Chapitre 44: Chapter 44: The Fall
Fury stood aboard the Quinjet, clad in a black tactical suit, his gaze steady as he stared into the distance. The hatch was wide open, allowing the biting wind to howl inside, tousling his hair.
Unmoved, he stood by the window, peering through the glass.
From his vantage point, he could see the Quinjets in flight, forming an impressive formation. Their engines roared, and the flames from their thrusters burned brightly, slicing through the sky and leaving luminous contrails in their wake.
Pressing a hand lightly to his earpiece, he said, "We're ready for extraction. General Ross, where are you?"
"Coming in hot! Make some room!" came the shouted response.
From outside, a loud thud signaled Red Hulk's dramatic entrance into the Quinjet's cabin. He carried a de-transformed Ghost Rider on his shoulder, while the humanoid form of another ally clung to his leg. The hulking red figure nearly filled the cabin to its limits.
"You're overweight."
"Yeah, I get that. It's... cramped."
Red Hulk groaned, his once-massive frame shrinking. Muscles receded, and his overwhelming aura of power faded. His skin grew loose, his forehead wrinkled, and his hair turned from black to speckled gray.
If not for the stretched-out spandex still clinging to his form, no one would associate the elderly man before them with the destructive Red Hulk.
The Quinjet lifted off as the hatch began to close. Fury's gaze remained fixed on the helicarrier in the distance. His eyes landed on the rows of automated turrets rising from its surface.
The turrets deployed rapidly, their metallic frames gleaming coldly. Gun barrels spun to life, unleashing a torrent of bullets. The fiery rain of destruction poured down, carving through the air with deadly precision, mowing down the oncoming zombie horde.
Yet the bullets only incapacitated, not destroyed. Drawn by the turrets' relentless barrage, the zombies converged on the center of the deck. The massive helicarrier began to collapse, explosions erupting across its structure. Fiery blasts and flying debris painted the sky in chaos.
The framework buckled under the strain. A massive shockwave distorted the steel hull, twisting it with a cacophony of rending metal. Flames and thick smoke billowed from the gaping breaches, engulfing the carrier in a vision of ruin.
The one-eyed man stood silently at the hatch, watching the disintegrating helicarrier disappear behind the closing doors, saying nothing.
"Feeling sentimental?" Hill approached, standing beside Fury.
Taking a deep breath, Fury turned to her. With a faint smirk, he wiped at the corner of his eye and said, "Sentimental? Feels like I just buried my wife. Guess this is what they call a midlife crisis."
Hill extended a comforting hand, gently patting Fury on the shoulder. She understood what the helicarrier symbolized for him—faith and hope. It had withstood Skrull invasions, Kree assaults, and even the wrath of the Dark Phoenix.
Until today.
"Alright," Fury adjusted his composure, his demeanor shifting back to that of the resolute leader. "Call our man in white. Let's hope he's made headway with Doom."
Elsewhere
Noah sat at a dining table, cradling a phone between his shoulder and ear as he stirred a cup of coffee. The spoon clinked rhythmically against the porcelain, blending with the rich aroma wafting around him.
"Yes, it's me. The helicarrier's down. How many survivors on your end?"
The voice on the other end responded, prompting Noah to raise an eyebrow. "That many? I thought…"
"No, nothing. You're welcome anytime. Doom and I have an understanding."
Placing the phone gently on the table, Noah raised his cup, savoring the coffee's warmth and aroma. He took a slow sip, letting the rich flavor spread across his tongue. A sense of calm washed over him, a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos.
Since arriving in Universe 2149, he'd scarcely had time to breathe. Now, with the major pieces in place, he could finally rest. Doom had graciously arranged quarters for them all—his castle was vast enough to accommodate.
Letting out a satisfied sigh, Noah closed his eyes, relishing the tranquility.
"Excuse me?"
Noah opened his eyes, startled by the sudden voice breaking his reverie. Standing before him was Susan Storm.
"Weren't you just on the roof with Doom?" he asked, puzzled.
Susan hesitated, then explained, "I was. But I wanted to tell you—there's a zombie in the castle. I found bloodstains near the corridor leading to the restrooms."
Noah frowned. A zombie? Here? Doom's defenses were supposed to be airtight. Then, a realization struck him, and he slapped his forehead.
"There is a zombie in the castle," he muttered. "We need to find Doom."
Susan blinked in confusion. "Shouldn't we kill the zombie first?"
Noah shook his head. "The castle's interior shifts constantly, thanks to Doom's enchantments. The blood trail you saw could be miles from where the zombie actually is. Doom's the only one who can pinpoint it."
"Wait, are you saying Doom knows there's a zombie? Why hasn't he—" Susan froze, horrified. "Is he infected?"
"No," Noah said firmly, stepping past her. "But our dear monarch might have underestimated his own creation."
"What do you mean?" she asked, trailing after him.
"It's nothing." Noah cast a glance at the bleary-eyed Thing, along with Thor and Punisher, who seemed eager for action. Their alertness meant they'd already picked up on Susan's distress.
Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch were absent, having gone to check on Latverian civilians Doom had stashed in the basement.
"Doom imprisoned Amora in his castle," Noah finally admitted. "She's turned into a zombie."
"That's bad, but manageable," Susan said, her tone confused. "What's the problem?"
Noah sighed. "Someone's trying to release her."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone