Shameless Note from a Shameless Author 😎
Hey everyone! How's it going?
Just a quick note to let you know that I'm still working on the story. So if there's ever a day with no update, don't worry! I'm just taking the time to properly develop the upcoming arc. As always, I want to make sure everything fits together in the best possible way. 🧠✨
Oh, and something new in this chapter… I've been testing out a different style! Everything in uppercase to emphasize Clint's military-style shouting. I'm not 100% convinced, honestly. 😅 If you don't like it, just let me know! I can switch everything back to lowercase as usual. I just wanted to try something that gave more emphasis to those moments, but I don't want it to feel out of place.
Also, I accidentally posted the chapter yesterday with some errors, but I've gone ahead and fixed them. I apologize for that! 🙏
You know the drill… comment, participate, and toss those Power Stones my way if you're feeling it! Thanks so much for reading and supporting me. 💖🔥
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Grant Ward closed the bathroom door behind him with a soft click. He turned the bolt, making sure no one could enter, and quickly glanced around the small space. A regular routine. His eyes instinctively searched for hidden cameras or microphones, but the room was clean. This wasn't the first time he'd done this, and he'd do it as if it were just another day. He turned on the shower, letting the sound of the running water fill the room, a simple trick to drown out any suspicious conversation that might leak in.
Since arriving at S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, Ward had to quickly adapt to the life of a recruit. He shared a room with three other young men, none of whom were particularly noteworthy. He had learned their routines, habits, and blind spots. All to maintain his perfect façade.
At first glance, Grant Ward seemed like the perfect soldier. Disciplined, competent, and always willing to outdo the others. His instructors saw him as a role model, but that perfection was calculated. There was no room for mistakes, because a single misstep could mean the end of his mission—and his life.
With a fluid movement, he pulled a small device from his pant pocket. It looked like an ordinary pen, but in reality, it was a piece of special technology designed to emit signals on an encrypted frequency, undetectable by S.H.I.E.L.D. He activated it with a discreet twist and held it to his ear. The connection was established within seconds.
"Control, this is Operative 17. Situation report," he said quietly, leaning slightly toward the water stream to ensure the noise masked any possible echo.
A moment of silence, then the raspy voice of a man echoed in his ear. "Go ahead, Operative 17."
Grant placed a hand on the sink and stared at his reflection in the fogged mirror, his face serious and unflinching.
"Suspicions confirmed, Control. The target has been recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D. We've been assigned to the same room. The... 'Specter' is here."
He pronounced the last word carefully, using the term they employed to refer to individuals of strategic interest. It wasn't a term he used lightly.
"Maximus Jones?" the man asked after a brief pause.
"Yes. He seems inexperienced, easy to manipulate if necessary." Grant paused briefly, assessing the situation coldly. "Do you want me to take care of him? I could do it without raising suspicion."
The silence on the other end lasted longer than expected. He could imagine the man weighing his words, evaluating the risks and benefits. Finally, the response came, clear and firm.
"No." The man's tone was authoritative. "Focus on the infiltration mission. Keep acting as the perfect soldier for S.H.I.E.L.D. Don't get distracted or involved with that kid."
Grant breathed in deeply, maintaining his neutral expression while keeping his eyes fixed on the mirror.
"Understood, sir."
The man continued in a lower, but no less grave, tone. "Listen carefully. Ignore him completely, unless strictly necessary. Your priority is to climb the ranks. Graduate quickly from that shitty academy and make yourself indispensable to them."
"Understood, Control," Grant replied professionally.
"This is important, Ward. My intel suggests that Coulson has completed his assigned mission and will be arriving soon at the base. I want you to get close to him. Earn his trust. It's a step toward Fury. Everything else is secondary. Keep sending me regular reports, and above all, don't make mistakes."
Grant nodded to himself as he disconnected the earpiece.
"Received, Control."
There was a brief silence before the man spoke in a more solemn tone, one Ward knew well—a reminder of who he was and who he truly served.
"Hail HYDRA."
Ward barely smiled and responded with equal firmness. "Hail HYDRA."
The line went dead, and Grant turned off the device, leaving it on the sink. With the shower still running, he undressed and stepped under the cold water that hit his body, still warm from the exercise. He allowed himself a few seconds to gather his thoughts, reviewing what he knew about Maximus Jones, the "Specter."
Jones's name had come up when HYDRA began testing the Zola Algorithm, designed to predict threats. The algorithm had identified Maximus as a top priority—something surprising for someone so young. What was curious was that he didn't fit the typical profile of targets: he wasn't a scientific genius, a political leader, or a decorated soldier. Maximus Jones was... ordinary.
That made him even more unsettling.
HYDRA had tracked his past and found a history filled with contradictions. He had grown up almost as an orphan, with his mother sick and unable to care for him. He'd been involved in minor theft and vandalism incidents—signs of a life of survival, not rebellion. The strangest thing was his connection to S.H.I.E.L.D. The first thing that came to Ward's mind was the legacy of Gabe Jones, his father, a member of the second generation of the Howling Commandos. Alongside Nick Fury and other operatives, Gabe had played a key role in dismantling HYDRA cells during the Cold War. His missions focused on infiltration, destroying operations, and wiping out everything HYDRA had built, which had made him one of their most feared enemies.
Ward closed his eyes for a moment, also recalling what he knew about Clare Jones, Maximus's mother. Clare had been a high-ranking operative in S.H.I.E.L.D., known as "The Shadow of the Howling Commandos." She operated undercover, infiltrating enemy organizations and dismantling HYDRA cells. Along with Gabe, they made a formidable pair, and HYDRA never forgave them for the damage they caused. They were considered sworn enemies, responsible for some of the most devastating blows to the organization in recent decades.
Despite all his background, Maximus appeared no different from any other ordinary kid. No special skills, no training—at first glance, he posed no real threat to HYDRA. Ward had thought this over countless times while observing him at the academy. His lineage was formidable, but without discipline or training, Maximus was far from dangerous.
"He has some instinct," Ward thought, rubbing his face with cold water. "But that's not enough." Maximus had only one strength: survival. Growing up with a disabled mother and an absent father hadn't made him extraordinary. He had never been taught to fight, lead, or use resources effectively. In the end, he was just a kid with an interesting past, but without the skills to carry on his parents' legacy.
"HYDRA marks him as a top priority, but why?" Ward wondered, leaning against the bathroom wall. "It's not his skills. It's his name, the shadow of his parents." HYDRA saw potential, but Ward couldn't shake the belief that Maximus was no more than a minor issue.
As an expert in threat assessment, Ward was certain Maximus was only a priority because of his lineage, not his abilities. To Ward, he was just a kid still learning the ropes of recruitment.
Sighing, he let the cold water clear his mind, then turned off the shower. With one last glance at the device on the sink, Ward refocused on his mission. He couldn't afford to be distracted by the "Specter."
The kid would remain on his radar, like all the other targets.
---
POV MAX
After the introductions of the others and the mysterious guy entering the bathroom, an awkward silence filled the room. No one seemed to know what to say, until Maverick broke the silence.
"Well, rookie, do you have a name, or will you just be 'rookie'?" Maverick said, looking at Maximus with a mischievous grin.
Maximus realized he hadn't introduced himself until that moment, and quickly corrected his mistake. With a cautious look, waiting for the others' reactions, he began to speak.
"I'm Maximus Jones," he said, with a slight hint of pride when saying his last name.
Jackson, who had been lying on his bed looking at his phone, suddenly opened his eyes wide. He jumped up from his bunk and quickly approached Max, his face full of excitement.
"Jones? Like Gabe Jones?" he asked, almost unable to contain his excitement.
The last name "Jones" was not unknown, especially in the world of S.H.I.E.L.D. Gabe Jones, along with the members of the Howling Commandos, had been a well-known and respected name both within and outside the organization. Anyone who had anything to do with S.H.I.E.L.D. had heard of that elite group, just like Captain America. The members of the Howling Commandos were almost like heroes, living legends, just like Nick Fury, the leader of that group and now director of S.H.I.E.L.D., known and respected throughout the organization.
"I'm not surprised they recruited you so young!" Jackson said, unable to contain his excitement. "If you're half as good as your father, then I'll be happy to have you on the squad."
Maximus gave a slight smile, but it was more out of discomfort than pride. Proud of someone he didn't even know existed until a few days ago? The idea seemed strange to him. His father, a man whose name had only ever been a shadow in his life, was now the center of admiration from others.
"Proud..." he thought, as if the word had unnecessary weight. How could he feel proud of someone he barely knew?
But somehow, that external admiration touched him. Not for what his father had done, but for what he himself was starting to build. Though the legacy still felt distant, something in his chest began to stir, something that, maybe one day, he would call pride.
The introductions continued, but when Jackson began telling stories about Gabe Jones, Maximus couldn't help but pay more attention. Something inside him stirred. His father, a man he knew so little about, was someone who was spoken of with so much respect? Maximus felt strange, as if he was hearing about someone else, not the man he had believed to be a stranger.
Maverick, as usual, cracked a sarcastic joke, breaking the tension and making Maximus feel a little less uncomfortable. But deep down, something inside him kept echoing. He didn't know whether to admire his father or just be surprised by how someone who had never been in his life could command such respect.
However, the moment was interrupted when Ward came out of the bathroom without saying a word, heading straight to his bed. He didn't pay attention to the group or the laughter filling the room. The guy who had been asleep the whole time didn't get up once.
The rest of the group soon began to leave. Maximus, still excited about what he had heard, settled into his bed and prepared to rest.
At 4:30 a.m. the next day, a blaring sound, similar to a military trumpet, shook everyone's sleep in the room. It was like being at a training camp. Everyone jumped, except for Eagle, who remained deeply asleep, oblivious to the chaos.
Maverick was the first to react. "Eagle, wake up!" he shouted as he threw a pillow at his face.
"You missed Jones's introduction yesterday," he added with a mocking grin.
Eagle barely opened one eye, murmured a lazy "Hello," and turned over to keep sleeping.
Jackson, coming out of the bathroom still wet and with a towel wrapped around his waist, didn't waste any time. Without saying a word, he grabbed a glass of cold water and threw it directly onto Eagle's face.
"What the hell?!" Eagle shouted as he jumped out of bed, startled, with his hair soaked.
Jackson, with a satisfied smile, replied: "Commander Hawk said he wouldn't tolerate you being late again."
Maverick burst into laughter, enjoying the show. The atmosphere was relaxed and filled with jokes, but in one corner of the room, Grant watched in silence. His face was impassive as he decided to leave before everything got out of control.
Maximus, confused by the chaos, decided to change immediately. He didn't want to be the last one to arrive for the training assigned by Barton. Looking at the clock, his heart raced: it was already 4:55 a.m.
"Move it, or we're all dead!" Maverick shouted, leading the group down the hall.
As they ran, the echo of their footsteps resonated through the cold steel hallways, illuminated by fluorescent lights that cast an unrelenting glow. The place had an impersonal and efficient air, designed for discipline.
"Jackson, the water thing was a brilliant move," Maverick said, laughing between breaths. Maximus tried to keep up while his mind filled with anxiety. "I can't be late," he thought, speeding up even more.
When they finally arrived at the assigned area, two minutes had already passed since the designated time. Maximus felt a mix of embarrassment and nervousness as he realized they had arrived late. The training area was an open space, surrounded by tall concrete walls that guaranteed complete privacy. Scattered across the terrain, there were climbing walls, hanging ropes, training dummies, and a compact dirt track clearly designed for running. The air had a faint smell of metal and sweat, typical of intense workouts, as if the efforts of the previous cadets still lingered in the atmosphere.
The group tried to blend in with the other cadets, who were already in line, adjusting boots or exchanging tense whispers. Among them, Maximus noticed Ward, standing still like a statue, his posture rigid and ready.
In front of the group, Clint Barton waited. His black uniform with purple details needed no embellishments: his mere presence commanded respect.
With his arms crossed, Barton began walking slowly in front of the cadets, his gaze fixed on them as if he wanted to pierce them with his eyes. Then, he raised his voice, strong and authoritative, like a commander on a battlefield:
"GOOD MORNING, TEAM!" Clint shouted, his voice filled with authority and strength. "ALTHOUGH, FOR SOME OF YOU, IT SEEMS THAT STARTING THE DAY EARLY IS OPTIONAL..."
His gaze landed directly on Max, Maverick, and Eagle, who couldn't help but lower their heads slightly.
"TODAY IS A GOOD DAY BECAUSE WE HAVE NEW RECRUITS IN THIS SQUAD! AND THAT MEANS I HAVE TO REPEAT SOMETHING YOU SHOULD ALREADY KNOW!" His tone grew firmer and sharper. "HOW WE EVALUATE AGENTS HERE AT S.H.I.E.L.D.! If any of you thought this would be a walk in the park, let me crush that illusion RIGHT NOW."
Clint began walking slowly in front of the group, his footsteps echoing loudly on the hard ground, his gaze steady and determined.
"IN THIS ORGANIZATION, WE DON'T JUST LOOK FOR PHYSICAL SKILLS! WE'RE NOT LOOKING FOR WHO CAN DO THE MOST PUSH-UPS OR RUN THE FASTEST!" he shouted, his voice cutting through like a military command.
"SURE, ALL OF THAT MATTERS, BUT WHAT WE REALLY WANT IS SOMETHING MORE! A DAMN BALANCE! WE WANT TO SEE HOW YOU HANDLE PRESSURE, HOW YOU THINK UNDER STRESS, AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, HOW YOU WORK AS A TEAM!"
He paused dramatically and pointed to the circuit behind him, his finger aiming as if marking the cadets' fate.
"FOR THAT, WE HAVE AN EVALUATION SYSTEM!" his voice deep and strong. "EACH OF YOU WILL BE ASSESSED IN DIFFERENT AREAS: SPEED, STRENGTH, ENDURANCE, AGILITY, AIM, AND ABOVE ALL, LEADERSHIP!"
Clint paused again, letting his words sink in. Then, with a more challenging tone, he added:
"EVERY TEST IS SCORED FROM 1 TO 100! AND LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING: I'VE NEVER SEEN ANYONE GET A DAMN 100! IF ANY OF YOU THINK YOU CAN DO IT, GO AHEAD, TRY TO IMPRESS ME!"
Clint crossed his arms and, with a sarcastic smile, continued:
"OH, AND DON'T THINK THAT JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE NEW, YOU HAVE AN EXCUSE! HERE, EVERYONE STARTS AT THE SAME DAMN LEVEL! IT DOESN'T MATTER IF YOU'RE A NOVICE OR A VETERAN, IF YOU DON'T CUT IT, WE'LL KNOW SOON ENOUGH!"
He then pointed to the nearest climbing wall.
"WE'LL START WITH THE FIRST TEST! AN OBSTACLE COURSE! SPEED, AGILITY, STRENGTH, AND ENDURANCE, ALL IN ONE! GET YOUR BODIES AND MINDS READY, BECAUSE THIS ISN'T A DAMN WARM-UP! THIS IS THE REALITY!"
His gaze hardened even more.
"AND IF ANY OF YOU THINK GIVING UP IS AN OPTION, I SUGGEST YOU LEAVE NOW! BECAUSE HERE, THERE'S NO PLACE FOR THE WEAK!"
Max swallowed, the sound of his breath hanging in the air. He knew this wasn't going to be easy, but now it felt more real than ever. He glanced sideways at Maverick, who was trying to maintain his usual humor, though he also seemed tense. Jackson, with a challenging smile, was ready to stand out. Ward, as always, remained unshaken, his posture that of someone used to this kind of challenge.
Eagle yawned as if this was all a boring formality, but Max could see his eyes moving with precision, already evaluating the circuit as if he had it all figured out.
Maximus, for his part, could feel everyone's eyes on him. "I'm not weak!" he repeated to himself. "I can do this! I have to do this!"
Clint addressed the cadets again, his voice authoritative and challenging.
"TO THE STARTING LINE! IN LINE! YOU SHOULD ALREADY KNOW HOW THIS WORKS!"
Max swallowed again, moving forward with the rest of the group, feeling his legs already starting to complain from the run to get here. The other cadets looked tense but focused. Ward positioned himself at the front of the line, while Maverick shot him a competitive glance.
"ON YOUR MARK!" Clint shouted, his voice sharp like a saber.
"GET SET..."
A shot rang out in the air. The test had begun.