This time, she did not quietly open the door. She chose a more direct approach.
Her Vibranium fingers silently pierced through the door's wood and metal layers like a hot knife through butter.
She felt the lock's mechanical structure and gave it a light flick. The bolt slid free, and the door opened without a sound.
The room was small, with one bedroom and one living room, furnished sparsely.
The Skrull was asleep on the bedroom bed, curled up like a hibernating animal.
He looked like a white man in his forties, with short brown hair, a slightly pudgy face, and gray pajamas.
No one would have given him a second glance on the street.
Alice stood at the bedroom door and watched him.
She had not deliberately concealed her presence.
Her body gave off a faint silvery glow in the darkness, inconspicuous.
But in a completely dark room, it was enough for an experienced warrior to notice.
The Skrull's eyes opened.
Not slowly, not groggily.
They went from fully closed to fully open in an instant, his pupils changing from human circles into reptilian slits.
His body sprang up from its curled position in less than 0.3 seconds, like a spring compressed to its limit and suddenly released.
He stood barefoot on the bed, his body slightly crouched, center of gravity forward, both hands spread open.
That was not an ordinary person's reaction. It was a warrior's reaction, the muscle memory possessed only by someone who had survived countless life-and-death battles.
"Who are you?" he asked.
His voice was still that of the white man, but his tone had changed.
Colder, harder, like a thin sheet of ice covering a calm lake.
"Someone here to take you away," Alice said.
The Skrull's pupils changed again, shifting from slits to