Mission Log – Agent Jemma Simmons 1100 hours 03/12/2015
Atacama Desert, Chile. 24.5000° S, 69.2500° W
Day One: Subject tested physical and mental limits with supervision and assistance of D.W.A.R.F.s.
Resulting seismic activity extremely high. Subject yet to assert noticeable control over powers.
Subject rendered catatonic. Returned by D.W.A.R.F.s to Mission Control: Flying Haggis and transferred to isolation chamber.
Observation of subject made bi-hourly. Vitals constantly monitored by Doc (D.W.A.R.F. #1)– all normal.
Subject unconscious for a total of four days, thirteen hours and twenty-one minutes.
Days Two through Five spent monitoring subject and planning future assessment of subject's powers.
On waking – vitals normal, appetite healthy, demeanour and mood normal.
Plan for Day Six – providing subject passes tomorrow's assessment of physical and mental health, ascertain her approval to resume testing of powers.
Request approval of proposed plan and seek confirmation of possible visit from The Bus mentioned in last communication.
ooo
Mission Log – Agent Skye
Hey D.C.,
Okay, okay, so I know you gave me some really intense instructions for how I was supposed to go about doing this whole mission log thing but, as FitzSimmons will testify, I have been fairly low on the brain activity for the last age and a half and so, sorry, I've totally forgotten. Kill me if you want but it'll be really unjust. I was in a coma, okay?
Anyway, all you really want to know is that I'm okay and FitzSimmons are looking after me, right? Yes and yes. I just slept for almost a week and, who knew, Fitz is seriously a Master Chef. Simmons is adorably fussing over me and I could NOT be in better hands, but I think you already knew that.
As for the powers, I don't know all that much yet, but you better not piss me off coz I can probably melt you with my eyeballs. Okay, no. But I can definitely make a building fall down around you and that'll get the job done. Freaky, huh?
I miss you and Simmons started a rumour that you're coming for a visit so get your ass out here. Drinks are on you. If you'll let me stay out of my cage overnight we could have an awesome sleepover? I'll just leave that with you.
Anyway, give my love to the crew. I dare you to try to cuddle May and say it was from me. No, don't. She'd probably punch you in the throat.
I expect your arrival any second now. Okaaaay, NOW! Nope, none of those my-will-is-instantly-done powers. Yeah, you already knew that. If I had powers like that S.H.I.E.L.D. would so have its headquarters in some Balinese resort by now and I would totally be dating Thor. Don't you think I'm so his type? His arms were made for me. But don't be telling him I said that if he happens to drop by.
Lots of love D.C.
Skye
ooo
Fitz's Journal
For the record, this journaling business seems to me to be completely absurd. But it has to be said, over the years I suppose I've gotten used to Simmons getting her way and so, here I sit, wedged with the other two around our tiny little table, all of us punching our finger tips at our devices. Ridiculous.
Well, what to report? The food this week has been spectacular, if I do say so myself. I suppose this will sound odd but it's nice to be appreciated for something other than my brain for a change. And of course there's that thing I've been doing where I've been pretending that Jemma and I are married and I'm just cooking dinner for my wife. That has been quite a lovely use of my prefrontal cortex, medial temporal lobes, and those regions located deep inside my parietal cortex. In my daydreams, Drs Leopold and Jemma Fitzsimmons have been only quite recently joined by the bonds of matrimony and we're inexplicably making our first home in a campervan. She's a successful and career-focused woman, I'm her domesticated and adoring husband, cheerfully holding up the home front. In my defense, I was handed down a sentence of double-grovelling-plus-interest. This little fantasy just helps to keep it interesting.
And I guess if we're mentioning things that have been keeping it interesting – what is going on with Simmons? She is snuggling up to me in her sleep (which is extremely welcome!), attempting to flirt (I have to get better at reacting – maybe I could try flirting back? Probably not.) and, I might as well get into the spirit of this whole journaling thing, hey, Dear Diary? We even kissed. That whole experience remains a bit of a mystery. Perhaps I'll try to explain it to you sometime. Right now I'm still trying to explain it to myself. But even though I'm unable to account for how it happened, let me just say, not that it'll be of any surprise to anyone at all, kissing Jemma is most certainly something I hope to spend a lot more time doing in the future.
Bloody hell, I hope none of us does go crazy and kill the others. For starters, it would be really excruciating if this ridiculous journal did get subpoenaed, but even worse than that, I suppose it'd put a nasty end to my hopes in the romance department. Well, all of the departments really. Huh, trust me to start by dwelling on romantic things and end up thinking about being murdered.
Oh, thank goodness for that. I think the others are finally putting down their logs. That's quite enough touchy-feely journaling malarkey for one day, thank you very much!