8. Death in stars.

Brandon Breyer loved flying in space, just beyond the edge of Earth's atmosphere. There, in the silence and void, where Earth looked like a blue marble, he felt free from everything.

That evening, floating hundreds of kilometers above the surface, his super-vision caught something unusual. A ship-not human, not Stark's, not S.H.I.E.L.D.'s. Its alien design, coated in greenish metal, betrayed its origin: Skrulls. Brandon narrowed his eyes. He knew about Skrulls-their shape-shifting abilities, their ties to Nick Fury. But this ship didn't look friendly. Something about its movements, the way it maneuvered near orbit, stirred unease.

He didn't hesitate long. In the blink of an eye, using his superhuman speed, he appeared on the ship's bridge. The Skrulls, busy analyzing data on holographic screens, had no time to react. Their commander, a tall Skrull in black armor, looked up and froze.

"What… who are you?!" he snarled, reaching for a weapon.

Brandon didn't answer. His eyes blazed red, his face devoid of emotion. A beam of energy from his eyes sliced the commander in half before he could pull the trigger. Blood sprayed across the walls, and the Skrulls' screams filled the ship. They stood no chance. Brandon moved like a shadow of death-telekinesis tore their bodies apart, superhuman strength crushed bones, and his heat vision incinerated those who tried to flee. Guts and green ichor coated the floor, and the metallic corridors reeked of char.

In minutes, it was over. The ship, filled with the plans of renegade Skrulls-who dreamed of rebuilding their lost empire, infiltrating Earth, and stealing its technology-became a tomb. Brandon stood amid the carnage, his breathing steady, his gaze empty. He felt nothing. No satisfaction, no remorse. It was like cleaning-mechanical, necessary.

He glanced at the holographic screens, still displaying data on Earth's satellites and Stark's tech. He didn't care what they wanted. He didn't care if they were "good" or "bad." They were a threat, and he neutralized it.

Using telekinesis and his strength, he seized the ship like a toy and hurled it toward the Sun. He watched for a moment as it vanished into its fiery abyss, consumed without a trace. No one would know what happened. No one would connect it to him.

Brandon turned and flew back to Earth, toward New York. His mind held no thoughts of the Skrulls, the blood, or the death. There was only silence-and the faint, cynical laughter he sometimes heard in his nightmares.