The Bus, Location: Classified
"It's an ounce too heavy," Ward said, setting the gun down. "An ounce? Seriously?" Skye scoffed. "An ounce can be the difference between life and death," I said. "When you're on a rooftop with a 15-mile wind, your target is 500 yards away--" Ward started. "Yeah, but we do have a rifle," Fitz pointed out.
"Lose the ounce," Ward ordered. "Yeah, okay. On it. 'Lose the ounce.' I'm Agent Grant Ward, and I can shoot the legs off a flea from 500 yards, as long as it's not windy," Fitz said, and we chuckled. "Hey. That's a sound I haven't heard in a bit," Fitz observed. "Yeah, well, you wouldn't be laughing a whole lot if you were living in Ward's doghouse," Skye said. "You made the rounds, apologized to us all. What more can he ask?" Fitz speculated.
"I don't know. I have been busting my ass, memorizing every S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol manual, following every order. 'Yes, sir. No, sir.' I even let them tag me like a stray dog. I mean, I know I lied to you guys, but I was trying to protect my boyfriend," Skye said. "You know, we all make mistakes. And who ca--I don't care -- who cares about your ex-boyfriend?" Fitz stuttered. "It's not like I'm comparing Ward to Miles--" I got up, tuning out the conversation and leaving the lab. "Bailey, great. We're on a mission, grab your gear," Ward said, coming around the corner. "Already got it," I shrugged, and he gave me a look.
I reached to my waistband, revealing a pistol.
-
Scout Campground, Location: Wirlgy, Pennsylvania
"Troop leader's name was Adam Cross. Apparently, he said he heard something in the woods, went to check it out. That's where the electrostatic anomaly occurred," Coulson explained as we approached the campsite. I headed towards the woods to scan for anything unusual, stopping in my tracks when I saw a man hovering in the air. "Guys, I think I found something!" I called, and the rest of the team came over. "So sad a man died this way...and yet, so amazing," Simmons said. "Fitz-Simmons, any idea what could cause an effect like this?" Coulson asked.
"There's the soliton hypothesis. Well, okay, judging by the horizontal...perhaps nanobatteries--electric discharge, it could be--" The two started talking at the same time, their words becoming an unintelligible mush of science. "Time. Let's try that again. Any idea what could cause an effect like this?" Coulson asked. "The hell if I know. Uh, no, no clue," Fitz-Simmons said. "Seems to me that we're either dealing with some freak natural event or a new high-tech weapon," Ward said. "Or, could it be someone from your uber-secret index?" Skye asked.
"There's no one on the index with this type of power," May said. "That we know of. I'll contact Agent Blake at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, have him check it out. Whoever or whatever's responsible, we can't let this happen again," Coulson said. "Fitz, see his forehead? Look at that endothelial discoloration. Yeah, same dispersal pattern as the strike on the truck. Could be an entry wound cauterized immediately," Simmons leaned over, and the man sparked, dropping to the ground. "Freaky. Freaky," Fitz-Simmons said. "We need to take him back for analysis," Simmons said, and I sighed.
"Gloves, anyone?" I asked, and Fitz passed me a pair of rubber gloves. I picked up the body, slinging it over my shoulder and we headed back to the Bus.
-
The Bus, Location: Scout Campground
"Have a cookie," May slid the plate over to the captive. The kid stared nervously at us, tentatively accepting the cookie. I stared at him, watching for any signs of lying as May asked him questions. We deemed him clear, letting him have another cookie for his cooperation. "Kid's clean. You figure out why the body was floating?" May asked as we entered the lab.
"Not yet. The molecular density of the victim was temporarily altered by an unknown energy source. I'm hoping to shed some light on its effects once I extract a brain-tissue sample," Simmons said. "It's happening again!" Fitz called from where he was standing in the hanger. "It's science, Fitz! I have to dissect something," Simmons argued. "No, the satellite's picking up another electrostatic event not 20 kilometers from here," Fitz said. Coulson, May, and I rushed to the car, taking Ward with us.
"Fitz, what's the latest reading?" Coulson asked as May drove. "We're at 324 megajoules and growing stronger--dangerous territory, sir," Fitz's voice crackled from the radio. "There's a farmhouse a mile north from you, right at the center of the signal. That's got to be it," Skye said. "Skye, dig up everything you can on whoever lives on that farm. We need to know who we're dealing with," Coulson ordered. "Um, it's gone," Fitz said.
"Ушел? Дерьмо," I said. "What's gone?" Coulson asked. "The electrostatic signal--it seemed to pulse, then disappear," Fitz explained. "We need a shortcut," He told May, who nodded. We swerved into a field, plowing through the crops and sliding to a halt in front of a barn. "Door's barred from the inside," I said, leaning against the door.
"The hayloft's open," Ward pointed out. "We could ram it with the truck," As the two speculated how to get in, May jumped and kicked the door open. "Or..." We entered, guns aimed, pausing when we saw another body. "Scan the perimeter. Whoever did this couldn't have gotten far," May and I went up to the loft, looking at the body. "Barred himself inside, went for his shotgun," Coulson said.
"He was scared, trying to protect himself," May said. "From who? How did they get to him?" Coulson asked. "Another burn mark on the forehead," I said, spotting the mark. "No sign of anyone--no tracks, no vehicles down the road," Ward said, coming back in. "Skye, we need real-time sat surveillance on this area, right now," Coulson said.
"Either the Winter Soldier has upgraded significantly, or we're dealing with something alien," I muttered. "Hold on. I think I found something you might want to see first. Sending it over now. The guy who owns the farm's name is Frank Whalen. He's a volunteer firefighter at the same stationhouse as our first victim, Adam Cross," Skye said, her voice filling the air as it crackled from Coulson's radio. "Our two guys knew each other," Ward said. "They were both responders when the aliens crashed New York," She said. "Two victims from the same firehouse, found in the same weird way," Ward said.
"We're looking for a killer," Skye said. The other three appeared to deal with the body, while we headed to the firehouse to speak with someone. "Skye, what did you find out about the firehouse?" Coulson asked over the radio. "It turns out they sent an engine to New York with a dozen volunteers after the Chitauri Invasion, including Cross and Whalen. Maybe it has something to do with why they were targeted?" Skye suggested. "Or how they were killed," I said.
"You mean like...an alien weapon?" Skye asked. "Let's just make sure we get to those firefighters before anyone else does," Coulson said.
-
Firehouse, Location: Wrigley, Pennsylvania
"Evening, gentlemen, Agent Phil Coulson with S.H.I.E.L.D. We were on the ground with you in New York," We climbed out of the truck, approaching the firefighters eating at a table. "S.H.I.E.L.D., right. What's this all about?" One of them asked. "We'd like to ask you a few questions, take a look around," While Coulson spoke with the men, the rest of us split up to search the building. I entered a room, seeing a strange-looking helmet. "Coulson, I found it. It's some sort of helmet. Fitz-Simmons, are you seeing this?" I asked, pulling out a device and filming the helmet.
"It's not a weapon, yet it caused a cranial discharge. Asya, don't touch it!" Simmons warned as I pulled off the cover. I pulled off my jacket, wrapping it around the helmet and picking it up. I ran to where the others were gathered, the helmet tucked under my arm. "Clear everyone out. Clear everyone out, now," Coulson ordered, so I turned right back around. "We're going to have to ask everyone to leave," May said as we came into the main room.
Everyone stepped out, Coulson appearing as the doors closed and the building glowed with a blue light. It flickered out, signaling the death of Mr. Diaz.
-
Fitz stepped in front of me, scanning me for any alien viruses that I may have gotten. "All clear--no traces of electrostatic energy," Fitz said. "Anyone else notice they're putting the infected alien thing on our truck?" Skye asked. "We're flying it to the Sandbox," Coulson said. "Sandbox?" I asked.
"It's a S.H.I.E.L.D. research facility across the Atlantic. They specialize in hazardous material," Simmons explained. A man in a hazmat suit came up to me. "Ma'am, I'm going to have to take that jacket from you," He said, nodding at my jacket, which was folded over my arm. With a sigh, I passed it to him and he loaded it onto the truck. "Shame. I liked that jacket," I muttered. "If what you suspect is true, that this is a virus, then those firefighters could be infected, and they're gonna need a cure. Find one," Coulson told Simmons.
"Let's get this thing to the Sandbox. Bailey, you're with me," May said as we left the fire station, which had been closed off due to infection and sealed so no one but S.H.I.E.L.D. agents could enter. We went to the cockpit, where May turned to me. "You know how to fly?" She asked, and I pursed my lips. "I've flown a one-man plane dozens of times," I admitted. "This is a little bit bigger than a one-man plane," She said, taking the copilot seat.
I sat down in the pilot's seat, flicking the necessary levers and pulling the wheel back. We took off into the air, and May told me the direction I needed to angle the Bus so we could get to the Sandbox. "What's our E.T.A.?" Coulson asked, coming into the cockpit. "3:37 West Africa time," I said, glancing at one of the dials. "Gonna be a long 4 hours and 26 minutes," Coulson said.
"You okay?" May asked. "Fine. I just want this alien thing off our plane as soon as humanly possible," Coulson admitted. "You want to talk about your physical?" She asked. "Nothing to tell. My physical therapist requested it. He's updating his files or something," Coulson said. "You'd tell me if something was wrong," May said.
"Of course," He scoffed. "Sir, I think I've found something. Could you come down to the lab?" The radio crackled with Simmon's voice. Coulson turned around, then paused. "Is she licensed to fly this thing?" He asked, looking at me. "I'm right here if something goes wrong. Besides, she's been flying this whole time and nothing's gone wrong," May said, and he left.
"So...you and Coulson?" I asked, looking at her from the corner of my eye. "Keep your eyes on the sky," She ordered. "Oh, there is something," I said, joy lacing my tone. "Keep going and I'll have you doing push-ups for a week," She threatened. I grinned but kept my mouth shut.
There was an alarm blaring, but I paid no attention to it until we were called down to the hanger. "Simmons believes she contracted the virus approximately 36 hours ago when she received an electrostatic shock from the first victim," Coulson said. "How much time does she have?" Skye asked. "Based on when the firemen were infected, how quickly their symptoms manifested...two hours at most," Coulson said. "That's enough time, right? I mean, S.H.I.E.L.D. has dozens of labs and scientists working on this thing, don't they?" Skye asked.
"They do. How soon can you get us on the ground?" He asked us. "Three hours," I said. "Our path to the Sandbox has us right in the middle of the Atlantic," May said. "Sir, correct me if I'm wrong, but if we can't land in time..." Ward started. "Simmons will release a pulse that will blow this plane right out of the sky," Coulson confirmed.
"We can't just sit here and watch her die. We have to do something," Skye argued. "There's only one person on this plane capable of finding a solution for this, and I'm willing to bet my life that she will," Coulson said. "She's just a kid," May sighed.
-
"Agent Blake is on the line, he wants to know what's going on. If you won't answer, he asked for Ward," May said. "Sir...what are our orders?" Ward asked. "They're unchanged," Coulson said, as an alarm went off. "What is that?" Skye asked, and May pulled up a model of the Bus. "Someone's opening the cargo hold," She said.
Without hesitation, I took off towards the cargo hold, Ward following after me. I jumped over the railing, seeing a frantic Fitz with a parachute and a thing in his hand. "The antiserum worked, but she jumped!" He yelled as I snatched them from him. I yanked the parachute onto one arm, my mind completely focused on getting Simmons back on the bus. I jumped off the end of the ramp, sinking through the air like a stone.
I secured the parachute, clicking together the binding, then straightening myself out. I scanned the air, spotting Simmons below me, and moving my arms and legs so that I was basically shaped like a pencil. When I reached her level, I moved so there was more drag and I would fall slower, wrapping one arm around her and using the other to administer the serum. I ripped open the parachute cord, it launching and slowing us down dramatically as I kept a tight hold on Simmons. We floated down into the water, where the Bus fished us out and we were summoned to Coulson's office.
"Don't get me wrong! I'm happy you're both alive--truly. And I realize you were trying to save the team, but what you did today--that was not your call. Just getting you out of the water--do you have any idea what a pain it is dealing with the Moroccan office? Don't you ever pull a stunt like that again. We'd hate to lose you, Jemma," Coulson shouted. I was shrinking in my spot, the yelling giving me anxiety and made me feel like I was about to be dragged to the basement and locked up for 3 days. "Thank you, sir. Oh, does that mean we're to leave now?" She asked as I moved to leave the office. "How'd you like your first time skydiving?" I asked as we descended the staircase. "Honestly, I'd rather not think about it anymore," She admitted.
"You looked a little pale in Coulson's office. Are you alright?" She asked. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just don't like yelling," I admitted, then moved to my bunk. I pulled out my flip phone, going down to the unlabeled contact. My finger hovered over the button as I hesitated. I pressed it, it rang twice, then the other person on the line picked up. "Who's there?" They asked as I held the phone to my ear.
"Hello, Natasha,"