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John Garrett.
Senior S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent—and Ward's supervising Officer.
Seeing the scene in front of him,
Ward's brain plunged into chaos.
Garrett had sent him coordinates, ordering him to intercept "alien tech" and execute Fury.
But the current situation… Garrett already had control? And had captured Fury?
Then why bother sending him here?
To make him carry out the execution?
"Well, well, look who's here."
That "Garrett" puffed a smoke ring, mouth twisting into a grin.
"Coulson. Seems you're not as clever as I thought."
"Let him go!"
Coulson yanked out his pistol, leveling it at Garrett.
"You'd better explain what's happening, Garrett."
"Isn't it obvious, Coulson?"
Garrett burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the empty hall.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. is finished."
"This is HYDRA territory now."
He walked over to the bound "Nick Fury," reached out and patted the smooth black scalp.
"Behold your all-powerful Director Fury."
"He lost."
"He lost everything—to us."
The bound "Fury" lifted his head with effort, voice hoarse:
"Run… Coulson… it's a trap…"
"Fury…" Coulson's heart burned with urgency.
"Touching." Garrett clicked his tongue. "Such devotion, I'm almost moved to tears."
"Ward, what are you waiting for?"
Everyone froze.
Ward?
Coulson instinctively turned to Ward beside him.
In that split second,
the silent Ward moved.
A top-tier operative, he struck fast as a viper.
Bang!
A vicious punch slammed into May's occiput.
Caught off guard, May hadn't time to react; she crumpled softly.
"May!!"
Coulson cried out, trying to swing his gun around.
A cold pistol barrel already kissed his temple.
"Sorry, Officer."
Ward's voice carried a trace of conflict.
"Drop the gun."
Silence fell; everyone stared at Ward in disbelief.
The man who had stood tall through countless crises—quiet, dependable Ward—now held a gun to Coulson's head.
"What are you doing? That's Coulson!" Skye shouted, stunned. Though she'd joined the team with her own agenda, the camaraderie was real.
Fitz and Simmons clutched each other in terror, unable to comprehend.
"Put it down, Coulson," Ward said, eyes fixed on him. "Don't make me.
Coulson met Ward's gaze; shock gave way to deep disappointment.
"You're HYDRA."
He slowly loosened his grip; the pistol clattered to the floor.
"You always were."
"I'm a soldier, Officer," Ward said, expressionless. "I follow orders."
He looked toward Garrett.
"Officer, situation controlled."
"Well done, soldier." Garrett smiled, pleased. "I always knew you were the best."
"We're about to build a new World."
"Now tie up the useless pups."
Garrett gestured; several Agents strode in, roughly cuffing everyone.
Ward still aimed at Coulson, but a faint frown creased his brow.
Soldier?
Garrett never called him "soldier." He said "kid," "boy," or just his name.
And… "build a new World"?
Garrett was a pragmatist.
His goal had always been personal—curing the organ failure eating him alive.
Since when had he turned into some preacher of a "new World"?
"Here's your choice."
"Kneel, swear loyalty to HYDRA—or die here with your Director."
"I'd rather die than serve HYDRA!" Coulson straightened. "I'm a S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent; I serve justice!"
"Justice?" Garrett sneered. "Does justice pay taxes? Does it save your life?"
"Look at him." He pointed at Fury. "That's what justice gets you."
"Agent Ward." Garrett turned. "What are you waiting for? Do it."
"Officer… I'd like to know—does the plan continue? Where's the cure we came for?" Ward asked suddenly.
It was their secret: Garrett's hunt for GH-325 to stay alive.
"Cure?"
Garrett blinked, confusion flickering across his eyes before he masked it.
"None of that matters anymore, Ward."
He waved a hand, voice swelling.
"Once we control the World, any cure we want will be ours."
"You're right, Officer," Ward said, stepping unobtrusively in front of Garrett.
The instant he passed Garrett's side,
everything changed.
Ward snapped an elbow straight at Garrett's temple!
But Garrett was lightning-fast, raising an arm to block.
"Ward?!" Garrett cried. "Have you lost it?!"
Bang—!
Ward didn't answer; he fired.
Garrett's head jerked aside; the bullet grazed his cheek.
From the wound showed green skin and purple blood.
"What?!"
Everyone froze in shock.
Even Ward hesitated.
Green skin?
"Oh my God, that's… an alien!" Simmons screamed.
"Garrett" shrugged.
"Thought I played it well; didn't expect the kid to catch on so fast."
Exposed, the fake Garrett dropped the disguise.
His facial muscles writhed, revealing pointed ears and coarse green skin.
The unconscious "black Nick Fury" in the chair lifted his head.
He opened his eyes, flexed cuffed wrists—the cuffs had never been locked.
"Told you the chair was uncomfortable."
Click.
The sound of a round jamming, followed by the dull pop of dislocating bone.
Grant Ward, S.H.I.E.L.D. operations expert, now looked like prey snared in a trap, unable to move.
Clap… clap… clap…
Slow, measured applause sounded behind them.
"Brilliant deduction, Agent Ward."
A voice unfamiliar yet naggingly recognizable rang out.
"Your timing was a tad reckless, but your instincts remain as sharp as any HYDRA watchdog's."
Everyone turned.
From the corridor behind them stepped a man.
White, around fifty, hair grizzled, face weathered but hard, a black eye-patch over his left eye.
"Stop right there. Who are you?!" Coulson barked, scooping up his pistol and leveling it at the stranger.