Looking at the overwhelming horde of zombies shambling toward them, the team found themselves completely paralyzed by moral uncertainty.
If these were clear-cut enemies—hostile aliens or malicious robots—they could eliminate the threat without hesitation. If the mission simply required pressing a button to destroy the planet, they could execute that order through gritted teeth and compartmentalized guilt.
But tens of thousands of zombies had surrounded them completely. These creatures weren't entirely mindless undead automatons like in horror films. They retained fragments of consciousness, their brains still processing thoughts, still clinging to some fundamental sense of their lost humanity.
They were human. Technically, legally, morally.
They were simply afflicted with some catastrophic disease that made the desire to devour raw flesh supersede every other impulse—love, fear, self-preservation, everything.
"Maybe they can still be saved..." Peter said, backing away slowly while his mind raced through impossible scenarios.
"Maybe Ben can cure them! His expertise encompasses biology and genetics—perhaps he can develop an antidote or treatment protocol!"
He wasn't entirely certain whether he was trying to convince his teammates or desperately reassuring himself that they wouldn't need to commit mass murder.
"Maybe," Tony replied, though his tone suggested profound skepticism.
He wasn't confident Ben could actually accomplish miraculous medical intervention, but he recognized these zombies must possess infectious capabilities—otherwise there wouldn't be this many of them. The plague had clearly spread exponentially.
"Stay alert. Don't allow them any closer," Tony commanded, his tactical mind already cycling through containment options. "Don't you have infrasonic weapons and neurotoxin delivery systems? Deploy them immediately! Also, I need to know—where are this world's superheroes?"
As he spoke, he'd already instructed his AI Friday to connect with this universe's information networks.
"Search term: 'Iron Man,'" Tony directed.
"Searching databases. Please wait," Friday responded.
Simultaneously, Peter and Harry activated their suits' specialized equipment. Several metallic rings detached and floated upward, forming a defensive perimeter around the team.
"Sonorosian Sonic Rings, activate!" Peter called out.
Powerful infrasonic waves began emanating from the devices. Concerned about potentially harming the zombies—still hoping they might be salvageable—Peter and Harry deliberately kept the intensity relatively low.
But after the sound waves activated, the zombies showed absolutely no response whatsoever. They continued shambling forward as though the sonic assault simply didn't exist.
"What the hell?" Tony blurted instinctively.
Harry didn't speak—he simply rotated one ring to aim directly at Tony as a test subject.
WHAM!
Tony was instantly struck as though by a massive physical blow—some invisible hand punching directly through his armor's defensive systems, the impact rattling his internal organs.
"Turn it off! Turn it OFF!" he shouted.
Harry deactivated the ring immediately, exchanging significant looks with Peter. "Increase power output?"
"Only option we have," Peter agreed reluctantly.
WHOOOOSH!!!
This time, the amplified sound waves visibly distorted the atmosphere, creating colorless ripples that pulsed through the air like heat shimmer.
CRASH!!!
Where the sonic assault swept through, windows on both sides of the devastated street spontaneously shattered, glass exploding outward in glittering cascades!
Even those standing behind the sonic array's protection could feel the ground vibrating at extreme frequencies beneath their feet.
The zombie advance slowed considerably—the sound waves physically pounding against rotting flesh, threatening to literally blast decomposing tissue from their bones!
"The attack isn't working!" Peter shouted over the acoustic assault.
Pure infrasound proved completely ineffective. What actually impeded the zombies was the physical vibration caused by the powerful sound waves—essentially beating them with solidified air.
But at this intensity, it wouldn't take long before the internal organs of zombies at the front were directly pulverized into organic paste—enough biomass to fill dumplings.
But their objective wasn't wholesale slaughter. They were supposed to be rescuing these people.
"Try the discs," Tony ordered.
Harry flicked his wrist, and a pumpkin-shaped projectile launched in a graceful arc.
The pumpkin bomb's core contained dozens of submission discs. Upon detonation, the nanoscale components would separate and revert to disc configuration through metallic memory, spreading across multiple targets.
One pumpkin bomb could theoretically deploy dozens of control devices simultaneously.
However...
The discs proved completely useless.
Ben and Harry had already calibrated the neurotoxin dosage to maximum intensity—sufficient to incapacitate Thor himself. But it showed zero effectiveness against these ordinary humans transformed into zombies.
"It appears their nervous systems have decomposed beyond functional capacity," E.U.N.I.C.E. analyzed, her sensors detecting the biochemical reality.
Neurotoxins only worked if intact neural pathways existed to be disrupted.
"Then how can they control their bodies at all?" Peter found the entire situation absurdly impossible. "How do signals reach their muscles? How does motor control function?"
"You should return to Earth and interrogate zombie movie directors about scientific accuracy," Pietro quipped. "But maybe focus on immediate survival—they're accelerating!"
The next instant, every zombie seemed to receive simultaneous telepathic commands. They broke into full sprints like soldiers charging across no-man's land.
"Retreat! Fall back NOW!" Tony shouted.
Wanda, instead of retreating, advanced decisively. Her hands became enveloped in rose-colored chaos magic, and she slammed both palms against the ground with tremendous force.
BOOM!!
A hemispherical shockwave erupted instantly in all directions, the concussive blast sending charging zombies tumbling through the air like ragdolls caught in an explosion.
Taking advantage of that momentary opening, the others quickly broke through aerial escape routes.
But precisely then, Friday delivered catastrophic news: "Sir, multiple aerial targets have achieved weapons lock on our position."
What?!
Before Tony could even formulate a question, two missiles struck the arc reactor housing on his armor's chest with devastating precision.
BOOM!!
His gold-and-red armor was instantly torn open, critical systems failing. He plummeted earthward like a kite with severed strings, his attempted takeoff transformed into uncontrolled descent.
Peter dodged an incoming missile using his precognitive spider-sense, simultaneously firing webbing to rescue the falling Harry.
Pietro grabbed his sister and simply ran—moving so fast that missiles couldn't track his position.
E.U.N.I.C.E.'s optical sensors flashed brilliant gold, and a single concentrated beam of Extremis-enhanced energy pierced through the remaining missiles, detonating them at safe distances.
Only Tony's situation appeared truly dire...
Though he wasn't actually injured, strictly speaking. His armor incorporated technology salvaged from the Red King's forces—beyond the sturdy metallic exterior, it possessed sophisticated energy shielding that had absorbed most of the explosive force.
But he was definitely humiliated and furious.
"When I find whoever launched those missiles, I'm going to beat them so severely their own mother won't recognize them!" Tony threatened.
But Friday immediately responded: "The attacking unit was piloted by an alternate version of yourself, sir."
Mid-air, another red metallic armor descended. The faceplate lifted, revealing a face absolutely covered in writhing maggots—flesh resembling a mummified corpse, strips of decomposing tissue hanging from exposed bone.
"Fresh meat!" the zombie Tony shrieked with ecstatic hunger.
"Fresh meat from an entire Earth! An inexhaustible supply of food!"
He spat dozens of maggots from his mouth as he spoke, the larvae tumbling through the air.
"I LOVE the multiverse!" Zombie Tony howled.
Pietro instantly materialized beside their Tony, jabbing an accusatory finger at the zombie. "Stark, you son of a bitch! You're bombing me with missiles AGAIN?!"
Tony stared at Pietro in complete bafflement. "What does this have to do with me?!"
"I got bombed, you idiot!"
Pietro was obviously making a dark joke—attempting to process trauma through humor.
He looked at Zombie Iron Man with visible disgust. "You're revolting. I strongly suggest you wash your face occasionally and brush your teeth more frequently. Look at yourself—you're literally covered in maggots."
"Thanks so much for that observation," Tony said flatly, rolling his eyes behind his faceplate.
What am I supposed to do with that commentary? I suggest you don't suggest things.
"Alright, everyone stop arguing," Peter interjected, his quip revealing extreme underlying tension.
"At least I have some good news to share." He pointed toward a nearby rooftop.
Tony, assuming Peter genuinely possessed encouraging intelligence, immediately gestured for him to continue.
"It's that we now know where this world's superheroes are located," Peter said, indicating a rooftop not far away.
Zombie versions of the Avengers stood along the building's edge like gargoyles, staring at the team with the desperate hunger of starving pigs who hadn't eaten in eight hundred years.
Peter Parker!
You call THIS good news?!
Tony almost laughed from pure outrage at the absurdity.
Zombie Steve Rogers stood at the front, one eyeball bulging halfway from its socket. Looking at the group of people radiating the intoxicating scent of fresh, uninfected flesh, he felt sensation like ants crawling beneath what remained of his skin.
Eat. Eat them. Consume them ALL!
His blood-stained uniform—still bearing the iconic star and stripes—was glaringly obvious against rotting flesh. Like America itself: symbolic, corrupted, reeking of decay.
"ATTACK!" Zombie Steve commanded, his voice a rasping growl.
He hurled his shield with tremendous force, the disc spinning directly toward Tony's unprotected head.
Immediately afterward, all the zombie Avengers moved in perfect coordination—a horrifying mockery of their former teamwork.
Zombie Doctor Strange unfurled his Cloak of Levitation like a vampire's cape, the fabric somehow still functioning despite his decomposed state. Zombie Thor leaped downward, wielding Stormbreaker with the same devastating power he'd possessed in life!
It was grimly apparent that in this universe, Thor was no longer worthy of Mjolnir. The classic hammer had presumably rejected him after infection—even enchanted weapons recognized the difference between hero and monster.