1. I know it's kind of stupid for me to be starting another long-term fic, but then I read "The Westing Game" and this started rattling around my brain.

2. This is based off of the Westing Game, with heirs from all over the MCU (not Guardians of the Galaxy, sorry) but mostly Agents of SHIELD. There are different clues, different names, and the characters have different secrets. This is going to be fun.

3. List of tenants and heirs and who they would be in the book is in the notes at the end of the chapter.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.


Shields are made to guard people from harm. To be a barrier that caught any ill-intent that might be thrown at the person in question.

Yet, Shield Towers was perhaps the most open place you would ever visit. Every apartment featured an open floor plan, with one wall made entirely of glass. The doors did not have locks (though you could request them for $5 each).

This did not happen, due to the fact that Shield Towers lacked one thing. No, it was not wealthy tenants or smart tenants or tenants with enough time to make such a request.

Shield Towers lacked any tenants at all.

This changed the day Nick Fury was given exactly six envelopes to deliver. Each one he slipped under the correct door. After doing so, he crossed one name off the list Walter Firestorm had given him.

Nick Fury was 62- much too old to be a delivery boy- and Walter Firestorm was a false name.

Fury did not read any of the letters, but if he had, this is what he would have seen.

Dear Future Tenant,

Have you been searching for the apartment of your dreams? Do you need an accessible, modern, comfortable housing at a price you can afford?

COME TO SHIELD TOWERS

-Tons of natural light

-Doorman and maid services. Free!

-Air conditioning and heating

-Elevator: fastest model on the market

-No. 1 school district in the state; exclusive, safe neighborhood

-Pets allowed!

These masterfully built apartments will be shown by appointment only- so call 276-7474 and book yours today!

Your servant,

Walter Firestorm

P.S.

Also renting space in the building for:

-A vet's office in the lobby

-A coffee shop/bakery- entrance from parking lot!

-A restaurant- on the whole top floor!


Walter Firestorm throws the door to apartment 3D with a flourish. Inside walk the Johnsons. Well, three Johnsons, because Jemma was a Simmons-Johnson, much to her adopted mother's displeasure.

"I don't see why you must insist upon keeping that ratty old name, dear," she often said, smoothing her perfect daughter's hair on her perfect shoulders and across her perfect back.

Jemma never replied. Changing her name was the one thing she would not do to please her mother.

"Well, I doubt it matters much. You'll be a Fitz soon. Won't that be just perfect?" Jiaying did not pause to let her daughter answer. "Mrs. Leopold Fitz."

That aside, Jiaying Johnson had succeeded in having a perfect daughter. Jemma was so perfect in fact that the other Johnson girl was mostly overlooked by Mrs. Johnson, other than to be ordered around. "Hurry up, Tremors," the mother says, not bothering to turn and look at the girl.

'Tremors' Johnson does not look back herself. Unable to hear her mother over the music that was blasting through her earbuds, she steps clear of the door and allows Mr. Firestorm to shut it behind her.

Dr. Calvin Johnson, blind to the goings on of this wife and daughters (for the most part), is pacing the farthest wall, starring out the window. It was the length and weight of the full wall, letting in natural light. "That'll cut the electric bill," he muses.

"Ah, yes," Walter says excitedly, rushing to the other end of the apartment's living room. "And, as an added bonus, it's special one-way glass. You get to see outside but no one can see inside. All the privacy you need!"

'He's energetic,' Tremors thinks, watching his mouth open and close rapidly. 'Practically bouncing off the wall.'

"I'm not sure…" the doctor says, looking around. "It's only got two bedrooms…"

Mr. Firestorm begins to look worried. "This is the only apartment left and I've got twenty people lined up for it."

"Three, dear," Jiaying reminds him, pointing to a closet. "And think about how nice it's going to be, with your office just downstairs." The vet's wife wants this apartment, with its lake view and fancy glass. Wait till the women at her book club saw this place. She would lead them through the lobby, watching them wobble on high heels while expertly navigating the room. She would not point out the real crystal chandeliers, but let them gaze up in wonderment at the ornate fixtures themselves. Show them to the- her daydream is interrupted by Cal winning about something.

"That's a cupboard."

Sure, it was a little small, but if that was the price they had to pay, so be it. "It's big enough for Tremors."

Calvin looks to this youngest daughter. Hands shoved into her jean pockets, she starring determinately at the floor. The ends of her hair were dyed red this week, matching the color of her flannel shirt expertly.

He wants to see her face, to know what she was thinking. But doing so would require him to brush the hair away from her face, and the vet knows better than to touch that hair. It was all far too close to the small red braid on the side of her face. Cal had made that mistake last week, and was still nursing a bruise on his upper arm because of it.

Instead he goes by what he can see. Tremors is nodding her head to the music, which he takes as a sign of approval.

"We'll take it."


Only one other tenant had concerns (well, one other tenant that could voice them). And that was Darcy Lewis.

"Isn't this just the perfect apartment for you?" Walter Firestorm says, throwing open the door to an apartment for the sixth and last time that day. "And you're in luck, because this is that last one left." At least this time when he said it the comment was true.

"I wouldn't say its perfect, mister. Where's the lake?"

"Other side of the building, sorry. But really, it's too expensive for an intern-"

"Paid intern. And my boss is going to win a Nobel Prize, so I get a bonus."

"Still," Firestorm shrugs. "Anyway, it's the last apartment left."

"Well…"

"I've got thirty people lined up outside for this apartment."

"I guess I'll take it, then."


Whether or not he was a real person, Walter Fireman was a good salesman. But the time the sun set on the 5th of July he had rented out all of the apartments to the people and families whose names were already printed on little slips of paper and tapped up on the mailbox.

Office: Dr. Johnson

Lobby: Hunter-Morse Bakery

2C: N. Romanoff

2D: Hunter-Morse, Campbell and Banner

3C: D. Lewis

3D: Johnson (-Simmons)

4C: Mackenzie-Maximoff and Triplett

4D: Raina Z.

5: Mackenzie-Maximoff's Restaurant

But who were they, really? Only Walter Firestorm knew.

These were names, not lives. Dare he say it, some may not have been people.

They were a vet, a lawyer, a (paid) intern, a seamstress, and a cook. Oh, and there was an arsonist, a transhumanist, an agent, a criminal, and a cyborg.

And a liar.

But they were all liars. Every single one of them.


1. Sandy McSouthers- Phil Coulson

2. Otis Amber- Nick Fury

3. Berthe Erica Crow- Melinda May

4. Jake Wexler- Calvin Johnson

5. Grace Winsor-Wexler- Jiaying Johnson

6. Angela Wexler- Jemma Simmons-Johnson

7. Turtle Wexler- Tremors Johnson

8. James Shin Hoo- Alphonso Mackenzie-Maximoff

9. Sun Lin Hoo- Wanda Mackenzie-Maximoff

10. Doug Hoo- Antoine Triplet

11. George Theodorakis- Lance Hunter

12. Cathrine Theodorakis- Barbra Morse

13. Theo Theodorakis- Lincoln Campbell

14. Chris Theodorakis- Bruce Banner

15. J.J. Ford- Raina Z

16. Flora Baumbatch- Natasha Romanoff

17. Denton Deere- Leopold Fitz

18. Sydelle Pulaski- Darcy Lewis

19. Sam Westing- Steve Waters

So, I hope you like this so far.

Tell me what you think.