Worry spread like a disease across Daisy's face as she sat on the couch of the Playground's lounge area. The awful stench of air freshener didn't help: she tried telling Simmons not to spray it but she insisted it was purely for scientific purposes to test the effect of the spray on Inhuman behavioral instincts.
"Tremors. I came to check you're alright," A voice said behind her.
Daisy turned round to find her partner Mack in the kitchen area. Mack lingered over to the cupboard and took out two cups, filling them with coffee and walking over to the lounge area where Daisy was sat.
"We've all noticed you've been a little distracted lately,"
Leaning over, Daisy picked the cup from the table in front and took a gentle sip.
"Well, if by 'distracted' you mean coping with withdrawal symptoms from the wacko Ward drug the last few months, then yes," She said.
"No, there's something else," Said Mack. "And strictly speaking, it wasn't Ward,"
Daisy took another swig from her mug.
"Okay, if we're going with technicalities it was Hive. But it's not like there's much difference between the two,"
Turning to face Daisy, Mack offered a concerned look.
"What are you hiding, Tremors? Something's wrong. I can tell,"
Daisy sighed and placed her mug down.
"Okay. Fine. You got me. It's my vision,"
He threw his arm over her shoulder in a protective stance.
"You had another one?"
"No, you don't get it," She replied in frustration. "In my previous vision, somebody died. Somebody within SHIELD was supposed to die on that Quinjet, Mack. Yet nobody did,"
"That's a good thing, right?" He said with a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
"I'm not sure it's as simple as that," Said Daisy. "What if something has happened to time? What if my vision was showing what was supposed to happen and somehow we've ended up in some messed up reality where everything we know is wrong?"
Mack stood up and carried his now-empty coffee mug over to the kitchen area.
"Well, if you're right we need to tell Coulson,"
Daisy joined him and placed her mug in the sink.
"You're right. Coulson needs to know,"
Scientific experiments seemed to vary in importance within SHIELD. Sometimes you'd get some that were nothing more than enhancements for pre-existing SHIELD weapons, others of more extreme priority. This one was on the latter end of the scale.
So it was with annoyance that Mack interrupted Jemma and Fitz's experiments to tell them Coulson wanted to see them in his office.
Coulson knew they wouldn't be happy about their distraction as he stared at the holographic screen behind his desk. The screen had been scanning for signs of time disturbance: two results displayed, Hill Valley (which he trusted Doc Brown would sort out anyway) and Coronation Street. He turned as Fitz and Simmons entered his office.
"You better have a good reason for distracting us from our hugely important research into the s-" She began, before Coulson interrupted her.
"Forget the experiment," He said abruptly. "We have greater concerns right now,"
"With all respect, Sir, we might have found a cure for Inhuman skin canc-" Fitz started to argue.
"I said forget the experiment," Snapped Coulson. "It can wait. I have detected a possible time disturbance in Manchester and I need you to run a few tests,"
Fitz and Simmons exchanged a look.
"Do you still have that device the Doctor gave you?" Fitz asked Simmons.
"The one that goes ding when it detects temporal anomalies?" She queried.
"Yeah, that's the one," He nodded.
"It's in my locker. We can pick it up along the way," Simmons decided.
"Mack will be waiting for you at the hangar. Good luck," Said Coulson.
As Fitz and Simmons began to walk towards the door, Coulson called them back.
"You'll need these," He said, passing them a pair of bulletproof vests.
"One question, sir: why would we need these in Manchester?"
"I'm sending you to a rough spot there," Said Coulson. "Coronation Street is said to be cursed due to the number of murders, fights and extremely bitchy bar maids there have been over time. Believe me, you don't want to cross Liz McDonald without one…"
"Okay, this is great. As if we haven't been through enough already, Coulson goes and sends us to a street where half the population get murdered…" Fitz muttered as they left for the hangar.
Ten, twenty, thirty, fourty….
Counting change for a customer was one of many annoyances for Norris Cole, especially when they chose to pay him with a twenty pound note for a 30p magazine. Why people couldn't simply find the right change was beyond him. A huge noise erupted over the top of the Kabin newsagents and Norris slammed his hand in frustration.
"I can't concentrate when there's all that noise out there," He grumbled. "We're not supposed to be in the middle of Sunderland air show…"
"You can't turn a plane engine off in mid-air, Norris…" Rita, who was stood next to him, pointed out.
Norris shifted in embarrassment whilst starting to count the change again.
"I know that. But I don't know why they can't fly their aircraft somewhere else. I shall be writing a complaint to the council tomorrow morning,"
Rita handed the change over to the customer, his face disguised by a hoodie perched over.
"Here you go, love. Sorry about him,"
Suddenly the Kabin began to shake, the windows shattering at the sheer force of unstoppable wind.
"Right, that's it," Norris moaned as he stormed out. "I'm not putting up with this any longer. The pilots of that aircraft won't know what's coming to them…"
What he saw next was the last thing Norris expected to see. Parked on the cobbles outside the Kabin was a strange looking plane with a militaristic look and slick black design. Fat wings contained two weird shield-like discs pointing downwards and at the back a slightly wonky looking propeller.
Two rather ordinary looking people emerged from the back - a man and a woman, both dressed in casual clothing and to Norris's nosey eye were quite clearly an item.
Before the two strangers had a chance to go anywhere, Norris stomped towards them.
"Hey, I want a word with you," He called. "Have you seen what you've done to my shop? It's ruined. I mean, it's going to take at least a few hundred to get it fixed and I'm not paying for the damage you caused with your...plane thing,"
"Quinjet," The man corrected. "And maybe if you asked nicely, we'd be more likely to oblige,"
Norris furrowed his eyebrows.
"'Asked nicely'? Excuse me, you just destroyed my double-glazing. I'll be lucky if I were able to open tomorrow, never mind next week…"
The woman seemed much more pleasant. She offered a sincere smile to Norris and at least looked apologetic for the trouble caused.
"What my colleague means to say is, we're extremely sorry for the destruction caused to your shop and we'll play you whatever you need for repairs," She promised.
She pulled out a checkbook and pen from a pocket.
"How much will you require?"
"Well, it'll be at least three hundred pound," Norris said. "In fact, make that four hundred just in case,"
Simmons scribbled into the book and pressed the cheque onto Norris, before walking off as Norris returned to the Kabin to check Rita was alright.
The detector was picking up strong readings outside the door to eight Coronation Street. The ding was almost deafening. The door swung open as a woman in her 60s – Gail Rodwell - walked out; Fitz and Simmons pushed past her as she shut the door and walked into the hallway.
"Gemma, why has the ding gone quiet?" Fitz asked.
"You don't suppose…." Simmons began.
"She was the temporal anomaly?" He queried.
Simmons nodded.
They turned and tried the door handle. It was locked. Fitz kicked at the door; surprisingly, it swung off its hinge with such force that it fell to the ground.
"How did you do that?" Simmons said in surprise.
"I have absolutely no idea," He replied. "I guess I don't know my own strength…"
Luckily, Gail was still in sight: albeit a way into the distance. Fitz and Simmons sprinted in her direction; their suspicions proved correct when the device became louder the closer they found themselves to her.
Satisfied with their results, they turned and headed back towards the Quinjet.
They were greeted by Coulson as they arrived back in the Playground's hanger.
"Did you find anything?" Their boss asked.
"Yes. We found the source of the temporal disturbance," Simmons informed him. "It's a woman in her sixties,"
"Do you have a description? Any details about what she looked like?" Coulson pressed.
"She had blonde hair," Fitz noted. "And a squat face. Reminded me of E.T,"
"The extra terrestrial? That explains everything," He decided. "I have an agent residing in Weatherfield. I'll pass on the description to him. He might know who we're looking for,"
Coulson ambled away from the hangar; it was time to bring in one of his most trusted agents.
"Gail? Surely not…." Came the response from Agent Barlow as Coulson relayed Fitz's description to him over the holographic screen in his office.
"I was hoping you would know her," Coulson smiled. "I'm sending you on a mission, Agent Barlow. Wherever she goes, follow her. Don't let her out of your sight until you learn any more new information. Then report back to me,"
A shocked expression formed across Ken's face.
"I can't do that. Gail's a friend,"
Coulson sympathised with him. Spy work on a friend was a hard thing to consider but he knew Ken's familiarity with the street would make him the best asset for this mission.
"You're a spy. Sometimes we have to make sacrifices,"
Ken frowned.
"A friendship though? She would never forgive me,"
This was clearly going to require some negotiation.
"Okay, agent. I'll be firm with you," Coulson said coldly. "Either you follow Gail or I'll tell your daughter you sent her nemesis Carla a birthday card with a box of chocolates and the complete box set of Mr Selfridge on Bluray,"
A huge sigh came from Ken; he knew Coulson was a tough man but didn't expect him to get that tough.
"I suppose I would rather face Gail's wrath than the never-ending asperity of Tracy,"
Ken disappeared from the screen and Coulson sat twiddling his thumbs behind his desk, waiting for the response. Half an hour later, Ken's face reappeared.
"Ah, Coulson. I was hoping you'd still be there," He spoke. "I've got an update for you on the Gail situation,"
