After devouring the food Alex had scavenged, Marcus finally recovered a decent amount of bio-energy. His burned and damaged flesh began to regenerate visibly, sealing itself in moments until his body was once again pristine and unscarred.
Just as he was about to move, a strange whisper echoed in his mind.
"Master… Master…"
Marcus frowned slightly. "Alex, what's going on?"
Alex bowed his head respectfully. "That, Master, is the mental link between you and the Mutant Infected. If you focus your thoughts, you'll be able to hear their voices—and even speak to them across great distances."
Intrigued, Marcus closed his eyes, allowing his consciousness to drift. The faint, hazy whisper sharpened until it became as clear as if someone were speaking right beside him. Through the connection, he instinctively understood how to respond.
---
Mutant Infected Mental Link
Female Infected: Master, can you hear me?
Marcus: I can. Speak.
Female Infected: Master, most of the survivor settlements in Queens have been eliminated, but we've encountered resistance in Flushing. Around forty or fifty humans have barricaded themselves inside a supermarket and a nearby gun shop. Our zombies can't break through.
Marcus: Understood. I'll come see for myself.
---
Marcus opened his eyes, snapping out of the link. He picked up two 9mm pistols from the corpses of the mercenaries and tossed one to Alex.
"Come on, Alex," he said, chambering a round with a sharp click. "Let's go meet our problem firsthand."
---
A few minutes later, they reached the roof of an abandoned pharmacy, where two female Mutant Infected were already waiting. The moment Marcus appeared, both dropped to one knee, heads bowed in reverence.
"Report," Marcus ordered.
One of them pointed toward the opposite side of the street.
Below stood a massive supermarket, its entrances reinforced with layers of wood and metal plating. Every unsealed window had a guard posted with a rifle. Even though the power grid in all of Queens had long since collapsed, the interior of the building still glowed with steady electric light—apparently powered by a civilian generator.
Through one of the windows, Marcus could see shelves still stocked with supplies. These people wouldn't be forced to scavenge anytime soon.
The infected woman spoke again. "They've been holed up there for about a week. Every entrance has been barricaded, and the supermarket is heavily fortified. What's more, they connected it to the adjacent gun store, looting a large number of weapons. We estimate over forty armed survivors inside."
Her expression darkened. "But the real issue, Master, is their leader—a man wielding a compound bow. He's fast, experienced, and far stronger than any of us Mutant Infected. We dare not engage without your orders."
Marcus's brow lifted slightly. "A man with a compound bow?"
He leaned forward, gazing through the dusty window. It didn't take long to find him—a tall, well-built man with short blond hair, wearing a black tactical vest with custom-fitted compartments and a utility belt heavy with gear. A sleek compound bow rested across his back, its design almost futuristic, while a quiver filled with specialized arrows hung at his hip. His left hand was gloved in a reinforced finger guard, clearly meant for archery.
The look, the stance, the equipment—there was no mistaking it.
The man was Clint Barton, better known as Hawkeye.
An elite S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and a founding member of the Avengers, Hawkeye was one of the most formidable marksmen on the planet. Armed with an array of trick arrows ranging from explosives to EMPs, his precision was legendary—every shot a guaranteed hit. Though he lacked superhuman powers, his reflexes, combat training, and tactical intellect made him one of the deadliest humans alive.
Marcus exhaled softly. "Hawkeye, huh? That explains the problem. With him around, that stronghold won't fall easily."
He folded his arms, thinking aloud. "He must've been caught here during a mission. Still… his presence complicates things."
Alex turned to him. "If your true body were here, Master, it would be simple. But with only this projection—"
Marcus cut in. "I know. Can we take them by force?"
Alex hesitated, calculating. "It's possible. But the archer's skill level is beyond ours. Even if we win, we'll likely lose one or two Mutant Infected."
Marcus's gaze hardened. Six. That was the total number of Mutant Infected he currently commanded—six evolved beings among the one and a half million zombies of Queens. Each one represented immense potential, power, and intelligence. Losing even one would be a serious blow.
Still… Hawkeye was no ordinary target.
'If I can turn him,' Marcus thought, 'he'll become the perfect Infected—strong, disciplined, and deadly accurate.'
He could already imagine it: a reanimated Hawkeye working within S.H.I.E.L.D., passing unnoticed, acting as his eyes within the Avengers.
A perfect infiltration.
Marcus's lips curved into a faint smile. "Tell me, Alex. Did anyone attempt to rescue him?"
Alex nodded. "Yes, Master. A helicopter was dispatched by the military. But Hawkeye refused to leave. He insisted that the wounded and the children be evacuated first, choosing to stay behind to protect the others. Under his command, the humans fortified this place into the fortress you see now."
Marcus chuckled softly. "Of course. The heroic agent who never abandons his mission. Typical."
He knew exactly how S.H.I.E.L.D. operated. If Hawkeye truly wanted to be rescued, they would have pulled him out instantly. The fact that he remained meant this was a choice—his moral compass outweighing his survival instinct. Admirable, but foolish.
Still, the situation revealed something useful: if S.H.I.E.L.D. could extract him once, they could do so again.
And if the man they rescued wasn't human anymore, but a zombie infected with the Virus, then Marcus would have successfully placed one of his own inside the world's most powerful organization.
It was, in every sense, the perfect opportunity.
"Alex," Marcus asked, his tone measured, "is there any obvious way to distinguish a Mutant Infected from a normal human? Something S.H.I.E.L.D. might detect?"
"Not easily, Master," Alex replied. "Our body temperatures are slightly lower, but beyond that, we appear completely human. Even advanced medical exams wouldn't expose us unless a blood sample was analyzed. Unless the humans have already developed a virus-detection device—which, as far as we know, they haven't—our identities remain hidden."
Marcus's grin widened. "Excellent. That means once I turn him, they'll never know."
He rose to his full height, the faint moonlight gleaming in his metallic eyes.
"Hawkeye," he murmured, almost to himself. "You'll make a fine addition to my army."
This piece on the board… is mine.
____
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