Chapter Two: A Stupid Shoulder

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There's times when weird things happen, like your dumb cat with no thumbs opening the door or finding your old car keys on your dining room table after them being lost for years.

Having your best friend possessed, shooting a greasy alien, and meeting a 91-year-old young looking man is just a whole new level. Coming from an agent that specializes in the realm of things deemed 'odd', that's saying something.

I walk in step beside Natasha towards the incoming jet, performing complementary welcome duty. Apparently, my connections to Barton makes me too personally involved in the issue to be assigned to the team tasked with finding him. So now, the two of us we're pretending to be useful until the time arose to do something.

"You see anything else that you didn't put in the report?" Romanoff's bob of red hair sways my way when she turns to ask. Several marching pilots cross through our intended path and we briefly stop.

I shake my head, raising my voice over the howling wind as we head towards the main landing platform, "No, I put it all in there. The scepter touched his chest and he became an entirely different person."

Her gaze left me to contemplate the answer, still processing the idea of Barton being under the control of what appeared to be a crazed legend from story books. We came closer to the main tarmac, watching the incoming quinjet descend onto the tarmac.

I angle my head in the aircraft's direction, bringing attention to SHIELD's newest guest, "They call this guy in to help with finding the Tesseract?"

"Fury thinks this whole alien thing will go south fast. If worse comes to worse, he'll launch the Initiative. That means we'll need every asset close by." Nat explained, lifting her shoulders to a shrug. Her mouth curved into a knowing grin, "How much do you bet Coulson is letting out his inner fanboy?"

I jut both eyebrows up, knowing my superior officer for long enough to know his forlorn admiration for Captain America. Phil actually meeting the guy? He was probably tripping over himself, "I'd say he's already embarrassed himself several times over."

"What about you?" She inquires while the jet lands on the platform and begins to power down, "You've studied this guy, right?"

Though I didn't have many plans beyond being an agent, one of the few was eventually getting a bachelor's degree in historical warfare. One of my interests was primarily in researching major battles during the Second World War, and the old Captain and Howling Commandos happened to be in nearly every crucial engagement across Europe during the HYDRA campaign. So yes, meeting the hero of that time definitively intrigued me, but it was quite logical to have reservations.

"Yeah, but something tells me a white guy from the forties isn't too interested in talking to a racially ambiguous woman a rank above him." I comment offhandedly, looking on the realistic side, "Sure, it's a great opportunity, but I'm not overly hopeful."

Natasha nods in understanding, looking to say something more before the doors to the quinjet open. Coulson steps out onto the ramp first, regularly outfitted in his usual pressed suit. As soon as he exits onto the tarmac, he's followed by a good-looking, broad-shouldered man that's easily over six feet tall, whom I assume is Steve Rogers.

Romanoff walks up in a confident stride and I follow at her side when she greets them, "Agent Coulson, Captain Rogers."

Phil's formality doesn't dwindle, taking turns shaking both of our hands, "Agent Romanoff, Agent Firman."

"They need you on the bridge." I motion in the headquarters' general direction, relaying the orders I was given several minutes ago. My senior officer dismisses himself cordially and follows me back across the platform, leaving Natasha to perform hospitalities. Once out of earshot, I toss a glance over my shoulder to make sure neither hear my next teasing remarks.

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