"That's strange," Skye muttered, licking her lips. "Why does my mouth taste like tea? And why do I have cookie crumbs on my clothes?"
In the converted lab aboard the Bus, Fitz and Simmons paused their work. They exchanged a glance and nodded in silent agreement. They'd noticed something unusual long before Skye brought it up. Now that the plane was en route to the 084 mission, they had decided not to bother Coulson with the matter and instead discuss it privately.
As close friends, they had already shared their observations.
"We've had the same experience," Simmons said cheerfully. "We're currently investigating what chemical might have caused it. As far as I know, there's nothing in the lab supplies we loaded that could give us the taste of tea. So, it must be some sort of intriguing compound. Thankfully, we haven't shown signs of poisoning, so it's likely a harmless substance. Fitz is analyzing the air composition in the cargo hold. Perhaps we should check the passenger cabin as well. Oh, and Skye, we wouldn't hold it against you if you ate cookies without sharing. If you get the chance, you should try my grandmother's homemade cookies!"
"They're delicious," Fitz chimed in. "She brought a whole tin of cookies—and a pile of tea bags—when I started at the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy. A proper Brit, through and through."
"If we can figure out what this compound is—maybe some special tea polyphenol—I could save a lot of time on tea breaks," Simmons joked before turning back to her chemical experiments.
Skye licked her lips again. Sweet, heavily sugared—just the way she liked it. Still, Simmons' explanation didn't sit right with her. There were too many oddities about this situation. Skye had always been drawn to the idea of living the life of an agent, but if weirdness like this was going to pop up at every turn, maybe the job wasn't as glamorous as she'd thought.
Also, why did she instinctively think of bear-shaped cookies when she brushed crumbs off her clothes? That was just too bizarre.
But her curiosity was quickly swept away by the excitement of participating in her first official mission. Skye put on the sunglasses she'd bought earlier and began scanning her surroundings through the tinted lenses. She mimicked what she'd seen in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s field guides, striking agent-like poses and using action signals. Ward might not care whether she could fight, but Skye was thrilled at the idea of going into the field.
Wait… sunglasses? When did I buy sunglasses?
She quickly removed them to examine them and dug into her jeans pocket, pulling out a crumpled store receipt.
When did I visit New York?
"May?" Coulson approached Melinda May in the cockpit of the Bus, holding a clipboard. "After this mission, we have somewhere else to go."
"Where?"
"New York. We need to pay someone a visit."
At the heart of all the recent oddities, Solomon sat in his apartment, sipping tea and pushing a plate of cookies toward his latest visitor. This time, the guest was in bad shape. The sorcerer had rescued him from being suffocated in the hallway carpet. If Solomon had left the apartment just a minute later, this guest might have died there—possibly stabbed by the android.
Nick Fury wiped the sweat from his brow, glaring at the relaxed sorcerer seated across from him. "So… how'd it go?"
Being wrapped in a carpet had been an unpleasant experience for Fury. The heat, the tightness, and the rough texture of the fabric had nearly broken his ribs and twisted his spine. Yet, despite all that, he refused to remove his black leather trench coat—it was a high-tech, bulletproof garment. Even the undershirt he wore was bulletproof.
"You're really this concerned about Coulson's team? Where were you hiding when they visited—upstairs, or around the corner of the staircase? I thought you'd pulled back all those surveillance agents, but now it seems another operative knows my address."
"Remember what you said? That Coulson would save the world? I think it's time. Coulson doesn't officially exist. Very few people know he's alive, and even fewer know about GH325," Fury said smugly. "I need Coulson to investigate the faction within S.H.I.E.L.D. Eight-level clearance agents and below can't know about him. As a deeply embedded operative, this is the kind of mission where he thrives. He can save S.H.I.E.L.D., and S.H.I.E.L.D. can save the world. That's what your cryptic prophecy hinted at."
"But that doesn't explain why you gave him my address," Solomon countered.
"Because I already paid for your help, Solomon," Fury said, pointing to his single eye. "Don't pretend you didn't take the money. I don't know why you suddenly need earthly currency, but spending a few hundred million dollars to secure your assistance seems perfectly reasonable to me."
"That's insulting to my character."
"Oh, really? Then tell me, who else in this world flies around on a broomstick?"
"Perhaps a disobedient student at Hogwarts. Shall I send an owl to ask Dumbledore? He and I are on good terms…"
"Don't push me, Solomon!" Fury said with a cold smile. "Do you really want me to start exposing more of your illegal activities? You think I don't know whose turf this neighborhood is? S.H.I.E.L.D. may not stoop to mingling with street gangs, but getting intel from them isn't hard."
"I didn't kill any of those gangsters," Solomon said, spreading his hands in feigned innocence. "They kept harassing the residents of this building—good, law-abiding people who'd never dealt with such nonsense before. So, I taught a few of those thugs a lesson for trying to sell drugs around here. It's hardly a big deal."
"True, you didn't kill them, but they're going to spend a year in the hospital and rack up massive surgery bills. I can't fathom why you'd go that far. Why shatter their bones with bullets?"
"I didn't feel like punching them. Besides, the guns were theirs, not mine."
"Regardless, Solomon," Fury said, "I want you to provide some assistance to Agent Coulson, especially when he inevitably stumbles across magical artifacts. In this field, you're the only expert I know."
"You haven't told Stark or Rogers about Coulson, have you?"
"No. They can't know—not yet. Someday, maybe. But not now."
"Alright," Solomon said with a shrug. "But I have to tell you, it's too late. They've already forgotten about coming here."
"What?" Fury's expression hardened.
"It's a spell I've been practicing," Solomon explained, blinking innocently. "I'm still a bit rusty, so they might have forgotten a few things they weren't supposed to."
"Goodbye, Nick Fury," Solomon added, his tone carrying an air of finality.
[Check out my Patreon for +200 additional chapters in all my fanfics! Only $5 per novel or $15 for all!!] [[email protected]/Mutter]
[+50 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]
[+5 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]