"If you don't get your butt up here right now, Rhodey," Tony snapped over the comms as he weaved through a storm of tracer fire and missile trails, "I swear I'll have my lawyers serve you by morning!"
Another pair of homing missiles locked onto him, forcing Tony to twist and roll through the chaos. The Iron Man armor screamed in protest as the targeting alarms blared.
"Relax, Tony," Rhodey's voice crackled through the channel, full of confidence. "Your savior's here! Justice. Rain. From. Above!"
"Don't—"
But it was too late.
War Machine blasted upward into the clouds, rising high above the formation of armed helicopters. His armor panels shifted and unfolded, exposing a terrifying array of weaponry—missile pods, chain guns, and laser emitters whirred to life.
In an instant, the sky turned into a symphony of destruction.
A downpour of rockets, bullets, and energy beams rained from above, each explosion flashing like lightning. The roaring detonations rolled across the horizon like thunder, and one by one, the enemy helicopters collided and spiraled down in flames. Within seconds, the airspace was clear—nothing left but smoke and wreckage.
"That's more like it," Tony admitted with a grin. "Though maybe skip the dramatic catchphrases next time."
"Why?" Rhodey shot back. "It sounded cool!"
While Tony's aerial crisis was under control, things on the ground were still far from over.
Captain America was locked in a brutal duel with Crossbones, their weapons clashing in sparks of metal and fury. Then, from the direction of the sun, a new shadow streaked across the sky—broad metallic wings gleaming in the light.
The figure descended in a sharp dive, cutting through the air like a hunting hawk.
"Cap! Long time no see!"
It was Sam Wilson, the Falcon.
He swooped down at full speed, tucking his wings just before impact and landing a flying kick straight into Crossbones's chest. The blow sent the villain skidding backward, his reinforced armor cracking under the force. Sam landed smoothly, drew two Uzi submachine guns from his harness, and unleashed a spray of fire into the remaining Hydra troops, driving them into cover.
"Good to have you here, Sam!" Rogers called, throwing his shield to bash another soldier aside.
"Hey, man," Sam replied with a grin, "you know I never miss a good brawl!"
---
Meanwhile, the Hydra line was beginning to falter.
Two new figures emerged from the chaos like predators in the dark. The man wore a sleek, panther-like combat suit, a mask shaped like a feline's head with sharp claws glinting at his fingertips. Beside him, a woman in a black tactical catsuit moved with deadly grace, her red hair whipping like fire as she fought.
Black Panther and Black Widow had arrived.
They struck without hesitation.
The Panther tore through the enemy formation in a blur, his claws rending armor and flesh alike. Every strike was a blur of precision and fury. Beside him, Natasha Romanoff danced through the Hydra ranks like a shadow, twin batons crackling with electricity as they dropped enemies one after another.
Under their combined assault, Hydra's forces crumbled. Screams and gunfire filled the air, then silence—the kind that only follows a massacre.
Realizing the assassination mission had failed, the Winter Soldier and Crossbones made the call to retreat. Smoke grenades burst across the field, covering their withdrawal. A few of the more fanatical Hydra agents stayed behind, pulling the pins on their grenades and charging the heroes in suicidal defiance.
They didn't make it far. Tony and Rhodey, hovering above, picked them off with precision blasts, detonating them mid-run. The resulting explosions only tore apart the road and scattered debris.
"Let them go," Fury commanded once the shooting ceased. "We've got bigger problems to deal with."
One by one, the heroes regrouped.
Standing together for the first time were Captain America, Iron Man, War Machine, Falcon, Black Panther, and Black Widow—six of the most formidable operatives under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s command.
It was no wonder Hydra had been overwhelmed. Their elite strike team, armed to the teeth, hadn't even lasted ten minutes.
Marcus watched quietly from the sidelines. He leaned toward Fury and asked, "So, they're all part of the anti-zombie task force you mentioned? The joint operation between the heroes and the military?"
Fury didn't answer. His silence was answer enough.
From what Marcus could tell earlier during Fury's argument with Captain America, S.H.I.E.L.D. had decided not to send any enhanced individuals—those with mutated genes—into the infected zone. The risk of the virus adapting to their DNA was too great.
That ruled out people like Rogers, Bruce Banner, or even Thor. Instead, Fury had gathered only baseline human heroes—soldiers, spies, and tacticians with specialized equipment and training.
The perfect team for a controlled extermination.
Unfortunately for Marcus, that meant his own forces in Queens would soon face the deadliest strike team the world could offer.
'Not good,' he thought grimly.
---
Fury stood before the group, his voice carrying a commanding weight that cut through the crackling fires around them.
"Heroes of S.H.I.E.L.D., thank you for your timely support. As you've seen, Hydra's infiltration runs deeper than we imagined. Their influence has reached every corner of our organization—and it may be that this zombie outbreak was part of their plan all along. Their ambition threatens not just America, but all of humanity."
He took a breath, scanning each of their faces.
"I don't know who among my people can still be trusted. But I know you can. Right now, you are the only ones I can rely on. Together, we'll tear Hydra out of S.H.I.E.L.D. by the roots. And once we're done with them, we'll wipe this virus off the face of the Earth."
He raised his fist. "For humanity. For America. God bless us all."
Fury's words struck home, especially for the military veterans among them. Rhodey and Sam both straightened, their expressions fierce with resolve. Captain America, however, remained visibly conflicted—still smarting over being sidelined from the coming anti-zombie operation.
Black Panther and Black Widow exchanged silent glances, neither showing much emotion but both nodding slightly in acknowledgment. Tony, as usual, leaned casually against the hood of Fury's SUV, arms folded, smirking.
"So," he said lightly, "what's next? Someone gonna tell me the plan, or do we wing it?"
The heroes piled into Fury's armored Chevrolet SUV, its reinforced chassis rumbling as it rolled toward S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters—the Triskelion.
Marcus watched them quietly from the back seat, eyes narrowed in thought.
Six heroes strong, each powerful enough to take on entire armies. If they really intended to purge Hydra from within, it would tear S.H.I.E.L.D. apart from the inside out.
Exactly what Marcus wanted.
Whether S.H.I.E.L.D. or Hydra, both sides would bleed heavily from this internal war—making his own plans for the upcoming Battle of Queens far easier to execute.
He smiled faintly.
The more of them that die, the better.
Because soon, every one of these so-called heroes would be standing in his way.
And when that day came, Marcus intended to bury them all.
Hydra, too, wasn't fooled. Marcus's deception might have bought him S.H.I.E.L.D.'s trust, but Hydra knew better. They understood the virus outbreak hadn't been their doing—that something else, something far worse, was pulling the strings.
Hydra sought to rule the world, not destroy it. Which meant they, too, would eventually stand against Marcus.
____
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