It's not fun.
When all your knuckles crack except one and you have to try and convince yourself to be a sensible human being and resist the urge to break your own finger.
Unfortunately, you weren't even trying to be sensible anymore and you were putting so much pressure on your thumb you weren't sure you would care if it broke.
Well, you would care but the thought hadn't crossed your mind.
Just as you managed to succeed in cracking your thumb, a voice smashed through your thoughts. "Time for another interrogation," they said, and bluntly too. Only one person would do that.
"Agent Melinda May," you acknowledged with a tip of your head, "nice to hear from you too."
A huff on the intercom. "Don't be late."
The door that connected your dreary, black padded cell to the interrogation room in the Fridge opened with a bit of a hissing noise and you watched it rise warily.
"I'm never late. I'm changeable, but not late." You started to laugh. "Sorry boys! I'm so changeable."
Your laughter echoed throughout the cell, and for a moment you wondered if you were faking your actions or if you had actually become so insane even the insane didn't want to claim you. With a shrug you put on your worn out, dark grey with red lace Converse, and stretched.
Your outfit consisted of mostly dark gray except the shield symbol stop your SnapBack that happened to be red.
It might as well be the Hydra symbol, heh. You snickered and clapped slowly to yourself. (Is that why you didn't have friends?)
Standing quietly for a moment, you walked over to the corridor and although Converse weren't usually sinister, they seemed to be now as each footstep brought you closer to the other door where the team waited that you'd gotten to know so well over five years and many visits.
But as you paused, hand on the door, you blinked.
And in a flash remembered your first interrogation, on Coulson's plane before being dropped off at the Fridge.
***
"What did you want to be when you grew up?" Grant Ward leaned forward, staring into your eyes.
He would've been intimidating, except you'd gotten over your small fright from earlier when they captured you and currently were just rolling with whatever S.H.I.E.L.D. tossed your direction. Once you had, you'd regained not only your confidence, but your sarcasm.
You snapped your fingers lazily, since they were hardly mobile, being cuffed to the table and all. "Not you."
Ward rolled his eyes. "Come on, (your name). It's not that hard to answer the questions."
You gasped. "Oh? I hadn't realized." You, who had also been leaning forward, leaned back as far as you could go. "They're stupid questions."
Silence.
Just above a whisper you answered, "I wanted to be different. I wanted to show the world I was different."
"There." Ward took a deep breath. "Alright, next question. How'd you get your thing? Your power?"
"Mom and dad: Scientists. Me: bored genius. Sociopath. Genius? Eh. They made an ice power machine." You grinned, tapping your fingers together. "I touched it."
Grant coughed. "You knew what could possibly happen?"
"I did. And I counted on it."
He muttered something inaudible, and he too decided to lean back. "Fine. Okay. Your references," he eventually asked, "What are they from?"
"He Who Must Be Staying Alive," you sang, closing your eyes, swinging your head side to side in a musical manner, "And friend you should see me in a crown."
When you opened your eyes, Grant was giving you an odd look, but the door to the cell opened and Fitz stepped in, Jemma by his side.
"Sherlock." Jemma said. "They're quoting from Sherlock, as always."
Ah, yes, Simmons would know.
"Who, specifically? Does that matter?" Said a fourth voice, who you immediately identified.
"Glad you could join us." You said with a nod, as agent Coulson entered the room, which was becoming quite full you noted. Thank goodness May was busy flying the Bus.
Fitz looked like he was going to choke, a mixture of concern and disgust on his face as he replied. "James."
"Moriarty." Simmons finished, frowning. "Jim Moriarty."
"And why would that be, (your name)?" Coulson asked.
"Look. Mom and dad are gone. I don't have friends - Lord knows why - who else do I have? I watched Sherlock as a kid. Still do. Although, I don't believe I will for a while now." You shrugged. "I'm not insane, really I'm not. I'm just a sociopath who needed something to do and I've been alone for five years so sometimes rational thought loses to the you at three am that's wanting to do something crazy, you know?" And then, you realized that even to you your protests sounded lame. You didn't really know anymore, and that was all you knew. "And hey, I'm not a danger like you think; we haven't got a season four yet."
"Your parents worked for S.H.I.E.L.D., (your name), and after they died in the battle of New York you didn't have to leave." Phil said waving a hand, and the other agents, Grant, Leopold and Jemma left at his motion. "You know why we were after you."
"Yeah, yeah. Grey Ice Power: Dangerous to all of humanity or something like that." You waved a hand back and snickered.
"No. You can help humanity with it, don't you see? You're a genius, and you have this ability. Training, that's all you need."
You raised an eyebrow, your fingers brushing the edge of the table where grey colored ice began to spread, cracking into the locks of the cuffs and they opened with a click. You held up your hands in an innocent gesture, while it was anything but. "Take me in. I know you don't trust me. But maybe over time when something comes up we can rethink this?"
"That's it then? You're ready for the Fridge?" He stood, crossing his arms and completely ignoring your question.
A smirk fixed itself on your face. "Ready? That's a nice question. Bit sinister. What's the answer that won't get me killed?"
Phil Coulson sighed. "What are they quoting now?"
Jemma's voice came back, quiet but clear and you could detect a small smile through her words. "Doctor Who, sir. Doctor Who."
***
You entered the room, a flash of defiance in your eyes as you raked a hand through your messy (short/long) hair after taking off your hat. "Alright, what do you want? Wait, don't tell me, you've got a few questions? Heh. Important ones, I might add since you're all quite tense. Loosen up, yeah?"
"Want? Loosen up?" Skye, in the corner playing with a computer faced you. "Shouldn't you be thanking us for time out of there?"
"I should, yes. If you weren't the ones that put me in there in the frickin' first place." Taking a seat at the table in the center, you continued. "Well, fire away, losers."
"You know, that doesn't make you sound any less mental." Ward muttered. May shot him a look and it seemed the whole room collectively took a breath and silence settled in not long after.
You sighed, and Coulson spoke up. "We need your help."
That was new; sounded fun though. "When was this decided? Oh, a moment ago, is that it? And by whom? Whoops, wait, Coulson, of course." You began to crack your knuckles a little ominously, one at a time and continued answering your own questions with your deduction skills. "And why? Because you need to find something, right?" Crack. "Why me? Ah, second chance, that's nice. But, couldn't you just get a..." You coughed. Crack. "More trusted agent? More suitable?" Crack. "Hmm, what am I saying? Am I rusty? Because I know you can, this is S.H.I.E.L.D. And what's it people say now? Oh, yeah, duh."
Coulson offered a wry smile and confirmed your suspicions. "Just now. By me. Because we're looking for something. Because we're giving you a second chance." Skye glanced my way, her eyebrows scrunched up, but in agreement. "And yes, yes we could. That's why agent Garett and agent Triplett are going to join us later to make sure you stay on track."
You nodded, and made a final, crack. "Not as rusty as last time, that's good." Then, "Guess I'm in whether I like it or not?"
"Have any appointments?"
"I'm in."
***
A few days later, in your cell, a voice was speaking to you. You did your best to ignore it.
"So you're the so called, 'Ice Box' from the Fridge, are you? I've heard about you. Got a lot of attention about five years ago, hmm?"
That was the fifth time he'd attempted to talk to you.
Now, you didn't know the team on a personal level.
You hadn't even gone on this last mission, since they'd had a different plan when they'd signed you up and had left you in the cell on Coulson's plane.
But you knew them well enough to care for them, even though caring was a danger, and they were the only family you had at the moment.
And you were bloody furious.
Your growl came out through clenched teeth, and your hands were balled up into fists. "You. Shot. Skye."
Ian Quinn smirked. "Why, yes I did."
"Twice. In the stomach." You shot up from the sitting position and with a roar, jerked at the cuff keeping you towards the other half of the cell on the plane. "If May hadn't already socked you good, you'd have grey ice up your nose and out your brain!"
His smirk dyed into a frown. Quinn's face was bruised and bloody, with likely a broken nose and although he'd been playing it cool, you'd seen him wince when he spoke and you knew he was in pain. "Then why don't you?" He asked in response to your rant, sneering. "Why don't you just stick ice through my brain?"
You sat, glaring at him with eye daggers, though the rest of your face was a deadly calm. "Because," and you breathed in deep, "because Phil told me not to. He said it might scare you."
Sick laughter. "Because Phil said no? What a pawn, kid; what a pawn you are."
For a second you hesitated, knowing full well the team was watching, but your brain took over. You lurched forward with a completely calm expression, face to face with Ian, not so much as blinking. "I'm no pawn, Quinn. I'm changeable. You hear me? Bloody as hell changeable. Let that sink in."
Your voice became a deep whisper as you continued, beginning to grin menacingly. "It is a weakness of mine, but, to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness. And you know what that means? Eventually, you just can't be allowed to continue. You just can't." You ended up slurring your last words but you knew he could understand them loud and clear.
"Because, good god, I'm changeable."
Grant and May burst in, separating you from Ian and you shrugged, instantly back to your regular self. "I think I need some fresh air. I need to take a walk. I need to-" you sneered at Quinn. "Be someplace else."
As your cuffs were unlocked and you were lead out of the cell you caught Ian's last words to you.
"That's right, Ice Box. Talk a hell of a long walk."
Both of you hissed when the door closed in response, a symphony sound of snakes filling the tension brewed air.
***
Instead of taking a walk as planned, or even taking this chance to explore the plane, you stood with no emotion before the screen that showed the cell, watching Quinn. You couldn't get over what he'd done.
When you felt a hand on your shoulder and air as they walked up to you, your first instinct was to lash out and you swung around, growling.
But you stopped, hand only inches away from their shoulder when you realized it was Phil.
His expression was blank. "What was that?"
You blinked. "I-" You choked it out, mind elsewhere. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"
"Not me. Quinn."
Oh. Well, no regrets there. You thought and crossed your arms. "What about it? I meant what I said."
"Would you turn on us?"
"Wait what? No! I mean, no! Definitely not! Just Quinn. Just, you know, Cybertech."
"I'm giving you a second chance, (your name)." Coulson walked away, heading for his office. "Don't mess it up."
Don't mess it up.
No promises.
***
When Garett and Triplett arrived, it was clear what they meant to do.
"We've got orders from Hand, Phil. We're to take him to the sandbox."
Damn right Garett, you thought. Take him away.
But you knew Phil wanted to keep him here. So that wasn't about to happen. You heard their argument from even inside, and finally they agreed.
They were going to find the cure, and they were holding on to Ian until that happened, and Garett was going to interrogate Quinn himself.
Sure, why not.
You spoke up, from inside your cell of course, since they put you back there nigh an hour ago, and raised an eyebrow. "He's in here, and will someone please cut out his slippery tongue?"
Garett entered, with a twisted smile. "I wouldn't mind. But looks as if you already got a warning huh?"
Ian tipped his head. "I'm not feel very cooperative; my ears are still buzzing from the last visitor-" He got cut off, as Garett suddenly lurched toward Quinn and grabbed his tongue.
"Now what might you know about Project Deathlok? Because if you don't talk I just might cut out your tongue, and I won't feel very sorry about it."
"The last person who asked that took two bullets to the stomach," Ian said, spitting, after John let go of his tongue.
Coulson stepped in, only to hear Ian's words and you saw him only barely restrain himself to punch the prisoner. "Did you shoot her because she saw what got delivered?"
"I did it because the Clairvoyant told me to."
You snickered within yourself; he was so predictable. "What a pawn you are, Quinn." Quinn gaze rested on you testily but he said nothing in response.
Finally Ian continued. "The Clairvoyant knows things, Phil. But he doesn't know what brought you back, because he couldn't see that. That's why we shot Skye. So you would dig deeper into your own death to save her."
Right when the situation itself seemed to be getting deeper, Coulson and Ian and Garett snapping back and forth with you watching and making snide comments, May came in. "Fitz thinks he found something. He wants to tell us in the briefing room." Phil followed her out, which left you with Garett.
"Lets go then." He unlocked your cuffs and motioned you you to the briefing room. "(Your name)? Agent Garett. Pleased to meet the master of attention, sarcasm and ice." Garett was tall, like yourself and well built. He had a reseeding hairline and a grin like a prowling wolf, again reminding you of, well, you. Except for the hair. Also a turtleneck which was an odd thing to wear; he must be hiding something. It was far too warm to be comfortable in shit like that.
"You. I like you." You said shortly, instead of telling your thoughts aloud and shook hands, swapping tight smiles.
Once you arrived at the briefing room, you took a moment to observe everyone.
They were all tense. Dressed regularly. A few frowns. Coulson in a suit and tie without his jacket, May: the usual, Ward wearing a short sleeve shirt and long pants, Skye and Simmons in striped, long sleeved shirts and jeans, Fitz in a sweater and jeans, Triplett in a black jacket, shirt and long pants.
Looking down at yourself in a sweatshirt and jeans and basically everything dark grey you wondered if that was part of the reason you appeared off most days. Probably.
Well, what the hell.
Leo began. "We found a place called the Guest House. Used the Echo Center to locate it and apparently the last time it was opened was by a level ten operative, and that means..."
"Director Fury." Simmons put in before you could. "We thought it was a just a file, but it's a location instead." She showed Coulson on the screen that connected to the wall, and everyone nodded.
"Looks like we're visiting the Guest House then." Coulson flicked off the holo table, and turned to your guests as well as you. "(Your name), Garett and Trip?" You felt yourself turn to attention. "Care to join us?"
The team spilt away, off to do their own jobs and duties and Garett and yourself grinned.
"Wouldn't miss it."
_______________
A/N:
Yo.
How's the reader insert?
Hope you sound insane enough, because, well. Because that's what I you to sound like, which means you basically sound like me
Sort of. I'm not exactly like that but I mean, we're all weird, right?
Your power, in case you missed it, is grey ice. You're a maniac with grey ice powers, that's right.
Enjoy it while you can, haha. Nothing lasts forever, mates.
thanks for the memories,
Styx