Somewhere far from the quiet cabin in the woods, inside a high-security facility humming with electronic noise and cold fluorescent lights, two figures stood across a large glass table.
The logo behind them read: S.H.I.E.L.D.
One of the men wore a dark suit — tall, calm, with sharp eyes that hid something dangerous beneath the surface.
Across from him stood another man — tense, anxious, his face bruised and pale.
If John had been there, he would have recognized him immediately.
It was the same man he had knocked out back at the convenience store.
The injured agent shifted uneasily as his superior examined the holographic display floating between them. The screen showed John's photo, with several classified documents scrolling underneath.
> Subject: John Reeves
Former S.H.I.E.L.D. Operative.
Status: Missing — Presumed Dead.
Background: Professional mercenary and freelance operative.
Past assignments include infiltration, intelligence recovery, and black ops.
Psychological Profile: Reserved. Efficient. Reliable under pressure.
Skill Assessment: Moderate to Above Average. Not exceptional.
The superior raised a brow, studying the report in silence. "So according to this," he said, tapping the air to scroll, "he's just… ordinary? Skilled enough to complete missions, but nothing remarkable."
The bruised agent clenched his fists. "Sir… the report is wrong."
"Oh?" The man leaned back slightly. "Explain."
The agent swallowed, voice trembling. "That man… that ordinary mercenary wiped out my entire team. 15 trained operatives — gone. And the way he fought…" He paused, shaking his head. "It wasn't luck. He was fast, precise — like he'd done it a hundred times before. He played us like we were amateurs."
The superior's calm expression faltered slightly. "You're saying the data is inaccurate?"
"Yes, sir. And when he escaped, our surveillance picked up nothing. He moved through every blind spot like he knew where the cameras were."
A long silence followed.
Finally, the superior spoke again, quieter this time. "Interesting… he's been hiding his real capabilities all this time."
He turned away, hands clasped behind his back. "Very well. You can go. I'll handle this from here."
The agent hesitated, frustration flickering in his eyes, but he saluted sharply and left the room, closing the door behind him. The moment the latch clicked, the superior's calm demeanor shifted — his tone colder now.
"He's hiding something," he said softly. "And I can tell he's dangerous."
From the shadows, another voice answered — smooth, confident, familiar.
"I agree."
The superior turned toward the voice. The man stepping forward was none other than Alexander Pierce, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Pierce folded his hands. "A man like that could be useful. Whether he's willing or not."
The superior nodded slowly. "Then we'll make him willing."
Both men exchanged a knowing look.
Then, in perfect unison, their voices overlapped in a whisper that carried more weight than any command.
"Hail Hydra."
The holographic lights dimmed
The quiet hum of the forest filled the next scene.
Back at the cabin, sunlight streamed through wooden blinds. The smell of freshly cooked food lingered in the air.
John sat at the table, calmly eating, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as ever. Across from him, Janet watched him silently. She had been staring for a while, waiting for him to speak — but he didn't.
"You know," she finally said, leaning back in her chair, "I've noticed something. Considering everything you've gone through, you're in a surprisingly good mood."
John didn't respond. He simply kept eating, expression unreadable.
"You're usually brooding," she added, half teasing. "Like someone who's lost something important, so can you share me on the secret of what is making you happy right now"
John sighed lightly and set down his fork. "Let's not talk about that."
Janet raised an eyebrow but let it slide. She knew him well enough not to push when he didn't want to talk.
After a moment, his tone shifted.
"Let's talk about something else," he said, voice lower now — more serious.
Janet leaned forward slightly. "You mean the people after you?"
John nodded once.
She crossed her arms. "Alright. So tell me — what exactly did you do to make everyone want you dead?"
John looked down for a moment, then met her eyes. "Janet… I can't give you every detail. But you need to know the important part."
He leaned back slightly.
.
.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. has been compromised."
Janet froze. "What?"
Her eyes widened. She had expected a lot of things from John — but not that.
Before she could question him, John continued, voice low and steady.
"I was sent on an operation — just another cover-up mission. Standard procedure. My partner,
"You know, The well Respected and loved Agent Bill" She nodded.
He and I went in. But what we found wasn't a cover-up. It was something else entirely."
He paused, letting the silence stretch. Janet waited, tense.
.
.
.
"Hydra," he finally said.
Her breath caught. "Hydra? I thought they were gone. Captain America destroyed them — years ago."
John almost smiled, but it was humorless. "That's what they wanted everyone to think. But Hydra never died. They just went underground — embedded themselves inside S.H.I.E.L.D. They've been working in secret for years." He knows this because he is a reincarnator but Janet doesn't know all this.
He looked away, his voice quieter now. "Bill and I started digging into it. We gathered proof. But before we could take it higher… they found us. Bill was assassinated during a mission. They framed me for it — made me the scapegoat." (A/N: I kinda like Agent Bill, too bad he died)
Janet's expression softened as she listened.
"That's why I'm a fugitive," John continued. "They branded me rogue, erased my records, froze everything I owned. But this goes deeper than that. Hydra's influence… it's at the top."
He glanced at her seriously. "I'm telling you this because you're still in S.H.I.E.L.D. You need to be careful."
Janet didn't move, just stared at him — shock mixing with unease.
John exhaled. "When I called you that day, it was because I had no one else. I was ambushed — betrayed by one of my own partners. I barely escaped."
He stood, his eyes darkening. At the roof top my partner who had been someone who i know and trust, conered me.
"Before I could escape, that same man pointed a gun at me… and said two words before firing."
He paused, looking her directly in the eyes.
"Hail Hydra."
The room fell silent.
Janet didn't respond at first, just stared. Then she said quietly, "And you're telling me this now? How do you know I'm not one of them?"
John didn't flinch. He walked up to her slowly — close enough that she could feel his breath. His eyes locked onto hers, unreadable.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Janet swallowed, her heartbeat quickening before she turned her gaze away.
"That," he said softly,
"will be a mystery."
John stepped back and broke the tension. Walking away as if nothing happened "Now. What's my status in S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
Janet took a breath, trying to steady herself. "As of now… you're dead to them. Officially."
John nodded. "To S.H.I.E.L.D., maybe. But Hydra knows I'm alive. I can feel it."
He stood near the window, staring at the trees outside. "They'll come again. This place isn't safe. None of them are."
Janet frowned. "What about your safe houses? Your accounts?"
"Like I said Earlier, All frozen. Everything's gone. If I use anything tied to my name, they'll find me."
A brief silence followed.
"…Then stay here," Janet said finally. "As long as you need. I don't use this safehouse often."
John turned slightly. "You'd allow that?"
She shrugged. "You saved my life once. Consider this payback."
He nodded. "Then I'll stay. I'll keep a low profile… and train."
"That's good." Janet stood, adjusting her jacket. "I have other things to take care of, but I'll be back soon."
As she headed to the door, John said quietly, "Janet."
She turned. "Yeah?"
"Be careful. They'll still be looking for me. And if they can't find me… they might look for you."
Janet gave a faint smirk. "I'll manage. You just don't die again."
She left, closing the door behind her.
Outside, she muttered under her breath, thinking of how close he'd leaned in earlier. "Jerk," she grumbled, stomping away.
From the window, John watched her go, the corner of his mouth smirking. Then he turned back inside.
Taking to himself he said " I know she will be wandering how I even survived the roof top gunshot"
"And No! It wasn't the system "
"Alright," he murmured to himself. "Time to start training."
He walked toward the bed, removing his jacket. As he did, a small object fell onto the sheets — his old Nokia phone.
A clean hole ran through the center of the device.
A bullet lodged halfway inside.
John smiled when he saw this.
Then He walked away to start his work out routine.