“In a surprise announcement, The Asgardians have decided that the trial of Norman Osborn, now known as the creature Gargoyle, will take place on Earth. They gave this following press conference.”
Coulson stood next to Thor, and Bereet. This was to be the first trial to show the united front of the three governments.
“In the spirit of cooperation, It has been decided that the criminal Norman Osborn, known on Xandar as Gargoyle, should be held accountable for his actions both in the Galactic sector and on Earth. As such, he is being turned over to the Earth's authorities, with the full cooperation of both governments, in the hope that this will finally cement the relationship between our two peoples.”
Goyle stood in power suppressing cuffs, miserable. They had removed most of the flesh from him at one point or other, allowing it to regrow almost supernaturally fast before repeating the procedure. Over and over they had cut and taken from him until he felt there was no more left to give.
Trapped in a needless cycle of pain and torture Norman had finally died. His mind broke and all that remained was the monster they wanted him to be. And a monster he was. When an organ finally ruptured or failed to regenerate, they were merciful enough to replace it with a mechanical counterpart. It wasn’t mercy for Normal though, he knew it was only to keep him alive to ensure further samples could be harvested. Not just from him, but Goyle as well, and the Skrulls, for all their talk of benevolence, were only kind to those they stood to gain from.
Norman was a test subject and a criminal. He knew nothing but pain and suffering. But, now it was his time. He had been given a glimmer of hope, and he grasped onto it, no matter how much it would burn him.
Bereet stepped forwards, “Under the provisional agreements of the Xandarian People, on behalf of the Nova Corps, I hereby release you into the custody of the World Security Council to stand trial, for crimes on Earth and within the galactic cluster.”
Bereet had been training for this mission for years and had been undercover for almost as long. As a rare pink Kree, she had disguised herself as a Kylorian and joined Nova Crop, using another agent to pass the genetic testing. From there, she befriended Carol, and reported her movements back to the Supreme Intelligence, allowing Ronan to mount a successful attack on their homeworld. She had no love for either Empire. The Kree held her skin as something to use against her, and her loyalty was bought with the safety of her family.
If she knew that Asgard and the Xandarians would win, she would have betrayed the Kree in a heartbeat, but as she watched Ronan's ships devastate the capital and only the intervention of the Ravagers, and the Simpletons of the System, saved them, she knew it was hopeless. This was her only chance, this was the only way to save her family, and herself.
“Wait! Stop you monster!” she shouted as Goyle shrugged and struggled under her grip.
“Play your part,” she hissed quietly, but Norman heard, and as the small injector she held in her palm bubbled and emptied, his muscles burned with renewed vigour, and his mind filled with pure rage and unadulterated hatred of those who had reduced him to such a pitiful state. Loki, the Skrulls, Monarch and finally Parker would all be ground beneath his heels.
He winced as the burning formula spread through his body, but as the heat dissipated he felt great, he was great he was Goyle. No, he was an Osborn. And these puny chains couldn't hold him. He could hear the voice in his head, commanding him,
Conform, Comply, Obey, DESTROY! and whatever spark remained was lit into a raging bonfire, as Osborn remembered.
He remembered that ignorant brat of his, Harry, taking his life's work and pissing on it. He remembered that little punk Parker, laughing at his armour and glider, sneering as he destroyed them both. He remembered that bitch Stacy as she mocked him and tore at his perfect form. He remembered each and every slight suffered on him by Loki, Veranke and those disgusting aliens. He wasn't some toy to be petted and played with. He was Norman Osborn, and these bugs should be kissing his feet and grovelling for mercy.
Roaring in delight, Goyle stretched as the mutagenic formula spread through his body, enhancing him once more and bulking him up further. His muscles atrophied from the constant torture swelled and he effortlessly snapped the handcuffs,
Bereet shuffled backwards, this was her chance to escape and she scrambled off stage and headed back into the tower behind them. She drew her pistol, and any who stopped to question her, she simply shot point-blank. Her goal was the top of the tower, and she had very little time to accomplish her mission.
“Pathetic,” Goyle shouted, “all to take over one measly planet,” and even as he smashed his saviour with a fist, he continued. “I am Norman Osborn, Proud American. I am above all you petty insects.” and even as Thor turned and swung a punch Goyle grabbed his fist and held him tight,
“Prince Thor,” and as Goyle twisted his arm, Thor grimaced in pain as the more powerful creature wrenched his arm, “or should I say betrayer?” and as he smashed a thick fist into Thor's chest he went flying, “Skrulls, all monsters under the bed, here to take your planet, and you idiots welcome them.”
Coulson pulled a sidearm from its holster but the bullets pinged harmlessly from the thick muscles of Goyles body,
“You sell yourselves for thirty silver and then laugh as the reapers come to collect.” as Coulson stumbled back, Goyle leapt forwards, pinning him to the ground and smashed a fist into his face.
Lifting him up by the neck, Goyle held him out, “Show them, or I snap your neck,” Coulson choked and struggled but Goyle was much stronger, and the newer more refined formula only healed his crippled body,
“SHOW THEM!”
Goyle yelled as he held him up, and while Coulson struggled under his grip, Osborn smashed his fist into Coulson's back until he felt his ribs break.
Crying out in pain and spitting blood, Coulson slowly changed, his skin dying itself a green colour before his face finally morphed into that of a Skrull. Cameras flashed and the crowd gasped as the reptilian face, with a square jaw, large pointed ears and yellow eyes stared at the crowd,
“This,” Goyle shouted as he held the Coulson-Skrull higher, ”this is your new master.” Goyle grabbed Coulson's neck with his other fist. And began to squeeze. As the Skrull struggled and grasped uselessly at its neck, there was a horrible crunch noise and suddenly it went limp, and Goyle threw the body to one side, “And now you should thank me for showing you the truth.”
Thor screamed as he saw his mate die, and then he launched himself at the now veiny and overly buffed Goyle. Bereet had jammed an injector into his wrist, and it was now empty, having filled him completely with the mutagenic compound the Skrulls had developed for their own soldiers.
Goyle barely felt the blow as Thor slammed a fist into his side, and with a giant shovel sized hand, swatted him away again. This time as he crashed against the lighting rig behind the stage her form shifted and the Skrull under the disguise was revealed.
“Goyle strong, Skrulls puny insects.” and as he stirred in agony his muscles grief once more, puffing him up like a giant monstrous abomination. His arms lengthened and they touched the ground, making him look like a giant red gorilla, and his face contorted as he roared into the crowd.
Even then, the crowd waited, taking pictures and recording the scene, unwilling to miss a single moment of the show. Even the news crew, a veteran recorder of the panic and fighting both during the Hydra attack and then the Sentinel invasion simple moved back a few feet before recording again, sending a live feed to the world.
Several Asgardia soldiers drew their swords and charged at him, and they took heavy blows on the ceremonial shields they carried. “GOYLE HATES YOU ALL!” he roared and rather than punching or flailing widely, even the mad genius of Osborn stayed within the brutish monster,
As a soldier raised his shield, Osborn gabbed its rim, and wretched it from the soldier, uncaring if they came with it, once he had a good grip his other fist soon found its mark and the unfortunate guard was pummeled by the monster.
Soren stood. She winced and cried out in pain as she pulled a piece of broken stage from her ribs, “I will kill you” she screamed and dived at Goyle, who swung a guard at her like a club.
Soren ducked under the man, sliding along the smooth carpet of the stage and spun, kicking Goyle in the side of the knee. It didn’t matter how big or tough you were, a joint was only supposed to bend one way, and as she kicked him, it bent and cracked. Goyle roared and laughed as he threw the guard at her. She caught him and lay him to one side, as Goyle grabbed his leg and straightened it, “You made me too difficult to kill.” he laughed and the limb clicked and he lashed out at her with it.
She could only cross her arms as the thick leg crashed into her ribs and sent her flying once more. “We did, monster, but we are not as simple as you think.”
Clenching her fist Soren concentrates and calls upon the stored DNA within her cells. Most Skrulls only kept one other form, but as well as Thor, she preferred another.
Her form grew, like the Hulk she had seen fighting. Veranke’s scientist had not been idle, and while Osborn and his symbiote had provided them with the samples, they had not been present when the final enhancement formula was complete.
Unlike most Skrulls, who only took on the appearance of another, Soren had the ability to bolster herself, in the same way Goyle and the other Enhanced did. She was the first, A Super-Skrull, and as she dashed forwards and her hand became a huge blade she plunged it through Goyles chest.
Goyle spat blood in her face, “No mere bug can hurt me.” and he headbutted her, driving the blade back out of his body, “Parker tried that, and it failed then,” and Goyle swam down his arm and became a huge axe, “mines bigger” he laughed and swung wildly at her.
She ducked under the huge double-headed axe and flicked her wrist, taking his hand off, “Didn't a woman tell you, it's not the size, it’s what you do with it,” and her other arm changed as well, becoming a club.
Goyle laughed, “Stupid bug, we are still more than a match for you.” and his symbskin stretched down, covering the stump and becoming another axe.
Soren heard her communicator buzz, “Commander, We have reports the Bereet is trying to access our communications. She has wounded several men. What should we do?”
Soeren swore under her breath, she didn't have time for both. Goyle was annoying, but only a brute, but if Bereet gained access to the outer planetary communications, she could call for reinforcements and as she swore again, or worse.
Goyle laughed as he swung for her, but she had lost patience with him. The club swung and he howled as his hand was smashed, and she brought the blade up and through his throat, leaving it stuck while he gurgled and clawed at it.
“Survive that! Monster.” and as he slumped, she pulled the blade out, Touching her earpiece, “Where is Bereet now?”
“Commander, Carols Danvers is here. She is uh.”
“Never mind, leave her to the Earthling.”
As she looked around, at the crowd, snapping pictures and holding up phones, and the camera crew, who diligently recorded her fight, she allowed herself to shrink back down.
“This is commander Soren, prepare for an imminent attack,” she said into her communication device.
She motioned over at the new team, who looked at one another and then nodded. Standing up straight, and taking a deep breath, Soren began.
“People of Earth, Yes, we lied. Yes, we hid. But we defend you against an even greater threat. A race called the Kree is coming. They will kill your people, they will take this planet and they do not care how they do it. Prepare yourselves. Gather your armies, call your heroes, wherever they are. You must defend yourselves.”
They had been sure they had purged every Kree operative and contained the rest. She had not known Bereet was one. She was the commander of the ground forces on Earth, if she was compromised then any Xandarian could be.
She looked over at Talos, he beloved, but she knew she could not grieve for him, the Kree wouldn't care for her despair, and so she pushed it down, turned it to anger and swore revenge on the Kree once more. “Ready the fighters, recall all Skrull operatives, and prepare for war.”