@impossibleormerelyfantastic gets a plotted starter from carol danvers
Artificial Intelligence was something even the galactic community remained undecided on. The Kree Empire had followed an AI’s doctrine for ages before Carol destroyed the Supreme Intelligence. Most societies had laws surrounding AI development and usage, and while how much power an AI could have varied, it was generally agreed they had to be careful. The harm which could be done to galactic civilisation – was horrifying.
Humanity and Earth didn't seem to realize the danger.
Carol was alerted to something being wrong when she was summoned by S.H.I.E.L.D. The message was blank, but Fury had sent it. The location was in the middle of nowhere, Nevada. Quietly ignored as a nothing blip on satellite imagery due to the ominous Area 51 not being too far away. Carol swooped down to the parking lot, landing next to a brilliant blue Shelby Cobra which sat just outside a single floor, plain building. It reminded Carol of a school: bleak, beige, and boring.
She glanced at the car’s license plate: STARK008
Stark, why did the name sound familiar? Fury might have mentioned someone in a report. Carol moved into the building. The interior was as boring as the exterior: definitely designed to appear as a civilian operation. The reception had a few seats for people to wait, a desk with an unremarkable computer where the receptionist should be. A quick glance, there were two hallways, one led to the washrooms, and maybe a utility closet. The other: probably offices.
At a glance, everything appeared in order, as if everyone just got up and left. But looking closer, the chair at the front desk was pushed out, implying someone got up in a hurry. Some of the papers were scattered. Carol moved further inside: all the doors to each section of offices and cubicles were wide open, one partly off its hinge.
She heard a noise from farther down the hall, and followed. The corridor turned a corner, to a final office. It was larger than the others, a little fancier. Management’s office, if she had to guess. Inside, there was someone at the desk, looking at a computer. Carol approached the room’s entrance: he looked… out of place. Sure, he was clean cut enough to be the manager, but he didn’t carry himself that way.
He’d be the guy to own the building by her guess, not run it.
“Hi,” Carol greeted as she leaned in the doorway, “everyone go on strike, or you fire them all?”
