Silence dominated most of the time. One after another, computers and compact engineering equipment were moved in. Everyone was required to wear hazmat suits and pass through multiple decontamination procedures to enter or exit the research zone. Even the equipment had to be wrapped in plastic sheeting. Agent Coulson and Solomon stood behind the glass wall of the makeshift command post, observing the busy personnel below, constantly reviewing data feedback from the researchers. Coulson noticed that the procedures in place were standard for dealing with biological threats—only far more complex due to the advanced technology of the Undying City.
Hunter swallowed hard, suddenly feeling like he had come to the wrong place. Neither he nor Bobbi was wearing protective gear. If that Monolith truly was a biological threat, then anyone who had come into direct contact with it might already be infected. He signaled up toward Coulson, urging him to prepare for the worst.
"Infection symptoms?" Coulson asked.
"They're devoured—inside out. The infected experience excruciating pain," Solomon replied. "Every time the Monolith activates, the risk of infection increases. That's why we must be fully prepared. The worst-case scenario is that the source of infection is already inside the base, and we have no idea."
"You should have told me this earlier, Solomon! May, prep to seal the base!"
"If the source could escape that easily… don't panic. Even if it did get out, we can still respond." The archmage didn't continue. If Hive had already escaped, the conservative faction of HYDRA wouldn't still be trying to hold sacrificial rituals. The Monolith had ended up in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hands because Alexander Pierce had once promised to use S.H.I.E.L.D.'s resources to study it—hoping to extract HYDRA's god from within. But before he could fulfill that promise, both S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA had collapsed. The remaining scraps of those factions could no longer accomplish much.
He re-fastened his helmet, hiding all expression.
"Bombs are armed, my lord," Tita's voice came through the comms.
This work continued for four full days.
On the fourth day, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s current scientific lead, Leopold Fitz, finally appeared at the research site.
"It's because you're always chasing phantoms that I locked that damned stone up in the first place!" Before Fitz could say anything, the kind-hearted Mike berated him. "I admire your hope, but you're a scientist…"
"Sorry, sorry, Mike." Covered in dust, Fitz tried to squeeze past Mike like a kitten picked up by the scruff. "I've got a lead—I've got a lead… Who are those people?" he asked, pointing to the hazmat-clad researchers passing through the corridor. "Why is Lincoln here? Did something happen in the base?"
"Lincoln's helping with the Monolith. Fitz, this isn't the first time. You're a scientist, not a folklorist," Mike sighed. "Also, you picked the worst time to return. The base is under quarantine for a possible outbreak."
"You mean—"
"Yes. And it's related to that stone. Coulson ordered a full lockdown. You don't know the argument May and Coulson had just to get you in. They're not getting along lately," Mike stroked his beard. "We've had reinforcements, but I don't know much about the leader. Coulson seems to be old friends with him."
"What does he look like? Or rather, how tall is he?" Fitz's heart skipped a beat. He had considered reaching out to that man, but magic—like the leads he had pursued—always felt unreliable. So he'd shelved that option. "I can't waste any more time, Mike," he said. "I have to tell them what I've discovered!"
"I've considered every possibility!" Fitz didn't even take off his grimy suit before barging into the command room.
"Besides being trapped inside the Monolith, or shrunk to microscopic size…"
"Coulson! Coulson! I think I'm right this time!" Fitz shouted. "She's not here! I believe the Monolith is a black hole!"
"Do you have proof?" Coulson stopped Fitz from rushing at the archmage. After four days of observation, he had noticed something unnerving—Solomon, clad in armor, had barely moved. He didn't scratch, didn't sleep, didn't eat—he stood there, an unmoving steel statue in the command room. As others grew exhausted, Solomon remained still, constantly watching the scientists examine the Monolith below. If not for the faint tick of the comms system, Coulson would have doubted he even needed to breathe.
Coulson had seen this level of calm before—typically in the most cold-blooded agents. Solomon, in this state, was dangerous.
And indeed, he was.
Solomon hadn't told Coulson that the sky carrier wasn't waiting in high-altitude standby for convenience. A bunker-buster nuclear warhead had been loaded aboard the Reckoner-class carrier. If things turned catastrophic, Tita—waiting in orbit—would drop that warhead without hesitation, obliterating Hive completely. Any S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, Undying City operatives, or scientists still inside would be deemed acceptable losses. Solomon himself had already accepted he might be caught in the blast.
Tita believed her lord wouldn't die in a nuclear explosion. She was so confident that even Solomon was momentarily surprised by her immediate assent when he gave the order. Only after confirming she harbored no suicidal tendencies did he instruct Stephanie to begin reallocating resources—fitting leftover bunker busters originally meant for Pym Technologies onto assault transports.
"No, but I…" Fitz fell silent. He'd proposed many theories—none backed by evidence. "Then why…"
"We currently suspect the Monolith may carry ancient pathogens, so…" Coulson trailed off mid-sentence. He couldn't recall why he'd asked Solomon for help in the first place. It was as if his mind had gone blank during that video call. He glanced toward the archmage, silently begging for an explanation.
At that moment, the black steel statue raised its head.
"To deduce this much without evidence—your mind is vital to humanity's future, Leopold Fitz," Solomon's amplified voice carried an unnatural cadence. "Jemma Simmons is alive. I swear it on my true name."
To Fitz, that statement was like a miraculous Christmas gift.
"But only for now," Solomon added. "If we don't act soon, she won't live much longer."
"What do you know?" Coulson released Fitz, struggling to recall what memory had gone missing. The red visor on Solomon's knightly helm didn't even glance at him.
"This Monolith isn't the only one. It wasn't created by humans—nor by Inhumans," Solomon said flatly. "What's inside this stone must be destroyed."
"What about Jemma?" Fitz clutched Solomon's armored forearm with such force that the gilded decorations cut into his own fingers. Beneath the armor, he could feel the power conduits pulsing like blood vessels. It was as if the armor were alive—a steel creature that thirsted for blood and slaughter. That thought filled his mind, eclipsing everything but his desire to save Jemma.
"We'll do our best," came the reply at last. The red visors gazed down at him from on high. Fitz tried to stay on his feet, resisting the urge to collapse to his knees.
"If she's infected, we will follow standard protocol."
"Wh-what… standard protocol?" Fitz asked, voice trembling.
"Annihilation."
There was no other choice.
(End of Chapter)
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