Grant had memorized the information of every security guard in the community in advance, but Carl and his team weren't any worse. In fact, they had memorized the profiles of every resident in the community long before taking up their posts as security guards.
Any stranger entering the community—especially at night and especially near Carl's building—would be immediately monitored and flagged by Carl's subordinates.
Even during the day, if a courier lingered too long at Carl's door, at least three sniper rifles would already be aimed at their head from different angles.
So, the moment a vehicle that wasn't on the resident registry rolled up to the community gate, the two security guards snapped into high alert, pretending to doze off as they secretly observed the driver and car.
"Master Leo, unknown vehicle in the compound. Black Chevrolet. License plate EVJ4329."
The calm message went through the walkie-talkie.
Hearing the report, Leo immediately checked the surveillance feeds. His eyes locked onto the black Chevy now making its way into the parking lot.
"Showing up at this hour and not on the resident list… definitely suspicious," Leo muttered.
"Should we notify the boss?" asked the subordinate beside him.
Leo shook his head. "No need yet. We haven't confirmed whether he's a threat. Could be a friend or a visitor."
After a moment's thought, he pressed the intercom again:
"Group One, stay on alert. If the target heads toward Building 8—Carl's residence—take him down and interrogate immediately."
When it came to the boss's safety, Leo always operated with the mindset: Better to make a mistake than to let a threat slip through.
If anyone even looked like they were headed to Building 8, they were treated as a hostile until proven otherwise.
"Groups Two and Three, prepare to support. Sniper Two, if he resists with force, take the shot."
"Copy." The crisp response came back through the radio.
Meanwhile, Grant, having just parked the car, stepped out holding a large black suitcase. As soon as he did, a chill ran down his spine—every instinct he had honed over the years screamed at him: he was being watched.
"Snipers. At least two. I've been marked," he thought.
"Carl is definitely no ordinary target…"
Despite the prickling feeling, Grant maintained a calm facade, strolling casually through the parking lot like he belonged. His acting skills, polished from countless undercover missions, didn't betray the storm in his mind.
He now realized that the "dozing" guards he passed earlier were more likely Carl's elite bodyguards. And judging by the precision of the response, the snipers were part of his personal security team as well.
This level of protection… even among the world's richest elites, was rare.
"Good thing I made backup plans."
As a top-tier agent, Grant always came prepared with contingencies.
Rather than heading toward Building 8, he changed his course and entered Building 9 next door. He took the elevator to the top floor, unlocked a door, and stepped inside.
This apartment belonged to Retily Gallia, a single office worker known for her open lifestyle. She often brought men home after nights out. Grant had subdued her earlier in the day after she got off work and taken her keys.
But he knew he had limited time—if Carl's team was as sharp as they seemed, they'd catch on fast.
"Leo, he entered Building 9, 25th floor—Retily Gallia's unit."
Leo's brow furrowed at the report. He searched his memory for Retily's info, then muttered, "Could just be a hookup coming by late… but…"
Something felt off.
"Pull today's surveillance on Retily. I want to know if she returned home after work."
"On it. Two minutes."
The subordinate plugged Retily's face into the system. Carl had invested in high-grade surveillance tech, complete with smart facial recognition.
If a human were reviewing the footage, it'd take hours. But with the AI scanning system? It only took two minutes.
"Retily left at 8:30 a.m. this morning. She hasn't come back since," the man reported.
"That's it—Group One, breach and capture. Groups Two and Three move in to assist. Take him alive if possible. Snipers, if he reaches the inner perimeter or becomes a danger to Carl or Wanda, take the shot without hesitation!"
It was a weekday. Retily usually partied from Friday to Sunday—never on Mondays. And she never had men over unless she was present.
There were too many red flags. There was no time to hesitate.
Still, the team knew Carl's standing order: don't fire unless absolutely necessary. Gunshots could disturb Wanda's daily life, and that was something Carl wanted to avoid at all costs.
But if a real threat approached Wanda? No hesitation. Shoot to kill.
—
Upstairs, Grant had already changed into his stealth gear and was prepping his rope gun to zipline across to Building 8 and abduct Carl. But then, he heard the soft knock at the door.
"That fast? Only two minutes…"
He cursed silently. He thought he had at least half an hour before they would react.
Even if he managed to grab Carl now, there was no way he'd get him out of the community with such tight security.
"Time to retreat and try again."
He adjusted the rope gun, fired it toward a neighboring building closer to the edge of the community, and turned to face the security agents who were breaching the apartment.
He knew he had to take them out first—if they cut the rope mid-slide, he'd be dead meat.
With his elite training, he expected to handle them in two seconds.
But…
"What the hell?! These two grunts are actually skilled!"
Grant winced, covering a bruised eye as he gasped for breath. He managed to down both guards, but it had taken 30 seconds and left him battered.
And that was bad.
Based on his experience, these two security guards could match trained S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. They weren't random rent-a-cops—they were top-tier mercenaries.
He quickly zipped across to the next building and landed on a balcony. From there, he dropped down using a downhill device and sprinted toward the fence where he'd parked his getaway vehicle.
But as he reached the fence, his escape halted.
Standing there, arms crossed and built like a tank, was a man in a security uniform—one of Carl's most formidable bodyguards.
The street was just beyond the fence. Freedom was only steps away.
But first, he had to get past the bear of a man blocking the exit.
_________________^_^_________________
CHAPTER 24
"Fortunately, just one."
Grant glanced around and secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
If there were four or five more like just now, he might not be able to escape today.
There was no nonsense — from the very beginning, it was a full-scale onslaught. Every move was aimed at the vital points, trying to bring down the strong man in front of him as quickly as possible.
However, what shocked him was that the opponent's skill was far beyond his imagination. Every attack he made was easily resolved by the opponent.
"The skill is good, no wonder he was able to bring down two of my subordinates."
Leo shielded Grant's attack with his hands, stepped forward, swung his arm, and hit Grant's chest like a thunderbolt.
"The old bear hits the tree!"
Leo's kung fu was passed down by Carl himself, and what he learned was the bear form in the twelve styles of Xingyi.
The spirit of the mountain spirit, the bear guards the hole, and the two palms protect the body — the eagle and the bear fight. The bear form is the most powerful form among the twelve. In terms of damage, once it hits, it deals more than even the dragon or tiger form.
Grant, a top fighter, was hit by Leo, and his whole body flew back as he spurted out a mouthful of blood as he flew backward. He staggered across the ground before barely managing to stand up again.
Too strong . He had performed so many missions and met countless masters, assassins and strong fighters , but this was the first time he had encountered such a powerful one.
"It's a pity that I am an agent, and my strength is not only in fighting!"
Knowing he couldn't win in a physical brawl, Grant reached out and pulled a pistol from his waist, pointing it at Leo.
The use of firearms in an urban community might bring some consequences, but this was clearly not the time to hesitate.
"I advise you to put down that thing in your hand, or don't blame me if you get shot in the head."
Seeing Grant pull out his pistol, Leo didn't panic at all. Instead, he showed a hint of sarcasm.
Grant's face froze when he heard this — he slowly put the pistol down.
Because he had already noticed that two infrared sights were aimed at him — one at his head, the other at his heart.
It turned out that the snipers in the community had already adjusted their positions to include the area where Leo and Grant were fighting.
At this moment, seven or eight strong men in security uniforms rushed over and surrounded Grant.
"Take him away!"
Leo snorted coldly, and several strong men stepped forward, removed all of Grant's equipment, and escorted him to the pre-renovated interrogation room in the community.
"Ding dong!"
Hearing the beep from the mobile phone on the bedside table, Carl slowly opened his eyes, reached out, and took the phone.
"It was only the first day I came here, and Hydra's agents are already this impatient."
Seeing the report sent by Leo, Carl carefully moved Wanda's white arms and thighs off of him.
He got up lightly, left his room, and was led by two security guards who had been waiting outside the door to the community's interrogation room.
"Boss, this guy has a hard mouth. He wouldn't say anything — he said he wanted to talk to you directly."
Seeing Carl enter the room, Leo stepped forward and reported respectfully.
Carl waved his hand to indicate that it was fine. He sat in a chair nearby in his pajamas, yawned, looked at Grant's bruised face, and said with a smile:
"I'm Carl. Tell me, who are you, and what are you doing sneaking into the community?"
Grant looked up at Carl. Although his body was injured all over, his tone was calm:
"My name is Grant Ward, and I'm an agent of the Homeland Strategic Defense Offensive and Logistics Agency. I sneaked into the complex today because I had to perform a secret mission.
Your actions have obstructed my mission. Please release me immediately."
"What mission? Kill me? Or kidnap me?"
Carl frowned.
Grant shook his head:
"I can't reveal the specific task, but it has nothing to do with you. This is all a misunderstanding."
Carl reached out, took a pistol from Leo, and pointed it at Grant's head:
"You can choose not to say anything. But then your head will explode. Don't worry, this room is very soundproof — nobody outside will hear a thing."
"Alright, I'll talk. Although it violates the rules, my target is a man named Paige on the sixth floor of Building 8. His real identity may be a terrorist. I needed to sneak into his house to gather intel."
Grant's expression was serious — he didn't look like he was lying.
In fact, he was carrying out that mission, one assigned by John Garrett under S.H.I.E.L.D. If investigated, it would seem legitimate.
Carl turned to look at Leo, who responded:
"The info we pulled says Paige is just an unemployed punk."
"That's just his cover."
Grant replied indifferently.
" Paige did have a history as an unemployed gangster, even with several criminal records, but since yesterday, he had ties to known terrorist activity and went completely dark."
Carl nodded. He had to admit, these Hydra agents worked with impressive precision. No wonder they nearly hollowed out S.H.I.E.L.D. from the inside.
"The Homeland Strategic Defense Attack and Logistics Agency, an international organization — founded by Captain America's girlfriend Peggy Carter and Howard Stark, Tony Stark's father.
Oh, you might not know — Tony and I are very good friends.
Former Director Alexander Pierce, current Director Nick Fury. Sound familiar?"
"How do you know all that?"
Grant's pupils shrank.
According to his intel, Carl was just a rich businessman from Sokovia — maybe ruthless, but still operating in the dark corners of finance.
He'd already been shocked by the bodyguards' strength, but now Carl's detailed knowledge of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Tony Stark left him completely rattled.
"I know who you are, and I know who's behind you. You didn't come here for any terrorist.
But it doesn't matter. I'll let it go this time.
When you go back, tell your boss — if he tries to mess with me again, I won't be so polite. He'll die, and it won't be pretty."
Carl's eyes turned cold, his presence suffocating.
Grant felt like he could barely breathe under the pressure.
"Okay, don't treat our guest like this. Bandage his wounds and let him go. Give him something to eat for the road — it's late, and he must be hungry.
I'll head back to bed. Got a company to inspect in the morning."
With that, Carl yawned and casually left the interrogation room.
But Grant was left in complete mental chaos, his thoughts still spiraling from Carl's terrifying calm and threatening words.
In the end, he could only murmur softly and pretend to be ignorant:
"I don't know what you're talking about."