"I've decided to abandon New York—and maybe the world."
These words shocked the two people present, and Coulson was particularly stunned, his disbelief echoing through the room. "What did you say?!"
Fury lifted his head, his eyes resolute as he locked gazes with Coulson. His expression carried a mix of gravity, determination, helplessness, and pain.
He took a deep breath before explaining, "Coulson, I know this is hard to accept, but the speed at which this virus is spreading is unprecedented."
"Not only that, but the infected retain their ability to think and act as they did when alive. In just ten minutes, we lost both Colonel America and Hawkeye!"
Coulson stared at Fury in shock, disappointment flashing in his eyes. He had always looked up to Fury as his mentor and leader. Never had he thought Fury would make such a decision.
"But Fury, we can't just give up like this! We are S.H.I.E.L.D.! It's our responsibility to protect humanity, to protect this world!" Coulson's voice carried frustration and defiance.
Fury held Coulson's gaze, understanding his emotions, yet his resolve remained unshaken.
"According to the initial simulations, this virus will completely overrun New York within hours and spread worldwide in a single day."
As he spoke, Fury waved his hand, and a hologram sprang to life. It displayed Quicksilver, now zombified, dashing frantically through changing landscapes—oceans, mountains, and more.
"Someone, for reasons still unknown, intervened and injured Quicksilver, temporarily slowing the virus's spread."
The hologram shifted to show Noah carrying an incapacitated Quicksilver. The scene around them depicted the ruins of New York City.
"As for a cure, our scientists have already admitted defeat. This virus is far too aggressive. Even with Wolverine's tissue samples, which we preserved for emergencies, the results are conclusive: not even Logan can resist this infection."
"Worse yet, his vaunted healing factor only accelerates the process."
The image distorted again, showing a gruff-looking Canadian man.
Coulson sat silently as Fury finished, a heavy sense of despair and confusion settling over him. His body seemed to lose its strength as he slumped into a nearby chair, leaning back and rubbing his temples. The internal struggle and uncertainty etched lines of exhaustion on his face. He had no idea what to do next.
As Coulson scratched his head, a thought suddenly struck him. Jumping up, he asked urgently, "Director, didn't you say someone helped slow the virus? Where is this person? We need to find him!"
But Fury's answer wasn't what Coulson hoped for.
Fury pondered for a moment before replying, "Our resources are stretched thin, and most of the Quinjet fleet is already deployed on missions. Still, I've assigned one to pick him up. Rest assured."
Hearing this, Coulson sat back down, closing his eyes with a deep sigh. A sense of futility washed over him. He found it ironic that a random civilian had done more to save the world than S.H.I.E.L.D. had.
Then again, he mused, wasn't that always the case? Whenever a major crisis arose, superheroes would step up to prevent the apocalypse, while S.H.I.E.L.D. merely handled cleanup.
Noah steadied his handgun, aiming at the charging zombie. His focus was razor-sharp as he pulled the trigger. A bullet whizzed through the air, heading straight for the zombie's skull.
Time seemed to freeze for an instant, then a dull thud broke the silence. The bullet struck true, bursting through the zombie's head with an explosive crack. The creature, mid-charge, collapsed to the ground, raising a cloud of dust. Blood and brain matter splattered across the street, silencing its guttural snarls in an instant.
The street fell into an eerie quiet, broken only by the faint clink of the ejected shell casing hitting the ground. The surrounding zombies hesitated, startled by the sudden turn of events.
As the first zombie fell, Quicksilver—slung over Noah's shoulder—shouted, "On your right!"
Noah whipped his head to the right and spotted several zombies rushing toward him. Their grotesque faces twisted with malice, eyes glinting with predatory hunger.
The zombies growled, desperate to close the distance. But Noah moved with agility, dodging their attacks while firing his weapon with precision. His movements were fluid and efficient, like a predator weaving through its prey.
One bullet struck a zombie's head, dropping it instantly. A sharp kick to another's chest sent it sprawling, unable to recover. Another shot ensured it wouldn't get back up.
As gunshots echoed across the street, the number of zombies dwindled, their bodies piling up around Noah. Soon, silence returned. Only the lifeless forms of the infected remained.
The last zombie hit the ground, its demise marking the battle's end. Noah's breathing steadied as beads of sweat dripped from his brow.
"Not even a few kilometers in, and we've already run into this many zombies," Quicksilver muttered grimly, his expression dark.
Noah shrugged and dumped Quicksilver unceremoniously onto the ground.
"Hey! What's your problem?" Quicksilver yelped, rubbing his sore backside.
Noah didn't reply. Instead, he walked toward the fallen zombies, observing their remains closely. Unlike the still-dazed Quicksilver, Noah noticed something deeper.
From their clothing, it was clear these zombies had been ordinary citizens before their infection. Their bodies bore bite and claw marks, but there wasn't significant loss of flesh. This suggested that whatever infected them wasn't driven by hunger but by a deliberate intent to spread the virus.
This was bad news. Noah frowned. He had assumed that the zombie-heroes would at least spend hours satisfying their hunger before spreading the infection. But not even an hour had passed, and someone was already actively working to expand the outbreak.
"How many superheroes in New York are still uninfected?" The thought made Noah uneasy as he scanned the surroundings. Thankfully, no new threats emerged, and the street remained eerily quiet.
After mentally preparing himself, Noah looked up, ready to continue. But then he froze.
"Quicksilver," he said, his voice low, "stop complaining for a moment. Is that... your sister in the red outfit up ahead?"