Pretty Penny

Not many people really used banks anymore, P.T. Dillinger observed as he stared woefully at the empty room. Or rather, they used banks, but they did all their banking through electronic machines and e-checks and direct deposits and debit cards. Which meant that bank tellers like PT Dillinger were sadly underused, especially this early in the day. There was one customer in the bank, but so far he was simply leafing through the many brochures on the stand. Dillinger stared at him, willing him to have actual business to break this monotony.

An African man in a leather jacket strode through the front doors, and opportunity smiled hopefully on PT Dillinger. He strode across the floor to PT's station, and gave an easy smile. "Hi, there." The man's voice was light and jocular, his smile open. A pair of close-cropped mutton chops framed a friendly face wearing thick-rimmed glasses. "There's a deposit box I'd like to check out?"

Opportunity disappeared. "Ah, you'll have to see the manager about..."

"It's a special deposit box." The man continued, speaking over him. "Box number... 945?"

Dillinger blinked once, twice, three times. "Of course." He said, giving a quick smile, reaching under the desk. "Let me just point you to YOUR DOOM!" He roared, bringing up a jet-black UMP 45 from behind the counter.

The dark-skinned man and the brochure-observing customer both dove for cover as the chatter of submachine gun fire filled the bank.

"Hey, Koenig." Director Coulson, new leader of the reborn SHIELD vigilante organization, trotted into the command center. "How's the bank robbery coming?"

Agent Billy Koenig, the director's on-site pudgy technical advisor, looked up with a smile. "Just beginning now, sir." He said, punching a few keys on the console. "We're patching into the feed from Agent Tripp's glasses."

"Good. Onscreen." As the big monitor at the front of the room flickered into life, Coulson shot a grin at Koenig. "I've always wanted to say that."

Koenig grinned back. "I know, right?"

The image was shaking, rocking back and forth all over the place, and just slightly grainy. About half of it was filled with a marble wall that the wearer seemed to be crouched behind, but in the other half, a scrawny man in a suit and bowtie could be clearly seen behind the counter, wielding a submachine gun. His mouth was open and he seemed to be yelling.

Coulson frowned. "Can we get audio?"

"Oh! Of course. Sorry sir."

"-AAAAAH DIE SHIELD DIE! HAIL HYDRA!" The words were just barely audible over the chatter of gunfire.

"Oh!" Koenig's face suddenly brightened with remembrance. "I almost forgot!" He turned to face Coulson. "Congratulations on the wedding, sir!"

"Thank you!" Coulson acknowledged the comment with a nod and a smile.

"Fire in the hole!" A dark object sailed past the camera and over the counter behind the man.

"Did you cry?" Koenig tilted his head in amused inquiry.

BOOOM!

"I may have cried." Coulson admitted. On the screen before him, the glass of the office to the left suddenly shattered, and an elderly man in a suit appeared, carrying an automatic shotgun. "Kind of silly, I know," he continued, as a series of booms resounded from the speakers and the camera tossed wildly all over the place, "it's not like Agent Jillian's actually my daughter, but..."

"Ah, but they grow up so fast." Koenig nodded understandingly. "It seems like just yesterday she was a level one operative minding the Malta safehouse, and now look at her." He shook his head blissfully, heedless of the camera suddenly vaulting over the teller counter to crouch behind it. "Infiltrating a Mediterranean monarchy by marrying into his close council." He sniffed.

"Mills! Cover fire!" A fresh chatter of gunfire came from the right.

"Eh, it's not quite like that." Coulson spread his palm flat and wiggled it around. "Don Pedro has always been a reliable supporter, and as far as I can tell, Jillian does actually love Claudio, his second." On-screen, the camera was rapidly popping up over the counter and then popping back behind it, loud bangs marking the short clips of gunshots. "I never pushed it or ordered her to seduce him or anything. It's a real attraction."

"True love." Koenig sighed blissfully. "So rare in the spy game."

"He's reloading! Go, Go, Go!" The camera vaulted over the counter again and dashed at the elderly man, who was struggling with the drum chamber of the shotgun.

"I know." Coulson gave a wistful nod. "Sometimes I think it's impossible, but then I see the two of them, and I think—hey, if they could overcome stuff like that awful first wedding—"

"Ooh, I heard about that, too." Koenig winced. The camera had suddenly leapt at the elderly man, and now was rolling over and over. Fists blinked in and out of the frame; eyeballs, ears, teeth, were randomly seen and just as randomly disappeared. "That must have been soooo awkward."

"Try awful? Or Enraging?" The camera was up above the elderly man now, one dark hand closed around the man's throat, the other dark hand pummeling his face. The old man's face was drawn and bitter, snarling as he clawed at the camera. "I practically threw them out of the house, and Root... it was all I could do to convince Root not to actually shoot Claudio for making public accusations like that. Had to remind her it would create an international incident and blow our cover."

"Verdammt... die, SHIELD scum!" The old man hissed.

"Have I mentioned that I find Agent Root extremely disturbing?" Koenig asked. One particularly hard punch splattered a few flecks of blood on the camera.

"Everyone finds her disturbing." Coulson shrugged, "Something about being a cybernetic devotee to a vast Orwellian AI, I gather." The old man's hand must have caught on the glasses, for the camera suddenly flipped upward, giving a rapid-fire view of the walls, ceiling and floor before settling on an upside-down image of Tripp and the bank manager wrestling. "But she's really taken to Jillian for some reason. Mellowed, almost."

Tripp landed one last punch. The manager groaned and lay still.

"Huh." Koenig chewed his lip. "That's... kind of surprising."

"I know." Coulson grinned. "I think it's adorable, this sudden big-sister complex she's developed. Also, don't tell anyone, but I think she may have hooked up with Benedict, the prince's other aide-de-camp."

"C'mon, Tripp. One old man gave you that much trouble?" A brown-haired man with lightly greying temples came up to Tripp and helped him up from the manager's body.

"No!" Koenig recoiled in surprise.

"I know!" Coulson beamed delightedly. "The prince came up with this crazy idea to try to get the two of them together—"

"That old man is a Hydra death's head, so you can stick it in—OH SHIT!" A troop of men in black combat gear were rounding the corner, guns on the ready.

"—and we went along with it, thinking it would never go anywhere, but I guess it really took off!" Coulson smiled. Behind him, Tripp and Mills could be seen running for cover from the blistering salvo leveled at the camera. "It's funny, because Root's always had a distaste of Pedro and his cabinet, particularly Benedict. Claudio is a close runner-up, but I think that has to do with the big-sister complex I mentioned."

"Ah-ha." Koenig waved a smug finger. "If they hate each other..."

"I know." nodded Coulson, grinning. A small black object went sailing from Mills' hiding spot toward the line of Hydra troopers. "Especially since she always had such thin excuses. 'They seem familiar'; 'I just don't like them.'"

BOOOOOM! The Hydra formation was blown apart.

"Well, sounds like she got over it, at any rate," shrugged Koenig, grinning. "Hey, with a little luck, we might plant a second infiltrator in that Maltese court, eh?"

"Ahhhh! AHHH! OH GOD THE PAIN!"

"I guess." Coulson seemed troubled. He looked at Koenig. "I'm... a little uncomfortable looking at it like that. It makes me feel like I'm using people, you know?"

Koenig considered and eventually nodded. "Maybe." He answered, as the screen showed Tripp and Mills walking over the groaning bodies of the Hydra column, zapping the occasional one with an Icer. "It's not the sort of thing Fury would have a problem with, though."

"But I'm not Fury." Coulson gestured toward himself. "That's kind of the point, isn't it? We're supposed to be building a newer, better SHIELD than the one Fury built. And I know Fury wouldn't have a problem with marrying off an agent to get an inside source in a government, but I do."

"RAAAH!" Out of nowhere, one of the bodies reared up and charged at Tripp.

"I feel like, in the new SHIELD, we shouldn't just follow orders." Coulson explained

BANG BANG. Both agents shot the attacker.

"We should follow our hearts. You know?" Coulson tilted his head at his subordinate.

"Totally, sir." Koenig nodded sagely.

"Hey Tripp!" Something huge and dark suddenly descended over the camera, there was a crack, and the screen cut to static.

Both men turned around. "What happened?" asked Coulson.

"Oops." Skye lifted her shoe. "Sorry Tripp. Stepped on your glasses."

"No biggie." Tripp answered, holstering his revolver, smiling at Simmons and the woman behind her. "Not sure what we really needed them for anyway." He clapped his hands. "Let's see what's hidden in this safe-deposit room, eh?"

"The tracers we have on the Washington team are active, so they should be fine." Koenig looked up from the console. "Likely the camera simply broke. We'll wait for them to re-establish contact. In the meantime there's this." He handed Coulson a folder. "Update from the Nikita cell—Agent Beckett has arrived and is investigating the angles suggested by Agent Gideon. They think they might be close on Target A's tail. They're requesting support."

"Mm." Coulson nodded. "Who's closest?"

"The Moscow Northern lights cell. But we just got another number..."

"Retask Shaw and whoever else is at that location, and give the number to our Noir consultants." Coulson nodded. "What's the news on the Chicago cell?"

Koenig winced. "We're still waiting on getting the tech for the Chicago cell up and running." He answered. "But Agent Murphy reports that the dig site suggested by Drs. Petrikov and Randolph is definitely significant, and we should expect trouble."

"Have Westen drum up some support for them." Coulson murmured, flipping through the papers. "What about the open queries?"

Koenig rolled his eyes. "Still no idea on what Rashid, Ivy, or Steven Strange mean, sir."

"Figures." Coulson sighed. "Well, we'll keep trying." He handed back the folder. "It seems Northern Lights gave us four blue numbers. Have tech support run a profile search on them and inform May to prep the jet. We may have some more recruits."

"More?" Koenig blinked. "I could have sworn we were done."

"Apparently not." Coulson shook his head. "Hopefully soon. We're running out of money. Oh, which reminds me—try to get a message to the Washington group, and tell them to ransack that safe-deposit room. I doubt anyone but Hydra has been inside it in years."

"Surprised the CIA missed this." Tripp frowned, glancing over the large, wicked-looking, very obvious chair in the center of the safe-deposit room. "Aren't they going all ape over anything remotely connected with Hydra? Or SHIELD?"

Sky was tapping away on the screen of her tablet. "This one was very well-hidden—the data Black Widow released doesn't even mention it. It makes sense, I mean..." She nodded at the bank vault they were standing in, "...if this really is where they kept their 'Winter Soldier,' this place was the linchpin of their intervention program."

"The cryo tubes downstairs definitely do suggest that." Tripp nodded. He shook his head and whistled. "Dang, this stuff is old. This is like... grandad-era old. What'd they use it for?"

Skye glanced up and shrugged. "Super-evil dentistry?"

Tripp arched an amused eyebrow at her. "Tell me you got something better than that, girl. You're the tech-head here, remember?"

"I'm the hacker. I deal in software, not hardware." Skye rolled her eyes. "I mean, yeah, I build my own rigs, but this thing is several decades older than anything I've worked with and none of it looks remotely familiar."

Tripp frowned. "Well... maybe when Jemma gets back from the cryo tubes..."

"...she can tell everything about it that she doesn't know either." Skye had returned to tapping on her tablet. "Which... is probably still more than me, but Jemma's bio-chem, remember? Organic, squishy stuff. Not all these bells and whistles and... sparky things. The guy we'd want for this is Fitz." Skye's face fell. "But he's not doing much of anything these days, is he?"

"No, he's not." Tripp let out a long breath. "Well, then we got a problem. Director Coulson said this facility was top priority, and apparently no one here speaks machine-language."

"Relax." Skye rolled her eyes. "I'm already on it."

"I thought you said..."

"Yeah, I don't know the first thing about how to inspect this thing." Skye finally looked up from her tablet. "But I know how to get in touch with someone who does." She flipped the tablet around to face the chair. "Whaddaya think, Harold?"

"I will be unable to think anything until you move me closer to the chair, Miss Poots."

"Ah!" Coulson turned at Koenig's pleased outburst. "The Washington team is sending out a video feed. I'll link us in." He tapped a few keys, and the head monitor again blinked into life. The image that came through was grainy and wobbly, showing a bunch of collected wires and circuitry.

Coulson frowned. "Okay... I have no idea what that is."

"Ah! Coulson! Uh, that is, Director Coulson!" The camera's view flipped around suddenly to focus on a bewildered Skye. "I, uh, didn't know you were on the feed too. Sir." She added.

Coulson exchanged an amused look with Koenig. "We thought you might have some information for us."

"Well... actually Harold has the information."

"And if you could turn the camera around again, Miss Poots, I might be able to give you more information," interrupted a new voice.

Koenig grinned and a few snickers could be heard through the video feed.

"Do you have to call me that?" Skye moaned, obediently turning the camera to face the chair. "I changed my name for a reason, you know."

"Shouldn't have told him your real name in the first place." Tripp's voice was amused and faint.

"I didn't! He just... finds out. You know. Like he does."

"Any insights, Finch?" Coulson asked, hoping to defuse the pending argument.

"It's certainly unique craftsmanship." There was a box in the upper right hand corner for the video from Finch's console, but it was dark. "I can't say I've seen anything like it before. The parts I can recognize are some mixture of magnetic resonance array and computerized axial tomography. The vast array of diodes, which were probably meant to go over the head, appear to be an electroencephalography matrix, but the polarity..."

"Wait, what?" Koenig suddenly interrupted.

"Thanks for saying it first. I'm lost too." Coulson nodded gratefully at his second.

"Uh, I'm not." Koenig glanced at his boss. "He's talking about an EEG, an MRI, and a CAT scanner all rolled into one. Fury tried to do something like that with the ultimate lie detector, only it didn't take."

"Oh." Coulson looked a little disappointed.

"All three of those are used to measure brain activity." Jemma Simmons voice could be heard, as equally faint as Tripp's. "But how could he fit them all into that chair?"

"Elements are also included in the ceiling and floor above and below the chair." Harold informed them. "As far as I can tell, this chair is the point of this entire facility, or at least the parts that Miss Poots has shown me."

"Seriously, how hard is it to say Skye?"

"A brain-mapper." Coulson rubbed his chin. "Zola. Of course."

"Sorry, director?"

Coulson shook his head. "Arnim Zola. Head of Hydra's science division and part of Operation Paperclip after the war. Mastermind of Project Insight. He died back in the 1960's, but we recently discovered his brain, stored on a massive supercomputer. We couldn't figure out how he'd managed to map his brain, though." He nodded at the screen. "Mystery solved."

"Only half a mystery." Harold insisted. "There are many other elements to this device that I don't recognize. Among other things, the EEG is set up to go both ways."

"Meaning what?"

"An EEG maps electrical activity across the scalp, giving an impression of the electric synapses firing across the brain inside." Harold explained. "This, though, seems also capable of electrically stimulating the scalp."

"Yeesh." Coulson winced. "Why?"

"I fear there I'm lost." Harold admitted.

"It would be... incredibly painful," Jemma's voice began hesitantly, "...but... the only reason I can theorize would be some flawed expectation that..."

"Hold on. Mills just noticed movement outside." Tripp's voice cut in, sharp, alert.

Skye's tablet fell to the floor with a clatter. Tripp's weapon was already out and pointed. Skye fumbled for her sidearm even as Simmons raised hers with disquieting smoothness.

Skye understood it had to do with all they'd been through (and the "self-defense" moves Tripp kept showing her), but it still kind of disturbed her how quickly sweet Jemma had taken to shooting people.

Not that there was much need to. Agents Glenanne and Mills were already coming up in the rear, weapons raised and hot.

The doors swung open and in walked Root.

"Hi." She smiled coyly at the guns pointed in her direction. "I'm here to see a man about a chair." Tilting her head, she caught sight of the upended tablet and waved. "Hey Harold."

"I mentioned I find Agent Root disturbing, right?" Koenig hissed. The camera had backed up now to give a full view of the bank vault and the chair within it.

"Yes, you did." Coulson answered distractedly, watching the screen. Root was examining the chair, while the rest of the team (minus Glennane and Mills, who had gone back to lookout duty), stood around her, watching with varying degrees of fear, hostility, or bewilderment. He reached up and touched his ear. "Anything, Agent Root?"

"Nothing terribly new." Root's face had a strange expression as she turned from the chair, her fingers trailing over it. "Harold was right, it's a brain mapper, and the Machine says Agent Simmons was about to make an astute suggestion about the additional functions."

"W-well, it's just a theory, but I suppose, if you had a very flawed understanding of neuroscience, you might attempt to reverse the EEG by stimulating electric currents across the scalp to induce magnetic resonance within the brain." Simmons answered. Her face was wrinkled in disapproval.

Coulson frowned. "Would that work?"

"Hah!" Simmons gave an incredulous look at the camera. "Only in Auntie Tresbit's Book of Tales!"

There was a momentary silence.

"It's... it's this fairy tales collection, I read it when I was..." Jemma shook her head, flustered. "Look, never mind. The point is, no, it wouldn't work. It's like trying to cause lightning by playing loud thunder sounds, or painting your skin brown in hopes of increasing your body's melanin count." She paused and considered for a moment. "Well, all right, not quite like that, but you get an idea."

"It's a little more intricate than that, I'm afraid." Root smiled at the younger scientist. "Ordinarily you'd be right, but all these other delightful wires and blinking lights balance it out a bit more."

"What's it supposed to do?" Coulson asked.

Root gave a little laugh. "It was SUPPOSED to re-map a brain, like Jenny said. It gets a lot closer than she thought, but it's still miles from that. This could probably do little more than wipe a brain clean—leave it essentially hollow."

Coulson nodded at Koenig. "Intel suggests that the Winter Soldier had very little personality and no memory." He noted. "Zola probably planned to map his brain onto someone else's." He reasoned. "But they couldn't get that to work, so instead they just used it to keep their Winter Soldier project as blank as possible."

"Okay, since when are you the expert on medical machines?" Tripp was eyeing Root with open hostility.

"That's the funny thing." Turning again, Root looked at the chair with an almost puzzled look. "I'm not. I mean, I have enough medical know-how to torture someone effectively..."

"Have I mentioned...?" Koenig started.

"Yes." Coulson waved.

"...but advanced medical equipment like this is nothing I've ever seen before." Root seemed equally oblivious to the stares the rest of the team was giving her. "But for some reason, the Machine wanted me to see it, and for some reason it feels..." she reached a hand out and touched the metal of the chair, "...familiar."

"She... might have a 'thing' for machines, boss." Koenig warned.

Root's hand suddenly snapped back from the metal and she paused, listening. Then she swiveled around in place and marched for the door. "I have to go." She announced.

"Go? Go where?" Skye asked.

"Los Angeles. There's a basement there I need to break into." She turned suddenly to the team. "She says you should come too."

"Boss?"

Coulson gave it a few moments' thought. "Leave Glenanne and Mills to secure the facility." He ordered. "The rest of you, follow Agent Root's lead. Agent Root, I don't suppose you have any more details you'd like to give us?"

Root was already walking out the door. "We need to find a dollhouse."

Koenig gave a woeful shake of his head.

A/N: I'm not sure I can express how excited I am about this crossover. This is the grand finale, the last installment of the Recruitment Drive series (at least by me). And unlike the others, this one has a definite plot that's not just about picking up the members of fandom X.

I'm aware Dollhouse is not the most popular fandom. I'd never watched it myself until this past year. So if you're a loyal follower just dropping in because you've been reading this series, and have no idea what "Dollhouse" even is, don't worry. Neither do Coulson and the gang. Everything will be explained in time. Think of it, in the meantime, as the final, comprehensive story. I've gotten a few pleas to actually WRITE a proper story with all the characters up against a single threat, and this is that story. So enjoy it!

Quick note on another fandom referenced here-the "wedding" Coulson and Koenig are talking about during the bank raid is the plot to "Much Ado About Nothing," which features Clark Gregg, Amy Acker, and a few other familiar Whedonites. Fans of Dollhouse will know the significance, the rest of you, just know that that bit will be significant. It was not just for laughs.

Also, please review! The RD series has been fun on its own terms, but I do love getting feedback from my readers, and I'm extremely anxious to hear what you have to say about this installment.