While Dr. Helen Cho was still tormented by her own helplessness, a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent burst into her lab—his face pale, voice urgent.
Before Helen could even ask what was wrong, the man blurted out,
"Dr. Cho, you need to evacuate immediately."
"What?" Helen blinked in confusion, startled by his tone. "Evacuate? Why? The Helicarrier is the safest place we have—what's going on?"
The agent took a deep breath, his voice low but steady. "This Helicarrier has been designated for a final contingency strike. It's set to crash directly into Queens to trigger the nuclear warheads. When that happens, no one aboard will survive. You're not a combatant, Doctor. You've been cleared for evacuation."
The words hit Helen like a bolt of lightning.
"The Helicarrier is going to crash into New York—to detonate the nukes? That's insane! Everyone aboard will die! Who could possibly—why would anyone come up with such a plan?"
"Please, Doctor," the agent urged, trying to calm her panic. "It's only a contingency. The order hasn't been confirmed yet."
Then, seeing that she was still trembling, he reluctantly explained the full situation—the desperate state of the war, the President's authorization, and Director Fury's grim decision.
Only then did Helen begin to regain her composure, though her face remained pale. "So… if Captain America's forces fail, this ship becomes the failsafe?" she murmured. "But… must it really cost so many lives?"
The agent's lips curved in a faint, weary smile. His eyes held the quiet acceptance of a man who had already made peace with death.
"Someone has to see this through. If Captain Rogers can't, then it falls to us. It's our duty, Doctor. But for your safety, please—come with me to the flight deck. We'll get you off this ship before that order ever comes."
Helen's gaze wavered, then hardened with sudden resolve. "No. Wait!"
Before the agent could react, she bolted past him and ran down the corridor.
He simply sighed, shaking his head. "I figured as much," he muttered, watching her vanish into the chaos.
---
Helen sprinted through the Helicarrier's vast interior. Around her, the once-orderly halls of S.H.I.E.L.D. were in complete disarray. Personnel rushed in every direction, carrying crates, data drives, and classified documents. Files littered the floors. Alarms blared overhead.
In the midst of the evacuation frenzy, Helen realized the truth: the great S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier was falling apart—both figuratively and literally.
But she couldn't leave. Not yet.
Before she fled this doomed ship, there was one person she had to see.
After what felt like an eternity of running, she reached her destination: the detention chamber.
The massive cylindrical glass prison stood untouched in the center of the room, unaffected by the turmoil outside. The silence inside the chamber was almost suffocating. When Helen saw the man within, she exhaled in relief—then frowned.
"Do you realize this ship could crash any minute now?" she said, her voice a mixture of anger and concern. "Why are you still here?"
Inside the cell, Marcus sat calmly, his expression almost serene.
"They'll win," he said with a faint smile. "Captain Rogers, Fury, and you—you'll all find a way to stop this before it reaches the worst outcome. And if the Helicarrier does fall… then maybe it's the punishment I deserve, for standing aside and refusing to fight."
Helen's heart clenched. 'He still believes in us,' she thought bitterly. 'Even now, when I can't do anything… when I've failed everyone.'
How could she abandon ship while even Marcus—who had never wanted this war—was willing to die with the rest of them?
"You don't have to punish yourself for refusing to fight," Helen said softly. "No one wants to raise a weapon against their own brothers. That isn't cowardice—it's humanity."
Marcus chuckled faintly, shaking his head. "Don't worry. As long as Captain America succeeds, no one on this ship will have to die. The government will survive this crisis, too. There's always a way to avert disaster. That's what superheroes do, isn't it?"
"Find… another way…" Helen murmured, her thoughts drifting to the secret formula on her laptop—the one that could turn the tide of war using the Regeneration Cradle and zombie control technology. Theoretically, it could save them all.
But almost immediately, she rejected the thought. She had never disobeyed an order from Fury. Even now, with the world on the brink, her obedience held her back.
"They've chosen a tragic path," Marcus said suddenly, his tone colder now. "Even if they win this battle, they'll pay for it. You know how this works, Helen. The government won't celebrate them—it'll condemn them. To the world, they'll be heroes. But to their own country?" He smiled thinly. "They'll be criminals."
Helen's eyes widened. "But… why? They're fighting to save America! How can anyone blame them for that?"
Marcus's gaze was calm, but his words cut like ice. "Because someone must be blamed. Thousands of soldiers are dead, and the truth—the existence of the zombie virus—can never be made public. So what happens when the real enemy can't be revealed? The government will create a scapegoat."
He paused. "Captain America and his 'rebellious' heroes are perfect for the role."
"But that's—!"
"It doesn't matter," Marcus interrupted softly. "No matter what happens out there, they won't be remembered as saviors. The story will be rewritten. And in the end…" He smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "They'll never be the heroes who saved America."
Helen stood there, speechless, staring at the man in the glass cell. For the first time, she saw something behind Marcus's calm demeanor—something darker, more dangerous.
And she realized, with a chill, that every word he had spoken was true.
_____
T/N:
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