After completing the setup around Hawkeye's "accident," Marcus quietly left the rooftop. From a safe distance, he watched as the S.H.I.E.L.D. helicopter descended, rescuing the unconscious Avenger—soon to become Marcus's newest pawn—and carrying him away from the quarantined ruins of Queens.
From his conversations with Hawkeye, Marcus had already pieced together the current situation. There was no time to rest—he needed to meet with Alex to plan their next move.
---
4:30 A.M., Near the Queens Quarantine Line
On the rooftop of a nearby building, Marcus crouched low, studying the massive defensive wall ahead. The barricade stretched across the entire horizon, bristling with floodlights and guard towers. Squads of U.S. soldiers patrolled along the ramparts, their silhouettes cutting through the glare of searchlights that made the night as bright as day. Behind the wall stood tanks, armored vehicles, and even a Black Hawk helicopter circling above—ready to unleash fire at the first sign of a zombie horde.
"Master," came a voice from behind him.
Alex had arrived silently, kneeling on one knee in deference.
Marcus gestured lazily for him to rise. Without turning his gaze away from the wall, he asked, "Alex, with our current forces, could we break through that line? And how long would it take to infect the entire American population?"
Alex hesitated. "A full-scale assault would result in heavy casualties, but their defenses are rushed. We could breach the line with enough effort. As for infecting the entire United States—at maximum efficiency, perhaps… one month."
"One month," Marcus repeated, a cold laugh escaping his lips. He fell silent, running a dozen scenarios through his mind before shaking his head. "No. By then, the rest of the world would've dropped enough nukes to turn this country into dust. If we can't spread the virus worldwide first, breaking through that wall would only lead to mutual destruction."
He was right.
The only thing keeping the international community from ordering a nuclear strike on the U.S. was the belief that the American government still had some control over the outbreak. The moment that illusion shattered—if Marcus's army broke containment and Queens fell completely—the entire world would respond with fire. Within a day, the virus and the U.S. would both cease to exist.
A premature assault was suicide.
Understanding his master's reasoning, Alex's expression turned grim. "But, my lord, once news of the outbreak spread, every other nation immediately sealed its borders and cut all contact with the United States. Even if our infected could infiltrate human populations, they'd never reach other continents. At best, we might trigger six simultaneous outbreaks. Hardly global."
Marcus nodded. He'd already considered that. Spreading the virus worldwide wasn't as simple as letting it loose. With their current resources, they'd never manage it alone. They needed help—someone with reach, resources, and the right kind of ruthlessness.
A dark smirk curved across his lips. "Then we'll use those who already crave world domination. Hydra should make a fine pawn."
As the two spoke, the first faint light of dawn crept across the sky. A thin streak of gold broke through the horizon, and for the first time since arriving in this world, Marcus watched the sunrise.
But to the dead, sunrise brought no warmth. Only danger.
"Alex," he said quietly, still watching the spreading light, "you know this world better than I do. Tell me—what happens next?"
Alex bowed his head slightly before replying. "The U.S. military is mobilizing. They're afraid of adding to the undead ranks, so they've been waiting to consolidate overwhelming strength before launching another counteroffensive. I estimate they'll be ready to strike within a week. Meanwhile, every major lab around the world is now working on a vaccine. Given the speed of collaboration, they could have a prototype within a month or two."
Marcus's eyes narrowed.
A week until the human army advances. Two months until they develop a cure.
It was an all-out race against time.
He was surrounded—by enemies, by deadlines, by the weight of an entire species closing in on him.
Trapped on all sides.
Even in the Resident Evil universe, where there were no superheroes or gods, the T-virus had only devastated the world because the Umbrella Corporation—a shadow empire spanning nations—had fueled the chaos from behind the scenes. A virus alone couldn't destroy civilization. It took both a plague and the arrogance of humanity to end the world.
Here, in the Marvel Universe, Marcus was the virus's only master.
If he wanted to destroy this world, he'd have to do better—much better—than Umbrella ever did.
Easier said than done.
But quitting was never an option.
He turned to Alex again. "If I command the virus to absorb the Extremis strain and evolve, will the humans' vaccines still work?"
"Of course not," Alex answered at once. "A newly evolved strain would be an entirely different pathogen. The vaccines they're developing now would become useless overnight."
Marcus's smile widened. Just as he'd expected.
That was excellent news.
As long as the zombie virus kept evolving, humanity could never truly eradicate it. It would always stay one step ahead. The world's greatest minds could chase it forever—and still lose.
Next came the second problem: the coming military offensive.
He couldn't stop the Americans from attacking in a week, and spreading the infection globally in that timeframe was impossible. But abandoning Queens—his million-strong horde—was out of the question.
Though the outbreak had started by accident, it had produced more than chaos—it had birthed evolution. The mutants, the intelligent infected, Alex himself—all of that came from these very zombies.
If he could preserve this army, perhaps they'd evolve further. Perhaps they'd create something that could truly bring the world to its knees.
A war between humanity's armies and his undead legions was inevitable.
Still, ordinary zombies alone would never be enough.
"Alex," Marcus ordered, his tone sharp, "I want experiments started immediately. Infect everything you can find—birds, beasts, fish—anything that moves. See how the virus adapts. These creatures might be our new weapons."
He reached into his coat and handed Alex a sealed vial glowing faintly red. "And this—the original concentrated virus sample. Study it. Find out what else it can do. I want your full report tomorrow."
He'd had theories before—half-mad ideas that the virus could spread through the water cycle if released into the ocean, or be carried by mosquitoes like dengue fever, or even merge with the common cold to sweep the globe.
But Marcus wasn't naïve enough to rely on imagination alone.
If he wanted results, he needed proof.
Every plan, every experiment, every battle had to be built on something real.
He couldn't afford the arrogance of false assumptions. The universe was full of fools who thought they'd already won before the test began. He refused to be one of them.
If he gambled wrong now, it wouldn't just be his failure—it would be extinction.
"Reality," he murmured to himself, watching the morning sun rise higher, "is the only truth worth trusting."
He clenched his hand, feeling the faint pulse of the virus within him.
If the plague itself had been capable of ending the world on its own, then what was the point of him?
No—this was a test, a challenge from whatever force had brought him here.
Marcus Vale wasn't the kind of villain who waited for destiny.
He would build it, piece by piece—until the world itself had no choice but to fall.
____
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