"Finish it, Sarge!" Daisy roared, her voice echoing against the stone.
As the dust settled over the jungle, Mack scanned the ruins. The comms were silent. The Chronicom ships had vanished, retreated into the stars. "Bio-sigs?" Mack asked, his heart hammering.
Izel laughed, a sound like grinding glass. "He is not your Director. He is the end of all things."
The air in the Zephyr-One was thick with the scent of ozone and desperation. Fitz and Simmons worked in frantic synchronization, their fingers dancing over holographic displays as the ship groaned under the pressure of the Chronicom fleet’s bombardment. Outside the viewport, the temple of Izel pulsed with a sickening, ancient energy.
"Daisy and May are still inside," Yo-Yo said, her voice tight. "We can’t blow the temple with them in it."
"We don't have a choice," a cold voice crackled over the comms. It was Sarge—or the thing that looked like Coulson—staring down Izel in the heart of the temple. His hand trembled around the hilt of his blade. The memories of a life he never lived were bleeding into his consciousness, the spirit of Pachakutiq screaming for release.
"The resonance is peaking!" Fitz shouted over the roar of the engines. "If we don't sever the link now, the Shrike will have a permanent gateway."
Sarge looked at May. For a fleeting second, the coldness in his eyes vanished, replaced by a flicker of recognition—a ghost of the man who had loved her. He didn't strike Izel. He struck the ground, channeling his power not to destroy, but to anchor the rift. "Go!" he gasped.
"Finish it, Sarge!" Daisy roared, her voice echoing against the stone.
As the dust settled over the jungle, Mack scanned the ruins. The comms were silent. The Chronicom ships had vanished, retreated into the stars. "Bio-sigs?" Mack asked, his heart hammering.
Izel laughed, a sound like grinding glass. "He is not your Director. He is the end of all things." Marvel : Les Agents du S.H.I.E.L.D. S06E12 FREN...
The air in the Zephyr-One was thick with the scent of ozone and desperation. Fitz and Simmons worked in frantic synchronization, their fingers dancing over holographic displays as the ship groaned under the pressure of the Chronicom fleet’s bombardment. Outside the viewport, the temple of Izel pulsed with a sickening, ancient energy.
"Daisy and May are still inside," Yo-Yo said, her voice tight. "We can’t blow the temple with them in it." "Finish it, Sarge
"We don't have a choice," a cold voice crackled over the comms. It was Sarge—or the thing that looked like Coulson—staring down Izel in the heart of the temple. His hand trembled around the hilt of his blade. The memories of a life he never lived were bleeding into his consciousness, the spirit of Pachakutiq screaming for release.
"The resonance is peaking!" Fitz shouted over the roar of the engines. "If we don't sever the link now, the Shrike will have a permanent gateway." The Chronicom ships had vanished, retreated into the stars
Sarge looked at May. For a fleeting second, the coldness in his eyes vanished, replaced by a flicker of recognition—a ghost of the man who had loved her. He didn't strike Izel. He struck the ground, channeling his power not to destroy, but to anchor the rift. "Go!" he gasped.