The lunch rush at Benny’s Pie Stop was at full swing—coffee steaming, chatter rising, and the smell of pastry filling the air. Mark Saunders, an LAPD officer on break, sat by the window, scrolling through alien conspiracy forums on his phone while eating mince pie. His friends said he obsessed too much over “space stuff,” but he called it passion. That’s when he noticed the man at the counter.
Tall, thin, dressed in a brown suit that looked two decades out of date—and asking for something that made everyone stop talking.
“I’d like a cherry pie,” the stranger said evenly, “with worms.”
The cashier blinked. “Uh, we don’t do… worms.”
“Then you will,” the man hissed, and suddenly his voice distorted—metallic, hollow. The air shimmered, and his face rippled grotesquely as a bulbous head with slit eyes emerged from beneath his false skin. The Bolgodite.
People screamed. Chairs toppled. Flour and sugar exploded into the air as the alien lunged across the counter, overturning pies and metal trays.
Mark ducked under a table. His eyes widened as a pair of men in black suits and dark glasses strode in through the back entrance, calm amid the chaos. One held a compact silver weapon that hummed ominously.
“Step aside, citizen,” said the older one—K, voice steady as ever.
“I got this one,” said J, aiming his De-Atomizer. “Looks like cherry with extra protein.”
“Wait—” Mark cried, standing up. “You’re the Men in Black! I’ve read about you—let me help!”
J turned his head slightly. “Kid, this ain’t volunteer day.”
K’s tone was firmer. “Out. Now.”
The Bolgodite hurled a metal tray toward them, roaring. J ducked, fired, and the alien exploded into a puff of sizzling green smoke, splattering the walls.
Mark peeked from behind an upturned chair, awe in his eyes. “That was awesome.”
K and J exchanged a look. Outside, sirens wailed in the distance.
K pulled a small, penlike device from his pocket—the Neuralyzer. “Everyone’s going to forget this little pie mishap,” he said to the stunned crowd.
But when the blinding flash went off, Mark was already gone.
Two weeks later, Mark was at the Corner Suds Laundromat, half-watching the spin cycle while playing Pokémon on his Game Boy. It was late, quiet—until the door swung open.
A tall, dripping figure entered, trench coat soaked through. It lumbered to a washing machine and shoved a customer aside. “Move. This unit requires cleansing.”
Mark looked up. The man’s hat slipped, revealing slick blue skin and multiple twitching tentacles beneath his collar.
“Oh my god,” Mark whispered. “A Cephalapoid.”
The creature tore open a washing machine door and began stuffing its coat—still writhing with tentacles—inside. The other customers screamed and fled, knocking over detergent bottles and baskets. Mark hesitated, grabbed a mop, and shouted, “Hey! You can’t just—uh—do that!”
The Cephalapoid turned, eyes glowing. “Interference will result in dismemberment.”
Mark gulped. “Worth a shot.”
Before the alien could strike, the door burst open again. Two silhouettes stepped through, their weapons raised.
“Déjà vu,” J muttered. “Same guy, same mop, same bad idea.”
“K!” Mark said with a grin. “J! You guys again!”
“Kid,” J said, taking aim, “we talked about this—oh wait, no, you ran off last time.”
The Cephalapoid lunged, swinging a tentacle. J and K fired in tandem—two bright flashes, one high, one low. The alien convulsed, howled, and collapsed into a puddle of translucent blue sludge.
Mark wiped his brow, triumphant. “See? I helped!”
J holstered his weapon and sighed. “Helped? You almost got turned into calamari.”
Mark’s tone hardened. “I want in. I want to join the Men in Black. You need people like me—I believe.” K looked at him steadily. “No one asks to join MIB. They get asked.” Mark frowned. “So, what—you’re saying I don’t have what it takes?”
J scratched his chin. “Look, man, it ain’t easy to say this, but… you just don’t seem that way.”
Election week had come and gone, and after a fierce battle between George Tilson and Michael Peters, the latter emerged victorious. The transition of power had been swift yet meticulous, following the traditions and ceremonies deeply rooted in American democracy. On the morning of Inauguration Day, the National Mall was packed with spectators, members of Congress, and foreign dignitaries, all gathered under the biting chill of January air. The Chief Justice stood before President-elect Peters, the Bible open and ready.
“I, Michael Peters, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States…”
As the oath concluded, a roar of applause filled the air. His wife, Evelyn, and their children, Lucas and Hannah, stood proudly beside him as he was officially declared the leader of the free world. The ceremonial rituals continued, with the First Family being escorted to the White House under the highest security. Among the many organizations discreetly ensuring the safety of the event was the Men in Black, with Agents K and J stationed inconspicuously among the crowd. Though they rarely meddled in human politics, the transfer of power was always a moment of potential intergalactic interest—and today was no exception.
Just as the evening’s celebrations began in the grand ballroom of the White House, the skies above Washington, D.C., darkened unnaturally. An enormous, monolithic spacecraft descended from the heavens, blotting out the stars. The vessel, unlike anything in the MIB database, pulsed with an eerie blue light, stretching across the sky in a massive arc.
Then came the voice.
“This world is mine now,” boomed a chillingly smooth yet synthetic tone, resonating across every device before abruptly cutting off all forms of communication—radio, television, internet, even MIB’s secured frequencies. “Surrender, or face destruction.”
A display of power followed. A concentrated energy beam lanced out from the alien warship, striking a downtown building. In a flash of blinding light, the structure disintegrated, reduced to molten rubble in mere seconds. Screams erupted through the streets. The people of D.C. scattered in panic.
“Aw, hell no,” J muttered, gripping his standard-issue Series 4 De-Atomizer.
K, ever the pragmatist, narrowed his eyes at the ship. “I’d advise against—”
But J had already fired. A powerful red pulse shot upward, striking the ship’s metallic hull. For a moment, silence. Then, the energy bolt fizzled out like a weak firecracker against reinforced steel.
The ship retaliated immediately. Another energy cannon hummed to life, targeting a secondary location.
“Damn it, J!” K barked.
The beam fired, obliterating a second structure—this time a historical government building. The destruction was instant, a horrifying example of what Alend was capable of.
J winced. “Alright, my bad. That one’s on me.”
There was no time for self-recrimination. The President and his family had to be moved—now. K and J sprung into action, coordinating with Secret Service agents who, despite their extensive training, had never faced an extraterrestrial warlord before.
Through underground tunnels, the First Family was swiftly evacuated while panic surged above ground. K led them through a hidden passage within the White House, one only MIB had access to. J covered the rear, glancing back at the ship that loomed over the city like a harbinger of doom. They needed a plan, and fast.
Meanwhile, among the chaos, a young man named Mark—an avid believer in extraterrestrials and a dreamer of the impossible—saw something no one else did: opportunity. Slipping away from the fleeing crowds, he found himself closer to the alien ship’s shadow than any human should be. The sheer size of it captivated him.
Climbing up to a terrace, he saw an open window surprisingly on the flying object and leapt towards it, finding himself inside a vent not to dissimilar to a human one.
Sneaking his way through the dim, metallic tunnelways of the ship, Mark moved with cautious determination. The narrow maintenance shafts were just wide enough for him to crawl through, and they offered enough shadow to keep him hidden from patrolling drone sentries that occasionally swept by with pulsing red optics. Despite the tension knotting in his stomach, he couldn’t help but marvel at the view the ship provided through crystalline observation panels embedded in the hull. From his vantage points, he could see the devastation below—plumes of smoke rising from what was once downtown D.C., tiny streams of vehicles trying to flee the chaos. It felt surreal. But Mark’s mind was not on escape.
He had found something—an access schematic displayed momentarily on an alien console—and realized these tunnelways led straight to the ship’s central power core. The reactor. The heartbeat of Alend’s floating fortress. If he could reach it and find a way to disable or destabilize it, he figured the ship would lose power and crash to Earth. Sure, it would likely crush half the city, but it was better than letting Alend claim the planet. He shoved aside the notion of survival; getting off this ship wasn’t part of his plan anymore.
Meanwhile, back on Earth, inside the MIB Headquarters—a sleek, polished complex humming with quiet urgency—every active agent had assembled in the central command chamber. Rows of holo-screens floated in the air, detailing Alend’s ship from every angle the MIB could scan. The usually composed agents now exchanged worried glances, murmuring about family they’d left behind, their eyes occasionally flicking toward the massive ship casting its shadow across the capital.
At the front of the room stood Zed, Director of MIB, his sharp features and silver hair giving him the air of a man who had seen the impossible and remained unimpressed. His voice cut through the tension like a laser scalpel.
“Listen up,” Zed announced, his tone leaving no room for argument. “The Centauri Twins have just completed their close-range analysis. Their scans confirm that the ship’s main cannon isn’t just a weapon—it’s the heart of that vessel. Everything—shields, propulsion, weapons—feeds off the same power source. Take out the cannon, and you take down the ship.”
The room fell silent as agents processed the gravity of the mission.
Mark squeezed through the narrow vent shafts, careful to keep his movements quiet. Through a slotted grille he caught sight of Alend, towering over a console, his voice cold and commanding as he barked orders to his grey-skinned minions. The ship thrummed beneath them like a living thing, power surging to its weapons.
Mark’s eyes narrowed. If I can cut this thing off at the source, maybe I can shut down the whole operation.
A sharp electric cackle echoed deeper down the shaft. He followed the sound until he found himself staring at a nest of exposed wires and cables, glowing faintly with alien energy. Outside, through a viewport, he saw the ship’s main cannon powering up, its sights locked on another building in the city below.
“No time like the present,” Mark muttered, gripping a wire. He yanked it free. Sparks flew, but the countdown to firing continued.
“Great,” he hissed. He pulled a second, then a third—systems flickered, but the ominous countdown still pressed on.
By the fourth, alarms screeched, and the cannon’s charge faltered for a moment before resuming. Panic licked at the back of his neck. He grabbed a fifth cable, braced himself, and ripped it loose.
The lights dimmed, and the countdown died with a sudden, satisfying silence. The cannon’s glow faded, leaving the building below intact.
In the command chamber, Alend slammed a clawed hand on the console. “They’ve breached us,” he snarled. “MIB agents must have infiltrated the ship! Sweep every system, every corridor—find them!”
Mark’s stomach dropped. He backed into the vents, crawling as fast as he dared. They don’t know it’s just me… not yet.
But even as he retreated, the warship shuddered again. One of Alend’s lieutenants rushed to him. “Sir! Fighters inbound—twenty-five of them. It’s the MIB fleet.”
Alend’s lip curled into a cold smile. “So they’ve come to die in the skies. Ready all defenses.”
Mark pressed onward through the vents, heart pounding. He had bought the city a reprieve—but now both he and the agents outside were squarely in Alend’s sights.
“You’ll be flying the new Hyperion-class jets,” Zed continued back at headquarters. “Each armed with plasma-tipped disruptor missiles. You’ll need to get in close. Very close. And when you make your strike, it has to be precise. There won’t be a second shot.”
An agent in the front row, Agent R, squared his jaw. “Many of us won’t make it back. But if taking Alend out means making that sacrifice… I’m ready. We stopped him once. I don’t know how he managed to escape, but that’s a question for later.”
“Exactly,” J said, stepping forward, his usual bravado subdued but present. “We ask questions after we win. First we end this.”
K gave a small nod from beside him, ever the stoic leader. Zed replied “K will lead the assault team. Synchronize your nav systems and follow his signal.” Zed looked around the room, his gaze sharp. “Good luck, Agents. Earth’s counting on you.”
The assembled agents saluted as one, fists over their chests in solemn unity. Then, without hesitation, they turned and made their way to the outfitting bay. There, the sleek black suits they were known for were quickly concealed beneath specialized pilotwear—dark flight suits reinforced with kinetic armor plating and equipped with life-support enhancements for high-altitude engagement. Each suit bore the MIB insignia stitched subtly on the shoulder, a quiet reminder of who and what they were all fighting for; earth and humanity.
In the hangar, the Hyperion-class jets gleamed under the harsh white lights, engines humming as tech crews completed final system checks. The pilots climbed into their cockpits one by one, locking their helmets into place with grim focus.
As each of the agents prepared to board their jets, K and J heard a voice call out from behind them.
“Wait!”
They turned to see Agent L approaching at a brisk pace. She wasn’t dressed for the mission, but there was purpose in her stride. Stopping just a few steps away, she said, “Zed has ordered that you take Frank and Neeble with you.”
At her side, Frank the Pug stood ready, suited up in a compact flight harness. Neeble, the Annelid Worm, clung to Frank’s back with an eager grin, waving his upper arms like he was about to board a rollercoaster.
K and J exchanged a glance. J spoke first. “How’s that even gonna work? These jets are one-seaters.”
Agent L shook her head. “Not exactly. Zed made sure they had backup seating in case we needed two operators. There’s a hidden release just under your pilot seat. Press it, and a second seat deploys behind you without cramping the controls or slowing anything down.”
J raised an eyebrow. “And nobody mentioned this before because…?”
“You didn’t need to know,” L replied simply. “Until now.”
K nodded, remembering a line from the ship schematics. “I’ve read about this. It checks out. We’ll do it.” He gave Frank a glance. “You’ll man the rear weapons.”
“And monitor targeting!” Frank added proudly. “I’ve flown worse, trust me.”
Neeble gave a thumbs-up with two hands. “And I’m good with tech! If we take a hit, I can patch things up while we’re flying!”
Without wasting time, K and J reached beneath their jets and pressed the release switches. With a smooth, mechanical shift, each jet extended an extra seat behind the pilot’s chair. The back canopies adjusted automatically to cover the newly formed compartments, maintaining the jets’ streamlined design.
Frank hopped into J’s jet, strapping in like he was born for it. Neeble wriggled into place behind K, his hands already tapping at the auxiliary systems.
J shook his head. “Man, I can’t believe this. We’re flying into an alien warzone with a talking dog and a worm.”
K’s expression didn’t change. “Standard procedure.”
Agent L gave them a nod. “They’ll be useful up there. You’ll need all the backup you can get. Good luck. All of you.”
K and J gave a brief salute as their engines powered up, the jets lifting smoothly off the ground. One by one, the other agents’ jets followed, forming a tight formation as they ascended into the sky.
Their target loomed above: Alend’s massive warship, dark and silent against the clouds.
As the black-armored jets tore through the atmosphere in a tight arrow formation, K’s voice cut across the comms with his usual calm authority.
“Alright, agents. Report in.”
One by one, voices crackled back:
“Agent D, ready to engage.”
“Agent R, standing by.”
“Agent H, systems online.”
“Agent T, locked on target.”
“Agent J here — ready to make this thing ugly.”
K gave a short nod inside his helmet. “Acknowledged. Maintain formation. Our objective is the cannon. Stay sharp and stay alive.”
As the jets drew closer to Alend’s craft, the looming alien vessel lit up against the clouds like a fortress of steel and fire. At the same time, deep within its hidden tunnels, Mark pressed on toward the generator — his path a dangerous mirror to the battle now about to unfold outside.
The MIB fleet pressed forward, their jets cutting through the clouds as the alien warship loomed larger with every passing second. Its sheer size was staggering, dwarfing the city skyline below. Even hardened agents found themselves gripping their controls tighter, their nerves stretched to the breaking point.
“Holy rats,” Agent T muttered over the comms, unable to stop himself. “Look at how big that thing is!”
Before the awe could spread, K’s voice snapped across the channel with his familiar sharpness. “Cut out the talking, Agent T. Accelerate to attack speed.”
Engines flared as the fleet surged forward. The hum of the alien vessel deepened, glowing vents sparking to life as its weapons began to stir.
Once the formation closed in, another voice crackled through the comms. “Agent K, this is Agent R. We’re in range. Permission to engage in combat?”
K kept his tone even, though his eyes tracked every glowing seam along the ship’s hull. “Withdraw permission. First follow my lead. I’m going to draw out their firing range and get an estimate before we waste ammunition.”
The agents tightened formation, flying just close enough to provoke a reaction but not yet striking.
They didn’t have to wait long.
Panels along the warship’s surface split open, revealing rows of plasma turrets. The first volley fired without warning, searing streaks of blue light tearing through the sky.
“Permission for fire now!” K called out.
The squadron scattered, each jet twisting into evasive manoeuvres as the night lit up in flashes of alien energy. The battle had begun.
Meanwhile, deep inside the warship, Mark pressed himself against a bulkhead as the sudden vibration of weapons fire rattled the corridors. Through the narrow viewing panes, he caught glimpses of the dogfight unfolding outside, streaks of light reflected in his eyes.
“Guess the cavalry’s here,” he muttered, before slipping deeper into the ship. The hum of the main reactor grew stronger the further he went — the sound of a beating heart he intended to stop.
The night sky was alive with the crackle of plasma fire as the MIB jets danced through a deadly barrage from Alend’s warship. Energy bolts streaked past, splintering clouds and setting distant streets below aglow with reflected light.
“Heavy fire ahead!” Agent T shouted over the comms, his voice strained. “Evasive maneuvers at thirty-seven degrees!”
“Stay low!” K barked, banking sharply to avoid a plasma volley that scorched the air beside him. “Keep tight formation!”
J’s jet twisted and spun through the chaos, dodging another blast. “This is Agent J,” he called into the comms, voice tight with adrenaline, “I’m going in!”
He broke off from the main formation, accelerating straight toward a cluster of turrets bristling along the ship’s hull. Targeting systems flared as he locked onto each weapon in rapid succession. With precise bursts, he destroyed several of the turrets, and the extraterrestrial soldiers manning them were thrown back fatally by the concussive blasts.
J’s grin was brief, cut short by a sudden bark. “J! Pull up!” Frank’s voice came sharp and commanding.
He yanked the controls, flipping the jet sharply to the side just as the turret fired. A bolt streaked past, barely missing the nose of the craft. Sparks erupted along the hull where a grazing shot hit.
K, watching from above, saw the near miss and cut through the comms immediately. “Are you alright, slick?”
J exhaled heavily, gripping the control yoke. “Got a little fried, but I’m alright. All thanks to you, Frank.”
The pug barked in triumph. “Told you I’ve got your back, hotshot. Now let’s keep moving before they fix the rest of these turrets.”
“Twenty-five jets, sir,” one of Alend’s henchmen reported, fingers flicking across the control panel. “But their formations—they’re overwhelming our lasers. The cannons can barely keep up.”
Alend’s shadowed form loomed over the display. “Get to your fighters, then. Prepare to shoot them down the same way. Do not let them breach another sector.”
Above them, K adjusted his course to provide covering fire while the other agents maneuverer around the ship, dodging blasts and returning fire in a chaotic ballet of plasma and speed. The warship’s response was relentless, but the MIB squadron pressed on, each agent calling out positions, coordinates, and warnings to one another in a rapid, precise flow of communication.
Meanwhile, deep within the warship, Mark crept farther into the twisting corridors, unaware of the precise devastation being wrought on the vessel from above. The reverberations of the attacks shook the walls, rattling conduits and sending small sparks across the metal floors. Each pulse brought him closer to the main power generator, his path still unguarded by Alend’s henchmen — for now.
J’s jet banked sharply toward the target. “X, cover me. I’m going in to take out that cannon!”
“Copy that,” X replied, flipping into position.
J zipped forward, dodging plasma blasts and locking onto the turret. A precise blast tore through the emplacement, sending the extraterrestrials scrambling.
Suddenly, a second turret pivoted toward X. J’s eyes widened. “X, pull up!”
Too late. The turret fired, striking X’s jet directly. Explosions engulfed it in a fiery ball.
J pulled up sharply, narrowly avoiding the wreckage, and stabilized his jet. He focused on the next target, ready to continue the assault.
From the cockpit of her post at headquarters, Agent L’s voice crackled sharply through the fleet’s comms. “Attention, all units—fighters heading in your direction. They’re inbound. Keep your eyes open.”
J squinted at his scope, frowning. “Funny, I don’t see a thing. My screen’s clean.”
K’s calm voice cut across the channel. “You’re lookin’ too slow, slick. They’re already here.”
Ahead, the sky shifted as a dozen jagged shapes broke free of the mothership’s shadow, angling down toward the MIB formation with deadly precision.
K keyed his mic again. “Agent G—check your six. You’ve got one locked on you.”
G had no time to verbally copy. He jerked his jet into a steep climb, then rolled sharply to the left, the alien fighter matching him move for move. Laser fire cut across the clouds, missing him by feet. He dived, swerved, pushed the engines as far as they would go, but the fighter stayed glued to his tail.
A sudden flash lit up the sky. “I’m hit—!” The channel cut to static as G’s jet erupted into a ball of fire, debris raining down through the clouds.
Another alert blipped across J’s scope, this time clear as day. He keyed in quickly. “Q, heads up—you got one closing fast on your left wing.”
“I see him—I see him!” Q shouted, the strain heavy in his voice. He threw his jet into a barrel roll, then tried to shake the fighter with a series of evasive dives. “Can’t… shake him off though!”
The alien ship pressed closer, its cannons glowing hot.
“Hold tight, Q—I got you.” J’s voice came in steady, but his jet was already screaming through the clouds, nose tilted straight toward the enemy fighter.
The lock-on alarm screamed in his cockpit. J thumbed the trigger, and a burst of missiles streaked across the gap.
The alien fighter exploded into a dazzling fireball just as it lined up its kill shot on Q.
“Scratch one hostile,” J muttered, flying past the wreckage.
Q’s shaken voice broke through after a moment. “Thanks, J… owe you one.” “Just buy me a drink later,” J said. K cut across the chatter. “Stay focused. They’re not done yet.”
And he was right because now it was his own partner being pursued. J’s jet jolted violently as laser fire clipped his right wing. Warning lights flashed across his console, alarms blaring. “Aw, man—Frank, we’re hit! Gimme somethin’ back there, buddy!” J barked, gripping the controls tight as the craft shuddered.
Frank’s voice came back sharp. “Relax, I got this! Rerouting stabilizers—hold her steady, J!” His little paws tapped furiously at the auxiliary panel, systems flickering under his quick work. “Okay, not perfect, but mostly you’re level enough to keep flying.”
The alien fighter stayed locked behind them, hammering away with relentless fire. J pulled the stick hard left, then rolled, but the enemy matched him like a shadow.
“Persistent little dude, ain’t he?” J muttered, sweat beading on his forehead. “Still can’t shake him.”
Then K’s calm voice slid into his headset. “Hang tight, slick. I see him.”
J banked hard, alarms shrieking again. “Well, hurry it up, K! And where’s Q? Thought he had my flank!”
“Eyes forward. I’ve got your rear covered.” K’s jet swept in from above, streaking across. With surgical precision, he locked on and unleashed a burst of fire.
The alien fighter erupted in a blazing fireball, fragments scattering harmlessly into the atmosphere. J exhaled hard, steadying his breathing. “Thanks, K.”
“Stay sharp,” K replied, his voice even. “We’re not through this yet.”
Mark crawled carefully through the narrow vents, muscles tense and senses alert. The hum of the ship’s machinery resonated through the metal walls, a constant reminder of the deadly weapon looming above the city.
Peering through a small grille, he spotted a secondary control room tucked into a shadowed corner of the ship. Panels of alien circuitry blinked and shifted as operators scurried about, oblivious to his presence. At the center of the room, a pulsating device drew his attention: a transducer, its glow steady and alive, humming with the power that kept the ship’s systems running.
That’s it, Mark thought. Everything feeds from that.
He slipped from the vent and silently moved along the catwalks, careful to avoid the crew below. Every footfall brought him closer to the transducer. He studied the wiring, the alien symbols etched across its surface, and then made his move. With a swift, practiced motion, he detached the device from its mount. Sparks flew as the transducer came free, and he tucked it securely into his bag.
Mark’s mind raced. If the MIB get the ship in the air and it takes heavy fire, this— he tapped the device—this will ensure it won’t survive. One final blow, and the whole thing comes down.
The ship groaned ominously as alarms in distant corridors began to wail. Mark pressed himself against the wall, heart hammering. He had the transducer, the key to Alend’s power—but he wasn’t done yet. Somewhere up ahead, more obstacles awaited, and the MIB agents were battling Alend’s fighters in the skies above. Mark took a deep breath, steeling himself for the next move.
Amidst the chaos of lasers and screaming jets, K’s sensors suddenly picked up a frequency spike—a sharp, alien signal locking onto his comms. “We’ve locked onto his frequency” Alend was reminded by his henchmen”
“Agent K,” a deep, cold voice reverberated through his headset. “I see you. Leader of the fleet, yes? You command them.”
K tightened his grip on the controls, eyes narrowing. “Alend. I expected as much.”
The alien’s voice carried a sneer. “Without you, the fleet is powerless. Without you, they are but insects that will easy be crushed.” K’s jaw set. “We’ll see about that.”
Without warning, a huge burst of energy beaming shot out and as K dodged it, his jet took a hit. Sparks flew from the control panel, the jet shuddering violently. He fought to maintain control, but the damage was too severe.
“Neeble! Keep us steady!” J barked as the fighter began a dangerous descent. Neeble fought to maintain control as well but it did no good The jet skidded over the clouds and slammed into the ground in a controlled crash landing, scraping across the tarmac and finally coming to rest in a cloud of dust.
K’s voice cut through the comms. “I’m hit! J! Take the lead. I’m going in another way—I’ll try to get inside the ship myself.”
J gritted his teeth but nodded, stabilizing the craft with Frank’s help. “Got it. I’ll cover the fleet. Good luck, K.”
K exited his jet at high speed, skimming along shadows and maintenance catwalks, approaching the ship’s hull. He was careful, deliberate, but was able to find a landing atop. “Brace yourself!” he called to Neeble. Exhausted, both got out of the fighter, realizing too late that Alend’s guards were relentless.
Before they could do anything, the guards lunged from a side hatch, striking them both stun cuffs. K went down hard, the world tilting as consciousness slipped away. When he came to, K found himself bound and dragged across the gleaming corridors of Alend’s ship, the alien commander himself awaiting him at the central chamber. Alend’s sharp eyes glinted as he eyed K.
“Welcome, K,” he hissed. “At last, the puppeteer of your puny fleet lies in my grasp.” K’s gaze didn’t waver. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done. This isn’t over, Alend.”
Alend only smiled coldly. “Oh, it is over… for now.”
Outside, J and the rest of the fleet struggled to hold formation, their leader incapacitated and the alien warship looming like an unstoppable shadow.
The warlord’s voice was cold and theatrical as he leaned down so K could see the cruel amusement in his eyes.
“I could kill you right now, K,” Alend said, the syllables heavy with contempt, “but I offer you a choice. Join me, and this pointless conflict can end. No more destruction, no more violence, no more war.”
K’s jaw was set. Even bound, he lifted his chin. “Never,” he replied, voice flat and steady.
Alend’s amusement snapped into fury. “Then prepare yourself for death!”
“So be it,” K answered.
Before the warlord could aim, a new voice cut across the chamber — clear, cocky, and very human.
“You may want to think twice about the consequences of killing an MIB agent,” Mark said over the ship’s open comlink, his tone theatrical enough to be almost casual. The sound rippled through the command room, and dozens of heads turned toward the source of the broadcast.
Alend’s expression hardened. “Our worst fears have been realized,” he barked to his lieutenants. “There is more than one intruder aboard this vessel.”
A pair of minions pounded back into the room, breathless. “Lord Alend — the cable room, sir. The firing circuits were tampered with. The launch lines are unplugged. The cannon could not be brought to bear.” Their voices were tight with alarm; the consoles behind them still showed dead channels where the countdown should have been.
Alend’s lips drew thin. He turned back to K and spat, “Show yourself, and I will reconsider doing to your partner what is already happening to the rest of your comrades out there.”
Mark was faster than Alend expected. “Partner, huh?” he replied over the line, the edge in his voice almost amused. “You forget he’s already got one. And if you want to know what I’d be grateful for — a job at MIB would do nicely. They keep turning me away, though. Go figure.”
The remark drew a ripple of confused snickers from some of the crew, but Alend’s patience snapped. “Enough!” he screamed. “He meets his end now!”
He raised a silver-bladed blaster; the muzzle hummed as it powered. For a heartbeat the chamber held its breath — then Mark spoke again, quieter but cutting as ice.
“You may also want to hold off on that kill,” Mark said. “I have the very element that keeps your ship functional. It’s not where it’s supposed to be, but as long as it’s working, so is the ship.”
Silence slammed down. Alend’s eyes flicked to his lieutenants, then back to the console where the status lights stubbornly refused to dance. For a second something like real fear crossed his face — not the human animal fear of pain, but the colder, strategic dread of a plan overturned.
“Search every corner of the ship!” he roared. “I want him found. Find this… element. I want him found, now!”
K strained against his bonds and spat up at Alend. “You can’t win this the long way, Alend. Somebody’s inside your wiring.”
Alend’s men melted into action, armored boots pounding out of the chamber as the command room dissolved into controlled panic: bay doors were sealed, drones launched, patrols fanned out. The warship’s massive hull thrummed as systems checked and double-checked themselves, while outside the MIB pilots continued their desperate, blazing ballet among the turrets.
K’s eyes stayed on Mark’s voice source, trying to pick out a sound through the ship’s comms. For now, the warlord had forced the moment into motion, but the balance had shifted; Alend had realized the crucial truth — a vital mechanism had slipped into human hands. The hunt was on.
Outside, the skies tore with fire. J angled his jet into the thick of it, scanning the battlefield. Enemy fighters zipped across his HUD, but his focus locked on the massive cannons mounted across the alien warship’s hull. Their beams cut swathes through the fleet, shredding three ships in seconds.
“L, patch me through,” J barked, weaving through tracer fire. “All fighters, listen up! Forget the gnats—those turrets are the real killers. Take them out, one by one. Keep the skies clear for the strike team!”
The fleet reformed, squadrons peeling off to swarm the cannons. J led the first run himself, diving low beneath the warship’s bulk and releasing a spread of missiles. A turret exploded in a flash, its shrapnel clattering against his hull.
“Nice shot!” L’s voice cheered through the comms.
“Thanks but don’t celebrate yet,” J muttered, jerking his stick to dodge a blinding beam. “Plenty more where that came from.”
Enemy fighters tried to intercept, but with the cannons drawing the fleet’s concentrated fire, the aliens were forced onto the defensive. Every blast from J’s squad tore away another piece of Alend’s advantage.
Inside the warship, K stirred against his restraints. The mechanical shackles locked his arms and legs, but he twisted sharply, muscles straining. With a sudden snap, one cuff gave way. He seized the moment, wrenching his other arm free before his guards noticed.
“Time to move,” K muttered under his breath.
The aliens lunged with stun clubs crackling. K rolled under the first swing, sweeping one guard’s legs out with a clean kick. Another club slashed down—K caught the attacker’s wrist, flipped him into the bulkhead, and ripped the fallen club free.
Neeble was still pinned in the of one of the henchmen who Alend had passed him onto, thrashing helplessly. K hurled the stolen club at the control panel above, sparks flying as the mechanism shorted. The claw loosened, dropping Neeble into K’s waiting arm.
“About time!” Neeble yelped. “Stay close,” K ordered. “We’ve got to stop Mark before he blows this whole ship apart.”
More guards swarmed from the corridor. K sprinted forward, ducking and vaulting over strikes with precise athleticism. He used the walls as springboards, ricocheting off to drive his boots into alien chests, sending them sprawling. A stun blast grazed his shoulder, but he rolled with the impact, never slowing down.
“Move, move, move!” K urged, Neeble following him down a service passage. Another squad closed in from ahead, weapons raised. K hurled a stolen stun club like a spear, knocking the first alien flat before diving through the gap.
The corridors pulsed red with alarms, and Alend’s voice thundered overhead: “Find him! Kill them both!”
But K was already gone, a blur of movement cutting through the ship toward the heart of the chaos—where Mark waited with the device that could decide the fate of the war.
Mark’s mobile rang. He held it up and, with a smirk, said, “The New York Times. What can I do for you?”
His boss’s voice came, half-annoyed, half-concerned. “Mark! Why aren’t you answering like a normal person? What’s going on? We haven’t seen you back in days” Mark leaned against the corridor wall. “You’re worrying too much, boss. I’m fine”
“Mark—”
“I said, you’re worrying too much,” he interrupted, and ended the call.
Another ring. He answered the same way: “The New York Times. What can I do for you?” A cold, sinister voice came through. “Codenames will do no good, insect. We have locked onto your frequency and targeted your location. You cannot hide.”
Mark froze, realization dawning. “Alend…?” “Yes,” the voice said, smooth and omnipotent. “I’ve found you.”
Mark swallowed and muttered, gripping the communicator tighter. “Well… this just got interesting.”
Inside the warship, Alend’s fury burned hotter by the second. His voice thundered through the corridors:
“Teams Alpha through Delta—spread out! Find the human intruder!”
Minions raced through the labyrinthine halls, boots pounding metal. Mark, clutching the stolen transducer, slipped from one service shaft to another, narrowly evading search parties. He ducked into the shadow of a humming conduit, smirking. They’ll never catch me this easy.
But Alend was no fool. He tracked the energy field of the device, following its faint pulse like a beacon. At last, he stepped into a wide chamber where Mark waited.
“So,” Alend said, his voice echoing, “the nuisance reveals himself. Hand over the device. Do this, and I will spare your worthless life.”
Mark raised it slowly, almost sheepishly, as though ready to comply. “You want it back, huh?”
Alend’s clawed hand stretched forward. “At once.”
Then Mark’s grin spread wide. “Funny thing about promises… I don’t make them.”
Alend’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare!”
Mark’s grin spread. “Watch me.”
With a sharp motion, he slammed the device against the deck. Sparks cascaded in a violent burst as the transducer shattered into molten fragments. The chamber shook as systems across the ship screamed in protest.
“No!” Alend roared, eyes wide.
“Guess that makes us even,” Mark taunted, stepping back.
Alend leveled his weapon, murderous rage in his face. “You’ll regret—”
A single blaster shot cracked through the air, knocking the weapon from his claws before he could fire. Alend spun in shock.
K stood in the doorway, smoke rising from his blaster. Neeble peeked from behind his leg, grinning.
“Playtime’s over Alend,” K said firmly, his voice like steel, “you violated the rules of your people. You have no political place on Earth. For your actions, you’ll compensate directly to the President.”
Outside, J saw his chance. With the transducer destroyed, the ship’s defenses faltered. He rolled his jet into a steep dive, unleashed a payload, and blasted the colossal cannon mounted on the ship’s hull. It erupted in a blazing fireball. Without hesitation, J plunged deeper, lining up with the reactor core. One precision strike—and the heart of the warship went critical.
The vessel groaned like a dying beast, its skeletal frame buckling. Alarms shrieked across every deck.
“All agents, pull back!” J shouted over comms. “That ship’s not holding together!”
MIB fighters peeled away, banking hard as the warship staggered. For a breathless moment, it looked as if the massive craft would topple onto the city below. But momentum carried it past the skyline, tilting downward. With a deafening roar, the warship plummeted into the ocean.
A wall of water surged outward, drenching the coastline. The ship’s wreckage bobbed, smoking and broken, across the surface.
Mark, thrown by the impact, tumbled over the railing—but resurfaced seconds later, sputtering, clinging to floating debris.
Back inside, Alend stirred, knocked senseless by K’s earlier strike. K hauled him upright by the collar, eyes hard with resolve. “Alend, you’re under arrest.”
With one hand pinning the alien, K pressed a small remote with the other. A signal burst through the skies, and moments later, an MIB jetboat streaked across the ocean’s surface toward the wreck. Neeble hopped on K’s shoulder, adjusting his tiny tie smugly.
“Guess we’re catching the first ride back to headquarters,” K muttered as the vessel neared.
And with Alend in custody, the shattered warship drifting in the waves, and the fleet regrouping above, the tide of battle had finally turned.
Alend bared his teeth in rage but before he could lunge, the warship lurched violently. Outside, J saw his chance. With the transducer destroyed, the ship’s defenses faltered. He rolled his jet into a steep dive, unleashed a payload, and blasted the colossal cannon mounted on the ship’s hull. It erupted in a blazing fireball. Without hesitation, J plunged deeper, lining up with the reactor core. One precision strike—and the heart of the warship went critical.
The vessel groaned like a dying beast, its skeletal frame buckling. Alarms shrieked across every deck.
“All agents, pull back!” J shouted over comms. “That ship’s not holding together!”
MIB fighters peeled away, banking hard as the warship staggered. For a breathless moment, it looked as if the massive craft would topple onto the city below. But momentum carried it past the skyline, tilting downward. With a deafening roar, the warship plummeted into the ocean.
A wall of water surged outward, drenching the coastline. The ship’s wreckage bobbed, smoking and broken, across the surface.
Mark, thrown by the impact, tumbled over the railing—but resurfaced seconds later, sputtering, clinging to floating debris.
Back inside, Alend stirred, knocked senseless by K’s earlier strike. K hauled him upright by the collar, eyes hard with resolve. “You’re under arrest.”
With one hand pinning the alien, K pressed a small remote with the other. A signal burst through the skies, and moments later, an MIB jetboat streaked across the ocean’s surface toward the wreck as Neeble and K’s awaited it.
And with Alend in custody, the shattered warship drifting in the waves, and the fleet regrouping above, the tide of battle had finally turned.
At headquarters, agents gathered around the main screen. A live broadcast played:
“Breaking news—an unidentified structure crashed into the Atlantic earlier today, sending shockwaves across the eastern seaboard. Experts speculate it was a decommissioned military satellite, but no official statement has yet been made.”
The feed rolled footage of the ship’s charred wreck bobbing at sea, helicopters circling. Applause and cheers rang through MIB headquarters. The mission was done. Against impossible odds, most of the fleet had survived.
But K wasn’t smiling. He stood with J and Zed at the main console, watching silently as the news played. Finally, he spoke. “Zed… there’s something you should know. Mark helped make this happen. Without him pulling that transducer, we’d all be toast.”
J crossed his arms, nodding. “Guy was fearless. Risked himself more than once. He’s not trained, but he kept his head when it counted.”
Zed studied them both, his expression unreadable for a long moment. Then he leaned forward, fingers steepled. “You’re saying he proved himself?”
“He more than proved himself,” K said, finally smiling. J grinned faintly. “So what do you say, boss? Time to let him wear the suit?” Zed allowed himself the slightest smile. “If you two vouch for him, then I’ll authorize it. Make it official.”
That night, on the terrace of his apartment, Mark leaned on the railing, staring out at the city lights. His phone buzzed. A message:
“Meet us on the terrace at midnight.”
He had half expected it to be a prank. The roof was empty, the city skyline stretching endlessly in every direction. No agents. No aliens. Just the night breeze.
“Figures,” Mark muttered. “They got me good.”
But then his eyes caught it — a box, neatly wrapped in black with a silver ribbon, sitting alone near the railing. Cautiously, he approached and knelt, lifting the lid.
Inside lay a black suit, pressed to perfection, a pair of sleek shades folded above it. Beside them, a polished blaster gleamed faintly in the moonlight. And tucked carefully into the corner, a neuralyzer, small but unmistakable.
Mark’s mouth dropped open. He touched the fabric of the suit, realizing instantly — the cut, the fit, the size. It wasn’t just a suit. It was his suit.
He smirked in disbelief. “You guys really do know everything.” Five weeks later, he would stand in the briefing room beside J, K, L, and Frank, the suit fitting him like the last he would ever wear. The newest agent of MIB, Agent M, ready for his first assignment: busting a Sarodian drug ring operating in the heart of the city. And this time, there was no doubt — he belonged – to the MIB.
THE END