1

It was a wonder how a woman that had obvious difficulty expressing the most base and animated of emotions, such as anger or happiness, could radiate much subtler ones, such as displeasure and contempt. Maybe this young Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler was one of those 'gifted' that hit the newspapers for about five seconds before that agency with the long winded name that was mostly rumored to exist game and snatched them up. Or so thought every one of the grad students and few post-docs that were crammed into her lab.

"Excuse me.", she repeated in that dead pan voice as she attempted to make her way through the chaos (in a laboratory, no less).

"Attention! Is a Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler present?", a man in the most generic suit he could find asked the room.

All hands pointed at her. She had not changed facial expressions. But annoyance crept into her aura.

"How are you gentleman going to take up my time?", the neuroscientist asked the two men. The one attempting to affect a forgettable genericness about him down to the ethnicity wore glasses. The one who looked like he had either dusted off, rented or been issued his suit wore the most vibrantly friendly grin she had seen on anyone.

"Hey there, sweetheart.", he began. "I'm John, and this is my friend Jasper. Jasper, say hello to the lady."

Jasper nodded. "Hello, Dr. Fowler. Is there some place private we could talk?"

"Just to get out of the noise?", John continued. "I mean, you deal with this every single day. We never have to."

Smile.

"No.", Dr. Fowler drew out. "There isn't."

Jasper glared at the still smiling John. Then he shrugged and pulled out his badge. "Clear the room! Everyone out by order of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division!"

The other scientists started to leave the room until one came up to Jasper. "Wait a minute. Who are you to order us to do anything."

Jasper reversed a ring on his hand and touched the woman on her arm. She fell to the floor convulsing with electric shocks. "Interfering with our agency can result in a twenty-five year prison sentence off the grid. You've just been convicted in a classified FISA court."

"Unless someone wants to help the little lady walk out of here.", John suggested. "I'm sure we could all just forget absolutely everything then. Like it all never happened and we won't ever have to come back here and present any single one of you to the FISA courts."

The room was cleared. John, as calm as 'how do you do', hopped on top of one of the counters and proceeded to unscrew the camera from the wall.

"That's a first bit of privacy this place has gotten in a long time. Isn't it, Amy?", John assured.

Jasper removed what looked like a smart phone from his jacket with the same motion that replaced his badge. But then he pulled up a holographic display of her head. "Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler, neuroscience specializing in addiction in primates."

"I thought it was you.", Amy stated. "Your agency already approached me for your Academies."

"And bounced you after the fact.", John oh so casually mentioned. "Something about 'ethical considerations'."

"You knew what my work was before approaching me.", Amy defended.

John nodded and shrugged. "The buereucrats didn't. They saw accolades and I.Q. and forgot all about the science."

"Exactly.", Amy agreed.

He continued. "They knew your thesis was in correlating addictive substances with the social controls inflicted upon the addicted. How could they not think that you would want to continue that research into your career. Maybe spice it up with coming up with some new substances. Maybe nothing more addictive but certainly more controlling."

"But look where that got you. Here. All piled on top of each other. Researching what now?"

Amy hung her head. "Defecation location choices in howler monkeys."

John frowned and hung his head along with her. Then he perked up. "Say, what if we could do something about that?"

"The division?", Amy asked.

"Not...exactly.", he corrected. "Me. Sitwell here. A few others. Well, more than a few others. I mean, the checks would be signed by the division. And given the long name, those become some mighty big checks. But we would all really know what the arrangement is. And all you would have to do is put that pretty little face nose deep back into the science you always wanted to pursue."

"How to control the human mind through addictive chemical exposure.", Amy revealed.

"Let's call it pharmacuetical cognitive therapy. That's more politically correct.", John winked at her.

Amy frowned. "You mean like what the drug companies have convinced parents across the country to do to their children?"

Jasper shrugged. "You thought you were the first we approached?"

"Freedom is a disease.", John continued. "Remember all the bullies. All the oppression of the intelligent. All the wasting of resources over excluding people. And for what? The general idiocy that kids get up to. You can help us end it."

Dr. Fowler smiled for the first time. "Yes. Yes we can.

"But, if you can arrange what you say you can arrange. Funding funneled through Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division and smy research reported to...?"

Sitwell raised his hand. "You would report directly to me in Communications. I'd then...carry it where it needs to go to be implemented."

Amy nodded. "Then you must be able to do pretty much anything."

John spread his arms. "We pretty much can."

She raised one of her eyebrows. "Then you can get me a boyfriend."

"No problem."

"That's tall. Clear blue or clear green eyes. I.Q. four standard deviations above normal. And personality vacant enough to be casually manipulated."

Jasper scrunched his face. "What? You want someone in the 170s that is emotionally pliable."

John threw an arm around Jasper. "No problem at all."

Dr. Fowler nodded again. "You can do that. I'll get you a spray that'll take the fight right out of anyone world wide. Couple it with another chemical that tells the brain it didn't even smell anything."

2

Two months later, Amy as on the phone with John.

"How's the private lab?", John asked.

Amy watched a chimpanzee hurriedly cross an electrified floor to get more of her drug. "Oh, it's a thing of beauty. But that's not what I'm calling about. I'd like to talk about Sheldon."

"What, don't you like him?", John objected.

"Like him? I'd love him if I believe romantic semantics added anything to relationships.", Amy assured. "Where ever did you get him?"

"Winter Soldier project. Something we picked up from the other side in the war.

"Look, sweetheart. I gotta tell you something. You're gonna have to cover for his super-strength."

Amy gasped. "He's got other powers besides the hearing and eidetic memory?"

John laughed. "I wouldn't exactly call his level a 'power'. It's just something to keep to just us."

"You're a great recruiter, Garret.", Amy complimented.

"heh, Don't I know it.", John agreed. "Ask my man, Tripp. I talked him out of a free ride at Stanford to become the nest O.J. Simpson to come join Operations. But ask in a round about way. He's not exactly in the know."

"I will.", Amy obeyed. "And thanks again. Hail Hydra!"