Symbiotic Agent

Based on past experience, his idea had always been successfully implemented on Holm. Every time they met, he relished the sight of Holm—fearful, yet feigning composure. Holm would tremble slightly, struggling to suppress his stress response.

To him, it was akin to admiring a piece of art he had meticulously crafted. Holm was his creation, the one work that held his attention and fascination.

But today, the tool that had never dared to disobey him before now spoke with an unthinkable attitude and even dared to mock him. For Grant Ward, this was simply inconceivable.

"How dare you talk to me like that? It seems you've forgotten everything I taught you," Grant Ward said, narrowing his eyes. A cold light flickered in them as his tone dripped with icy authority.

Even in the midst of the inexplicable strangeness of the situation, he couldn't ignore the shift in Holm's demeanor. A once servile existence now dared to offend his dignity. The subtle loss of control was infuriating, and Ward felt his annoyance boiling over into anger.

"Kneel down!" Grant Ward commanded, his voice harsh and frosty.

In response to the rebuke, Holm raised his head slightly, his cold, mocking gaze cutting through the air. It was as if he hadn't even heard Ward's command.

"I said, kneel down!" Grant Ward barked again, stepping closer with the gun still aimed squarely at Holm. His voice trembled with uncontained rage, laced with a sharp edge of impatience.

The muzzle of the gun was now pressed firmly against Holm's chest, yet Holm maintained his previous posture. He did not flinch or move. After a brief pause, Holm raised his hand deliberately, grasping Ward's wrist with surprising firmness.

Under Ward's angry, disbelieving gaze, Holm calmly lifted the arm holding the gun and pressed his own forehead against the icy muzzle.

"Look, this is the quickest way to end a life. Isn't this what you taught me? How could I forget?" Holm asked, his usual faint smile playing on his lips, as though the gun aimed at his forehead were nothing more than a harmless object.

"Do you think I won't shoot? Do you think I don't know you're bluffing?" Ward shot back, shoving the muzzle harder against Holm's forehead.

"You reminded me—you taught me many things, including how to bluff," Holm said, his tone dripping with irony. "But all of these tricks are just scraps you left behind. Don't insult me with such pitiful attempts. Now, tell me—what is your plan? What exactly are you doing?"

Ward's frustration was growing. The situation had become too bizarre and convoluted. It was then that he realized Holm might be baiting him, leading him into a carefully laid trap. His anger cooled slightly as his mind sharpened.

Holm didn't respond to the question. Instead, his eyes filled with disappointment, as though lamenting that Ward hadn't taken the opportunity to act earlier.

"It's a pity you missed a good chance," Holm remarked quietly.

"What chance?" Ward asked, his voice tinged with unease.

"A chance to survive," Holm replied with chilling simplicity.

"Heh! Stop joking—" Ward's retort was cut short as a black tentacle shot out, coiling tightly around his mouth, silencing him.

Simultaneously, several other dark tentacles wrapped themselves around his body, rendering him immobile. Tiny, writhing tendrils burrowed into his palms, preventing even the smallest movement, such as pulling the trigger.

"I warned you," Holm said softly. "If you didn't seize the moment, there wouldn't be another."

Ward's eyes filled with rare shock and fear. Holm watched him calmly as the tendrils twisted Ward's arm grotesquely, snapping bones and bending it into an unnatural knot. The gun fell to the ground as the smaller tendrils severed the grip of Ward's broken fingers.

Pain erupted—a searing, unbearable agony unlike anything Ward had experienced. The tendrils dug into his flesh and nerves, amplifying the torment a hundredfold. His face twisted in silent agony, veins bulging and eyes bloodshot, but no sound escaped his sealed lips.

"If you'd fired the gun, you wouldn't have killed me," Holm continued evenly. "But at least the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent monitoring you would've noticed something was wrong. Now that moment has passed. You won't make a sound again. I'll ensure your death is slow, silent, and excruciating."

Holm stepped closer, placing a hand on Ward's neck. It was a gesture Ward himself had used many times to dominate Holm, enjoying the way his prey would tremble under his grip. The irony was not lost on Ward as the roles were now reversed.

"Are you wondering why S.H.I.E.L.D. suddenly started monitoring you?" Holm asked, tightening his grip on Ward's throat.

"That's because I exposed some of your deeds," he said matter-of-factly.

"Remember Nathan Landis? The man who hid a copy of his intel in his stomach? What you didn't know is that he left a backup elsewhere. I handed you the copy from his stomach but kept the backup for myself."

Holm's smile deepened as he continued. "I even practiced my story in front of the mirror to make sure you wouldn't suspect me. I wanted to stay alive long enough to see this day."

"I sorted through the intel, categorized it, and leaked it. S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't the only recipient—Hydra got its share too. I timed it carefully, though. Hydra has its own ruthless methods, and I couldn't let them get to you before I did."

"You see, there's only one person who has the right to kill you, and that's me," Holm concluded.

Ward's fury and regret surged in equal measure. If only he had eliminated Holm after the Nathan Landis ordeal, instead of trying to wring every ounce of utility out of him. He had grossly underestimated the man who had seemed so submissive before.

"Since you're so fond of making others kneel, I assume you've studied it extensively," Holm said, his voice breaking through Ward's spiral of thoughts. "Let's see how well you perform."

With that, Holm's hand tightened further around Ward's neck, applying immense pressure.

"Thump!"

The sound reverberated as Grant Ward collapsed to his knees, his body forced into an undignified posture by the overwhelming power of Holm's grip.

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