*Emery Lynn is the Avengers with a modern twist, told from the sarcastic point of view of the young Emery Steed, daughter of Emma Peel and John Steed. It takes place in modern times, as there are cell phones, Facebook, etc. Also, I am aware that the ages of Steed and Emma are not accurate AT ALL. But it was necessary for this story. Please note that certain characters are from a previous Avengers fanfic that I wrote. Other than that, it has absolutely NO connection to my prior story.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I hope you enjoy my story.*

Name: Emery Lynn Steed

Age: 14

Parents: John and Emma Steed

Current Residence: 102 Rainfall St., London, Eng.

Current Status: Bored. Utterly and completely bored.

1 Me, Emery Lynn

Ugh. That was so not my fault, no matter what Mom says! I mean, how was I supposed to know that the thing Dad brought home from work was a bomb? What was Dad doing, bringing a bomb home in the first place? He just works in the office with Mom. No bombs in an office cubicle, last time I checked.

And yet, Dad brings one home, sets it on the kitchen counter, and it's MY fault the thing goes off. I thought it was a timer, honestly! I was baking cookies, you know, trying to be a good daughter and all, and I set the timer for twenty minutes so they wouldn't burn.

So twenty minutes later, while I was watching TV, what happens? Why, the kitchen blows up, of course!

Mom came home and completely freaked out, locked me in my room, folded her arms and muttered, "Just wait till your father gets home!"

That's how I wound up in my room, alone, waiting to hear the door open so Dad would come and announce my freedom. Just have to stay entertained until then. To pass the time, I practiced the number one question I had.

"'Why the hell did you bring a bomb home?'" I tried. "No, no, don't cuss. You'll get in even more trouble. Try playing innocent." I put on a pouting voice. "'But Daddy, why would you bring a bomb home where your poor daughter could have accidentally set it off and died?'" My tongue rolled out in disgust. "I am never speaking like that to anyone again. Even myself."

Yeah, I talk to myself. Mom and Dad do it all the time. It's hereditary. I can't help it.

Suddenly, I heard the front door open. I jumped up, excited, and ran to press my ear to the door. Mom and Dad always say something to each other, and I'm determined to hear it. I'm pretty sure it concerns me, like how careless and hopeless I am.

Footsteps. They were coming to my room. Both of them. Uh oh. This was new. Usually only Dad came because after an incident like this, Mom can't stand the sight of me. Yes, there have been events like this in the past.

I hurried to my bed, to arrange myself in an I've-been-here-the-whole-time position, so they would suspect nothing.

The door opened, and Mom and Dad entered my room. I could tell Dad wasn't happy about the mess it was, but I can't stand to be organized. Mom wasn't as much of a neat freak as he was, but she always took his side in clean-room arguments.

Mom sat down in my computer chair. "Emery," she began, "we need to talk."

I sat up, leaning against the wall. I tried to look disinterested, but the lack of anger was throwing me off. Where was the yelling? The string of punishments? I had just blown up the kitchen! "Okay," I said, shrugging. "About what?"

"About our work," Dad said. "It's time we told you what we really do."

I stared at him. "You sit in an office and file papers," I reminded him. "I've been there, Dad. There's not much going on."

He and Mom exchanged uncertain glances, as if they weren't sure they were doing the right thing. Bad sign. Doubtful parents usually make bad choices. I had learned this from watching all the lame TV shows that no one cares about, which makes them educational. Like public television.

"Emery," Mom continued, "your father and I work at a place called the Ministry."

My jaw dropped. The Ministry? Now they were just making fun of me! "Yeah, okay," I snorted. "You two are special agents of Britain's most secretive branch of government, so secret it probably doesn't even exist. Yup. I understand everything now."

Dad glared at me. "There's no need to be sarcastic, Emery. You were supposed to have no idea of who we are and what we do. It was our orders."

"We didn't want to," Mom insisted. "Mother forced us. He wanted-."

Did I just hear that there was a guy named Mother? Is that really what just entered my ears? I snickered. Poor guy.

Mom scowled at me. "Emery," she said firmly. "Pay attention. We're serious. Your father and I were the top agents of the Ministry, always out on missions. Well, I wasn't really an agent, but that's beside the point. And then I got pregnant. Father was furious. She threatened to fire us, have our memories wiped, everything! We were forced to become round the clock office workers, and believe me, it's been hell."

Whoa. Did Mom just cuss? Dang, this was serious. I should start paying attention.

Dad took over the speech. "What we're saying, Emery, is that we're the best there ever was, and now they need us back in the field. We'll be gone for a couple weeks, and then we'll be back. Nothing you can't handle."

"Except for the fact that you just blew up all your chances at learning to cook a meal for yourself," Mom explained, smirking. "Seeing as how there's no way for you to survive here alone, you'll be staying with Mother."

"The guy, right?" I asked, nervous.

Dad nodded. "Unfortunately, he was the only one oblivious enough to take you." He bent down so that his mouth was at my ear. "Listen carefully," he murmured. "Mother will be observing you, evaluating you. If he decides you're good enough, you can join the Ministry. So you be good."

I thought about it for a minute. "Will I still have to go to school?" I questioned. If I didn't get out of school, there was no point in even trying to impress this Mother guy.

Dad grimaced and made a maybe gesture. "We'll see. Don't tell your mom." At this, he turned to glance at Mom, who was sitting with her arms and legs crossed, eyeing him suspiciously. "Okay?"

I nodded. No more school! This was gonna be great! "When are you leaving?" I wondered.

"Tomorrow," Mom answered. "After breakfast." She stood and left the room. "We're eating out tonight!" she called.

I grinned and waited for Dad to leave. Facebook was waiting, and boy did I have an update! (Even though no one would care about what Emery Steed had to say.) He was watching me, curious. "What?" I asked.

"Do you believe us? You didn't put up as much of a fight as I expected," he said.

"I believe you," I lied. Believe my parents were loons, more like.

Dad exhaled, and he seemed annoyed. "If you want to become a good agent, you need to be a good liar. I've been waiting for some sort of skill to arise, but you are a terrible liar, Emery."

I gaped, offended. "What do you mean, I'm a terrible liar? I've gotten away with so much!"

"Like?" Dad asked. "Please, enlighten me."

I opened my mouth, totally prepared to rattle off a whole list, but then realized I had nothing. After getting caught so many times I had given up on lying and resorted to just telling the truth. I was silent, and Dad's expression grew smug.

"That's what I thought." He flipped his bowler hat and placed it on his head, traded the hand his umbrella was in, and headed for the door. "Dress nice, please?" he requested. "Knowing your mother, she'll want to go somewhere fancy. And don't tell me you have nothing nice. I know you have at least ten dresses."

I looked down at my clothes, the usual jeans and t-shirt, and groaned at the though of wearing a dress. It wasn't my fault Grandma kept sending me these extremely fancy dresses, although the part about my parents forcing me to wear them I probably brought on myself.

And the heels Mom made me wear! That part I knew was punishment, because she smirked every time I hobbled around on those stilts.

Reluctantly, I went to my closet and selected the plainest dress I had. My plainest dress is white, completely hugs my figure in an uncomfortable way, and restricts my legs from walking like a normal human being. My hair is brown and straight, like Dad's, but according to everyone I have Mom's eyes. Which, to be honest, I have no freaking clue what color they are.

I was dressed and wishing that I had remembered to shave my legs that morning while running around the house, barefoot, searching for my high heels. The last time I had been forced into those peg legs, I had decided enough was enough and hid them in various places around the house, even separating the pairs.

Now, however, I couldn't remember where I'd hid them. And Mom would kill me if I went to a fancy restraint in my Converse.

"Ready, Emery?" Mom called. She came out in a scarlet dress and diamond earrings, already strapped into her heels and looking at me expectantly. "Come on, your father's waiting outside."

"He dresses nice daily," I muttered, having succeeded in finding two white high heels. They weren't the same, but the color matched and, really, who was looking? "He doesn't have to get ready."

Mom grabbed a jacket and swung her purse over her shoulder. "We'll be in the car," she said.

I hoped we were taking Dad's car. Dad's car was cool.

When I got outside, I was disappointed to see that we were taking Mom's car. I pulled my jacket on and opened the back seat. Mom's car was nice, don't get me wrong. But Dad's was so old and classy, it was just awesome! I loved it when he took me to school in it, so that everyone could stare at the awesome car and be jealous.

I stepped inside, slammed the door shut, and sat with my knees up on the seat. Mom turned around and scolded me. "Sit like a lady, Emery," she snapped.

I rolled my eyes but placed my heeled feet on the floor of the car. When I was sure she wasn't looking, though, I pulled them back up.

Dad pulled out of the driveway and we were off.

"So, where are we going?" I asked nonchalantly. I've been trying to appear as if I have no opinion on the subject, so they won't find out I hate a certain place and take me there every time we go out.

Dad shrugged. "Wherever you want, Emma."

"Luigi's," Mom said.

I stiffened. "Luigi's? The place where the guy comes out with a violin and plays right in your ear and the only other people there are old bags?"

"Don't say that," Mom snapped. "But yes, that's the one."

What? Why there? Not to mention that I hated EVERYTHING on their menu, but the very atmosphere of the place bored me to death. Last time we went, I had snuck my iPod into the restaurant. Dad said if he ever saw me do that again, he would take away my computer.

I think this is just payback for all the things I've done. Instead of grounding me for blowing up the kitchen, they take me to Luigi's. Which is worse, believe me.

Although, they could have taken me to El Esceula, a Mexican restraint where everything is loud and noisy and it smells like dirt. They chose Luigi's because they hate the Mexican one almost as much as I do, I think.

I bit my lip and remained silent, because the smiles on their faces said I had revealed just how much I hated the place.

***

The violin guy was coming around the room, spending a little time at each table. Three more until he came to ours, during which I was going for a bathroom break.

"Emery," Mom said, grabbing my attention, "please, tell us, are you alright with us leaving for so long?" She had her pasta stabbed on her fork, but she wasn't eating it. Something was bothering her, since she hadn't eaten hardly anything. Mom doesn't eat when she's upset.

I put my fork down and met her gaze, trying to read her eyes. My elbows were up on the table, and I was slumped over. Dad was frowning, as posture was a must in a place like this. "Yeah, don't worry, I'm fine with it. I mean, no school for two weeks-."

Mom cut me off. "No school? Oh, are you sadly mistaken, Emery," she said, grinning slightly. She took a bite of her food, so laughing meant she was feeling better. "Mother will take you to school, and he'll pick you up afterwards."

"And don't even think about skipping," Dad commanded.

Dammit. How can he read my mind like that? Here, let's try the lying thing.

I gaped. "How can you think I would do something like that? Am I so bad that you have absolutely no confidence in me?"

Dad placed his knife back on his plate. "That was very good, except for the fact that your face gave you away the instant I said it."

"You're kidding!" I cried. "I have to worry about my expression when I lie?"

Mom looked from Dad to me and back again. "Well, of course," she said, keeping her eyes on me, even though she wasn't sure what we were talking about. "Your expression is the most vital part of your lie." She, too, placed her fork down, and it seemed we all forgot about the food. "See, Emery, when you're being interrogated, it's good to act like you don't know what they're talking about. Since you're a girl, you can cry to seem more innocent."

"The best liars in the world are actors," Dad told me knowingly, "because they can become anyone and anything, and display emotion on cue. That's why I wanted you to take Drama at school."

Amazing. There was a school course that taught you all about lying! I was so signing up for it next semester. "So I've just got to put on a show, and stay in character?" I said. I had to be sure I had this right.

Mom nodded. "Yes, but don't overdo it. If you're annoying, it can get you killed."

So, if I learn to put on an act as well as my parents, I'll be able to talk about dying as freely as Mom just did, like it doesn't matter? Maybe my parents were just well trained actors, and this was an elaborate joke! It seemed infinitely more likely than them being special agents. I bet they were going away so they could film a movie.

I would have to check the upcoming movies and look for their names.

"Okay, don't exaggerate," I said, nodding. "I can do that."

Dad fixed me with a hard stare, and I felt as if he had heard every thought that had just run through my head. He looked back at his food, which meant, "We'll talk later, when your mother's not around."

"Tomorrow, we're taking you to the Ministry, and we'll introduce you to Mother," Mom said. "Pack your things when we get home."

I was going to live with a guy called Mother for the next two weeks. Fun.