Disclaimer: Same as always. No owning of the S.H.I.E.L.D.
Author's Note: Pre-Yes Man. Perhaps I'm jaded about things after having to fill out an inane number of forms and doing the asinine work of military bureaucracy, but when I saw Coulson give Skye the S.H.I.E.L.D. badge, a part of me thought "God damn. That's a lot of paperwork that'll need to get done…"
"More paperwork?" Skye groaned as she flipped the first couple pages like it was a flip book. Coulson smiled. Part of him enjoyed the realization that working for S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't all fun, sexy, operations; those need paperwork, which is the true forte of bureaucracy. "It's easiest if you begin with the first question, and then continue with the rest." Again Skye flipped through the pages, ignoring Coulson's amused tone. "A.C. There's over a hundred pages here." Skye glared at the man. "And that's just your standard SFR-68. Just was until we get to the fun stuff." Coulson replied, leaving Skye to her misery.
Coulson frowned as he looked over the forms. Most of the spaces were blank. It made sense-Skye had been living out of her van for god-knows how many years. She probably also added only the information from her current life as 'Skye.' Who knows what her birth name was.
"Ma'am?" a clerk at the HUB stood behind the stoic Maria Hill. She turned around, irritated. "I'm going to need some clarification on this." He motioned to a stack of papers. Maria looked down at the pile and a small smile split her normally stoic face. "It's better than a poop with knives coming out of it." The clerk looked up at her, shrugged, and filed the reports which only had a single name and a marker which had written over the top of every page: "Approved S.H.I.E.L.D. Classification Level 7. Agent Phillip Coulson, S.H.I.E.L.D."