"Sir? What are you doing here?" Asked a doctor as Fury strode into Medical.

"I need to see the girl," He replied, still walking, now towards a room.

"But she hasn't woken up yet..."

"Good."


Roo sensed that a person was in the room. Carefully, she opened one eye, and found a gun pointing at her.

This is a nice way to wake up, she thought.

She looked at the person holding the gun, and was startled to see a African-American guy with an eyepatch. An eyepatch. Just like a pirate.

But she didn't show her surprise. If the enemy, (and she guessed that the guy was an enemy because he was holding a gun to her head) knew your emotions, the could get the upper hand. And that could get you killed, and even though Roo didn't really have any reason to live, she figured that staying alive sounded much more better.

She stared at the man, and he stared back. Roo started to sit up, but the man just pointed the gun at her head.

"Don't move." He said threateningly.

Roo just snorted. If the guy was going to kill her, he wouldn't have gone through the whole process of putting her in a place where she thought was a hospital. She continued trying to sit up.

"I will not hesitate to shoot." the eyepatch guy declared.

"I don't care."

"You could die."

"I got nothin' to live for."

"You sure?" he asked. "What about your parents?"

"Dead." She said bluntly.

The man sighed, and lowered the gun a few inches. "You set that bomb off in London." He said. It wasn't a question, more like a declaration.

"I don't know what the heck you're talking 'bout."

"You do."

"Nope. And if I did, why would I tell you?"

"You would tell me because I have a gun pointing at you head."

"Didn't we go over this? I don't care if I die or live."

"You set that bomb off in London, and I'll bet you're responsible for Tokyo, Sydney, Chicago, and Paris."

"What?" Roo asked.

"You know what I'm talking about. We found knives and guns on you, and even though I'm not sure you can even use one, it's enough evidence to think that you were the person responsible for all the power outages and crimes."

"Fine, you got me. And you forgot Moscow. And for your information, I can use those knives and guns very well."

The man stared at her for a moment, before he started talking again. "Good, we got that covered. Next question, do you work for Hydra?" The man asked.

"Maybe."

The man sighed. "Who are you?"

"George Washington."

"I want an answer."

"Fine, my name isn't George Washington, It's I'm Not Telling You Jr."

"I want a real answer."

"I'm in so weird facility, right? So why not use some fancy face scan thingy?"

"We did, but we can't find you."

"Awww, though luck. How 'bout we skip this question, and go onto the next one?"

"How old are you?"

Roo thought for a minute. It wouldn't hurt to tell the man, but she needed some answers too.

"What if we trade an answer for an answer?"

"What are you asking?"

"I'm just saying that I'll tell you how old I am, if you let me see a window."

The man seemed to think for a moment, and said "Fine."

A couple minutes later, Roo was staring out of a window down at New York.

"We're in the air." She said.

The man nodded.

"Oh."

The man looked at her, and asked, "Your age?"

"Twelve." Roo answered, still looking down at New York. A Hydra base was down there, somewhere. If she could just get out...

"You're twelve?" The man's question broke her from her thoughts.

Roo nodded, then frowned, and said, "Oh, wait, maybe I'm 138. I forget.


The kid was worse than Stark. She refused to answer most of the questions, and the ones she did answer were sarcastic, and fake. The only thing he had got from her was her age, that she could use all her weapons, and the possibility she worked for Hydra.

Fury couldn't believe that the girl was 12, and could use a gun and a knife. His first thought had been that the Red Room was still active and was working with Hydra, but Romanoff had dealt with them a long time ago.

Fury groaned inwardly, and sighed.

Why does it have to always be SHIELD?


Coulson has done many things in his life. He was working in a secret government agency, was the handler to 2 of the Avengers, and he also died-ish (He had the scar to prove it). but he had never interrogated a child before, and it was not something he was going to do again.

"Hi!" The girl had greeted cheerfully. "My name is I'm Not Telling You Jr.! My mom was Senior, but I'm pretty sure the pirate dude told you already."

Coulson had stared at her for a moment, completely surprised. He hadn't expected the kid to act like this. Crying? Sure. Proclaiming innocence? Sure. But saying 'Hi!' and smiling? Coulson could see why Fury had a headache.

"Hello, I'm-"

"A secret agent like James Bond?"

"Kind of, except-"

"Except your code name is double seven-oh?"

"No. I was going to say that my name is Agent Coulson, and I'm American."

"I am too! I think."

"That's nice. I'm just going to ask some questions, ok? And I would prefer if you answer truthfully."

"I'll try, but you probably aren't going to get much."

"You're twelve?"

"And a half a quarter, I think."

"Ok. Who trained you?"

The girl frowned. "A ton of people. But no time, there was..."She shut her eyes, and started breathing heavily, and muttering something in what he thought was Swahili.

"Are you ok?" Coulson asked, curious of why the girl was muttering in Swahili, and talking about no time.

The kid's eyes snapped open, and glared at him. "I'm fine."

He nodded, and asked another question, "Who are you parents?"

"They don't matter in this. They're dead."

"Did they work for the same person you work for?"

The girl blinked a few times, and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes, and muttered, "Avengers killed them," over and over in French. Luckily, Coulson knew the language, and understood her, but he was confused. The Avengers killed her parents?

Finally, the girl stopped, and said, "No, my parents didn't work with... them. My father was a teacher, my mother was a librarian."

"Hmm. What was your job in the place you work for?"

"I'm a special agent." She beamed, "I had second to highest clearance!"

Coulson blinked. Who gave a twelve year old second to highest clearance?

"Er, what's your name?"

The child looked at him for a minute, then said quietly, "Kipellm."


"She said Kipellm, Sir." Said Coulson.

"Kipellm? Who names their kid Kipellm?" Asked Fury.

"Should we search it?" Asked Coulson. Fury nodded.

An hour later, he still couldn't come up with match, and Coulson was about to give up, when Barton walked into his office, plopped down on a chair, and put his boots up on the desk.

"Hi Phil! What are you doing? And it wasn't my fault. Stark did it."

"I know." Actually, he didn't know what Clint was talking about, but he figured that the sooner he agreed, the less work he would have to do.

"Yes! It's Stark's fault!"

Coulson rolled his eyes. "Clint, if you're going to be in my office, you're going to help me find this girl's identity."

"The same girl me and Nat thought was suspicious?"

"It's Nat and I, and yes, that girl. She told us her name is Kipellm, and I can't find her anywhere."

"Are you checking first or last name?"

"First."

"Then start checking last name." Said Clint.

Coulson did, and froze.

Clint noticed, and frowned. "You ok there, Phil?"

"She's dead."

"What?!" He asked, and walked over to see the computer screen.

"'Roo Kipellm, twelve years old, deceased. Cause of death; fire.'" Read Clint. "Well, that's nice."

"She 'died' three weeks ago, and now she appears, and has the skill to use knives and guns?" asked Coulson, to no one.

Clint looked at him. "We gotta tell Fury."