#fitzleopoldengineer

“Hey - stop!”

It won’t be the first time he’s shot someone for not stopping. Except - he zooms in on the figure, and he knows who that is.

Peter puts his mask away, lowers the gun. He needs to check through his own eyes - can’t quite believe it.

“Fitz?! FITZ! Dude! What?!”

         “Subject IA311. 

          Fair eyelashes contend with cascading droplets, streams of which increasingly pool over the slippery sidewalk, overflowing into the metal grills that line the narrow street. A few wrong turns had seen the man meteorologically cornered in a part of the city which was unfamiliar to him, signs and posters indicating a number of British themed bars, each proudly displaying their respective colourful flags. The usual red, white and blue fashioned in overlapping crosses. Vertical green, white and orange stripes amidst imagery of shamrock. A red dragon on an emerald field.

                    The ashen clouds had rapidly descended in the evening sky as the man stood beneath the restricted space of a canopy, attention drawn by a bold white cross atop a cobalt backdrop - two hues that bring about a strange sense of familiarity regardless of the unknown reason. The sign reads ‘St Andrews’ and while the blond wasn’t a particularly heavy drinker, he needed somewhere to wait for the turbulent weather to subside. Stepping into the pub, his line of vision lifts towards a number of framed images on the wall - men with kilts in ridiculous poses eliciting an amused huff.

At approximately 11:24 HRS EST, shots were fired at the S.H.I.E.L.D. Memorial Service being held on Liberty Island in New York’s Upper Bay.

The motivations and perpetrators of this attack are unknown at this time.  However, given the likelihood of this attack being only part of a calculated assassination plot against S.H.I.E.L.D. and its affiliates, all Agents should consider this an ongoing and active Terrorist Threat and therefore EMERGENCY PROTOCOL BETA has been automatically activated and will be in effect until further notice.

Doreen: Listen, i need to know if you're ok. Things are getting serious. And i'm worried about you. As I always am.

Doreen: But you probably know better than me?

Doreen: So if you get these texts, call me, ok?

Happy Birthday, Jemma !

As you know I’ve never been as good as you when it comes to present and this year is no exception. I wish I was better at this because you deserve the best and I know I’m not the best of friend and I may not always show it but, you know, life wouldn’t be the same without you.

Oh and mum says Hi, too (but I’m sure she did send you a card, yeah ?)

Love,

Fitz 

Doreen sighed and sat on her couch. She was glad that she had the day off from the shelter because the news of the accords had, honestly, scared her. She knew that she would be one of the many who would have to register, which meant there was a good chance that people would know who she was. 

Which meant people--people who considered her an enemy--would find her; and not only her, people she truly cared for. 

It made her sick to her stomach. 

She knew she should be like Kraven. Getting ready for whatever was going to come, getting ready for a fight, channeling her energy into focus. 

But she wasn’t as brave as he was. Not even by half. 

Instead she sat there and stared at her phone, wondering who to call or who to text. Claire was the first on her mind. She most likely had seen the news. Bringing her name up on her contact list, she soon was sending her a text. 

          (913): Claire, don’t worry about me right now, ok? 

          (913): Just worry about the kids. Foggy too. 

          (913): Love you. 

Hitting send, she bit her lip and then brought up another number. Fitz’s. They had decided to take a break--at last that’s what she figured it was--but right now she wanted to talk to him. At least ask him if he was alright. 

And maybe get some comfort in talking to him. 

Dialing the number she sighed as it went to voicemail. 

“Hey fitz, it’s...well, you know who it is. I don’t know if you’ve heard the news but...apparently they’re making all super powered people register? I don’t know what to think only that...it makes me scared.” 

She let out a small breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. 

“Listen, I don’t know if we’re on a break or whatever but...I really need to talk to you. Maybe that mathmatical brain of yours can make logic out of what’s happening. If you want, we  can go for coffee, tea...whatever. My treat. Get back to me when you can. Stay safe, ok? Bye.” 

Doreen: Hey there you.