After sending Steve back, Hong Fei continued to immerse himself in the absorption of Light Energy. A very powerful aspect of Photonic Energy Control is that the upper limit of the Light Energy it can absorb and store is closely related to one's physical fitness.
Judging by My Lord's current physical fitness, even if he were placed in space to be exposed to the Sun for 24 hours, he could absorb for years. Most of the Light Energy currently absorbed is used to repair his body, with the remainder stored for backup. So, there is an answer to Steve's question about whether he knows how to heal. He does.
The lethality of Light Energy is quite impressive, as one can tell just by looking at Carol, but it can actually be used for healing. However, for now, he can only heal himself; in the future, he might be able to master a method to cast a "Light Healing Spell" on others. Night fell in Washington.
Big Head was wearing a black suit, a black cape tied over his shoulders, a black top hat on his head, and was holding a black umbrella in his hand. His entire body showed only a faint hint of green on his skin. He walked through the streets with calm ease, like an old-fashioned gentleman who had just gotten lost coming from London.
The sound of his leather shoes striking the ground echoed slowly through the empty street as he walked with a clear purpose toward an aged residence by the roadside. The elevator was under maintenance; Big Head glanced at it and headed straight for the stairs. In the stairwell, the sound of his leather shoes became increasingly distinct. Third floor.
Big Head switched the umbrella to his left hand and lightly knocked on the door with his right. Instantly, a woman's voice came from inside, asking, "Who is it?" Big Head did not speak, but continued to knock on the door. Before long, a man's voice sounded inside, getting closer and closer. Soon, the door was pulled open, revealing a young face.
However, the person was thin, with sunken eye sockets and abnormally heavy dark circles under his eyes; he looked sickly, as if he were dying. The moment he saw Big Head, the young man had a momentary lapse in focus, but he immediately frowned and asked in a hoarse voice, "Who are you?"
Ignoring the question, Big Head gestured with his head, and the young man stepped aside to clear the way. Big Head walked inside in his usual gentlemanly manner. As for the young man, his entire body remained motionless, and his expression and eyes went completely stiff.
"Honey, who is it?" a woman's voice called out from the room. Big Head followed the sound. Shortly after, he stood at the bedroom door and saw the woman inside wearing only underwear.
Instantly, the woman shrieked, grabbed the quilt to cover her body, and quickly retreated to the corner of the bed, staring at Big Head with vigilant eyes, "Who are you? Don't come any closer, or I'll call the Police!"
Big Head remained expressionless. It was not that he had lost mortal desires after his mutation, but rather that he clearly knew this woman was not an Earthling at all, but an alien even stranger than he was. Big Head currently had no need or desire for cross-species reproductive communication. His gaze turned to the side.
Connected to the foot of the bed was a long table, on which a large pile of messy items was scattered—cosmetics, food cans, mobile phones, chargers, a small pile of white powder, and some uniquely shaped bottles and jars. Seeing Big Head's gaze, the woman's brows instantly tightened, and a flash of killing intent welled up in her eyes.
"Did he bring you here, or did you bring him?"
Big Head suddenly asked. The woman immediately retorted, "Are you the Police?"
"No."
"Then what does it have to do with you!"
"Of course, it has absolutely nothing to do with me, but it determines whether you will live or die next."
As soon as he finished speaking, the woman suddenly threw off the quilt in front of her. The arm hidden beneath the quilt lashed out violently, revealing a strangely shaped firearm clutched in her palm. The muzzle snapped to Big Head's forehead in an instant—then froze. The camera zoomed in to show her finger already on the trigger, pre-pressure complete, yet unable to execute that final, decisive movement.
Her pupils dilated violently. She strained with every muscle, but her arm refused to obey. When she tried to lift her other hand, that too locked in place halfway through the motion. Big Head loomed over her, both hands resting casually on his umbrella handle.
His dark green eyes beneath the hat brim watched her with the detached interest of an English gentleman observing circus animals. Sweat poured down the woman's face, tracing the elegant lines of her cheeks before pooling in the hollow of her throat and disappearing into her cleavage.
"How many of you are there?"
Big Head repeated.
Her expression flickered before smoothing over, but the tell was enough.
"How many in space? How many on Earth? How many in Washington?"
A faint tremor ran through her skin, though she remained silent. Big Head tilted his head as if listening to something only he could hear, nodding occasionally.
"Where are all your known operatives stationed? What's your supply chain? Fury's doing, or did you arrange it yourselves?"
"Save your breath. I won't—"
"Silence!"
The sharp command sent the firearm clattering onto the bed. Her limbs splayed outward, pinned against the wall by invisible force.
"So independence is the goal? Seizing political power to rescue your suffering brethren from deep space?"
"Suffering? Our supplies are—" She caught herself too late.
Big Head's chuckle held no warmth.
"Fury didn't trust you completely, yet he kept you comfortable. A mistake. Intelligent species are never satisfied—humans least of all. Had it been me, I'd have let you starve. Or better yet, encouraged infighting to thin your numbers. Ambition starves faster on an empty stomach."
His tone shifted to mock admiration.
"Not just hiding then. You mean to start a global war, exterminate humanity, and rebuild your Skrull Empire on our bones?"
The woman's nostrils flared.
"Tell me," Big Head continued, "was this empire of yours very large?"
"It—" She bit her lip.
"The Kree territories were vaster."
"Ah yes, the blue-skinned ones. Carol Danvers' former handlers. Karma caught up with them, didn't it? But we're discussing Skrulls."
He leaned closer.
"You're small fry, which is precisely why I approached you. Some big shots, even if their strength isn't great, always possess formidable mental defenses that make psychic intrusion difficult. And you're an unknown quantity—for all I know, your species could have resistance or even deception mechanisms. Caution is warranted."
His smile turned icy.
"Now then, my dear Skrull—let's not make this unpleasant. I know your current imagination is fake. Why do I know? Because your subconscious told me. Alright, you want to control your subconscious to confuse me again? This is actually not impossible, but it requires a long time of planned training, so you can't do it right now."
"May I ask, what plans does your leader have right now?"
"Why are you living here with an Earthling, and a drug addict who is the least likable kind at that?"
"Heh, so it was you? You were curious before but didn't dare to try. Now that Fury is dead and your rules have relaxed, you let him help you find this stuff? It's only been a few days; why does he look like he's about to die?"
"Tsk tsk, you've really exploited him too harshly; I think his waist is about to snap."
"Your tears are worthless to me, so you'd better put them away. Have you gone to The Foundation?"
"Hill? Coulson? Tony? You really have some nerve."
"One last question: what do you plan to do about my boss, um, that is, My Lord?"
At this point, Big Head finally stopped. After a moment of silence, Big Head turned to look at the small pile of white powder on the table and said, "Since you like the taste of it so much, why don't you eat it all up?"
Instantly, the woman's eyes were filled with fear and terror. Skrulls are not immune to all poisons; they can still be poisoned to death. However, her actions were not under the control of her consciousness at all. She slowly crawled to the table, reached out, and used a card to scrape everything onto a piece of paper, then lifted the paper toward her mouth. Two streams of tears rolled down from the corners of the woman's eyes, yet there was not the slightest expression on her face.
Big Head shook his head and said, "Don't beg for mercy; it will only make me look down on you. It's useless even if you don't care. Even if I were willing to let you go for various reasons, do you know what my boss hates the most? It's exactly that stuff in your hand. He told Boss Frank that people like this—those who buy, sell, or use it—all deserve to die. If I let you go now, even if I took you back as a prisoner, and even if you obediently cooperated, the boss wouldn't let me off, and you would end up dying even more miserably."
"Don't hesitate, just let it be. You can think of it in a more positive light—at least you are dying accompanied by the thing that brings you happiness. Besides, imagine that man from just now; he turned out like that in just a few short days, while you still look radiant, so you might not necessarily die. If you can survive, then I can just say I didn't expect it, right?"
A glimmer of hope flashed in the woman's eyes. She raised her head high, opened her mouth wide, and gave the paper filled with powder in her hand a gentle shake toward her mouth. With a soft rustling sound, the powder quickly flowed into her mouth. Big Head watched as the woman swallowed it mouthful after mouthful, and seeing her face flush red, he added, "Take a drink of water."
The woman picked up the water glass, took a gulp, rinsed her mouth a few times, and swallowed it all in one go.
"Open your mouth and let me see."
The woman turned to face Big Head, opened her mouth, and stuck out her tongue. Big Head nodded with satisfaction, "Very clean."
Soon, a look of pain rose in the woman's eyes, but her expression remained unchanged. Big Head turned and left. For a split second, the woman felt as if she had broken through the darkness and seen the light. However, after only a few short seconds, she suddenly stood up from the bed, unable to control herself. A bone-chilling cold instantly struck her heart. A moment later, the man at the door walked in, holding two pistols. He handed one of them to the woman. The two held the guns against each other's foreheads. Even though tears streamed down their faces, they did not hesitate in the slightest. Two gunshots rang out in quick succession, and the couple fell dead together.
Outside the door, Big Head gave a casual wave. Shadowy figures emerged from the darkness, first removing the woman's body. In death, she reverted to her true Skrull form—green skin stretched over alien features, like a monster shedding its disguise. Soon after, flames erupted through the windows. The fire department arrived quickly thanks to an early alert, preventing the blaze from spreading.
That same night, across different districts of Washington, nearly identical scenes played out. Jessica, Natasha, Yelena, and Antonia fanned through the city, eliminating the alien infiltrators Big Head had identified. Their methods were lethal, yes—but nothing like the visceral horror of Big Head's approach. Where they killed cleanly, he played with his food. That old saying about killing being as easy as a nod? It didn't apply to him. Not even close.
This operation in Washington wasn't some sudden patriotic urge from Master Hong to help the U.S. eliminate rivals. The real reason? Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters in D.C. were about to become ground zero for something big. Couldn't risk these Skrull strays interfering. Best to sweep them off the board first. Besides, Fury had originally housed most of the Skrulls in the D.C. area—their movements tightly controlled, their freedom an illusion. Washington was their designated cage.
By dawn's first light, Big Head and the others regrouped. Their teams hauled in over a dozen Skrull corpses. Big Head crouched, examining each wound with clinical precision. After a long silence, he nodded slowly. Not a single body remained intact, but if he harvested the undamaged parts from each... yes, he could reconstruct one perfect specimen. Better yet, their injuries revealed Skrull vulnerabilities. Two birds with one stone. Or rather, a whole flock.
"Mr. Big Head," Jessica said, standing well back with her arms crossed.
"Stare at the corpses all you want. Laugh silently for all I care. But could you not do it out loud? You're giving me the creeps."
She rubbed her arms vigorously. Yelena blew out her cheeks.
"Thought these aliens would be tougher. Honestly? Underwhelming."
Natasha kept her back turned, watching the moon.
"Their physiques match elite soldiers," she observed.
"Elite?" Antonia's voice rang metallic through her full-body armor. "Please. Half of them didn't even consider humans intelligent life forms."
Big Head straightened up.
"Because we're fundamentally different. They had an interstellar empire while we were still figuring out fire."
Yelena scoffed.
"So what? Now they're the ones slinking around like stray dogs." Big Head smiled and said, "Exactly. And not a single survivor was left tonight. I believe you will not go against our previous collective decision, so they all deserve to die. Then we might as well give them a hand and let them all go to hell to imagine the so-called glory of the Skrulls Empire together with their kin."