Marvel: The Villain Chapter 353 Pray

Triskelion, Washington D.C., Director's Office.

Under the absolute domination of the Fidelius Charm, Nick Fury—the most iron-willed spy on the planet—had become the ultimate turncoat. He spilled everything: the fall of Wakanda, Shuri's escape with the nation's core secrets, and her desperate plea for a SHIELD alliance.

Voldemort now understood the full scope of the board. He had been played into this position by Stansfield, but the rewards were far greater than he had imagined.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

With a lazy flick of the Elder Wand, the mung-bean-sized communicator floated out of Fury's pocket and into Voldemort's pale palm. He studied the tiny piece of tech with a mix of disdain and curiosity. To think that these magicless Muggles had developed tools that could mimic the effects of high-level sorcery over vast distances. Truly, the world had changed.

"Obliviate!"

Voldemort waved his wand again, wiping the last hour from Fury's mind. He briefly considered keeping him as a permanent thrall—a man in his position would be a fountain of useful intel. But Stansfield had expressed a personal interest in the Director, and Voldemort wasn't ready to cross his only local guide just yet.

He cast a high-level Transfiguration spell, his body twisting and shrinking until he was the spitting image of Fury. He pressed the button on the communicator.

"Director Fury?" Shuri's voice crackled through, sounding tired.

"We have an urgent situation. I need to meet you in person," Voldemort said, his voice a perfect, gravelly mimicry of Fury.

Shuri sounded surprised. "In person? You said this morning we had to wait for the Council."

"The situation has changed," Voldemort replied smoothly. "I've obtained top-secret intel regarding the Joker Organization. It can't wait for a committee."

Shuri paused. She assumed Fury was looking to cut a private deal outside of official channels. "This intel isn't free, I assume?"

"Of course not."

"Fine," Shuri agreed. "Take the same car from yesterday. I will override the controls from here."

"See you soon."

Before leaving, Voldemort cast an Invisibility Charm on the real, unconscious Fury. He wouldn't want any stray ruining the surprise. The imposter then took the elevator to the garage and stepped into the black Chevrolet SUV.

The car's autopilot was a blessing; Voldemort knew a thousand curses but hadn't the faintest clue how to operate a combustion engine. The Chevy tore out of the city, transitioned to VTOL mode, and ascended.

Minutes later, a fleet of hundreds of massive warships appeared in the clouds. Voldemort stared, momentarily awestruck by the sheer scale of the Muggle machinery. The largest ship opened its hangar, and the SUV glided inside.

Shuri was waiting in the briefing room, pacing. As the Director walked in, she jumped to her feet. "Talk to me. What's the intel?"

Fury smiled—a twisted, predatory expression that didn't quite fit his face. He raised the Elder Wand.

"The intel, my child, is that I am one of them."

Before Shuri could process the betrayal, a jet of red light hit her. Her eyes rolled back, and her mind was rewritten in an instant. When she knelt, her face was devoid of its former fire.

"My Master," She whispered.

Voldemort shed his disguise, his pale, snake-like features returning. He patted her head like one might a loyal hound. "Take us home, child."

Shuri tapped her beads. "All ships, full speed to Wakanda."

The generals were baffled. "Princess? The Joker has occupied the capital! Going back is suicide!"

"Director Fury and I have found a way to end this," Shuri replied tonelessly. "Follow orders."

Wakanda, Africa

At the edge of the Wakandan atmosphere, a swarm of Iron Man armors—the Joker's private legion—waited in the darkness. Christine had alerted everyone. When the fleet finally appeared on radar near midnight, Franklin flew out to meet them.

He didn't need to fire a shot. With a wave of his hand, his technopathy seized the entire fleet's navigation systems. The ships groaned as he forcibly guided them into the subterranean hangars of the City.

The Wakandan soldiers and scientists onboard thought they were returning to liberate their home. Instead, when the bay doors hissed open, they found themselves staring down the barrels of a thousand rifles.

Voldemort stepped off the lead ship, followed by a hollow-eyed Shuri. The Joker's "Inner Circle" was waiting. When they saw Voldemort's face, a collective shiver of disgust went through the group.

Good lord, they thought. The Boss usually has such high standards for aesthetics. Even Franklin, who was no model, looked like a movie star compared to this walking corpse.

"You caught the Princess. Good work," Christine said, stepping forward. "Norman told me everything."

Voldemort's red eyes burned. "Tell me where Jason is."

Christine gave a small, diplomatic smile. "You've proven your loyalty, but there are protocols. Only after a final evaluation can you be granted the rank of Executive—and only then will we share the Boss's location."

Voldemort's grip on his wand tightened. If these people weren't Jason's allies, he would have Avada Kedavra'd the entire room for their insolence. "Begin the evaluation. Now."

*

Two hours later, after a grueling interrogation that proved his magical prowess and mental stability, Voldemort was officially initiated as the tenth High Executive of the Joker Organization.

"Jason is no longer on Earth," Christine finally admitted. "Three years ago, during the Battle of New York, he was exiled to the space by the Ancient One—the Sorcerer Supreme."

Voldemort froze. "A Sorcerer Supreme? Another magic user?"

"Yes," Christine recalled. "Jason said her power was magic of the highest order."

A slow, terrifying grin spread across Voldemort's lipless mouth. He turned to leave the room.

"Where are you going?" Harley asked, tilting her head.

"To find this Sorcerer Supreme," Voldemort rasped.

The room erupted. "Are you insane?" Harley shouted. "She's on a completely different level! We only exist because she allows it!"

"The Boss himself was toyed with by her," David added. "What makes you think a walking stick is going to change that?"

Voldemort turned back, his voice dripping with icy contempt. "You Muggles fear her because you do not understand the craft. I am the greatest Dark Wizard in history. I will break her, I will control her, and then I will bring Jason back to sit on his throne."

"It's too risky!" Christine stood up. "Our goal is to use Vibranium to build a fleet and find him ourselves. If you provoke her and fail, you bring her wrath down on all of us!"

Voldemort didn't stop. "Do not mistake my explanation for a request for permission."

"STOP!"

A massive sonic scream from David slammed Voldemort into the wall, his skeletal frame rattling. Before he could recover, his hands began to freeze solid, and Harley blinked in front of him, her hands raised to lock the space around him in a stasis field.

The teamwork was flawless. Within a second, the new recruit was triple-locked.

"We aren't asking either," Harley hissed.

Under the weight of the three, Voldemort shouldn't have been able to twitch. But this wasn't the Voldemort of a children's book; this was the system-buffed Dark Lord.

His body suddenly dissolved into a plume of acrid black smoke.

"Your cages are impressive," His voice echoed from the ceiling, "But you are still just children playing with matches."

The smoke vanished.

"Harley! Find him!" Christine shouted.

Harley closed her eyes, her senses expanding for miles. She opened them, frustrated. "He's gone. He's already out of range."

Christine sighed, a deep sense of dread settling in her gut. "Then all we can do is pray. Either he actually wins... or the Ancient One is feeling merciful today."

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