Marvel : Les Agents Du S.h.i.e.l.d. S06e12 Fren... -

"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!" Daisy roared, her voice echoing against the stone. Marvel : Les Agents du S.H.I.E.L.D. S06E12 FREN...

Mack stood at the center of the bridge, his face a mask of weary resolve. He looked at Yo-Yo, whose eyes reflected the same flickering green light of the monolith energy below. They had fought gods, robots, and demons, but this felt final. "Daisy and May are still inside," Yo-Yo said,

"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." He looked at Yo-Yo, whose eyes reflected the

Izel laughed, a sound like grinding glass. "He is not your Director. He is the end of all things."

"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.

"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!" Daisy roared, her voice echoing against the stone.

Mack stood at the center of the bridge, his face a mask of weary resolve. He looked at Yo-Yo, whose eyes reflected the same flickering green light of the monolith energy below. They had fought gods, robots, and demons, but this felt final.

"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."

Izel laughed, a sound like grinding glass. "He is not your Director. He is the end of all things."

"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.