Go to decedent,
Salute to you
·········
S.H.I.E.L.D.
The agents, deep in discussion, trembled as if they had been burned by a branding iron. Their eyes widened with realization, understanding how personal emotions had seeped into the archived report. Each of them could picture the agent, huddled by the window, scribbling in the dim light, while the horror of hell was unfolding around them. But none could fully imagine how it must have felt to witness such terror firsthand, and then write those inspiring words, even as the nightmare raged on.
For a moment, the entire Marvel universe seemed to share a collective sense of sorrow and awe.
······
James accepted the note, his face unreadable as he held it in his hands. The silence in the room was palpable, thick enough to suffocate. No one spoke, but it was clear that each person was lost in thought, processing the grave words they had just read. They seemed to be contemplating something, perhaps their fate, or perhaps the fate of the world itself.
The silence stretched on, tense and unbearable.
Finally, Captain A spoke, his voice quiet but firm, "Door…" He glanced at the female agent, his gaze hardening as he continued, "Did we close that door when we came in?"
The door. The one that had led them into this hellish place, the one that had sealed off their hope for survival.
The Gate of Death.
The female agent's face paled as she recalled the events, the memory hitting her like a slap to the face. She instinctively looked away, her gaze avoiding the captain's.
The atmosphere shifted from tense to ominous. The realization hit them all at once: If the door was left open, the monsters would continue to escape into the world, bringing with them death and destruction. They would take the hearts of their victims and return to the door, creating more and more of their kind. It would be a never-ending cycle of horror.
Captain A's expression darkened, but he spoke with determination, "The door must be closed."
He turned to the female agent, his face set in a grim line, his eyes demanding an answer. But the agent could only tremble, helplessly avoiding his gaze. She was paralyzed by fear, unable to meet his expectations.
The captain was silent for a moment, as if waging a war within himself. He turned his head stiffly, eyes shifting to James. A subtle shift in the atmosphere told everyone what was coming.
The live broadcast room exploded in reaction.
"Wait, is he really going to ask James to do it?"
"This is insane! He can't seriously expect James to close the door!"
"Why the hell is he relying on James and the others? It's not their job!"
"Let them handle it themselves!"
The live audience erupted in frustration, standing up in anger at the captain's decision.
But in the dim light of the room, James let out a complex, almost bitter laugh. He stood still, holding the report—the suicide note of Agent Barclay—in his hand. He rubbed a random spot on the paper as if deep in thought.
"Agent Barclay…" he murmured under his breath, "Barclay committed suicide after writing this report…"
James exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. His thoughts swirled in his mind. He could understand why he had been given this task, why he had been thrust into this nightmare. But that didn't mean he had to agree to it. He had too many reasons to refuse.
After all, he was just a D-class personnel, surrounded by two rookie agents and a boy full of naïve ideals. He had no reason to follow the orders of the agents. He had never been particularly fond of the Foundation either.
As a D-class personnel, he had always been taught to do his job and nothing more. At the start of this mission, he had warned himself to stick to his part—collect the secretions from 'Little Peanut,' assist with 682's containment, and try to make it out alive. But now…
Now they were asking him to close the damn door. To face an invincible enemy.
It seemed impossible.
He could feel his eyelids tremble as thoughts flickered in his mind. He thought about everything that had happened. Everything he had been through. But in the end, he found himself staring down at the report once more, the words "Salute you from the Decedent" staring back at him.
His mind was overwhelmed, but he couldn't help but let out a small, ironic laugh. A D-class personnel. Now, he was being asked to save the world.
It was absurd.
It was funny.
It was… something else.
The smile on his face was faint but genuine. The second time he had smiled since he entered this world, and it felt both bitter and liberating.
With a heavy sigh, James closed his eyes for a moment, and then spoke in a calm, almost resigned voice, "I'll try."
The words echoed in the silence. His voice was steady, but anyone could tell he wasn't sure why he had agreed. Perhaps it was a sense of responsibility. Or maybe it was something deeper, something he didn't fully understand himself.
The entire Marvel universe watched in stunned silence as James uttered those three words. His decision left everyone speechless. How could he agree to this? He was just a D-class personnel, thrown into a situation that was beyond anyone's understanding.
The live broadcast room exploded with shock.
"What? Did he just say that? He agreed?!"
"Is he out of his mind? Why would he do that?"
"James, you don't have to face an invincible enemy!"
"Doesn't he know he's just a D-class personnel?"
The comments flooded in, but in the midst of all the noise, one thing was clear: James had just made a choice that no one expected.
At Stark Industries, Tony Stark watched James' figure on the screen. His face was a mixture of disbelief and frustration. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, in a sudden burst of irritation, he cursed under his breath, "Stupid! Stupid!"
······
At Kamar-Taj, a young apprentice watched James' decision unfold. Confusion was written all over his face, and he couldn't help but approach the Ancient One.
"Why did he agree to this mission?" the apprentice asked, his voice laced with disbelief. "It's not his job. Why would he take on something so impossible?"
The Ancient One, looking almost serene in comparison to the turmoil around them, patted the apprentice's head. "Sometimes, something has to be done by someone," she said, her voice calm yet filled with understanding.
The apprentice was silent, still trying to wrap his mind around James' decision. But the Ancient One's words lingered in the air, a truth that seemed to resonate across all the worlds.
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