Chapter 5: F.Z.Z.T

Hi again! Ok, so this chapter was really fast to write, and edit and such, surprisingly. Hopefully, I can keep up the speed as well as balance homework. I doubt that will happen, side this week I had little homework, but anyway. I will be putting in the link for a soundtrack I compiled in this chapter's matching flashback, so be sure to listen to it!

Enjoy!

Chapter 5: F.Z.Z.T

If Ward was trying to appear like a formidable espionage veteran; it was working. He clasped the pistol, slamming a round into it and aimed it right at my forehead.

Even with my reputation, that killer stare sent shivers down my spine.

Ward shook his head and handed the prototype back to Fitz, "Sorry, it's close, but it's just not right." Fitz looked up at him, utterly disappointed, scarlet button down working in his favour. "Really? Because Agent Coulson had no problems."

"It's an ounce too heavy."

On her side of the lab, Skye paused her incessant typing to face us, "An ounce? Seriously?" I chuckled, "Even I have to admit that's tiny."

"It's the difference between success and failure. If you're on a rooftop with 15 mile an hour wind, your target is 500 yards away-" "Yeah but we do have a rifle," Fitz pointed out, a hand on his hip. I would really hate breaking his trust later on- Fitz was adorable.

The Specialist braced his hands on the desk, "Lose the ounce." Fitz nodded in submission as Ward walked out with stealth. "Yeah, ok, on it."

Returning to studying the chemicals in the lab's fridge, Fitz muttered, "Lose the ounce." He put on a nasally accent, "I'm Agent Grant Ward, and I could shoot the legs off a flea from 500 yards, as long as it's not windy."

Both Skye and I chortled, any thoughts about Thorium-229 and Krypton-78 I was inspecting out of mind. Fiddling with his invention, Fitz gave us a sheepish grin. It was times like these I wished he at least, wasn't S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Hey. That's a sound I haven't heard in a bit," he stated, putting the pistol down. Skye abandoned her computer, "You wouldn't be laughing if you were living in Ward's doghouse."

"At least you don't have the Cavalry's silent judgement."

"You apologised to us all. What more could he ask?" He had a point; ever since Skye tipped off Miles, Ward had gone all 'unnecessarily strict teacher.'

"I don't know!" Skye sighed, "I have been busting my ass, memorised every S.H.I.E.L.D protocol, following every order. 'Yes sir,' 'no sir,' I even let them tag me like a stray dog," she held up the metal bracelet which now controlled her technology usage, "I know, I lied to you guys but I was trying to protect my boyfriend."

"We all make mistakes. Who cares about your ex-boyfriend?" he stuttered.

It had been 2 weeks since the whole Miles fiasco, but he lingered in our conversations, like a chocolate stain. "No offence Skye but I didn't like him." More like loathed, but best to tone it down when the break up was fresh.

"None taken," she answered, and left her seat, "It's not like I'm comparing Ward to Miles but, at least with Miles I didn't have to worry about passive aggressive stuff. We spoke the same language."

"Yeah, a bit like we do," Fitz agreed, gesturing between us. I almost puked, or laughed, maybe both. "You and Simmons are so tight, it's like you're psychically linked," the orphan replied. In the approximate month I'd been here, the two scientists finished each other sentences so much it was like they were in a Disney movie.

"Actually, I don't, I don't think so."

I chuckled, shaking my head, "Whatever you say Fitz."

Skye gave me a look saying, He's so clueless. I raised my eyebrows back, answering, I know.

Simmons strolled into the lab, sneakers throbbing, "Ward was here, let me guess; the night-night pistol?" I returned to studying the refrigerated isotopes, listening. "Yeah, he said it was off by an ounce."

Simmons scoffed, "Of course he did," then put her hands on either side of her lab coat, putting on a familiar accent, "I'm Agent Grant Ward, and I could rupture your spleen with my left pinky."

Skye and I looked over to each other, eyes wide. These two weren't serious, weren't they?

"Blindfolded," the biochemist added.

The three of us stiffened as the door opened and we saw who it was- Ward. "Grab your gear; we're on a mission." He looked at our bursting faces, "Something funny?" Thinking on her feet, Simmons handed him the pistol. "Silly Fitz! He mistakenly left a dummy round in the pistol. Should be proper now."

Ward held the gun, weighed it and aimed it at me again. Handing back it back, he answered, "Great. Thanks." As he left, Simmons slowly turned to us, all exploding into laughter once Ward left.

~~~

Unlike last time, this mission wasn't dabbling with Enhanced. We landed at a forest that was mainly used for Boy Scout camps. Woop de doo.

"The troupe leader's name was Adam Cross. Apparently he said he heard something in the woods, went to check it out and that's when the electrostatic anomaly occurred," Coulson explained. Boy Scouts aside, the scientist in me was interested in the electrostatic anomaly.

"What I don't understand is, usually this is caused by a massive electrical storm," Fitz questioned. The 2 scientists and I surrounded Coulson, since I was now considered the third scientific mind ever since the stunt I pulled with Chan. "But there wasn't a storm within a 1000 miles last night," Simmons pointed out.

"This anomaly's different; this side effect is one we've never seen before," Coulson explained. I scoffed, fists in my brown leather jacket's pockets, "Right, something you haven't seen before? I'd like to see that."

At the sight of the electrostatic anomaly, I couldn't blame Coulson for not seeing this before. "No. Freaking. Way," I sighed, dropping one of Simmons' bags.

The dead body was floating. No strings, no anything- full on floating.

May approached from behind, "A man died, Kennedy." Already, my mind was whirring with possibilities of how electrostatic energy could have an effect like this. "From a scientific standpoint, this is fascinating!"

"A man died."

Gripping the bag's straps, I shrugged, "Still fascinating."

"May I remind you you're training to be a field agent, not a scientist?" Making my way to the scene, dead leaves crunching underneath me, I answered, "Who says I can't be both?"

Simmons got to the business of investigating the victim. "So sad a man died this way, and yet so amazing," she remarked, sliding on a pair of gloves. "Fitz-Simmons," Coulson asked, "any ideas on what might cause an effect like this?"

The two scientists launched into a series of hypothesises which translated to a bunch of gibberish. I know a bit about science, but I was certainly not a genius. Coulson silenced them, "Let's try that again."

"The hell if I know," Simmons scoffed.

"Uh, no, no clue," Fitz answered.

Always one to break the mood, Ward took a step forward, "Seems like this might be some freak natural event, or a new high-tech weapon." Skye too, couldn't resist a taste of the action, poking between May and I, "Or, could it be someone from your uber secret Index?"

"Maybe they can control lightning! How cool would that be?" I chimed, though the looks I received reminded me of how not cool it would be. "And terrible."

My SO shook her head, "There's no one on the Index that kind type of power." Keeping his eyes on the corpse, Coulson replied, "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."

It didn't take me long to remember that Coulson too, had once been in this very state. Extremely and thoroughly dead, gash in his heart instead of the gash in Cross' forehead.

Simmons seemed to notice the wound too, as she approached the body cautiously, "Fitz, see his forehead. Look at the endothelial discolouration." Whatever 'endothelial discolouration' meant, I'll never know, but Fitz understood. "Yeah, same dispersal pattern as the one the truck."

"Could be an entry wound, cauterised immediately-" Simmons was interrupted as static electricity passed from the man's wound to Simmons' hand, dropping to the ground. Collectively, the team moved back, but once we realised it was most likely never to move again, we relaxed. "Freaky," Fitz gulped. Simmons nodded in agreement, "Freaky."

~~~

"That's...interesting," Simmons remarked, eyes honed on the newly downloaded images of the victim. "What is?" I asked, turning away from studying his forehead wound.

The wound itself wasn't extraordinary, but what didn't make sense was the pattern. It should be an entry wound; like a gunshot, but the way the skin had formed...my assassin history let me know that it was an exit wound. Which made things a lot more gruesome.

"The sagittal images of the the victim's brain," Simmons replied. I looked up and knotted my eyebrows. The majority of the victim's body was relatively sound, safe for his brain. What should have been pink, was instead looked like someone placed their vomit inside. "It's like it's been cooked." My S.H.I.E.L.D lab coat sitting uncomfortably on me, a wolf in a lamb's skin.

"Wait, how many mega-joules struck it?" she questioned, turning to me.

"I'll check that." I made my way to a piece of equipment whose name escaped me, but I couldn't help but take a sharp inhale at the data it presented. "No way." The biochemist made her way over, sneakers pitter pattering like raindrops, "What is it?" I passed the display over to her, "It says about 2,000 mega-joules."

"No."

"Yes way."

"That's almost double the power of a lightning bolt!"

I turned my attention back to the sagittal images, whispering. "What could have done this?" To our right, the lab doors slid open, a suited Coulson strolling in. "Excellent timing, sir. I've been analysing sagittal and corneal images of the victim's brain," Simmons reported, walking back to the display.

Coulson looked over to the ramp, and a very lonely FItz. "What's Fitz doing out there?" Simmons looked over at Fitz, who was busy studying his machines, "He detected a strange energy coming from the body."

I chuckled, the lab coat's material felt cold, "Wouldn't want his Zen Fu tampered with."

Coulson grinned, "He's afraid of it, isn't he?" From outside the lab, Fitz yelled, "It's the smell!" Simmons turned around, "There's no shame in it, Fitz! It's perfectly natural to be afraid." I tuned my attention back to his forehead wound, "He has a hole in his skull after all."

"The only thing I'm afraid is putrid decaying flesh corrupting my pristine workspace. Remember the last time you brought a dead thing into the lab?"

"Oh, not the stupid cat again!"

"You left it's liver next to my lunch!"

"Guys! Can we please?" Coulson ordered, motioning to the corpse. Both Simmons and I nodded in compliance. "Yes sir," Simmons replied, "As I was saying, this was the victim's brain."

Coulson's eyes widened at the sight of the shape, "Looks like a burnt baked potato." Well, it was a lot more appetising than my description. "That's what happens when it's struck with close to 2,000 mega-joules of electrostatic energy. That's almost double the power of a lightning bolt."

"Again, lightning powers would be super badass," I grinned, though the smirk was wiped clean off when the Cavalry walked in. "Figure out why the body was floating?" she asked, clearly hoping that my time in the lab proved fruitful when I could've been assisting her interrogation.

Simmons shook her head, "Not yet. The molecular density of the body was temporarily altered by an unknown energy source. But hopefully I'll shed some light once I extract a brain tissue sample."

"It's happening again," Fitz groaned from the cargo ramp. Simmons sighed in frustration, "It's science, Fitz! I have to dissect something!" The engineer shook his head, holding up his tablet, "No, the satellite's picking up an electrostatic event just 20km from here!"

It turned out, there was a second victim.

Ward, May, Coulson and I exited the S.H.I.E.L.D car, approaching the rust coloured barn, creaking with age. We approached the sizeable doors, guns in all hands except for mine- May didn't trust me yet.

"Door's barred from the inside," Coulson remarked. Ward looked up at the open hayloft, "Hayloft's open." Coulson considered easier possibilities, "We could ram it with a truck or..."

The doors suddenly burst open.

Not from any supernatural sources at least; May looked at the three of us, dropping her leg from the kick that had legit split wood. Now that was my SO.

Once again, a body floated in the barn's centre, though higher this time. The hay crinkled under our boots as the field agents approached, wary of the corpse. Coulson turned to Ward and I, "Ward, Kennedy, scan the perimeter; whoever did this couldn't have gone far." We nodded, making our way out of the barn.

"You know what we're searching for?" Ward asked, hands still by his side. "Footprints, vehicle tracks, maybe even animals?" I replied, grinning up at him with the mention of the past part. "Lose the animals and you're correct." I rolled my eyes and grumbled, "Just thinking outside the box."

The search proved uneventful, so Ward and I made our way back to the barn. He stopped me just before I could enter, "You wait outside, if anyone comes, tell us through the comms." I scowled, walking away from the barn to where the grass met with the surrounding forest. "I'm an agent in training, not an idiot."

Once there, I pulled out my encrypted phone which Whitehall had given prior to my departure. "Whitehall?" I asked into the mobile, waiting for his reply. Soon enough, he answered, "Aurelia. I didn't expect contact so soon. How's the mission?" Looking back at the barn a good 20 metres away, I sighed, "Good. I'm surprised I haven't killed anyone yet. Even on accident."

I could still hear his gentle chuckle, "Always the clown. Have you gotten the information yet?" The hand in my sepia jacket formed a fist, "Working on it. The way I'm going, Coulson should spill soon."

"How soon?" he pressed, getting on my nerves. Keeping an eye on the barn's doors, I answered, "I've only been here a few weeks, but my guess, maybe in a month or so." Whitehall practically growled, "Not fast enough." I kicked a nearby tree trunk, portions of the bark soaring off. "Relax, Whitehall, it's not as though S.H.I.E.L.D will start a zombie apocalypse."

"It's always good to be prepared." Right. Because S.H.I.E.L.D would cause a zombie apocalypse.

"How's Jason?"

"Why do you care?"

"Has he been eliminated?" I asked, making sure to still sound angry at him. "Close enough." The pits of my stomach grew cold, Jason, or whatever his real name was, may have known these agents.

"And the Maximoffs?" I inquired, hoping to receive a small snippet of information. "They're fine." What else could I expect from Whitehall? I thought I saw movement at the barn, so I positioned my hair so they wouldn't see the phone. "That's about all I get from you these days." Even through the line, I knew he was smiling, "Retrieve the information and maybe you'll get more. Hail HYDRA."

Grumbling as I hung up, I mumbled, "Hail HYDRA."

~~~

"Gotcha!" Fitz grinned as the second body fell into a wooden box.

Simmons and I both kneeled by the victim- Frankie Whalen- investigating. The sight of him was one for sore eyes; his skin was parchment, lips freckled with lilac- he was very, very dead. "Hey, anyone else notice all the metal scattered around the body, like an electromagnetic field was present? The question is, what created it?" Fitz inquired.

"We need to get this body back to the lab as soon as possible. Something about these wounds..." Simmons trailed off, inspecting the wound in his forehead, identical one to the previous victim's.

"Uh, yeah, about that Simmons-" I was cut off by Skye, who finished her conversation with Coulson, "Guys, we gotta go."

We entered the plane and flew to a new destination; the firehouse where the 2 victims volunteered. Simmons and I donned our lab coats again, which felt a little less cold. I was busy comparing the sagittal images when Skye approached Simmons, her natural hair bouncing, "What are you looking for?"

With his face in a closet, Fitz answered, "A scented candle!"

"This wound, something doesn't quite make sense. Initially, I thought these were entry wounds, as if from a gunshot. But they're not; they're exit wounds."

Oops. I had forgotten all about that.

I twirled around, brown ponytail flailing, "That's what I was going to say before!"

"Why didn't you tell her?" Skye asked.

"I forgot," I stated, turning back to the images, surprised that I told the truth to them.

"What if this weapon overloaded the brain past the threshold of it's electrical capacity, like an EMP?" Fitz asked, pinching two fingers together. "You're assuming we're dealing with an external source," Simmons answered, "I'm saying it was something from inside him," she added, which sparked an idea.

Grinning, I remarked, "Like a-" I was going to say virus, but May cut me off as the image of a Chitaurian helmet came on screen. I poked Simmons on the shoulder, "Um Simmons I think it's-" Simmons didn't notice me, "Sir, he's not using a weapon, he's infected! I think the helmet was the source of an alien virus!"

Once again, exactly what I was going to say.

That was when, through the comms, we all heard the victim's pleas. The man, Tony Diaz, and the other two victims had cleaned the rusty helmet 3 nights ago after they acquired it from the battlegrounds of New York. Rust, we now knew, wasn't rust at all but a viral agent.

Which meant that Tony was going to die. And a look at Fitz's machine confirmed that; he was at 600 mega-joules and climbing.

The room grew smaller, the walls seemed to press in, my vision becoming peripheral.

I stormed out to the sanctuary of my cabin.

This man didn't deserve any of this, he was only cleaning up S.H.I.E.L.D's messes contracting a foreign illness as payment.

After taking a few deep breaths, I turned on the comm, Coulson's soothing voice filling me, "Listen. I've been where you are right now, so please believe me when I tell you, you don't have to be afraid. Your job gets pretty dangerous doesn't it? Mine too. I got hurt once, pretty bad and I died. Some say it was only for 8 seconds but I know it was more than that. I know I wasn't here anymore, I was There."

Through the comm, I barely heard Tony's voice- a soft, male voice who was very, very scared. "What's it like?"

"It's beautiful."

Swallowing it all, I wiped the pair of tears off, seeing May standing in the doorframe. "You shouldn't've heard that."

"But I did," I choked, wishing that I could jump out the plane so she wouldn't see me like this. I had to show my best face, never show weakness. Yet here I was, S.H.A.D.O, with damp cheeks and red eyes and splotchy cheeks.

If Whitehall was here, he would...damn, lost my train of thought.

"I've forgotten how students can be," May grinned. Which caught my attention. May smiling was not taken lightly, I looked out the porthole just to make sure there was no apocalypse. "Trust me, you haven't seen anything yet."

Without invitation, May sat beside me, "Listen, this job can get heavy. So, if you're not up for it, walk away now. No one will blame you." The company was uninvited, but it was welcome, funnily enough.

"Are you kidding? This is fine. Things will have to be pitch black for me to back off." Either way, Whitehall wouldn't let me leave, and this man's death only motivated me to find a cure.

"There we go," May answered, walking out.

A dull, monotone alarm rang out throughout the Bus, rousing everyone to the lab, where I found Simmons inside, quarantined.

I knew what this meant, and Fitz sitting on the opposite side of the glass confirmed that.

"Simmons believed she contracted the virus approximately 36 hours ago when she received an electrostatic shock from the first victim." My eyes began to pool. "How much time does she have?" Skye asked, arms crossed.

"Based on when they were infected, how much time it took until the symptoms manifested, 2 hours at most."

I sighed, rubbing my hand across my mouth, "Oh crap."

The time needed to understand this virus, let alone concoct a cure, would take way more than 2 hours.

"That's enough time right? S.H.I.E.L.D has dozens of labs working on this thing." Working on something that no human understood. "They do. How soon can you get us on the ground?" Coulson turned to May, begging for a glimpse of hope. "3 hours. Our path to the Sandbox has us in the middle of the Atlantic."

Ward asked, "Correct me if I'm wrong but if we can't land in time-" "Simmons will release a pulse that will blow this plane out of the sky."

Looking over to Simmons, knuckles resting between my lips I grumbled, "I'm looking forward to that." Skye shook her head, persistent, "We can't just sit here and watch her die! We have to do something!"

Coulson remained persistently statute, "We have one person on this plane capable of finding a solution, and I'm willing to bet my life she will." In unison, our heads turned to Simmons.

"She's just a kid."

The team decided to stand by Jemma, but I couldn't stand it. Whenever I looked at that navy sweater, that endearing mouse brown ponytail, all I could see was shadow below her eyes, the withering tan of her skin. I could see her floating, as the other victims were. I could see her dead.

And that scared me much more than it should have.

Once again, I was in my room, flipping through a book that Simmons gave me the other day. Unbelievably, it was about the immune system; I almost laughed.

Ok.

Vaccines across history had been developed using antibodies from survivors. Assuming Simmons was the genius everyone said she was, I was willing to bet that she had used samples from the victims. No one had come to tell me the news of her triumph, so that plan must've failed.

Where else would one get antibodies for a vaccine?

Not from herself, since this wasn't the common cold, and not from the victims. The only organisms that survived the virus were the Chitauri. Which would never work since they were from another universe.

Unable to think of any other way to help, I began flipping through the book, taking notes. It wasn't much, but it was all I had. Antigens, antibodies, immunity, whatever I could find on illnesses I took notes on, writing definitions and processes, dot points and paragraphs.

But as time slipped by, the feeling of dread set in; how were notes on simple biology going to help Simmons? It probably didn't even run by the same rules!

Infuriated, I threw the book and lay on my bed, the mattress creaking underneath me. I wished the enemy was a person I could fight, a weapon I could destroy.

Ok Tempest, I thought, time to look at the big picture.

If the owner of the helmet had the virus, then why didn't they let out an electrostatic pulse in New York?

It left 1 option; that alien was immune and therefore a carrier. Which meant that any antibodies found on the helmet could be used.

I gasped in delight when another alarm was released. With my stomach 10 feet behind me, I sprinted to the cargo ramp.

Only to find the ramp open, Simmons gone, and Fitz frantically setting up a parachute, device in hand.

I could hear him mutter, "must to find Jemma," repeatedly as I grabbed the next parachute. "Fitz, let me help," I ordered. But my little moment in the spotlight was taken by Ward, who swaggered to us.

"Kennedy, out of the way," he growled taking the device from Fitz, and yanking my parachute. I refused.

"Some of us have experience outside the dojo." Through my shock at his remark, Ward was able to take the device, and jumped off the plane to save Jemma, without a parachute on.

Showoff.

~~~

Ward was able to save Simmons, not that I wouldn't've minded if he drowned in the Atlantic. That hour in which we waited for Simmons was one of the longest. My imagination kept running through all of the possible outcomes: Simmons still sick, Coulson contracting the virus, Ward having a divine revelation I was HYDRA.

Skye and I heard the door to Coulson's office open and close, and after sharing a look, approached. We caught Ward instead, muttering, "I'm Agent Grant Ward, and I just jumped out of an aeroplane, without a parachute and saved your life."

Simmons giggled and noticed Skye in the corner. "Hello Skye!" she grinned, and the two embraced. Ward looked over to me; I only gave him a reviling expression.

Once they broke away, I chuckled, "Gotta admit, that was some pretty insane Zen Fu back there." Simmons smiled, a few buttons of her white shirt undone, "Kennedy! It's great seeing you again." I answered, "Relax, it's only been an hour."

She grinned for a heartbeat, scratching the back of her head, "Feels like longer." Skye placed an arm around her, "Well so much happened, no one can blame you." I added, "What you did out there, that was brave." Simmons looked like a child trying to impress their parents when she asked, "You think so?"

"Trust me, it takes a special kind of person to sacrifice themselves for their friends."