[So, you said to describe everything in detail, as I remember it? Okay, thanks.]

Hi, this is Edward.

So, I go to school with Ivy – which you probably know. And I act, which Ariel's probably filled in right now. That viral video with us as Erik and Christine did get me some recognition too, but not nearly as much. Not that I'm complaining – she deserves all the attention she gets. But it's kind of annoying to be "that guy who was Erik opposite Ariel Dalton", instead of "Edward".

And before you start Twilight jokes, I was named after the Edward from Jane Eyre. Mom read it a lot before she had me.

Miranda's glaring at me and telling me to get on with it. Sorry, Miranda.

So, it was after school. I walked home. I never used to before I moved here, but the school was closer now.

Weird stuff was going on. First, Ivy goes missing for weeks, then shows up at her house one night, then disappears again. Then Sharon gets shot and disappears from the hospital. Jack and Miranda had suddenly disappeared, leaving a note telling Ivy that her dog was okay, of all things. To top it off, Ariel had nearly gotten killed, twice, while she was gone.

Ivy was the only connection between these people that I knew of.

A car pulled up next to the curb where I was walking and someone got out, blocking the sidewalk.

"Hi. Can I help you?" I asked.

"Yes. I'm from the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division."

"The what?" The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I wasn't sure where from or why.

"S.H.I.E.L.D."

For a moment, I just stared at him blankly – and probably pretty stupidly. "Uh… you mean like from the new Captain America movie?" The guy looked like one of the agents from the movie, I couldn't remember the guy's name… Sitwell, wasn't it?

This whole situation didn't sit well with me. Get it? Sit well?

[Oh, come on, Ivy, it's not that bad. Is it? Yeah. You're right. It is that bad.]

He frowned. "I'm Agent Jasper Sitwell." He showed me his badge. "S.H.I.E.L.D. is real."

This was really starting to weird me out. "How can I help you?"

"I need you to come with me immediately."

"Why?"

"That's classified."

I didn't know what was going on, but this was really creepy. I took a step back. "I don't know who thought this was funny, Mr. – sorry, Agent Sitwell. But it's not."

He took a step forward as I continued to move backward. "This isn't a joke."

I started to back up more quickly. Would I have to fight to get away? Hopefully not.

I've seen fighting in movies and on TV. Unfortunately, I've never had much skill at it. On my first day of fifth grade, one of the bigger guys had picked a fight with me. The outcome was something I would really prefer to forget, and certainly isn't something I want to share on the internet. Still, I had a basic idea of what to do now.

I'd seen Ivy fight a guy once too. After a practice for the musical we were both in, Phantom of the Opera, one of the guy actors, the one who'd played Raoul, had approached her and started talking to her in a low voice. Her face had instantly gone red. I don't know exactly what he said, but Ivy looked really uncomfortable with it. I was too far away to hear anything.

He'd kept talking and had grabbed her wrist.

She'd snarled something at him. He'd given her wrist a tug.

She'd twisted her wrist hard, breaking his grip, then spun around. Her style of fighting was almost like an art form – a really, really scary art form that landed the guy on the ground in seconds. She didn't actually hurt him, but I really doubt he enjoyed it when his chin hit the stage and his arm was twisted behind his back.

Unfortunately, I wasn't Ivy and, if I was being completely honest with myself, didn't have a chance in a fight with, well, anybody.

I took another step back. "So, let me get this straight… you're claiming to be a guy from a fictional world, working for a fictional organization, and you want me to believe it's real and go with you to who knows where, and you won't tell me why because it's 'classified'."

He just stared at me for a moment. "Yeah."

I kicked him and ran.

Footsteps pounded on the pavement behind me. Someone yelled for me to stop.

A pair of arms grabbed me from behind, pulling me backwards. My head jerked back into the guy's face. His grip loosened and I slid free.

Something sharp stabbed into the back of my neck. My knees gave out and I collapsed onto the pavement just as everything went black.

Hi, everybody. Ivy here.

We made it outside, where Cap got his motorcycle and we tried to ride it out. Aside from the quinjet, which Cap took out with his shield, and a few other little mishaps chronicled by the movie, we really didn't have much trouble getting out.

I only wished I'd been able to grab my stuff before I left. Luckily, taking a leaf out of Miranda and Jack's book, I've started being better prepared and have a few essentials on me in a bag inside my shirt all the time. It's kind of annoying when you're wearing it, but when you're on the run from a secret organization that's infiltrated the government, it becomes worth it. My hoodie was also reversible – a useful gift from Sharon.

"Do you know who the shooter was?" asked Cap as we climbed off of his motorcycle in front of the hospital.

"Yeah."

"Can you tell me?"

"No. Agent Romanoff will tell you when you see her next. Cap... I'm sorry."

"He was shot because he ticked off the wrong people. You had nothing to do with it, did you?"

I shook my head.

"Then it's not your fault. Don't apologize."

"Thanks." There was a pause. "Cap, could you just go inside ahead? I'll be right behind you. I just… it's complicated."

He nodded and walked inside, leaving me alone.

A minute later, a body dropped down onto the ground beside me. A pair of skinny, icy arms wrapped around me. "Ivy! Are you okay?"

"Hi, Jack," I said, pulling away from Jack Frost. "Yeah, I'm fine. A little tired and sore, but fine. But I need a favor."

"Like I said, I owe you one."

"Just a minute."

I scribbled out a letter to my family, telling them they had to clear out and fast. "Take this to my house, leave it on a table where someone will see it."

"Okay."

What about Sharon?

"And please find Sharon, if you can. She's in danger."

"I heard. Don't worry. I'll find her for you. Anything else?"

"No. Thanks, Jack. I owe you for this."

"No you don't. We're friends, right? Friends do for each other." He jumped and took off into the clear blue sky.

I headed inside. I prayed he could find Sharon. I couldn't.

Sharon here. Yeah, I actually still exist. Surprising, right?

I don't really remember much of what happened in that hospital room. Someone pulling me out of bed, me kicking them. What I do remember is waking up with an intense headache to hear someone hit the ground beside me. A door slammed.

"Sharon?" said a male voice.

I sat up, blinking. Lying next to me was a guy with brown hair and a vaguely familiar face. Where did I know him from? Oh, right, that musical. And he had a crush on Ivy. Well, he was one of the many boys in our school who do. "Edward?" I said.

"What's going on?" he asked. He looked absolutely terrified. I didn't blame him.