Chapter 46: Give You a Chance to Survive

"What are you talking about, Agent Dante? I'm just here alone, having a beer."

Grant Ward, that absolute scumbag—his acting was flawless. Even when caught off guard, he didn't crack at all.

Dante had to admit, if he hadn't transmigrated into this mess of a multiverse, he would've definitely been fooled by this snake.

"Drop the act. Keep pretending long enough and you might actually start believing it yourself." Dante sat down beside Ward, leaned in close, and whispered in his ear, "Assassination, infiltration, deep cover—you're one of the most elite agents in the FBI. And also one of HYDRA's most trusted dogs."

Grant Ward smiled, but his hand had already started to draw the silver Glock from his waistband.

Too bad for him—Dante was faster.

The moment the gun was drawn, Dante pressed it right back into the holster and casually flipped the safety on like he was clocking into his day job.

Ward watched the whole thing unfold in stunned silence. His brain was screaming at him to react, but his body couldn't keep up with Dante's speed at all.

In the end, all he could do was let go of the gun, helpless, wearing the perfect face of a loyal and brave man caught in a desperate situation.

"Who are you, really? Are you the HYDRA agent who infiltrated the Bureau? Damn it! I won't let what happened a few years ago repeat itself!"

Dante watched his little performance and almost applauded for real.

Why waste talent as a HYDRA agent? With those acting chops and that face, if he jumped into the entertainment industry, he'd blow every idol group off the stage.

"My god, your acting is phenomenal, isn't it?"

"For a second there, I was starting to think you actually had dissociative identity disorder. One personality is FBI Agent Grant Ward, the other is HYDRA Agent Grant Ward."

"That would also explain why you weren't technically brainwashed by HYDRA. Most people with mental illness are immune to brainwashing or psychic interference. Like Harley Quinn. Unless HYDRA cuts open her skull and scrambles her brain structure, there's no way she'd be controlled."

Dante's tone was full of mock admiration, complete with a wide-eyed Oh my god face.

Then he casually grabbed a bottle of beer from in front of Ward.

Ward was still putting on a tough act, but beads of sweat were clearly forming on his forehead.

His earlier outburst had been loud, loud enough to get attention—yet no one responded. Which could only mean one thing: there was no one else on the mobile command center. And all the surveillance systems had been shut off or destroyed.

Grant Ward realized: he was completely, utterly alone.

And this situation… had clearly been arranged in advance by the agent across from him.

But most importantly…

There was no way in hell he could beat the beer-sipping monster in front of him.

"Oh, right—your old handler was John Garrett, wasn't he?"

"...No comment! You HYDRA bastards won't get anything out of me!"

"I really should stop praising your acting, but your commitment is truly impressive." Dante gave him a thumbs-up—but his eyes gleamed sharper than ever. "John Garrett, one of HYDRA's top leaders. And you… his most loyal dog."

The moment those words left Dante's mouth, Ward's back went stiff, and a wave of cold sweat drenched his collar.

That was his second-biggest secret—exposed in a single sentence. Fear aside, his brain couldn't process how someone else could possibly know this.

"Agent Dante... Officially you're a Level 7 Agent, but in reality, your clearance is just below Fury himself. So why would someone at your level be targeting me?"

"Oh? Still not gonna tell the truth?"

Dante sighed. He didn't have time for this Oscar-winning performance.

"You really think I said all that just to bait you? You've got it all wrong. The best liars are the ones who doubt everything." Dante tapped the beer bottle on the table, watching foam and liquid trickle down the bar to the floor. "Once upon a time, you were a protector—guarding your little brother from your abusive father and older brother. But in the end, you were the one who shoved him into a well and crippled him."

"Your hidden past, that's the real story, isn't it? No matter how good your acting is, no matter how much you've rewritten those memories in your head… you're still the abuser. The liar. The betrayer."

Grant Ward's breath caught. The grief and stubbornness in his eyes instantly shifted into something colder—something darker.

As a transmigrator, Dante knew: in Ward's heart, screw HYDRA, screw John Garrett. None of that compared to the fantasy he'd constructed to justify himself.

Some childhood "brother protector"? Get real.

"...Who the hell are you? How do you know all of this? Do you know my brother? Garrett wiped my past clean!"

The barrage of questions meant only one thing—Ward's mental defense just shattered.

Dante smirked to himself. Nailed it.

"I'm just an FBI agent. You don't need to know how—I just know everything. Compared to me, John Garrett calling himself 'The Clairvoyant' is a joke. His so-called power? Just a Level 8 security clearance and a big mouth."

"Pfft, what a joke. I could laugh about that for ten years straight."

As Dante laid out every detail—Ward's secrets, Garrett's motives, even the bit about Ward liking older women—without holding anything back, something interesting happened.

Grant Ward stopped freaking out.

He got calm.

"...What do you want me to do?"

"Oh? Not gonna go out in a blaze of glory? That's not very HYDRA of you."

"Right now, this entire airborne command center is cut off. No contact with the ground or sky. My odds of escape are zero. But you haven't killed me yet… which means you want something."

Resigned, Grant Ward prepared for whatever came next. After all, there wasn't much else he could do.

And honestly? It wasn't like he was some ride-or-die HYDRA loyalist anyway.

"Correct. Very sharp."

"Now I want to give you a chance—a chance to live. The only question is…"

"Do you want it?"

(To be continued.)

***

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