Even though Solomon had already shown Stephanie many secrets, neither Eternal City nor the shadowy forest he now stood within—its dense canopy grown wild for centuries, pierced only by faint, scattered shafts of light that reflected from the silver fastenings on his coat—revealed all. All Stephanie could clearly see was the glint on his silver buttons.
Solomon was a master of secrets. Aside from the Sorcerer Supreme, few in the world knew all his truths. Bayonetta might count as one—but she didn't care. As long as Solomon played the role of a competent husband at home and crafted the illusion of a dreamlike domestic life, she asked nothing more.
Though Solomon had used the excuse of taking a walk with his increasingly irritable interior minister, Stephanie knew his real reasons weren't so simple the moment he issued his orders. His departure from Eternal City felt more like making space for hidden Skrulls to act. It seemed he had long suspected their infiltration and had carefully prepared contingency plans. Stephanie knew none of them. All she could do was transmit orders filled with codes even she didn't understand, following Solomon's directions exactly.
The only order she could clearly identify was one issued to the Praetorians and the Black-Armored Inquisitors: arrest everyone in the statistics department. If nothing went wrong, that department was entirely composed of Skrulls. She didn't know when Solomon had uncovered their presence—but if she had the chance, she'd definitely review those personnel files herself.
"I was so naïve to think you actually wanted to take a walk with me," Stephanie huffed, her nose wrinkled in irritation that rivaled the stench of death around them. This wasn't a hunt—it was an evidence-gathering mission. What irked her most was that Solomon hadn't even told her.
"Those two things aren't mutually exclusive, are they?" Solomon shrugged and took a data terminal from her belt pouch. His outfit didn't allow him to carry much—he hadn't even brought his phone. "Overrunning the Skrull settlement won't be difficult. The real danger lies in the unseen blade," he said, scanning the chip's serial numbers. "This is a two-front battle. One to purge the Skrulls—another to purge ourselves. I've already gotten what I needed. But if you still find meaning in this hunt, let's continue. I promise your weapon will split open the next Skrull's flesh. How's that sound?"
"Deal!" Stephanie grinned and nodded. The Malick family never waited for gifts to fall into their laps. You had to claim what you wanted—only then would the powerful trust you. This mindset was etched into their bloodline. "These claws are mine," she declared. "And your bear pelt too. I heard you killed it barehanded just to keep the hide pristine."
"Strictly speaking, it tried to steal my fish," Solomon replied. "Later, I found it had cubs. They're at my Oxfordshire estate now—you wouldn't believe how mischievous they are. It's a great story. Let me tell you while we walk…"
Back in Eternal City, a squad of Black-Armored Inquisitors kicked open a door in the statistics department. Every worker inside jumped in surprise. It was just a department that tracked vehicle tires—nobody important worked here. Even as the Inquisitors raised their stun batons and shocked the staff into submission, most still didn't understand what was happening. Even when a Praetorian in gold power armor strode in with a glaive in hand, someone still shouted that it was all a misunderstanding—that they were loyal.
Constantine raised a finger, and the Inquisitors increased the voltage. The agony tore away their disguises like paper on a windowsill, fragile and easily shredded.
"Except him," Constantine said, pointing to one corner desk before the voltage was increased. The Inquisitors immediately released that one man, who stood up grim-faced and saluted the Praetorians before silently leaving the office under everyone's shocked gaze.
"No way! You too?!" the first Skrull whose cover had broken stared in disbelief. None of them had known the others were also Skrulls. The look of stunned betrayal was written on every green face. Perhaps, except for the one released, every single person in the office was a Skrull—and he had been assigned to monitor them. Every one of them danced like marionettes on his strings, performing a grand farce for Eternal City's ruler.
"You treated us like zoo animals!" the first exposed Skrull growled at the Praetorian. Thanks to Eternal City's strict secrecy protocols, these Skrulls had no idea that another of their kind had once tried to impersonate Constantine. Due to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s own operational compartmentalization, Nick Fury hadn't told them how many other infiltrators there were either. Most of them were using the identities of fallen loyalist S.H.I.E.L.D. agents from the Hydra uprising. Victoria Hand had recruited them unknowingly, and once Fury found out, he repurposed them for espionage. Even the Skrulls on the space station believed these people had died in the uprising—all communications passed through Nick Fury.
With such limited intel, this scene was inevitable.
Eternal City's king had orchestrated this like a chess match, placing the green-skinned aliens in close quarters to watch them second-guess and suspect each other. Perhaps, in his spare time, he even enjoyed watching their tragicomedy unfold. No one knew when Solomon had realized the truth. Maybe it was when he killed the Skrull impersonating Nick Fury. Maybe he had plans in place as far back as Victoria Hand's recruitment.
But that was many years ago—even Constantine's time in the alien killing fields predated his rise to Praetorian status on Earth.
"I didn't know you people visited zoos," Constantine mused. "A troubling intel gap. But don't worry—we'll soon fill it. We'll find out if you fed the monkeys or the raccoons." He turned to his team. "Ladies and gentlemen, please resume work. There's another office full of Skrulls waiting to be arrested."
"Procurement department!" the unmasked Skrull snapped, rage in its voice. Constantine couldn't even recall its name—nor did he care.
It wasn't stupid. Seeing all this, it immediately understood what was going on.
"Good guess. Very sharp. And yes, that's a very important department," Constantine said, savoring his monarch's twisted humor. To maintain their cover, Skrulls often worked hard—slacking off was rare. Thus, assigning them to departments with meaningless yet critical functions, like supplying Eternal City with toilet paper, was a masterstroke. It gave them purpose while keeping them away from anything sensitive.
Unfortunately, there was only one such department. The rest had to be shuffled into equally useless roles—like procuring shampoo, or lipstick. Technically, those should've been unified under one division, but the situation warranted separating them—just to keep the Skrulls busy.
Eternal City's king had even given them clues: their mess wine was spiked with absinthe, something no other department had. But the Skrulls had simply drowned themselves in green liquor, basking in the hallucinations caused by thujone, never grasping Solomon's deeper intent.
Constantine sincerely hoped they'd take the time in the dungeon to fully appreciate his master's deadly sense of humor.
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