Mercer's Hearth
Late afternoon light spilled through the wide windows of Mercer's Hearth, warm and golden, painting the counters and tables in a quiet glow.
The shop hummed with the low rhythm of normalcy—cups clinking, ovens ticking, soft conversation drifting between tables.
Everyone was at peace.
Everyone except Elias inside the washroom.
He stood behind his reflection, hands steady, expression neutral—but his thoughts were anything but.
His pulse felt loud in his ears, like the world was holding its breath alongside him.
And then—
Everything stopped.
Not slowed
.
Stopped.
Steve Rogers felt it first.
The air itself went still, unnaturally heavy. He turned his head instinctively, senses sharpened by instinct older than thought.
"Tony?" he said.
Tony Stark frowned. Pepper stood in front of him mid-sentence, her lips parted—but no sound came out. She didn't blink. She didn't move.
"Pep?" Tony snapped his fingers in front of her face. Nothing. "Okay. That's not—great."
Happy Hogan, by the door, was frozen mid-step.
Coffee mid-pour hung in the air like a photograph.
Bruce Banner's breath hitched. He turned slowly, eyes darting from table to table.
Customers were locked in place—forks suspended, expressions half-formed.
"This isn't… this isn't me," Bruce said quickly, panic creeping into his voice. "I didn't—this isn't—"
Outside the windows, pedestrians were statues.
Cars sat unmoving in the street, engines silent.
Even the city's distant hum had vanished.
Silence. Absolute. Crushing.
Natasha Romanoff felt it from the outside.
She had just raised her comm, issuing orders to agents newly arrived in the area, when the line went dead.
No confirmation. No static. Nothing.
"Report," she said sharply.
No response.
She looked up.
A man across the street was frozen mid-step, coat fluttering without wind.
A bus hung in place as if reality itself had paused.
Her eyes narrowed.
This wasn't surveillance tech.
This wasn't a trick.
Then—
Something appeared.
Bruce and Tony reacted instantly—Bruce recoiling, Tony shouting in surprise—while Steve and Natasha shifted into ready stances, bodies coiled to strike.
A translucent window materialized in midair before them, glowing faintly blue, words etching themselves into existence.
[Congratulations!]
[You have been chosen as General Candidates by Arthas Menethil!]
Bruce stared. "By who?"
The text continued, indifferent.
[Your First Tasks:
You cannot share, in any form, information about this phenomenon.
(You will know why when you try.)
Gather at the designated safe zone in:
01:59:58
Rewards: Temporary Inventory (5 Slots)
Punishment: Candidate Withdrawal. Memory Erasure.
Designated Safe Zone: Mercer's Hearth
Good luck. ]
Tony blinked. "Well. That's… ominous."
Steve's jaw tightened. "This place again."
Before anyone could respond, a new prompt appeared—smaller, more personal.
Inventory access.
Tony's eyes lit up immediately as weapons flickered into existence and vanished from his hands.
"Oh. Oh, I like this."
[Tony Stark — Temporary Inventory
Slot 1: M16 Assault Rifle
Slot 2: Magnum Pistol
Slot 3: Chainsaw
Slot 4: Pipe Bomb x4
Slot 5: Ammo x 10 ]
Tony whistled. "Bit on the nose, but efficient."
Bruce's hands trembled as his own inventory appeared.
[Bruce Banner — Temporary Inventory
Slot 1: Hunting Rifle
Slot 2: P220 Pistol
Slot 3: Golf Club
Slot 4: Bile Bomb x4
Slot 5: Ammo x 10 ]
Bruce swallowed. "Why… why do I have a golf club?"
Steve's inventory followed.
Steve Rogers — Temporary Inventory
Slot 1: AK-47
Slot 2: M1911 Pistol
Slot 3: Fire Axe
Slot 4: Adrenaline Shot x4
Slot 5: Ammo x 10]
Steve exhaled slowly. "This is a test."
Bruce looked between them. "A test of what?"
Before Steve could answer, the bell above the shop door chimed.
It rang.
Sound returned—locally.
Natasha stepped inside.
Time was still frozen everywhere else, but the door moved freely for her.
As she crossed the threshold, her own translucent panel appeared.
[Natasha Romanoff — Temporary Inventory
Slot 1: Sniper Rifle
Slot 2: Magnum Pistol
Slot 3: Katana
Slot 4: Painkillers x 4
Slot 5: Ammo x 10]
(AN: their secondary weapon, the pistols have unlimited ammo. While the ammo on slot 5 is only for their own main weapon)
Understanding passed between them instantly.
Tony grinned. "So you're in too. Let me guess—SHIELD?"
Natasha nidded. "Something like that." There was no need to hide it. She didn't even spare Elias a look if he heard it.
Tony laughed. "Well, Cap, looks like you weren't the only one keeping secrets."
Bruce stared at Steve. "You're—"
"Captain America," Natasha said calmly.
"Yes. I know."
Tony turned to Bruce. "And you're…?"
"Bruce Banner."
Tony's eyes widened. "Oh. That Bruce Banner. So—how does it work? Anger? Heart rate? Gamma threshold? Is it—"
The air shifted.
A larger window unfolded before all of them.
[Congratulations for completing the preliminary task.]
[Rewards distributed.]
[You will need them for the test.]
"What test?" Bruce asked.
The system answered by rewriting reality again.
[General Candidate Test]
[Your Goal:
1. Eradicate all Testers in any way
Note:
You are not targets — until the primary objectives are all dead.]
The next lines made Bruce's blood run cold.
[TestersPrimary Objective:
→ Exterminate the 18 HYDRA hostiles
Secondary Objective:
→ Once primary targets are eliminated, all remaining life forms become valid targets—including candidates, and must be exterminated.]
The list of testers unfolded.
[ 500 Zombie Horde
• Includes:
– 5 Hunters
– 5 Smokers
– 5 Spitters
– 5 Jockeys
– 5 Chargers
– 5 Boomer
– 5 Witch
– 5 Tank
– 460 Normal Infected ]
Bruce whispered, "How are we supposed to stop that?"
Tony snapped his helmet case shut. "We have toys. And I have upgrades."
He stepped back inside the shop—returning moments later with a familiar briefcase.
Steve stared at the word HYDRA.
"They survived," he said quietly. "After everything… they survived."
Natasha's expression darkened.
Cold and Calculating.
A countdown ticked in the corner of the screen.
[ Prepare for the first Horde when time returns to normal!
You have 1 Hour! ]
[Time left]
[00:10:10]
[00:10:09]
[00:10:08]
The countdown began to tick—loud even in silence.
Steve straightened, the weight of command settling onto his shoulders.
"We don't have the time—or the numbers—to save everyone," he said firmly.
"Our priority is HYDRA."
He looked at each of them in turn.
"Nothing personal. But I think you all understand why."
Tony sealed his Mark III armor around himself, metal plates locking into place.
"As long as even one of those HYDRA agents survives, civilians don't become targets."
Bruce clenched his fists, jaw tight.
"But what about people who don't know? The authorities? If they fight back, they'll be—"
"Collateral," Natasha said quietly.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Banner. But there are only five of us. We focus on the primary targets."
Steve agreed with her on this and so did Tony.
Natasha drew her katana, the blade catching the system's glow.
"I'll order my teams to gather at the front of the shop," she said calmly.
"We monitor and protect the primary targets from there."
Steve nodded. "Can you try to contact Fury? We'll need reinforcements."
Natasha inclined her head. "I'll try."
Tony tilted his helmet slightly.
"One thing's bugging me."
Bruce glanced at him. "What?"
"If any of us gets bitten… or civilians do," Tony said slowly.
"Do they turn too? Like in the movies?"
Bruce swallowed. "Maybe. Hopefully not?"
The system answered before anyone else could, it was like buckets of cold water poured all over them.
[Any individual bitten by the infected has 100% chance of being infected too.]
"You had to ask." Steve could only complain.
Outside the safe zone, chaos waited.
And somewhere unseen, a Villain watched despite not moving.
.
.
.
When time returned to normal, no one felt different.
Except Pepper.
One moment she had been mid-sentence, facing Tony.
The next—he wasn't alone.
He stood in front of her in full Iron Man armor—Mark III—a chainsaw idling in his hand like it belonged there.
Pepper blinked.
To Tony's left stood a woman holding a katana, a sniper rifle slung across her back—calm, lethal, unreadable.
Behind Tony, a visibly shaking man clutched a golf club while a hunting rifle rested on his shoulder, his breathing shallow and uneven.
And standing tall near the center was a handsome blond man holding an AK-47, a fire axe hanging at his left side, a pistol secured on his right.
Pepper opened her mouth to ask—
And then it came.
A scream.
Not human.
Not animal.
Something wrong.
It tore through the air outside like a blade.
Every person felt it.
Employees froze mid-step. Customers stiffened, hearts pounding without knowing why.
People on the street slowed, faces pale, hands tightening on steering wheels, footsteps faltering.
Fear spread—but no one ran.
They didn't know what they were afraid of.
Only the Candidates understood.
Another system prompt appeared before them.
Inside the shop, confusion turned to murmurs. People looked at each other, unsettled, unable to explain the dread curling in their stomachs.
Before panic could bloom, Steve moved.
He climbed onto one of the tables, boots thudding against polished wood.
"Everyone, please listen!" he called, voice steady, commanding.
"I know something feels wrong—but you're safe here. Please remain inside the shop and stay calm."
The tone worked.
People listened.
Natasha moved simultaneously, issuing quiet orders through her comms, her voice sharp and precise.
Bruce sat down hard at a chair near the wall, elbows on knees, eyes shut.
Stay calm.
Don't let him out.
Tony leaned closer to Pepper and Happy, lowering his voice.
"We've been chosen as candidates," he said plainly.
"We have to pass a test."
Pepper frowned. "Tony—"
"We're protecting some people," he continued, not breaking eye contact.
"From five hundred zombies. They'll be here in less than an hour."
Happy barked out a laugh. "Okay, boss. That's a new one."
Pepper chuckled too—until she saw Tony's face.
No grin.
No sarcasm.
Only seriousness.
The laughter died instantly.
At that moment, Elias stepped out from behind the counter.
And stopped cold.
Steve was still standing on one of his tables.
"…Uh," Elias said flatly. "What are you doing?"
It was not an act. He was genuinely annoyed
Steve finished his speech, hopped down, and immediately turned.
"Sorry about that," he said earnestly.
"You've made your point," Elias replied. "I'll even forgive you. Now, I have a very important question."
Elias looked at Natasha.
Then at Tony.
Then at Bruce.
Then back at Steve.
His eyes narrowed.
"Why do you all have guns?" he asked.
"A chainsaw, an Axe, golf club and a katana?"
"Eli, this isn't the time," Natasha cut in.
He frowned even more, rubbing his chin.
"No way am I getting no answer, you guys looked like you're about to go into a zombie apocalypse campaign."
Bruce stiffened.
Too accurate.
Bruce stiffened by Elias' precise guess.
Before anyone could answer, SHIELD—or HYDRA—agents were already forming a perimeter outside the shop, weapons hidden but ready, exactly as Natasha had ordered.
She turned away, pressing her comm.
"Fury, how long until backup arrives?"
"Coulson's leading them," Fury replied.
"You'll have reinforcements in about an hour."
"Understood."
A pause.
"Natasha," Fury continued, "how certain are you that this zombie attack will happen? Where's your source?"
"100 percent, sir," she answered.
"Focus all surveillance around the shop. You'll get your proof in less than an hour there."
Silence.
Then—
"Maintain communication. Ask for whatever you need.
I'm mobilizing the carrier."
Natasha exhaled. "Thanks, boss. That's reassuring."
When they finally stepped outside, chaos greeted them.
Not every building was safe.
Only ten others glowed green—safe zones visible only to the candidates.
Civilians moved in confusion, fear etched across their faces.
Agents held positions.
Tony stood behind the line. Steve beside him. Natasha just ahead. Bruce stayed back, fists clenched.
Then the system spoke again.
[ Prepare for the first Horde!!!
You have:
00 hr :20 mn: 09 sec left ]
The test is about to begin.
End of Chapter 20