Angry Birds (part 1)
Disclaimer: none of the characters are mine, but belong to Josh Whedon and Marvel™.
Note: this story contains spoilers.
Location unknown
The day was overcast, even though the sun had risen some time ago. Outside, a cold wind was blowing, and agent May, even though she could have worked outside, with the damaged antenna and all, subtly opted to stay in the cockpit, working on the problem from that end. Sure, it was a slower option, but a better one, surely.
The other agents were in the impromptu kitchenette of the plane, having their breakfast: eggs, sausage, biscuits, and-
"Jalapeno," Skye said immediately as she took a bite out of her meal. "Simmons, since when do you have a love affair with peppers?"
"Ever since we had to cut down on coffee," the other woman glared back, albeit slightly, for this was agent Simmons after all. "And we had to cut down on coffee-"
"Because I requisitioned your replicator for some time to make myself pomegranate juice," Skye admitted rather than denied it. "I got to admit, I was wrong – your machine isn't better at making juice than coffee-"
"It isn't our machine," Fitz decided to support his partner. "Well, yes, it is ours in the broader meaning of belonging to S.H.I.E.L.D., but-"
"Please, that's enough," Coulson almost groaned. "Can we talk about something else?"
"Well, I have to finish breakfast first before hitting the lab for the final conclusions, but sir, I'm reasonably sure that you're you and not your own clone," Simmons said brightly.
There was a pause as the others thought about it. "Does it really matter, in the big picture, if agent Coulson is his own clone?" Skye asked. "I believe that there are protocols even for that state of affairs-"
"Yes, but, you know, it would be an important milestone on his journey to self-discovery," Simmons replied brightly, even as Fitz mouthed the words 'midlife crisis' behind her back. "Agent Fitz! I mean agent Ward! You're late."
"Sorry. Bad dream earlier tonight and I also took the advantage of our leave of absence to sleep later today," Ward replied with a grimace. "And you're still adding jalapeno to our breakfast meals, I see. Skye, what is the news today?"
"Hm?" Skye, who was sneaking peeks through an illuminator, looked back. "Let me think. The Chinese still think Thor and Loki were an item-"
"And without Thor around this isn't anywhere as amusing," Coulson commented.
"The Canadians still talk about Toronto's mayor-"
"No politics at breakfast, please-"
"The second part of Hobbit will be released next month-"
"Er-"
"And if agent Fitz thinks that he will be using my computer to download his pirate torrents in the future, he's wrong."
"Hey!" Fitz sputtered. "I didn't! I mean, I did, but I have stopped. Seriously, one messed-up version of a James Bond film was bad enough! I stopped!"
"Maybe, but my computer has been acting strange earlier this morning and if you had caught a virus while using it-"
"I stopped!" Fitz protested desperately, "I did!"
"Fine," Skye relented before switching his attention to Coulson. "In other news, there are plenty of owls, and other night fowls, not to mention daytime birds on the trees and elsewhere surrounding our plane. Is that normal?"
Coulson blinked (in a rather owlish way) and also took a look at the illuminator. "May?" he turned on the plane's internal communications. "How are you in the cockpit?"
"Fine," May finally got up from her prone position (she had been working with the wires) beneath the gadget board and looked around for the first time since the sun rose.
And stiffened. "Sir," she responded to Coulson in her quiet voice. "Did you know that there are a whole lot of birds around us?"
"Yes. We're observing them through illuminators," Coulson replied.
"This works," May admitted grudgingly, "but can you come over here? You can get a better view here."
/
The view from the cockpit window was indeed much more panoramic than from any of the side illuminators. True to Skye's statement, there indeed were owls, and cuckoos, and nightjars, and jays, and magpies, an occasional hummingbird, many, many songbirds and even an intermittent shorebird or two.
"Is that a swallow?" Fitz asked Simmons after several minutes of silent observations.
"It looks more like a swift to me," the latter replied. "And Skye? No, this is not supposed to be here... we think."
"Really?"
"Yes," Coulson answered instead. "Those repair stations are self-sufficient, but they are protected by a specialized aversion field that prevents... well, the wildlife at least from taking a roost in them."
"You sure?"
"Yes. S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicles, such as our plane, are equipped with specialized beacons that allow us to land here without problems."
Skye thought that is over. "I know that this is beside the point, but how did we land? I thought that the late Tobias had bastardized our plane really well!"
"So? He just did not get the beacon-"
"You're wrong," May said nonchalantly. "Tobias just gutted the plane. Agent Fitz, when he got it operational, bastardized it – this isn't his primary field of expertise." She paused, seemingly ignoring the stares of others, and added: "That said, it is hard to say what works here and what does not anymore – this isn't agent Fitz's primary field of expertise..."
"Hey!" Fitz decided not to take this lying down. "Don't make me sound like an ignoramus! I know how it works – see, there's this switch..." he flipped it. Immediately, a blinking red light came on, and the birds turned from merely watching (in an unfriendly way) to squawking and flying, and pecking on the cockpit window.
"People," Skye gulped, "did we blunder into a Hitchcock horror film?"
"An excellent question," Coulson said with more feeling than was probably proper. "Fitz, please turn it off-"
"I already have-"
"Run!" Ward shouted and everyone just bolted for the door...except for May, who exited last and instead bolted shut the cockpit door – just as the window gave way.
"What now?" she heard Skye ask Coulson as they headed for the other end of the plane.
"To the vans!"
TBC
