After hearing Marcus's conclusion, a far darker thought crept into Helen's mind. With hesitation and anxiety in her voice, she finally asked,
"If that's what happens when they succeed… then what if they fail?"
Marcus gave her a faint, sardonic smile before asking in return,
"Tell me, then—who do you think they'll blame when America launches a nuclear strike on its own soil? Option one, the zombie army the public must never learn about; or option two, the U.S. soldiers who disobeyed orders and acted on their own? If you were a politician, which would you choose?"
There was no real choice at all. Even Helen—no expert in politics—could easily guess who would be made the scapegoat of such a catastrophe. If Captain America's unit somehow achieved victory, perhaps they might one day be vindicated. But if things went the other way—if S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Helicarrier crashed into New York and triggered a nuclear explosion—then the Captain and every brave soldier under his command would forever be branded as the ones who destroyed America.
The more Helen thought about it, the colder her heart grew. She finally realized the consequences of failure were far worse than she had imagined. The heroes and soldiers who were fighting desperately to save their nation would, in the end, carry eternal infamy—dead or alive. It was a tragic fate.
Unable to hold back any longer, Helen took a deep breath and revealed her final card.
"Marcus, I… might have a way to stop this crisis."
Then she explained everything—about the formula for the Cradle of Regeneration, and her concept for the zombie-control helmet that could manipulate biological constructs. After a long and tense explanation, Helen exhaled deeply, as though a weight had finally been lifted from her shoulders. Lowering her head, she asked softly,
"Marcus, if it were you, what would you do?"
Marcus folded his arms, his expression unreadable.
"There's no denying it—it's extremely dangerous. Forget about whether those bio-constructs could be hijacked by the enemy; the very act of creating them on your own will seal your fate. You'd share the same end as Captain America—driven by the desire to save your country, only to be condemned as the one who destroyed it."
He didn't rush to praise her plan. Instead, he carefully painted the nature of her actions in a way that he knew would stir her resolve. Helen wasn't the type to fear punishment. By comparing her path to that of Captain America, Marcus knew exactly how to ignite her determination.
Just as he expected, Helen didn't back down. Her eyes burned with conviction as she declared,
"I'm not afraid. If there's even a chance I can help Captain America and the others, then it doesn't matter what happens to me!"
"Don't be so quick to decide, Helen," Marcus said with a faint tone of concern, though his smile betrayed a hint of manipulation. "Maybe your choice isn't the right one—but one thing is certain. No one can blame you for trying. In my eyes, you're just as much a hero as the soldiers fighting in Queens."
Helen nodded firmly, her decision made. Without another word, she turned and hurried away. Marcus watched her go, her determined footsteps echoing down the corridor. Once her silhouette had vanished completely, he gave a mental command through his Mental link:
"Hawkeye, the time has come. Prepare to move."
When Helen returned to her lab, the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who had tried to evacuate her was still there waiting. Seeing her return, he sighed and stepped forward.
"So, you met Marcus. He refuses to leave—there's nothing we can do about that. But Dr. Helen, please, come with me. Your inventions are a treasure to the world. We can't risk losing you here."
"No," she said firmly. "My life is mine to decide."
Her sudden defiance shocked the agent. Ever since she'd joined S.H.I.E.L.D., Helen had always been obedient and respectful—never one to disobey orders. The only time she had ever spoken out was when she defended Marcus during a meeting. And now, at the edge of death and disaster, she was choosing rebellion?
"Dr. Helen, this isn't a joke," the agent said urgently. "The situation is critical—"
"I'm not joking either," Helen interrupted, her tone steady. "If this Helicarrier is truly going down, then I'll go down with it. Now, please—go help the others. I still have work to do."
Before he could object, she firmly pushed him out of the lab and locked the door behind him. It was the most defiant act she had ever committed in her entire career—but what she planned next was far bolder.
She reopened the laptop containing the Cradle of Regeneration schematics and retrieved several vials of zombie blood from the freezer. To her left lay the prototype of the zombie-control helmet designed under Nick's supervision.
"Marcus… Captain… I'll do what I must," she whispered to herself.
Under her command, the entire lab came alive. Ten Cradle of Regeneration units powered on simultaneously, each one glowing with a brilliant blue light. The mysterious formula's biostructures began taking form—rapidly replicating within S.H.I.E.L.D.'s very walls.
Meanwhile, the battle in Queens raged on with unimaginable intensity. Captain America's forces were suffering heavy losses—by modern military standards, they should have already ordered a retreat to regroup. Morale should have crumbled long ago.
But retreat was no longer an option. The soldiers had nothing left but grit and fury, and they fought with everything they had. Each advance came at a terrible cost, yet they pushed forward—inch by bloody inch—toward the new Umbrella Tower.
During their advance, the superheroes who had been blown apart by Daredevil's earlier explosion regrouped and rejoined the fight. With their return, the tide began to shift. The formidable Thunderbeasts and relentless Chasers could no longer maintain control of the battlefield. Their numbers dwindled, and the resistance against Captain America's forces weakened steadily.