#codenamebowie

Maria Hill was never a Labyrinth fan. David Bowie, in all his tight pants and weird musical experimentation... that she was okay with. 

codenamebowie

Erik strove to keep his eyes on his own paper, but there was a primal magnetism that kept his gaze wandering away from his notes.

Since his revelation of accidental immortality, he'd been under the direct supervision of S.H.E.I.L.D., and the woman at the helm of his human relations was one Codename Bowie. This little agent had barged into his life and turned it on it's head. Since her arrival, his home had been turned and test, his bodily autonomy had been refused, and he'd more or less been kept until they could figure out what to do with him.

And yet, he couldn't be happier. If one could unconsciously slip into living past their time, he'd done it. Perhaps he'd passed on and this was all an elaborate fabrication of an after-life; if so, he didn't know what he did to deserve an angel like Else in his life.

Back in the realm of reality, she was fussing over a cookbook. Her delicate fingers danced over the page, eyes squinting at the ingredients and nose wrinkling at translating metric to the inane standards of American cookbooks. Their was flour on her cheek, and his ponytail bobbed back and forth as she grabbed new utensils and deposited used ones in the sink. Erik felt his pen drop down and meet the paper.

She was humming a song, though for the life of him he didn't know what kind of music it was. Something newfangled and modern. He didn't understand it at all, but he liked it coming from her lips. He gazed at those lips wistfully, his head slowly lowering onto the stacked support of his loosely curled fists. His smile grew slowly, then all at once it was wide and proud on his face. If she happened to look over, it would have been the most prominent feature about him, and not just because it was the only part of his face expose apart from his eyes. 

She made him want to write music again, to pay attention to his clothes and take care to eat regularly. More than anything, this girl made him want to live! Yet, he couldn't utter this aloud. How did one tell another that they owed them their life without sounding like a doddering old fool? An ancient and floundering ass? He was playing mental badminton now at the very idea of contemplating telling her that he-

Loved her?

Yes, yes he did.. He loved her. That spark of mischief in her eye, her ability to make him feel young by simply engaging in his petty annoyances with humor and verve. The little dimples in her cheeks, the perfect accents to her smile. 

Every little detail was a knife in his side, and he was glad to bleed. Watching her contriving to make a pie, cursing in her native tongue with a determined air at the dough-- it was all so precious to him. 

Erik had been jettisoned into the reality of this century by a petite creature, an agent of international law who dared to enter the depths of the Garnier and pull him up with her. She could have been an angel, if she wasn't armed to the teeth with modern weapons of murder. He never could get used to pistols, even those that the gendarmes had carried when he was truthfully a man. Now, he wasn't so sure what he was. Perhaps a ghost, perhaps an immortal. Whatever the case or cause, he often felt very alone. It was the visits of [Codename:Bowie] found his spirits and lifted them from the mire.

It was on this particular day, when she had lured him from the Opera and out into the world, Erik was made to sit in front of a screen to wait.  "Once more, what is this miniature theater called?"

"A Television"  Else replied from the kitchen, the sound of the microwave beginning its work giving Erik a start. He tense up like a cat, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. This agitation only grew worse when the popcorn began to dance in the bag.

"My God, what are you doing in there!?" he exclaimed, running to her aid. The S.H.I.E.L.D agent, pressed a hand to her mouth, blatantly laughing at his alarm. He gazed at her down the length of his mask's nose, his ruffled imperiousness a sight to behold. "What is so hilarious? I thought you were in grave danger."

"From popcorn?" snickered she, pointing to the bag inside the microwave. Erik peered at it suspiciously, not sure why corn would pop in the first place. "That seems dangerous. popping corn..." he murmured, backing away from it as the timer went off. Else grabbed the bag, shaking it so that a few more kernels would puff up before pouring it all into a bowl. Erik leaned forward, taking a piece with care and examining it critically.

"You put it in your mouth-"

"-Hrpmh! Indeed!"

"-It's good, M. le Fantôme!"

" Hrpmh, I say once again! It looks to be derived from a terrible accident of science!"

"-Oh mien gott, just eat it!"

"Non!"

"Ja!" Else took a handful and put it in his mouth. Erik tensed up, but the salt and butter on his tongue was a winning combination. He seemed to relax, taking her hand away as he massaged the popcorn with his molars.

"Good?"

"Oui," he grumbled, deigning to add as she smiled triumphantly, " Wipe that self-satisfaction off your face, Mademoiselle."  Else took the bowl back into the living room and Erik followed like a cat who wanted the whole bottle of cream, not just their allotted amount. She set the bowl down on the table, them moved to fiddle with another mysterious device under the television.

" Welcome to Mario KART!" the television screamed as she adjusted the volume and pulled out the controllers. "No matter how good the game systems get, you can't beat Mario Kart 64"

"I understood very little of those words." Erik said through popcorn. Else put the controller betwixt his spindly fingers and sat down next to him. 

"The green button makes the cart go. This is a joystick; this is how you steer."

" But where is the cart?"

"On the screen. Look, you be the guy in red and blue, and I'll be the princess."

"Befitting." Erik mentioned offhandedly, a statement not unnoticed by the agent. The game started and Erik did very poorly at first. He'd never driven a car, let alone a simulated one. But once he stopped bouncing into walls and driving the cart in the opposite direction of his intentions, he did pretty well. 

It would soon be stated for the record that Ghosts cheated by the means as follows; bribing, shit-talking the game system, throwing popcorn, tickling opponents, etc. the final score stood, after three rounds of snacks and 10 rounds of racing, that the good Agent Bowie won out 6 to 5.  It would also be worth note to mention that Erik found this modern maiden more and more enchanting by the day.

He made himself promise never to do anything untoward. After all, one owed their savior better than that.  And she was so young, especially when he made note of the two centuries of dormant existence. He simply took all his yearnings of loneliness and wondered what a few more would hurt. 

"One more?" Else asked, finishing off her soda. Erik shook his head, giving her a wane smile. As he spoke, she notice a gentle but lonely quality in his voice.

"I shall leave you for now... But rest assured, tomorrow, I will be victorious!" He thrust his index finger into the air with the air of a general.

Else gave a laugh, "Of course..."  

Gently, he place a hand on her shoulder. He dared to make contact, just once," Good night, Else."

Mercy was relieved that she had left before SHIELD went down under; she was relieved she didn’t have to see her colleagues turn in her, forcing her to turn on them. Mercedes thought that she was good at disregarding emotions and such when it came to getting things done, but she could imagine it wouldn’t have been easy in this situation. She was relieved she left earlier.

She was still worried for her friends who had still been with SHIELD. She was no longer up to date about SHIELD affairs - she didn’t need to know, now that she was a dancer - which made it slightly difficult on knowing who she couldn’t trust anymore. God, she just wanted to know who was still alive.

She took out her phone, and prepared to send a message to a friend, to Else:

[text] Are you still alive? -Sherlock

…That’ll do. It was such a shot in the dark. She started at the message, with so much hope that Else would reply, saying that she was okay, and that she could still be trusted, that she was still her friend. It was a lot to hope for.

One of Agent Phoenix's biggest legacies was The Critical Operations Response and Enforcement (C.O.R.E.) Program, founded during the tail end of her time in International Operations. In addition to herself, its first members included Agent Tessa Rink, a weapons specialist, and Agent Bethany Price, a spy. Amongst others, the team later accepted Agent Else Zelle into its ranks, a combat specialist who went on to become the lead field operative.