Become a Homelander and a Marvel superstar

John Garrett.

A senior agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., and Ward's supervising officer.

Seeing the scene before me.

Ward's mind went blank.

Garrett sent him the coordinates, instructing him to come here to intercept the "alien technology" and execute Fury.

But the current situation is... Garrett has taken control of the situation? And captured Fury?

Then why bring him at all?

So that he could come and be executed?

"Oh, look who's here."

Garrett exhaled a smoke ring and gave a crooked smile.

"Coulson. It seems you're not as smart as I thought."

"Let him go!!"

Coulson suddenly drew his gun and aimed it at Garrett.

"You should explain the current situation, Garrett?"

"Isn't that obvious, Coulson?"

Garrett burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the empty hall.

"S.H.I.E.L.D." is finished.

"This is Hydra's territory now."

He walked over to the bound "Nick Fury" and patted the bald, black head.

"Look at your all-powerful Chief Fury."

He lost.

"He lost everything to us."

Bound, Fury struggled to lift his head, his voice hoarse:

"Run... Coulson... this is a trap..."

"Frey..." Coulson was extremely anxious.

"That's really touching," Garrett exclaimed in amazement. "This scene of deep affection between master and servant almost brought me to tears."

"Ward, what are you waiting for?"

Everyone was stunned for a moment.

Ward?

Coulson instinctively turned to look at Ward beside him.

In that very instant.

Ward, who had been silent all along, moved.

As a top-notch action expert, he moves as fast as a venomous snake hunting its prey.

"Bang!"

A heavy punch landed squarely on the back of Mei's head.

Caught off guard, Mei collapsed to the ground before she could even react.

"plum!!"

Coulson was shocked and was about to turn his gun around.

A cold pistol was already pressed against his temple.

"I'm sorry, sir."

Ward's voice carried a complex emotion.

"Put the gun down."

The entire room fell silent, everyone staring at Ward in disbelief.

Ward, who stepped forward in numerous crises, a man of few words yet reassuring presence...

He was holding a gun and pointing it at Coulson's head.

"What are you doing? That's Coulson!" Skye shouted in shock at Ward. Although she had joined the squad with a purpose, the camaraderie they shared had grown.

Fitz and Simmons were so frightened that they hugged each other, completely unable to comprehend what was happening before their eyes.

"Put down your gun, Coulson." Ward didn't look at anyone else, just stared into Coulson's eyes. "Don't push me."

Coulson looked at Ward, the shock in his eyes slowly turning into deep disappointment.

"You are Hydra."

He slowly released his grip, and the pistol fell to the ground.

"You always have been."

"I'm a soldier, sir," Ward said expressionlessly. "I obey orders."

He looked over at Garrett.

"Sir, the situation is under control."

"Well done, soldier." Garrett smiled with satisfaction. "I knew you were the best."

"We are about to build a new world."

"Now, tie up all those useless brats."

Garrett made a gesture, and several agents walked in and roughly handcuffed everyone.

Ward still held his gun, pointing it at Coulson, but his brow was slightly furrowed.

Soldier?

Garrett never called him a soldier. He always called him "boy," "kid," or simply by his name.

And... "Building a new world"?

Garrett was a pragmatist.

His goal has always been to benefit himself and to cure the pain caused by his organ failure.

When did he become someone who talks about the "new world" all the time?

"I'm giving you a choice."

"Kneel down and swear allegiance to Hydra. Or... die here, alongside your chief."

"I'd rather die than pledge allegiance to Hydra!" Coulson straightened his back. "I'm a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent; my loyalty is to justice!"

"Justice?" Garrett scoffed. "Does justice exempt you from taxes? Can justice save your life?"

"Look at him," he said, pointing at the black man, Fury. "This is what happens when you stand up for justice."

"Agent Ward," Garrett said, looking at Ward, "what are you waiting for? Make your move."

"Sir... I want to know, is the plan still ongoing? What about the antidote we're looking for?" Ward suddenly asked.

This was a secret between him and Garrett. Garrett had been searching for the GH-325 drug to prolong his life.

"Antidote?"

Garrett paused for a moment, a hint of confusion flashing in his eyes, but he quickly masked it.

"None of that matters anymore, Ward."

Garrett waved his hand, his tone impassioned.

"When we control the whole world, what kind of antidote won't we have?"

"You're right, sir." Ward stepped back in front of Garrett without making a sound.

Just as he passed Garrett.

An unexpected change occurred.

Ward swung his elbow back, smashing it hard into Garrett's temple!

But Garrett reacted incredibly quickly. He raised his arm and blocked the elbow strike.

"Ward?!" Garrett exclaimed in shock. "Are you insane?!"

"Bang--!

Ward didn't answer, but fired a shot with his backhand.

Garrett's head snapped to the side, and a bullet grazed his cheek.

Green skin and purple blood were exposed at the wound site.

"What?!"

Everyone present was stunned.

Even Ward himself was taken aback.

Green skin?

"Oh my god, that's... an alien?!" Simmons screamed.

Garrett shrugged.

"I thought I acted pretty well, but I didn't expect this kid to see through it so quickly."

Now that he'd been exposed, "Garret" stopped pretending.

His facial muscles began to twitch violently, revealing pointed ears and rough green skin.

The "Black Nick Fury" who had been unconscious in the chair also raised his head.

He opened his eyes and moved his cuffed hands—the handcuffs weren't even locked.

"I told you this chair wasn't comfortable."

"Click."

That was the sound of a bullet being forcibly chambered, followed by a muffled thud of bones dislocating.

Grant Ward, S.H.I.E.L.D. operations specialist, was like prey caught in a bear trap, unable to move.

"Slap, slap, slap."

A slow, rhythmic round of applause came from behind them.

"Brilliant reasoning, Agent Ward."

A voice that was unfamiliar yet strangely familiar in tone rang out.

"Although you chose a slightly reckless time to act, I must admit that your intuition is still as sharp as a Hydra watchdog."

Everyone looked in the direction of the sound.

A man slowly walked out from the corridor behind them.

A white man, around fifty years old, with gray hair, a weathered yet rugged face, and a black eye patch over his left eye.

"Halt! Who are you?!" Coulson shouted, picking up his pistol from the ground and instinctively pointing it at the stranger.