Chapter 26: Back to the Past

Noah's eyes shifted slightly as he spoke in a faint, almost mumbled tone. "The future is not set in stone, and I can only see fragmented pieces of it. So, I can't give you a definitive answer."

"Ah, you're just—"

"Alright, how long will it take to repair this portal?" Noah interrupted, waving a hand to stop the complaints before they began.

Tony's face turned serious, completely dropping his usual flippant demeanor. "If we worked as originally planned—three people building together—it would take about five hours to complete."

"But you know the situation with Banner and Reed. Even if Banner wakes up and works with me nonstop, it will still take four days to make it minimally functional. If it's just me, it'll take a week."

Hearing this, Noah frowned briefly before relaxing his expression again.

Four days or even a week—neither option was feasible. Based on the information he overheard at S.H.I.E.L.D.'s command center, the timeline until the heroes sent out returned defeated was fast approaching.

Forget four days—they didn't even have one. And that was assuming the butterfly effects Noah had already caused hadn't worsened the situation.

As for why the repairs were taking so long? Just look at Iron Man.

The red-and-gold armor he wore, equivalent to the Mark 7 or Mark 8 in MCU terms, still had the crude, welding-mask-like faceplate design. This was a result of the 2149 Universe's timeline being set so far back. At this stage, the Avengers were primarily dealing with street gangs and thugs, not high-tech foes, so advanced technology wasn't a necessity. Slow portal repairs were understandable.

Understandable, but unacceptable. At this rate, the portal wouldn't even be half-finished before the zombie heroes arrived, ready to feast.

And the zombies weren't just mindless—they had clever individuals among them. Take Hank Pym, for example. This guy had managed to stash "food" for his future zombie self before succumbing to the infection.

Luckily, S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't the only organization capable of building a portal.

"Too slow. I've got another idea."

Noah waved a hand dismissively, intending to share his plan, but Tony raised a hand to stop him.

"Hold on, Fury wants us for a meeting."

The two entered the conference room. At its center stood a long table, large enough to seat over a dozen people. Made of solid hardwood, it was likely a remnant of the Avengers' previous meetings aboard the helicarrier.

Fury sat at one end of the table. When the two arrived, he nodded in acknowledgment and gestured for them to sit.

At the opposite end of the table sat a towering blond man, his imposing frame accentuated by his casual slouch. His mystical hammer, glowing faintly with electricity, lay haphazardly on the table. Thor, unbothered by any pretense of divinity, was guzzling down a beer. A pile of empty cans lay at his feet.

Thor let out a loud belch and squinted at Noah, a hint of amusement on his face. "Fury, is this the—hic—the seer who can glimpse the future?"

Noah sighed deeply. How many times had someone asked him that today?

"Yes, yes, it's me." His tone was flat and weary.

After giving his perfunctory reply, Noah sank into a high-backed leather chair, which was both sturdy and surprisingly comfortable.

Once everyone was seated, Fury wasted no time with pleasantries. His expression was somber as he began, "The S.H.I.E.L.D. task force we deployed suffered massive losses. We've lost nearly half of our team. The good news is, they completed their mission."

"We've retrieved as many capable combatants as possible, including Wolverine, U.S. Agent, Tigra, Ghost Rider, and nearly a hundred other superpowered individuals. But it's still not enough."

A familiar holographic map of the United States lit up, most of it consumed by a lifeless black. The remaining areas, marked in red, represented zones still in the process of infection—and they were spreading outward.

"That's why I've called you here. I want to hear your thoughts."

Thor cleared his throat, setting down his beer as he stood. His red cape billowed dramatically, giving him the appearance of the Norse god he claimed to be. "Brave warriors! Let us unite, our wills as one, to fight this plague of the undead! Only together can we blunt their fangs and claws, and restore righteousness to the world!"

Thor had a penchant for speaking in Old English, believing it suited his divine image. Modern speech wasn't beyond him, but he felt archaic language better reflected his status as a god. Unlike his brother Loki, who adjusted his words depending on his audience, Thor stuck to this self-styled grandeur.

"Ha! Fight side by side?" Noah scoffed, shaking his head with a trace of mockery. "Those zombies aren't short on sharp teeth and infectious bites. It would only take a moment for them to infect us. Even if you sacrifice yourself, you won't make it to Valhalla. This isn't an honorable death—it's sheer stupidity."

Thor's face darkened, and he looked ready to retort. But his alcohol-soaked brain wavered slightly, allowing him to acknowledge the truth in Noah's words.

The world was too vast, and the few remaining heroes were too scattered to mount a meaningful defense. The helicarrier wasn't some airborne Noah's Ark that could endlessly ferry survivors to safety. His plans seemed more like playing house in the face of such a crisis.

Dejected, Thor sat back down and opened another beer, leaving the planning to the so-called "smart people." His role was clear: smash things with his hammer.

Tony shot Noah a look of approval before chiming in, "Maybe we should consider other options—like leaving this world. Either to outer space or to another universe."

Fury shook his head. "Space isn't an option. If we try, they'll catch up to us before we even leave the solar system. And as for parallel universes… Tony, how long until your portal is ready?"

"A week. If Banner can—"

"Banner won't help you," Fury interrupted, his tone firm. "The apocalypse has put him under immense stress. His heart rate's been dangerously high, and he's barely managing to keep the Hulk contained. I don't need a rampaging green giant smashing things on my ship."

"And a week? That's still too long." Fury's stance aligned with Noah's—time was a luxury they didn't have.

If escape wasn't an option, Thor suddenly perked up, his dulled mind seizing on another idea. He slammed his empty beer can on the table, crushing it flat. "Then how about going back in time? S.H.I.E.L.D. must have artifacts capable of such feats. I could even seek my father's wisdom to fulfill this wish!"

The room fell silent for a moment. Even Fury, initially skeptical, looked thoughtful as he stood and stared at Thor. Maybe this wasn't such a dumb idea after all.

Yes, the future might be lost, but the past was still within reach. Returning to the beginning of this crisis to stop it at its source might be their only hope.

"Well, Thor, you might actually be onto something."

But before the idea could take root, Noah doused it with cold water.

"Sorry. It's not possible."