John Garrett.
A senior S.H.I.E.L.D. agent—and Grant Ward's mentor.
The moment Ward saw the scene before him, his mind spiraled into chaos.
Garrett had sent him the coordinates and ordered him to intercept "alien technology" here and execute Nick Fury.
But the situation now was…
Garrett had already taken control.
And he had Fury captured.
So why summon Ward here?
To make him the executioner?
…
"Well, well… look who finally showed up."
The man who looked like Garrett exhaled a lazy puff of smoke, curling his mouth into a crooked grin.
"Coulson. Looks like you're not quite as clever as I thought."
"Let him go!!"
Phil Coulson drew his pistol instantly and aimed it at Garrett.
"You'd better explain what the hell is going on here, Garrett."
"Isn't it obvious, Coulson?"
Garrett burst out laughing, his voice echoing through the vast chamber.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. is finished."
"This place now belongs to Hydra."
He strolled casually over to the bound figure of Nick Fury and slapped the bald head lightly.
"Take a good look at your all-powerful Director Fury."
"He lost."
"He lost everything to us."
The bound "Fury" slowly lifted his head, voice hoarse.
"Run… Coulson… it's a trap…"
"Fury—!" Coulson's voice tightened with urgency.
"How touching," Garrett said with exaggerated sympathy.
"This master-and-servant reunion almost brings tears to my eyes."
Then he turned.
"Ward."
"What are you waiting for?"
Everyone froze.
Ward?
Coulson instinctively turned his head toward the man beside him.
In that split second—
Ward moved.
Like a striking viper.
BANG!
His fist smashed brutally into the back of Melinda May's head.
Caught completely off guard, May collapsed instantly.
"May!!"
Coulson shouted in shock, trying to swing his gun around.
But a cold pistol barrel was already pressed against his temple.
"Sorry, sir."
Ward's voice carried a hint of conflicted emotion.
"Drop the gun."
Silence flooded the room.
Everyone stared at Ward in disbelief.
The quiet, reliable operative who had stood strong in countless crises—
Now held a gun to Coulson's head.
"What are you doing?! That's Coulson!" Skye shouted in shock.
Even though she had joined the team with her own agenda, the camaraderie they'd shared had been real.
Nearby, Fitz and Simmons clung to each other, pale with terror.
None of them could process what was happening.
"Drop it, Coulson," Ward said quietly, never taking his eyes off him.
"Don't make me do this."
Coulson stared back.
The shock in his eyes slowly hardened into disappointment.
"You're Hydra."
His fingers loosened.
The gun clattered to the floor.
"You always were."
"I'm a soldier, sir," Ward replied expressionlessly.
"I follow orders."
He glanced toward Garrett.
"Sir. The situation is under control."
"Well done, soldier."
Garrett smiled broadly.
"I always knew you were the best."
"We're about to build a new world."
He waved a hand.
"Now tie up those useless little brats."
Several armed agents stepped in, roughly cuffing the team.
Ward kept his gun trained on Coulson.
But his brow subtly furrowed.
Soldier?
Garrett never called him that.
It was always "kid," "son," or simply his name.
And this talk about a "new world"…
Garrett was a pragmatist.
Everything he ever did was for personal survival—for a cure to his organ failure.
When had he started talking like a Hydra propaganda machine?
…
"I'll give you all a choice."
Garrett spread his arms theatrically.
"Kneel and swear loyalty to Hydra."
"Or die here… alongside your director."
"I'd rather die!" Coulson straightened defiantly.
"I'm a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent! My loyalty is to justice!"
"Justice?" Garrett sneered.
"Does justice pay taxes?"
"Does justice save your life?"
He pointed at the battered Fury.
"That's what justice gets you."
Then he looked back to Ward.
"Agent Ward."
"What are you waiting for?"
"Do it."
Ward hesitated for a beat.
Then he spoke calmly.
"Sir… one question."
"Is the plan still ongoing?"
"And the cure we were searching for?"
That was a secret between them.
Garrett had been obsessed with the GH-325 serum, the only thing that could prolong his life.
"Cure?"
Garrett paused.
For a split second, confusion flickered in his eyes.
Then it vanished.
"That doesn't matter anymore, Ward."
His tone turned grandiose.
"When we control the world, every cure will be within our reach."
"You're right, sir."
Ward nodded slightly and stepped forward.
Passing Garrett's side—
In the next instant—
WHAM!
Ward's elbow smashed toward Garrett's temple.
But Garrett reacted fast.
His arm shot up, blocking the strike.
"Ward?!" Garrett shouted. "Have you lost your mind?!"
BANG!
Ward fired.
Garrett twisted his head.
The bullet sliced across his cheek.
The wound revealed something horrifying beneath.
Green skin.
Purple blood.
"…What?!"
Everyone stared in stunned disbelief.
Even Ward himself froze.
Green skin?
"Oh my God…" Simmons gasped.
"Is that… an alien?!"
"Garrett" shrugged casually.
"I thought my performance was pretty convincing."
"Didn't expect the kid to figure it out so fast."
His face began to ripple.
Muscles twisting.
Skin shifting.
His ears sharpened.
The green, rough skin fully emerged.
Meanwhile—
The unconscious Nick Fury tied to the chair suddenly raised his head.
His eyes opened.
Calm.
His cuffed hands flexed easily.
The cuffs weren't even locked.
"I told you this chair was uncomfortable."
CLICK.
A metallic snapping sound echoed.
Then the dull crack of joints being forced out of alignment.
Grant Ward—the elite S.H.I.E.L.D. operative—was suddenly frozen in place like an animal caught in a steel trap.
Unable to move.
Then—
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Slow.
Measured applause echoed from behind them.
"Impressive deduction, Agent Ward."
The voice was unfamiliar.
Yet strangely recognizable.
"Your timing was a bit reckless…"
"But I must admit—your instincts are still as sharp as a Hydra watchdog."
Everyone turned.
From the corridor behind them—
A man walked out slowly.
White.
Around fifty years old.
Gray hair.
Weathered but resolute features.
And covering his left eye—
A black eyepatch.
Coulson instinctively snatched up his dropped pistol and aimed it straight at the stranger.
"Stop right there!"
His voice rang out sharply.
"Who are you?!"
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