They say that the bond forged between comrades on the battlefield is the strongest form of friendship. After surviving two crises together, Hawkeye's trust in Marcus Vale—this brave, good-natured young man—had only deepened.
Now, while everyone else was preoccupied with tending to Armstrong's injuries, Marcus seized the opportunity to extract some vital intelligence. What he wanted wasn't sympathy or gratitude—it was information. In the twenty-first century, intelligence was the most valuable currency. And as an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., Hawkeye was the perfect source.
The reason Marcus wanted to infect him was simple: the man was a walking archive of government secrets.
He began innocently enough. "Hawkeye," Marcus said, adopting a thoughtful tone, "why hasn't the U.S. government sent the army to wipe out the zombies yet? Why are they letting these things trap us here?"
It was a reasonable question, one any survivor might ask.
Hawkeye sighed. He'd been asked this countless times already, and each time the frustration grew a little heavier. As a government operative, he understood the situation far better than most civilians—but most people dismissed the truth as an excuse.
Yet when he met Marcus's eyes—earnest, calm, filled with a kind of quiet authority—he hesitated. Perhaps this man, unlike the others, could understand.
He exhaled slowly and began to speak.
"The truth is… we still don't fully understand this virus," Hawkeye said, his voice low but steady. "We don't know how it works or what these zombies are truly capable of. Sending in small units could just create more of them. Think about it: to clear all the infected in Queens alone, we'd need a force of hundreds of thousands. You can't mobilize that kind of army in a week."
He paused, his expression grim.
"The government's currently recalling several carrier strike groups from overseas. When they arrive, there'll be at least three full fleets stationed around New York. That's the plan—but it takes time. This is war, Marcus, not some movie where the cavalry shows up in ten minutes."
Marcus nodded, pretending to be reassured. "I see… but what about a vaccine? If there's a cure, wouldn't that solve everything? The army could move freely, and we wouldn't have to live in fear."
Hawkeye gave a tired, bitter laugh and shook his head. "A vaccine? Kid, do you have any idea how long it takes to develop one? I'm no biologist, but I know enough to say this—discovering a virus is hard enough. Creating a working vaccine? That's monumental."
He rubbed the back of his neck, weary. "The World Health Organization's already thrown everything they have at this. But seven days? That's nothing. Believe me, they're trying. They just need more time."
Marcus offered a sympathetic smile. "So you're saying… these zombies aren't going away anytime soon."
"Not that they can't be destroyed," Hawkeye corrected, "but the cost would be catastrophic." He leaned back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "You know, I've seen this scenario play out in countless movies—but now that it's real, the choices don't seem so simple. If the horde attacked the military's frontlines head-on, the government might be forced to act. But these things… it's like they're avoiding us on purpose. Staying quiet. That's what makes it worse."
Marcus tilted his head slightly. "What about the rest of the world? Surely other countries must be helping."
That question struck a nerve. Hawkeye clenched his jaw. "Other countries?" He gave a harsh laugh. "You mean Russia? China? The EU? Oh, they're helping all right—by pressuring our government to drop a nuke on New York."
Marcus feigned surprise. "A nuclear strike?"
"Yeah," Hawkeye snapped. "Why not, right? The U.S. takes all the losses, and they get to pat themselves on the back for 'saving humanity.' If New York's destroyed, America's finished as a superpower. That's the perfect outcome for half the world's politicians."
Marcus's expression darkened, though inwardly he was smiling. "So the government is considering it then? Or… are other nations preparing to act on their own?"
"That's a last resort," Hawkeye said quickly. "And it's not happening—not while I'm still breathing." His tone hardened, full of conviction. "There are still millions of civilians here. We don't drop nukes on our own people. Not unless we've truly lost everything."
Marcus lowered his gaze, adopting an expression of grim thoughtfulness. "But if the zombies breach your military defenses… even if the U.S. refuses to do it, couldn't another country use the crisis as an excuse? Claiming it's for the greater good—saving humanity, even if it means sacrificing America?"
"Never." Hawkeye's voice rose sharply. "I'll never allow it. My country will not be sacrificed in the name of some so-called global good!"
He slammed his fist against the floor, his composure slipping for just a moment. The anger wasn't just patriotic—it was personal. Deep down, he knew Marcus had a point.
Even as the world's most powerful nation, the United States couldn't outweigh the interests of all humanity. If another nation launched a strike "for the greater good," it would likely gain the support of much of the world.
Marcus quietly summarized the situation in his mind:
The zombies could be eradicated, but the U.S. government wasn't willing to pay the price. International pressure was mounting, and time was running out. The military was still gathering its forces, the scientists still chasing an impossible vaccine.
A nuclear strike was the cleanest solution—but deciding who would launch it, and at what cost, had thrown the entire world into political chaos.
It was, Marcus thought, a delicate equilibrium—one that worked in his favor.
The U.S. government's hesitation served as the perfect shield for his undead army. As long as the world's leaders continued to argue over diplomacy and sacrifice, his forces could expand freely, unchecked.
And when America's interests inevitably clashed with humanity's survival, he would exploit that divide.
Yes. Humanity would destroy itself long before his zombies needed to.
Still, Marcus wasn't about to grow complacent. The U.S. military's steady mobilization and the progress on the vaccine posed genuine threats. He would need countermeasures—soon.
But for now, he was satisfied. He'd learned more from this single conversation than from a dozen reconnaissance missions.
As Hawkeye sat beside him, unaware that every word he'd spoken had been weaponized, Marcus allowed himself a thin, knowing smile.
Information—this was the first and most crucial step toward the destruction of the world.
And as a pawn on his board, Hawkeye Barton was far more valuable alive than dead.
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