Tall glass windows allowed sunlight to filter into the command center, casting a soft glow over the sleek silver consoles and projection screens. Agents in black uniforms operated controllers and computers with urgent, focused movements.
Despite the command center's formidable structure—reinforced with high-density alloys and vibranium—the agents felt anything but secure. They knew the threats outside were unimaginably terrifying. A zombie virus was spreading rapidly, transforming superheroes into crazed, monstrous versions of their former selves.
Holographic images flickered on the projection screen, showing scenes of infected heroes. Once-glorious figures like Hawkeye and Captain America were now twisted, their eyes filled with madness and hunger. Hawkeye was shown gunning down civilians, while Captain America tore into flesh, even ripping people apart in violent frenzies. Luke Cage, relying on brute strength and impenetrable skin, stormed a police station, leaving the building streaked with blood.
In the hall, muffled sobs occasionally broke through the sounds of work. Many agents were worried, wondering if their loved ones could survive this nightmare.
A sudden, steady rhythm of footsteps cut through the somber atmosphere as Director Fury entered, flanked by Coulson, Hill, and other high-ranking agents, each with a serious expression.
Fury stepped to the front of the command platform, his one piercing eye scanning the room. In a calm but commanding voice, he addressed his agents:
"The situation is dire. As you all know, an unknown virus is spreading, and anyone infected is turned into a zombie without exception."
He paused, then added, "Yes, as you've guessed—these are monsters like those in horror films. They live only to consume human flesh. Worse still, these monsters retain their superhuman powers and intelligence, even after being infected."
One agent, Adrian, spoke up hesitantly, "So, maybe we can reason with them? Like we did with the Skrulls?"
A few annoyed glances were cast his way, but Fury remained unbothered.
"No," Fury replied firmly. "The chances of reasoning with them are slim. Even Steve, one of the most resilient and kindhearted heroes, fell to the infection."
A wave of despair washed over the agents. For years, Steve Rogers had been the embodiment of unbreakable spirit and courage, always rising no matter how many times he was knocked down. But now, even Captain America had fallen.
Taking a deep breath, Fury continued, "We face an uphill battle. But it's in our darkest hours that we show our true strength. We are SHIELD, humanity's last line of defense."
He looked around the room, his gaze unwavering. "We've seen the incredible feats of superheroes, and they have been our role models. Now, it's our turn to prove that we, too, have fearless courage and unbreakable determination!"
He pointed to a strategic map on the wall. "Every Quinjet that takes off represents our hope. Every person still standing is a soldier in this fight."
"We still have the Fantastic Four, the X-Men, and Thor. Together, we'll stand strong and defeat these monsters. We must protect humanity, and we will never give up on the world we love!"
The command center fell silent, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Then, one agent began to clap, soon followed by another, and then another, until the entire room erupted in applause. Tears filled some agents' eyes as they chanted in unison, "Yes!"
With renewed hope, they returned to their duties, focused and determined.
Fury watched the morale shift, nodding in approval. In a crisis like this, morale was vital. Broken spirits could lead to failure, but with newfound confidence, the agents pushed forward.
Fury gestured for Hill and Coulson to join him, and a screen of light rose around them, isolating them from the rest of the room. With a somber look, he turned away, lost in thought.
After a long pause, he faced them again, his words steady and deliberate: "I was ready to sacrifice New York—and the world."
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"I was going to give up on New York and the world."
These words shocked the two people present, and Coulson asked loudly in disbelief: "What did you say?!"
Fury lifted his head and met Coulson's eyes with determination, his expression showing a sense of weight and determination, but also desperation and pain.
He took a deep breath and continued, "Colson, I know this is hard to accept, but this virus is spreading very quickly."
"And the infected can still think and act as if they were alive. In just ten minutes, we lost the American colonel and Hawkeye!"
Coulson stared at Fury in shock, disappointment shining in his eyes. He had once looked to Fury as his mentor and leader, and he had never thought Fury would make such a decision.
"But Fury, we can't just give up! We are SHIELD, and we have a responsibility to protect people and the world!" There was reluctance in his voice.
Fury's eyes turned to Coulson, understanding Coulson's emotions but his resolve remained unwavering.
"According to the initial data model simulation, the virus will fully infect New York within a few hours and is expected to complete its spread worldwide within a day."
Fury waved his hand as he spoke and Jerome, who had become a zombie, ran as fast as he could; one was the ocean, the other was the mountains.
"But someone helped us for unknown purposes and temporarily slowed the rate of infection by damaging Jerome."
The image blurred for a moment and turned into a white night that contained a bank surrounded by the ruins of New York City.
"As for the antidote, our scientists told me they couldn't do anything. This virus is extremely aggressive. They ran experiments on Wolverine's tissue samples that were stored in the lab and concluded that even Logan wouldn't be able to resist this infection."
"Even his self-healing factor, which he is so proud of, will speed up the process."
The image distorted again and turned into a grumpy-looking Canadian man.
Coulson listened silently to Fury's explanation and felt a deep sense of despair and confusion grip his heart.
His body seemed to have lost all strength, and he sat down on a nearby chair, leaning weakly on the back of the chair.
He weakly raised his hand and rubbed his forehead. The internal struggle and confusion left a heavy mark on him, and he had no idea what to do next.
Coulson scratched his head, a sudden inspiration came to him, and he stood up eagerly and asked: "Director, didn't you just say that someone was helping us for unknown purposes and slowing down the spread of the virus? Where is that person? Us? We need to find him!"
But the words Coulson wanted most did not come from Fury's mouth.
Fury thought for a moment, then said softly, "We are very short on manpower right now. Most of the Quinjets are already on duty, but I sent one to pick him up anyway. Don't worry."
After hearing this, Coulson finally got an answer and sat back in the chair, closing his eyes. He sighed deeply, suddenly feeling a little dizzy.
Is SHIELD's contribution to saving the world any less than that of a passerby?
But it seemed to be the same in the past. Whenever there was a major crisis, a few superheroes would show up to prevent the end of the world, and SHIELD would be responsible for picking up the pieces.
Adrian pointed his gun at the steadily advancing zombies. He concentrated on pulling the trigger. A bullet quickly flew through the air and headed straight for the zombie's head.
Time seemed to freeze for a moment, and then a muffled sound echoed in the void. The bullet hit the zombie's head like a sonic boom, causing the advancing demonic thing to fall violently.
The zombie's body lost its support and fell to the ground, raising a cloud of dust. Its blood and brains splattered everywhere, staining the surroundings red. At this moment, the zombies' howls suddenly stopped.
Silence filled the streets along with the sharp sound of falling bullet casings. The other zombies seemed to be frightened by this sudden change and stopped advancing.
After the first zombie fell, Jerome, who was carried on Adrian's shoulders, immediately shouted to remind Adrian: "On your right!"
Adrian immediately turned his head and several zombies rushed towards him. Their faces were wild and their eyes were filled with evil.
The zombies roared and eagerly tried to get close to Adrian, but he nimbly avoided their attacks while continuing to fire. His body was coordinated and orderly, his steps were flexible and fast, like a cheetah moving in a small space.
A bullet hit a zombie in the head, causing its body to fall to the ground instantly. A whip's leg then hit another zombie in the chest, causing it to lose its ability to move forward, and another bullet ripped out of the chamber, causing the zombie to go completely silent.
As the gunshots continued, the zombies around them gradually diminished, leaving only corpses on the ground.
The last zombie fell to the ground, the ongoing sounds of battle gradually faded away, and the street fell silent again. Adrian's breathing gradually became regular, and a light bead of sweat dripped from his forehead onto the ground.
"I only walked a few kilometers but I didn't expect to encounter so many zombies."
Jerome, who was being carried on his shoulders, said with a serious expression that the situation seemed more serious than he thought.
Adrian's shoulders slumped and he threw Jerome to the ground.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Jerome objected in pain.
Adrian didn't answer, but moved closer and silently observed the zombies' corpses. He saw something deeper than Jerome, who was still in a daze.
Judging by their clothes, these zombies weren't superpowered when they were alive, but ordinary citizens. Their bodies had more or less bite marks and scratches.
But there is no large-scale loss of flesh and blood on their bodies, suggesting that the men who infected them were not focused on satisfying their own appetites but were deliberately spreading the virus.
This is not good news. Adrian frowned. He thought that the zombie heroes would eat for at least a few hours to satisfy their appetites. Unexpectedly, someone was already working hard to expand the scope of the infection.
So how many superheroes are there in New York who aren't zombies? Thinking of this, he looked around anxiously, but fortunately, the corpses around him were still lying quietly on the ground.
With a plan in mind, Adrian raised his head and was about to leave when he suddenly froze.
"Jerome, stop yelling. Is that your sister in red in front of you?"
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