"So, LexCorp has been hiding an alien from me this whole time?"
The President felt like his head was about to explode. Something this massive had been kept from him, the President of the United States, and he'd been left completely in the dark.
But there was nothing he could do. LexCorp had already grown into a titan of American industry, a financial juggernaut that had been a key backer of his administration. Going against them wasn't an option—not if he wanted to hold on to his position.
Especially now that the alien had willingly shown himself to fight off enemies from space.
If LexCorp had kept the alien hidden and the government discovered it first, the President might've found a way to leverage that for some political gain. But now? The alien was actively protecting Earth, and that complicating factor made things a lot more delicate.
If this alien caused trouble later, it wouldn't be LexCorp that took the fall. It'd be whoever was sitting in the President's chair when it happened—meaning him.
That thought alone gave him a pounding headache. It felt like trading one problem for another, solving nothing at the core. The alien threat still loomed overhead.
But there was no turning back now.
"Fine," the President sighed, resigning himself to the situation. "I authorize you to engage in battle over U.S. airspace. The paperwork will be sent to LexCorp immediately. Full support will be provided. I'm also transferring all space program authority to LexCorp. This should be enough for you, right?"
Even though this crisis seemed like a threat to all of humanity, the President wasn't about to forget whose pockets he owed. He had to give LexCorp their due.
Besides, the space program still served America's interests in the end. Handing it over to LexCorp wasn't a big deal. It wasn't like this would be the last space project America ever ran.
"On behalf of Luthor, I thank you, Mr. President."
'Martian Manhunter' smiled faintly, signaling that the deal was done. The President, eager to move on, pressed forward.
"So, how exactly do you plan to deal with that alien warship? Or did you bring some advanced alien tech with you as well?"
If this alien had advanced technology, America might just hit the jackpot. But under the President's hopeful gaze, 'Martian Manhunter' shook his head.
"Sorry. No warships. I'm enough on my own."
As he spoke, he looked up. His body phased through the White House ceiling and, in an instant, he soared into the sky—faster than any rocket ever launched.
The President rushed to the window, slack-jawed, watching the scene unfold.
"Son of a—" He pressed his palms against the glass. "I thought you were a tech guy, and now you're telling me you're some kind of mutant?!"
...
Leaving behind the frustrated U.S. President. 'Martian Manhunter' shot forward, crossing the vast distance in an instant, appearing directly in front of the Kree fleet.
"Accuser, an unknown lifeform has appeared ahead. Scans indicate it requires no external armor to survive in the vacuum of space."
"Yeah... I see it too," Ronan replied, forcing down the surprise rising within him.
Species capable of surviving the vacuum of space without protection weren't unheard of. But without exception, such beings possessed extraordinary abilities. Even if they couldn't rival the Kree Empire's advanced fleet, they were still dangerous enough to warrant caution.
At first, Ronan wasn't planning to act recklessly. But the moment he laid eyes on 'Martian Manhunter's' appearance—the striking resemblance to the Skrulls—he made up his mind.
Logic told him the Skrulls didn't have anyone like this. But what if they did?
The thought of a mutated Skrull with that kind of power stirred a deep sense of unease in Ronan. Without hesitation, he ordered the entire fleet to open fire.
'Martian Manhunter,' who had originally been waiting for Ronan to make the first move, was wondering how to provoke him into attacking. But now, seeing the Kree fleet fire on their own, he relaxed.
The next moment—
'Martian Manhunter's' body swelled, morphing into a colossal, monstrous form, towering larger than three Kree motherships combined. His massive, unbreakable body absorbed the fleet's barrage of energy blasts head-on.
Yet, one stray beam slipped past him, streaking straight toward Earth.
By the time it tore through the atmosphere, most of its energy was depleted. Even so, what remained was still powerful enough to obliterate an apartment building upon impact.
The unsuspecting civilians, who had been unaware of the battle, now looked up to the sky in shock. Something was happening above—something huge.
This attack wasn't an isolated incident.
On the broadcast from the Lex satellite, 'Martian Manhunter' used his colossal form to shield Earth from the Kree fleet's fire. The Kree, now realizing that 'Martian Manhunter' was intent on protecting Earth, refrained from targeting him directly. Instead, they unleashed their most powerful weapons at Earth itself.
Anyways, 'Martian Manhunter' would find a way to protect Earth in the end. Why waste time trying to aim at him when he'd throw himself in the way regardless?
It was all part of a performance—a flawless show where no one could find any flaws. 'Martian Manhunter' wouldn't keep taking all the hits, of course.
It didn't matter; the attacks that couldn't even scratch him were nothing. Putting on a show of fighting to the death was no problem.
But since the battle began, he had been monitoring the thoughts of all the Kree. The moment they intended to use weapons capable of harming him, 'Martian Manhunter' would interrupt them in advance, ensuring no such attacks would land on him.
A performance was a performance, but letting himself get hurt was not part of the plan.
Thankfully, the system only judged his role-playing progress based on actions, not thoughts. Otherwise, given Reid's mindset, his role-playing percentage would've plummeted into the negatives without a doubt.
…...
As attacks from space continued to rain down on Earth, the U.S. President finally couldn't handle the pressure and chose to reveal the truth to the public.
It wasn't a decision he wanted to make. He knew full well that the truth would only lead to panic and riots. There was no benefit to the government. Even if people knew what was happening, it wasn't like they could fly to space and help.
But there was no choice. 'Martian Manhunter' and the Kree fleet were currently engaged in a battle in space above the U.S., and it was clear that the aliens realized Martian Manhunter's intent to protect Earth. They unleashed all their firepower on the American continent.
It didn't take long for the closest country, the U.S., to bear the brunt of the assault.
"I should have never agreed to let them fight over the U.S.," the President muttered. "Why couldn't they have fought over Russia? It's so much larger with fewer people. The damage wouldn't be nearly as severe."
And then...
The president observed the current situation, seeing 'Martian Manhunter' having to passively endure the attacks in order to protect Earth.
But the most painful issue wasn't just the destruction America was enduring; it was the fact that, despite all the immense sacrifices, they still hadn't won. The true agony was in this seemingly endless struggle, where victory seemed elusive.
Just as the president was deep in thought, considering ways to assist the extraterrestrial being in space, the Secretary of Defense entered the room.
"Mr. President, someone is requesting a call with you."
"Who is it? If it's not related to America's survival, don't bother me!"
"It's the mutants. They claim they can help, but they need your authorization to proceed."
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