Mission Seven: Escapism

For years I have been containing superhumans in a prison in the basement of a paper company. Surely The Raft wouldn't be much different. That meant I had an advantage. I knew exactly what to expect. This would be like fighting myself. Simple. Easy. I'm a pushover.

"Hello," I said extending my hand.


The warden of The Raft shook my hand and responded, "Good to meet you."

"As I said on the phone, I'm with a very top secret paper company," I explained, "and, well, we'd like to borrow a few Skrulls for a while; we need test subjects for our enhanced interrogation techniques."

"Skrulls, eh?" He rubbed his head. "I don't know. I mean, they're worse than Muslims. They're like Muslims on Red Bull. Have you ever seen an overly-caffeinated suicide bomber?"

I shook my head.

"Pray you don't, son. Pray you don't."

"Can I see where you're keeping them?" I asked.

"Sure," he replied. "Follow me."

Warden Rumsfeld led me down a long and heavily-guarded corridor and into an elevator. He inserted his ID card into a slot and entered in a passcode on the numberpad. Then, we were in motion. "So, did you see The Sopranos finale?" I asked.

Before he could answer, the elevator stopped.

"Nice," I said as we stepped out into the cold concrete facility. "This looks just like what we had, uh, have back at Primatech. What is that? Anti-power Plexiglas?"

"The forty-eight hundred series," he replied, "not out on the public market yet."

I tapped on the Plexiglas in amazement. The inmate on the other side snarled and banged all four of his fists against it.

"Here you are," Rumsfeld showed me an empty cell.

"There are no Skrulls in there," I observed.

"This is your cell, Noah," he pulled out a microphone and began dictating orders to the prison staff.


"No! You can't lock me up," I complained, raising a finger. "I'm a very important person, middle management even."

"Sometimes even middle management is expendable," he replied.

"NoOocooOoOoOOoOOOO~!"

I awoke in dull pajamas, like most mornings.


"Well," I said aloud, "I guess I lost this challenge."

"Don't give up yet!" the Plexiglas said.

"Whaaa?" I was not only confused, but quite bewildered as well.

"Shhhh!" it commanded. "Not so loud."

"They think this cell is empty," the bed added.

"But it's not," said the Hello Kitty poster.

"Wh-who...what are you?"

"We're Skrulls," Hello Kitty poster explained. "Here, you'll need me."


Before my eyes the Hello Kitty poster transformed into a handgun. "If there's one thing I love more than Hello Kitty, it's firearms," I said picking up the mysterious talking weapon.

The Plexiglas and bed transformed into lizardy-looking humanoids. "How'd your aim?" one of the creatures asked of me.

"I never get anything on the toilet seat," I replied.

"Great," he responded. "We've been waiting for a marksman for some time. Our last escape attempt ended with three deaths and an injury from friendly fire.

"Well, let's do this," I said, cocking the pistol.

We exited the cell and began our escape. Soon we were confronted by Donald Rumsfeld. Now, he had back up with him.


"Stop there, criminal!" Captain America ordered.

"I'd say you're going to the big house," Spider-Man said, "but you're already here."

"Do something!" one of the Skrulls shouted, and then they transformed into various furniture and went into hiding.

Asking myself, "What would Jesus do?" I pulled the gun and fired three shots.


As he bled slowly to death, Captain America mumbled, "Wh-why...did you...have to have...a gun?"

The Skrulls, now having transformed back into their usual selves, walked up to me. "Wow," one said, "It's so easy if you just shoot them instead of your own people."

I shot him.

He fell to the ground dead, and I said, "It's about the same."

As we exited the facility, my gun transformed back into a Skrull. We arrived at the A.I.M. base shortly after, and the Skrulls were on their way home.