#firstnamedirector

After the fall of Hydra, Daisy, a top ranking SHIELD agent, was sent to lead a strike team on a mission to capture a high ranking Hydra agent - Phil Coulson. He was someone of high value and they needed to get to him before anyone else could, or else a possible high-threat group could use his knowledge of Hydra to try and forsake the world again. 

Leaving the quinjet, Daisy storms where he’s staying and kicks down his door, “Phil Coulson!” 

Liho jumped lightly up onto Phil’s desk, stepping all over his carefully arranged paperwork with her paws, until she was flopped over on her side on his keyboard. 

I am more important than that, human. 

[Closed with @firstnamedirector]

Once again, Father’s Day rolled around, and once more, Amelia was there at 0630 to deliver a particular package to Coulson that was becoming an annual tradition for the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

It had been a long time since she had seen the others. Jemma didn’t know fully how long, because much of it she spent sedated, and much of it she spent dead. So it felt like years and no time at all. She hadn’t asked Daisy how long it had been for them. It seemed like something she should want to know, but asking- well she just didn’t. It didn’t feel like it mattered to do so. What if it had been months? What if it had been hours? What did it matter? It didn’t change where they were now.

She heard them greeting Daisy. Happy voices, familiar voices. She was dead in their minds. Maybe she should stay that way, just back away, let them have their moment and disappear somewhere within the lighthouse. She’d have to knock out Fitz though, he was holding her arm and walking her to the doorway behind which the others were and while she could think just leaving would be okay, hurting him to do so? She felt less sure about that being an acceptable method of avoiding this moment. He was already shot after all. 

That’s why she got walked in in front of Coulson, Elena, and Mack. Fitz arrived in the future- her back from the dead. She couldn’t begin to guess what they might be thinking now. 

Clint scoffed. “Pigpen? Really? I feel I should be insulted. To be fair, Clint’s disguise wasn’t much better, but he didn’t necessarily need to be. Yet. He was sticking to shadows and rooftops, waiting for their mark. 

131 wondered if this was all some sort of test. It felt like a test, but she couldn’t understand what the test was about. Maybe it was to see how she reacted when outside of the tank? That made the most sense, but there was one thing wrong.

None of the usual Hydra techs were around. None of these people spoke Russian, or even German! They were all American! This confused her greatly, and only made her more uncomfortable, and more unwilling to cooperate.

So she sat curled in the chair, bright blue eyes watching everything, occasionally reaching up to touch her bald head.

It was disgusting. Everything about it made her skin crawl and she was forced to sit here and listen to it talk. It was feigning being hurt and afraid of it’s new powers. Jemma couldn’t wait till she could slit its throat.

Patience. Wait for the moment. We hate it too. Patience. Defenses still up.

Her friend’s steady stream of reassurances were the only reason she could keep up her own facade of believing it, of caring about it, of wanting to help it. 

“I know this is hard for you,” She said in a soothing voice to the abomination that was pacing frantically before her. “I know it can be very terrifying to find out you are something different than you thought but I can help you. I’m here for you, to help you.”

“I know you had a special drink and that the whole... May is actually a robot ruined it but I thought maybe this could be a nice thing to share on a special occasion?”