Chapter 20: Triple Kill with Ease
As William suddenly turned violent, M quickly retreated. Her personal assistant and bodyguard, Bill, shouted, "Stop, William! What do you want? Let go of Bond!" while drawing a Glock 17 from his waistband and aiming it at William.
Thanks to the combat skills—agent, assassin, and special forces—that had just been downloaded into his mind, William reacted instinctively. The moment he saw Bill reach for his weapon, William's left hand darted into his pocket, and a flick of his wrist sent a key flying through the air, propelled by a Mage Hand.
He knew this wasn't the time or place for killing. If he killed Bill, he'd have to kill M and Bond too. Dealing with the bodies in a crowded hotel would be a nightmare, not to mention the subsequent investigation and retaliation from MI6. Therefore, he'd aimed the blunt head of the key at Bill's wrist, not the sharp tip that could have permanently maimed him.
Just as Bill's hand closed around his pistol, he saw a flash of white light. A sharp pain shot through his right wrist. He cried out as his hand went numb, and the Glock clattered to the floor.
Hearing Bill's warning shout, the two bodyguards at the door pushed their way in, Glocks already drawn. But before they could even aim at William, they too felt a sharp pain in their wrists. Their own pistols fell to the ground, followed by the faint clinking sound of coins landing on the carpet in front of them.
Bond, still held aloft by William's grip, shouted, "Stand down! All of you, stand down! I'm fine! Hank, Steve, I'm alright! Calm down!"
William's eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. "I remember you," he said, his voice cold. "If I'm not mistaken, it was a traitor in your unit that got my grandfather killed, wasn't it?"
As he spoke, his grip on Bond's neck tightened. His current strength was astonishing. The magic flowing through him was constantly improving his physical conditioning. He could easily lift 200 kilograms with one hand; crushing a man's neck would be child's play.
Seeing that William truly intended to kill Bond, Bill lunged for the fallen Glock. But before he could bend down, William pulled a coiled rope from his belt. The rope shot out, guided by his Mage Hand, and wrapped around the pistol on the floor. It was a simple trick rope he'd made himself, only a meter long but capable of being thrown four meters. Though he didn't know any actual whip techniques, the Mage Hand allowed him to mimic them perfectly. With a flick of his wrist, the rope retracted, pulling the Glock 17 with it. William snatched the weapon out of the air.
The proper handling of a Glock 17, courtesy of his system, flashed through his mind. In one smooth motion, he disengaged the safety and aimed it at the two bodyguards by the door. "Slowly," he commanded, "kick the Glocks on the floor away from you. I have no quarrel with you, so don't force me to kill you."
Staring down the barrel of their own weapon, and seeing the professional way William handled it with one hand, the bodyguards assumed he was a veteran. They complied without hesitation. After kicking their pistols away, the two bodyguards moved to stand protectively in front of M.
William had no intention of harming M. He ignored the bodyguards, his focus entirely on Bond. He noted, however, that the agent hadn't made any serious attempt to resist, despite being held by only one hand. *So, his involvement in Grandfather Henry's death is complicated,* William deduced.
He also understood now that MI6 had been monitoring him for years and was curious about what they wanted. After a few seconds of thought, he decided to de-escalate. He ejected the magazine, cleared the chambered round, and tossed the empty pistol aside. Releasing his grip on Bond's neck, he said, "Mr. Nash. You'd better tell me exactly how my grandfather died."
Hearing William use his real name, Bond knew he had truly been recognized. His expression darkened. "I'm sorry, William," he said helplessly. "Henry was indeed killed because of me. If you want to kill me to avenge him, I have nothing to say."
"Wait, William," M interjected, seeing that he wasn't targeting her and seizing the chance to explain. "Your grandfather was betrayed. Over ten years ago, he was betrayed by agent 006, Alec Trevelyan."
"Henry was covering the retreat of the agent who was then 007 when he was hit by a stray bullet. He died of infection because we were unable to evacuate him in time. Otherwise, you would have seen him one last time in London. William, it wasn't Bond's fault. It was a tragic accident."
*006... Alec Trevelyan?* The villain from *GoldenEye*? *My God,* William thought, *what kind of world was I reborn into?*
Based on his own faint memories, he recalled overhearing a conversation between his grandparents in the hospital. His grandmother had been spitting venom about a man named Nash, but his grandfather hadn't blamed the man. At the time, William was too young to understand more than that his grandfather's death was connected to Nash. Now, the memories connected, but he couldn't bring himself to fully trust the words of M or Bond. After all, when dealing with spies, you could only believe about ten percent of what they said, and even then you had to wonder if it was deliberate misdirection.
However, since the intelligence was murky, he had no intention of burning his bridges just yet. He let the matter drop for now and turned back to Bond. "Tell me, have you dealt with that traitor, Trevelyan? If not, tell me where to find him, and I'll solve the problem myself."
Bond rubbed his throat, still in disbelief that a nineteen-year-old could have subdued him so easily. He had genuinely felt the killing intent in William's grip. "Rest assured, William," Bond said. "I avenged Henry five years ago. I watched Trevelyan die with my own eyes."
M's expression turned stern again. She had other objectives and wasn't going to waste any more time on this. "Since it was a misunderstanding, we can put this matter aside. However..."
She paused, gauging William's restrained expression before continuing: "It seems your grandfather Henry didn't quite follow the rules and regulations of the Bureau. He seems to have left you a great many things and trained you in secret."
"Otherwise, why does your perfectly bland file show no information about you possessing so many special skills? And to have hidden them for ten years... you feigned innocence very well. William Devinshire, you truly are a worthy successor to that old fox Henry."
A dangerous glint appeared in M's eyes. She had long suspected that Henry had either taught William himself or arranged for someone else to do so. This was a serious violation of MI6 protocol. If Henry were still alive, she would have thrown him in a military prison without a second thought.
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