
Frieza walked in, like a general reviewing his troops.
"It seems you have grasped the essence of the corps."
"Apocalypse, and Loki, you two have done very well."
Frieza patted Apocalypse's thick shoulder, expertly dangling the promise of future rewards.
"Keep up this momentum. When I conquer a new planet in the future, the position of Planetary Governor will definitely be reserved for one of you."
Hearing the words "Planetary Governor," Loki's eyes instantly lit up like two light bulbs.
Apocalypse also shuddered. As an ancient entity who had lived for countless years, his ambition remained, even though he had been beaten into submission.
Being a Planetary Governor...
Wasn't that far better than playing house with a bunch of mutant children on Earth?
"We pledge to serve the Boss until death!"
Their voices shook the ceiling, causing dust to fall.
"Very good."
Frieza nodded contentedly, then waved his hand dismissively.
"Come, let's go to my office."
"This building is too tacky, it simply doesn't suit the aura of the Emperor of the Universe."
"I need to get an engineering team to redesign it."
Back in the top-floor office, several engineering designers, wearing hard hats and looking extremely nervous, were already waiting.
"I don't care what technology you use, or how much it costs."
Frieza sat in his chair and used his hands to gesture the shape of a circular spaceship.
"I want a headquarters building that is circular, floating, and looks exactly like a spaceship."
"Ideally, it should also have some thrusters underneath, so it can take off when I'm in a bad mood."
The designers listened, utterly bewildered, cold sweat pouring down their faces.
Isn't that asking a bit much of civil engineering?
—
Meanwhile.
Stark Industries Center, underground laboratory.
Tony, sporting massive dark circles under his eyes and hair like a bird's nest, was frantically manipulating data displayed on a holographic projection.
Standing beside him was a dark-skinned, serious-looking young man.
T'Challa, the Prince of Wakanda.
"Mr. Stark, the vibranium fusion rate has reached 98%." T'Challa said, looking at the data with a hint of disbelief in his voice.
"I have never seen an alloy of this strength."
"It's not enough... nowhere near enough."
Tony bit his fingernail, his eyes bloodshot.
"According to J.A.R.V.I.S.'s analysis of that monster's power, his physical strength is at least ten times that of the Hulk, and his energy output is immeasurable."
"We need something stronger, harder, and more durable."
As Tony slid his finger, a massive, exaggerated armor model appeared on the holographic projection. This armor was several sizes larger than a standard suit, even more bulky and heavy than the future Hulkbuster armor.
Every armor plate was crafted from Wakandan-supplied vibranium, and countless miniature reactors were embedded inside to provide power.
Codename: [Anti-Frieza Armor: Prototype].
"Simulation data is available, sir." J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice chimed.
"Power Output: 10,000 tons."
"Defense Rating: Capable of withstanding impact at the center of a nuclear explosion."
"Energy Shields: Fully charged."
Looking at these terrifying figures, Tony finally let out a long breath and slumped into his chair.
These stats were five to ten times stronger than the design he had originally planned to use against the Hulk.
This was practically a mobile fortress.
"I hope this works." Tony rubbed his temples, a flash of exhaustion in his eyes.
He patted T'Challa's shoulder. "Your Highness, I'm leaving this to you for now. Continue the testing."
"I have someone else I need to visit. I hear he has some good stuff."
...
Meanwhile, at the Baxter Building.
Bruce seemed somewhat reserved. He adjusted his glasses, looking at the man whose body could stretch like rubber—Reed Richards, also known as Mister Fantastic.
"Dr. Banner, long time no see."
Reed showed no surprise on his face, as if he had anticipated this moment all along.
"I know why you've come."
Reed pointed toward the depths of the laboratory, where some strange devices were vaguely visible.
"That fellow named Frieza is indeed a huge problem. But science always finds a solution, doesn't it? Please, come in."
...
S.H.I.E.L.D., underground secret base.
Steve was sitting at a metal table, holding a yellowed file marked "TOP SECRET."
On the file's cover was a photo of a man with long golden hair, dressed in golden armor. The man's eyes looked confused, yet radiated an unsettling sense of power.
Codename: Sentry.
This was S.H.I.E.L.D.'s deepest and most dangerous trump card.
"Do we really have to wake him up?"
His finger traced the photo, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes.
Having read the files, he knew the man's mind was extremely unstable. If he lost control, he could be even more terrifying than Frieza but this might be their only hope.
Just then—
Beep! Beep!
An old pager sitting on the corner of the table suddenly went off.
It was the only relic Fury had left behind before his death.
Steve snatched up the pager.
On the screen, a short message was flashing.
[Received. Returning at full speed. - C.D. (Carol Danvers)]
Seeing the message, the tension in Steve's face finally eased.
He took a deep breath and clenched his fist. "Did she finally make it?"
***
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