Chapter Text
It had seemed like such a ridiculous idea, but at the end of the day sometimes that's all you had.
Especially when the total number of soldiers you could call upon was 48. A meager offering in any sense, especially when maintaining an empire as extensive as theirs.
Their most dedicated soldier and his first candidate for this, was two galaxies away on t'Althran, another promising world. Whether that would result in anything was anyone's guess, (they did have pretty similar appearances to Viltrumites, a good sign, but that’s no guarantee) and it's not like he could wait the couple of decades it would take for the job to be done there before he targets this planet.
Which left him with one option, as bad as one it was.
“Conquest.” He said.
Joints popped as the elderly Viltrumite stood from his slumber. “Is there another planet to break?” He inquired.
“Not particularly. There's a planet our scientists detected in sector GJ7-3905. Local designation ‘Earth’. Our hope is the inhabitants are genetically compatible with us. Your mission is to head there, pretending to be assigned by our government as a protector. You will get a human woman as your mate, and produce a child. You will know if the child is up to our standards.”
It was a risk, casting their weapon against such a promising race, but at the end of the day it was just one planet. If Conquest ended up forcibly subjugating it, that’s not a concern.
“Understood, General.”
He tossed a data disc Conquest's way. “This will lead you to Earth, as well as some other useful data for the mission. Also, you'll be changing your operating sign to Bulwark for the duration of this mission. Is that understood?
Bulwark nodded, accepting his new role.
“I will give you a few days to prepare, and for you to get used to your new designation.”
With that, he left Bulwark to complete his mission. Sure it was more complex than the usual missions they tasked him with, but they needed every tool operating to maintain the machine of Viltrum.
The data disc was thorough in all its details.
Earth, as the planet was called, apparently had its fair share of rampaging monsters, powerful villains, and scheming masterminds. The masterminds didn't really matter, and distinguishing the villains from the heroes was too much effort, but the monsters?
It didn't take much to figure out a monster tearing through a city was bad, and it would definitely make a good first impression. (Or at least, the disc claimed it would.)
Hopefully at least some of these monsters would be a good fight, at least.
And when it came down to the other part of his orders? The disc had information on that as well.
It hadn’t even been a week here yet, and he already had a clusterfuck on his hands.
“Give me a report.” He said, uncaring of the annoyance seeping into his tone. He really needed to get this team into shape.
“Unknown from outer space is currently engaged with a C-class Kaiju. Whoever they are, they are incredibly strong, as well as that metal arm of theirs must be some form of futuristic technology, as our scans aren't even sure what material it's made of.”
On screen, the (what he assumed to be) elderly alien (who looked damn close to a human) was engaging in brutal combat with the kaiju monster.
“Standard policy here is to send for the Immortal.” Donald said from beside him.
And that would be exactly the wrong thing to do. Their mysterious visitor had chosen to engage a monster threatening Los Angeles before doing anything else, which was unusual. And unusual things rarely had a simple solution.
“No. The Immortal tends to think with his fists. We need a better option. Get a chopper ready, I'm going in.”
Amidst the shock of his statement, there were people who were preparing his chopper, and as he began walking to the helipad he started barking out orders.
“Have Immortal on standby. And pull Gigantes out of retirement.” He glared directly when one of them went to voice an objection. “Use any favors if you have them, or else promise him a hefty check, tax-free of course. And see if Atomic is willing to cut a deal.”
His mind ran down the list of the best heavy hitters he knew of. Torch was still in London, meaning he was several hours away, Victoria had sequestered herself somewhere in Brazil, and Luminary was still stuck in that dimensional pocket.
Nobody else came to mind. That was not good.
But as his mentor had told him: “Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, and you will go far.” Well there was only so much preparing he could do, so now it was time for the hoping, as silly as that sounded. But unless something major happened, like Phosphorous coming back from the dead, he’d already done everything possible. And that was assuming Gigantes and Atomic would be willing to cut themselves in to this plan of his.
The trip overall was fairly quick, giving him some time to review the data they had on this being, as well as the Class C Kaiju he was fighting. Apparently this creature was analyzed to be on the higher end of Class C, which would normally require a deployment of someone like Wingover, Green Ghost, and Instantaneous to buy time before they shipped a heavy hitter over, or one of Arsenal’s warplanes made it to the fight.
Either way, it would be a shitshow.
But this new arrival seemed to be tangling with the foe fairly easily, as evidenced by the fact that he didn’t even look winded. Regardless, he had a mission to take care of. The data painted him as a figure comparable to the Immortal in fighting style, a bruiser who fought using immense physical strength and speed to overwhelm his enemies, as well as flight to attack from multiple dimensions. Only, in every point of that capacity, this new arrival was superior to the Immortal. Probably to every superpowered person in the world, part of the GDA or not. Barring any form of more paranormal attacks, there was only one option left.
Hope this new arrival didn’t want to take over the Earth.
Normally, field operatives would have communications equipment with them. An earpiece and microphone, at the least. But for this sort of delicate operation, there was no benefit to live updates in the field. This being could have superior perceptions, and be able to read his microexpressions in real time, giving the game away should he learn anything incriminating on the new arrival. Regardless, the team with him could handle new arrivals.
“Heroes are gathering at reserve point A.” The comms officer announced as they were cresting the ridge to see the fight still ongoing. Although, looking at the fight, it definitely did look like their new arrival was deliberately extending the fight. Not a good sign. “Immortal eta 29 minutes, Arsenal eta 13 minutes, Aquarus eta 38 minutes, War Woman eta 113 minutes, Black Samson eta 44 minutes, Red Rush eta 4 minutes.”
“And what’s Arsenal bringing to the table?”
The reply came half a minute later. “Two Eagles and a Hawk. He’s deploying a squad of Nemeans, but those are 62 minutes out.”
Naturally. Vessels primarily meant for disaster relief, but with missile pods tacked on. The Nemeans at least might be able to put up a fight, but the birds would be just targets.
“Get anyone who can get to the reserve point in less than an hour to do so. We need to be ready as soon as the Nemeans are 5 minutes out.”
“Understood.”
At the sight of the approaching helicopter, their new arrival chose to run right through the Kaiju, cutting it in two and splattering blood all over his uniform. That and the fact they’d noticed him seemingly playing out the fight for his own fun was not a good sign. But he’s worked with scumbags and sociopaths before, so it wasn’t automatically a dealbreaker.
The craft landed behind the cut up kaiju, staring down the new arrival and he took steadying deep breaths. He needed to exude absolute calm in the face of this strong arrival. Treat this as just another boring day at the job. He’s interviewing a new hero to join the GDA, that is all. Sure the circumstances of their arrival were abnormal, but that is to be expected. Dealing with the unusual and abnormal is his day job.
Freshly shined shoes dug into the bloodsoaked sand as he walked towards the new arrival.
“Who are you?” The new arrival spoke, his voice slightly scratchy and… there was a tinge of something to it that he couldn’t exactly name. But, at the very least, that meant he could speak their language. Whether that was a good sign or not
“Cecil Stedman.” He replied, neither quickening nor slowing his pace as he walked along either side of the destroyed kaiju. Damn this was a brutal kill. Perhaps he was walking into certain death, but in the meantime, he had to at least draw this out for an hour until a team that might be able to hold a candle against this beast is raised up. “Director of the GDA. It’s my mission to deal with supernatural and otherworldly threats to the planet. You don’t seem to be from around here.”
“I’m from the planet Viltrum.” The man explained.
“Alright then. Got a name?”
He could see the man hesitate for a second, his metallic hand shaking as he looked at it before he looked up. “I was given the title of Bulwark by the World Betterment Committee, but… I am also known as Con-.” The man paused, catching his breath in his throat.
“Con?” He asked.
“Con…. nor.” He said, sounding unsure. Perhaps his real name was hard to translate into English, but that and everything else wasn’t adding up to a good picture.
“Welcome to Earth, Connor.” He said, extending his hand. The purple-red blood of the monster was still on his hand, making the handshake squelch a bit, but he could deal with it. “What are you doing here anyways?”
“Ah. I’ve been sent by my people to help out lesser planets like yours. Our World Betterment Committee has dedicated work to ensuring that people living on more underdeveloped planets can live brighter and better lives.”
Yeah, right. As if anyone would do something for free in this universe. But there was only one way of determining the truth behind the scenario, and that was with spending more time. Out of everything, if he wanted to help them, he’d let the man help.
“Dilated eyes, elevated heart rate. We don’t know what the standard is for an alien, but if this was a human, these would register as deceptive.” Donald delivered the information matter-of-factly.
Thankfully the crisis hadn’t gone hot, but it had gotten pretty fucking close. Either way “Connor” was now being assigned a place to live in New York City, and a team had been assigned to “help him adjust to Earth”. Now it was time to plan.
“Sure as shit that was fake. You don’t get free lunch money out there in the universe, you’re more likely to get an army landed on your planet.”
“And what should we do now?”
“For now? We let him help, as he claims he wants. If he’s strong enough to beat up a kaiju of that level, then he can be useful. In the meantime, we need to get ready. Get the eggheads planning out countermeasures using the operational data you have, and see if we can’t figure out what material that prosthetic is made of. It’s certainly not anything we have down here, and we need it.”
“Should we collaborate with Arsenal on this one?”
“Not for now.” He replied. “If Arsenal wants combat data from this op he can ask. Or just store it in the secure folders he thinks we don’t know he hacked.”
Donald looked at him surprised. “Sir! If a private citizen has access to a government database like this…”
“Better to let him have the snoop we know about, then for there to be a snoop we don’t. Plus, Arsenal’s jealous enough he doesn’t allow anyone else access to that snoop. I ran it by the techies, and it will take him less than a week to set up a snoop again, and we might never find it again.”
“Understood sir.” Donald replied. “I’ll keep it away from him until you give permission.”
He nodded. One aspect of being the Director that is so very fun, dealing with the massive egos involved in the hero profession. Now he just has to sit back and wait, as much as it pains him.