(AN: here's the chapter for today. There was a review so I have to drop another but I'll give it later after a quick review. Enjoy for now)
They came running.
One hundred of them.
Not shambling. Not slow.
They poured in from three directions—front, left, and right—feet pounding pavement, mouths open in feral hunger.
The bakery remained behind the candidates, a fragile line of glass and brick separating civilians from annihilation.
Thirty agents stood in formation ahead of them.
Eighteen HYDRA.
Twelve SHIELD.
For a brief moment, it almost looked manageable.
People screamed.
Shock froze some in place.
Others stumbled backward in disbelief, eyes wide, hope evaporating the instant the infected came into view. Authorities rushed to block streets, herding civilians away—until someone raised a weapon.
"STAY BACK!" an officer shouted.
The infected didn't slow.
Shots rang out.
The first officer was torn down mid-warning, dragged screaming beneath the swarm.
That was when panic truly broke loose.
People ran.
Some tripped. Some fell.
Those unlucky enough to collide with the infected expected death—
And were ignored.
The horde ran past them.
Straight toward the perimeter.
Straight toward the agents.
"…They're not targeting civilians," Tony muttered, visor flickering as he tracked movement.
The miracle didn't last long.
The trained targets stood firm, weapons barking. Bullets dropped infected by the dozen. Bodies piled. The line held.
Tony almost smiled.
"We don't even have to do anything if it's just like this."
The system answered him instantly.
[Special Infected Unleashed!]
1 Hunter
1 Smoker
1 Charger
1 Spitter
1 Jockey
1 Boomer
1 Witch
1 Tank]
If looks could kill, Tony would have died three times over.
"Tony," Bruce said quietly, a faint green tint creeping into his face, "if I were you, I'd stop talking."
"Dr. Banner's right," Steve added.
"I agree," Natasha said flatly.
"Oh come on," Tony groaned.
The ground shuddered.
A roar echoed down the street—deep, brutal, wrong.
It sounded too familiar.
At the center of the road, asphalt cracked as something massive charged forward.
The Tank.
It barreled toward them, each step shaking the street, closing the distance far too fast.
Then—
A woman's sobbing.
Guns snapped toward the sound.
Right beside Tony stood the Witch, crouched and crying.
Five HYDRA agents were near her.
"…Is she okay?" Tony asked, genuinely confused. "Why is this zombie crying?"
Then everything went to hell.
The Hunter pounced, slamming a HYDRA agent into the pavement and started his snack as blood splashed every second.
A Smoker's tongue lashed out, wrapping another agent and dragging him screaming into the horde.
His body parts grabbed and pulled from him, he couldn't even scream as the smoker's tongue was busy taking out the oxygen from him.
A Charger burst through the line, pinning an agent against a car with bone-crushing force.
As if not satisfied it put him on the hood of the car, hands gripped him tight and started pounding him there to pasted meat as blood splashed and bones cracked.
A Jockey leapt onto another, steering him wildly while biting into his skull, sipping his brain until fell, the horde only saw snack and they shared his parts.
Acid splashed as a Spitter drenched a cluster of HYDRA and SHIELD alike screams dissolving into gurgles.
A Boomer, hidden impossibly behind the shop, exploded vomit over another group.
Then bile rained down, as if called, the horde dropped what they were munching on and went to the unlucky HYDRA and shared him on the spot.
All of this happened simultaneously, and the candidates?
They were overwhelmed and surprised.
No time to react. No time to adapt. They could only scream and try to save those who remained.
The line collapsed.
[Primary Targets Remaining: 8]
The notification sent ice through their veins.
No hesitation now.
Steve fired, dropping the Hunter mid-leap, then charged forward, burying his fire axe into the Charger's skull before it could find another target.
Natasha moved like a ghost.
One shot—Spitter down.
Another—Boomer's head burst along with it's body which exploded.
A third—Jockey fell.
The Smoker's tongue was snapped apart by the help of other agents, followed by a clean kill, still Natasha.
Bruce exhaled slowly.
He sent his weapons back into the inventory.
"Leave the Tank to me."
It was seconds away from him anyway.
So Bruce ran towards it
He roared—not in fear, but challenge.
The sound changed halfway through.
Man became monster.
The Tank met Hulk head-on.
Two unstoppable forces collided.
The shockwave shattered windows.
Behind them, the Witch screamed.
Tony didn't hesitate.
Chainsaw revved.
The Witch lunged and pinned him, strength shocking even through armor.
"Warning," JARVIS said calmly. "Lethal force required."
Tony screamed back and brought the chainsaw up.
He carved.
Limbs flew.
The Witch came apart in pieces, and Tony didn't stop—he turned the blade on the remaining infected, tearing through them in a frenzy that left him staring at his own hands in disbelief later.
Then silence.
Only Hulk and the Tank remained.
The Tank swung.
Hulk caught it.
Twisted.
There was a sound like a tree snapping.
Hulk held its head and twisted then the Tank's neck rotated—and its head tore free.
It fell.
Hulk roared in victory.
Then—he went back with the others who were weary of him, but-
He shrank. That seems to calm them down as relief were all over their expressions.
Bruce Banner stood there, panting, intact.
The street was ruined.
Bodies everywhere.
Eight HYDRA agents still stood.
Four SHIELD agents remained.
But it was somehow silent.
Civilians were gone since they ran away from here.
Yet some authorities and other civilians,with a bit of braveness, who fought the horde, were now lying on the floor unconscious, never to wake up again.
The candidates leaned on weapons, breathing hard.
Except Bruce, who wiped his brow.
"Please tell me that was it," Tony said.
Steve didn't look away from the street.
"We both know it's just the beginning."
"…Shit," Tony muttered.
Elias would probably say: welcome to the club, Stark.
.
.
.
Inside Mercer's Hearth, no one spoke.
Elias stood behind the counter with his employees, Pepper beside Happy, and the few remaining customers clustered near the walls.
Through the glass windows and ruined street outside, they could see everything.
Tony—still in armor, splattered and dented.
Steve—blood on his sleeves that wasn't his.
Natasha—blade lowered, eyes sharp.
Bruce—shirtless, breathing steadily, hands still trembling from transformation.
They had won that clash.
But victory didn't feel like something worth cheering for.
Too many bodies lay out there. Too many agents—SHIELD and HYDRA alike—had died screaming.
So no one clapped.
No one shouted encouragement.
Not even the other civilians who were inside some of the buildings nearby who've hidden instead of running away.
They stayed inside. Stayed quiet.
And each of them, in their own way, willed the four outside to survive.
Elias clenched his hands beneath the counter.
The system was clear.
He was not allowed to interfere.
If he could, he would already be outside—lightsaber humming to life, telekinesis ripping infected apart, Obliviate erasing this nightmare from every civilian's mind.
Between the Force-like pull of his telekinesis and his mastery of memory, he could pass for a pseudo-Jedi.
Or maybe something darker.
A pseudo–Dark Jedi.
Too bad the test wouldn't allow it.
So he stayed still inside his shop.
.
.
.
The roar of engines tore through the smoke-choked air.
Two Quinjets descended in tandem, their thrusters blasting debris across the street as they landed hard just beyond the shattered perimeter.
The ramps dropped almost immediately.
Phil Coulson stepped out first.
His expression grim, eyes already cataloging the scene—the crushed cars, the gouged asphalt, the blood and of course, the bodies, both civilians and agents alike, some no longer recognizable.
He didn't waste time issuing orders.
He walked straight toward Steve and Natasha.
"I'm sorry," Coulson said. "We came as fast as we could."
Steve shook his head once. "You're here now. That's what matters."
Coulson exhaled, then lowered his voice.
"Director Fury sent me the footage. Everything that happened—we saw it. And so did… others."
Natasha's jaw tightened. "Civilians."
"Yes," Coulson confirmed.
"Some of them stayed inside buildings. Some were far enough away to think they were safe. A few had the nerve to record from outside." His mouth thinned.
"We're scrubbing everything we can but sooner or later, there'll be a leak. Especially those who ran and are already by the edge if not, outside the city."
"They'll tell the first person they see," Natasha said quietly.
"They always do," Coulson replied.
"That's why Fury ordered an immediate cordon. No one in. No one out. Not until this is contained."
Something tight in Steve's chest finally loosened.
If everything went wrong—if they failed—at least the infected wouldn't spread beyond this zone.
Coulson raised a hand.
Forty armed reinforcements moved into position with practiced precision, boots thudding in unison.
And then—
The system appraisal flickered across the Candidates' vision.
Steve felt his stomach drop.
Tony kept his smile locked in place, but inside his helmet he swore viciously.
Natasha's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, already calculating angles, distances, contingencies.
Bruce didn't hide it.
His breath hitched.
"No," he whispered.
"No, no—"
Tony grabbed his arm immediately, leading him away.
"Hey. Hey. Not now. Stay with us."
Every single reinforcement—except Coulson—lit up.
HYDRA.
But that wasn't what shook them.
Not really.
Even HYDRA could be managed. As long as they held a line. As long as they followed orders.
What froze them in place was the next system update.
The translucent panel rewrote itself mid-air.
[GENERAL TEST UPDATE
Due to a sudden spike in available Primary Targets, the Test Parameters have been adjusted.
Horde Update:
• Normal Infected: 1,000
Special Infected remain unchanged:
– 4 Hunters
– 4 Smokers
– 4 Spitters
– 4 Jockeys
– 4 Chargers
– 4 Boomers
– 4 Witches
– 4 Tanks ]
[Final Phase Update:
All infected will be deployed in a single wave.
Good luck. ]
The countdown hovered in their vision, merciless and bright.
[Time Left:
00:10:10
00:10:09
00:10:08 ]
Each tick felt heavier than the last.
A reminder that what was coming wasn't a wave anymore.
It was everything.
Coulson glanced past the formation, eyes narrowing as he spotted movement through the shattered glass of Mercer's Hearth.
"Why are there still civilians inside the shop?" he asked sharply, pointing behind them.
Bruce wiped sweat from his brow, breathing measured, controlled.
"Safe zone," he said simply. "The infected won't touch it."
He paused, then added—almost casually:
"Four Tanks remain. I'll handle all of them."
There was no bravado in his voice. Just certainty.
Coulson studied him, then Tony, then Steve and Natasha in turn.
"You're not telling me something," he said slowly.
"No," they all answered at once.
Steve stepped closer and placed a firm hand on Coulson's shoulder—not heavy, but grounding.
"Son," Steve said gently, steel beneath the kindness, "don't ask questions you don't want answers to. This is for everyone's safety. Understood?"
Coulson swallowed hard.
"…Yes, sir."
The plan shifted.
This time, there would be no line to break.
They formed a box formation.
Tony moved to point, armor humming softly as repulsors warmed.
Steve anchored the left flank, shield raised, stance immovable.
Bruce took the right, shoulders tense, breath slow—ready to let the other guy out the moment it was needed.
Natasha held the rear.
One HYDRA prime target stood directly in front of her.
Her responsibility.
If everyone else fell, this one had to live.
Behind her: the bakery.
The safe zone.
A wall the infected would never cross.
Steve opened the comm channel, his voice cutting clean through the tension.
"Listen up," he said.
"This isn't about numbers. It's not about how many you kill."
Silence followed.
"Your priority is the person next to you. If someone's in trouble, you help them—even if it means letting an infected live another second."
His tone sharpened.
"If you see anything that isn't a normal infected, you drop it immediately. If someone gets grabbed, you abandon your target and pull them free. I'll cover what you leave behind."
A beat.
"By saving everyone," Steve said firmly, "that's how we win. Understood?"
Every channel lit up.
"Yes, sir!"
Tony's voice followed, lighter but no less serious.
"I'll handle the front. And seriously—don't poke the crying ones. That's my problem."
Bruce spoke next, voice low, unshaking.
"As I've said before—leave the Tanks to me. Big, loud, angry?"
A pause.
"They're mine."
Natasha keyed in last, calm and lethal.
"Boomers—the fat ones—hide at range. If you see one, shoot immediately. No hesitation. Acid is not your friend. Tall ones spit—don't let them line up a shot. I've got the rear. Focus forward."
She switched channels.
"Fury. Where are you?"
"En route," Fury replied. "National Guard and military units under Ross are mobilizing. ETA one hour."
"You'd better hurry," Natasha said quietly.
"The last wave is here."
The line went dead.
She looked at the others.
"You heard him. Reinforcements in an hour."
The system offered no mercy.
[Time's Up!]
[The Horde Is Unleashed!]
The ground began to tremble.
Howls tore through the streets.
Screams echoed.
Roars—deep, heavy, monstrous—rolled closer.
And beneath it all, the sound of thousands of feet hitting pavement at once.
The city was about to be tested.
So were they.
End of chapter 21