~Mr. Stilinski, it is time to wake up, sir~ Stiles jumped up at the noise and looked over at his phone on the bed stand; it was lit up with Jarvis' matrix.
"The hell… Jarvis, how did you get on my phone?" He asked, reaching for the phone and looking at it was sleepy confusion.
~Mr. Stark programmed me into most of your electronics, should you need my help in alerting the Avengers or Mr. Jackson, or Miss. Nightshade and Miss. Hern.~
"Do I need to report to Fury that S.H.I.E.L.D's system is still shit or should he figure it out for himself?" Stiles thought aloud, pushing back the blankets and getting out of bed. He shook his head and scratched the back of his neck, yawning as he made his way downstairs.
He winced as he stretched his arms- the muscles right below his shoulder blade twinges in pain from the last fight with the Avengers. It was those damned Hydra bots again-
"Fuckers." He muttered, making his way into the kitchen. He didn't pay any mind to the extra bodies at his- well what used to be his table and nodded his hello to father, who pointed to the coffee maker; an extra, clean cup sat in front of it.
"Jesus, kid, you look like you've been dragged through a cheese grater. What happened?" John asked, looking at the impressive gashes in the beginning stages of healing. He didn't comment of the gorgeous black and gold dragon tattooed on his lower back- he did however make a startled noise when it opened its eyes and yawned lazily at him.
"It was from my last assignment and the reason I'm here and not on another assignment." He answered, turning around with his cup in hand as he met the gazes of the people in the room. He inwardly scoffed at the widened eyes of Derek Hale. The bitch.
"Your last assi- What exactly have you been doing in New York, son?" John asked, looking at his son with a stern expression.
Stiles swallowed some more of his coffee before answering,
"Technically, everything I do is classified, Dad. I can't tell you anything more, other than watch the national news sometimes, maybe you'll catch a glimpse of me." He winked at the gobsmacked expression on his Dad's face. John groaned and rubbed his face.
"I swear, if you're doing anything illegal, I'm going to turn you in myself."
"I wouldn't say he's doing anything illegal, would you, Stiles?" Peter asked, coming into the Stilinski home carrying a box of delicious and delicate looking pastries. He set the box down and gave Stiles a cursory glance up and down his body.
"My, my, look at how you've grown." Peter leered, grinning like a predator- all sharp teeth and wide lips. Stiles snorted into his coffee cup as he finished it off.
"No, Dad, I haven't been doing anything illegal in the sense that you're thinking. I work for an agency that takes down threats on an International level. We have rules and regulations for things." Stiles answered, filling his coffee cup again. "Peter, refrain from staring at my ass, please, I'd hate to have to explain to the rest of your pack why you can't heal a simple fracture." He turned back around and narrowed his eyes at the wolf in front of him.
"Stiles," Peter said, dragging out his name. "Ever the flirt, aren't you?" He smirked, but nevertheless stopped ogling the S.H.I.E.L.D agent. Stiles shook his head.
~I'm sorry, Mr. Stilinski, but the Director is calling you. Would you like me to take a message?~
Stiles glanced at Peter, who cocked an eyebrow as he glanced at his phone curiously.
"Did his phone just talk?" Ignoring the confusion of the select few pack members who were there, Stiles pulled out his earpiece and walked into the living room.
"Put him on Jarvis." He said, sitting down on the couch; he could see Lydia and Isaac hovering by the entrance.
"Agent Stilinski."
"Yes, sir, what can I do for you?" Stiles answered, relaxing against his seat as he took a leisurely sip of his coffee.
"I realize that you're on a mandatory vacation right now, but would you be willing to do some reconnaissance in your area? The Council called an emergency meeting regarding Prison 42." Fury continued, sounding pissed.
"I'll need all the details regarding the recon, but I'll do it." He looked over to the eavesdroppers and snorted. "Lord knows this town couldn't handle someone from Prison 42."
Fury huffed. "I'll send the details to Stark and as soon as I have a couple of agents free, you'll get backup."
"Don't worry too much about it. Should I really need it, I'll call Vi or En."
"I expect this to go over as quietly as you can." Stiles gulped back more coffee and cleared his throat.
"Of course sir." Stiles said, huffing when all he got back was an audible click telling him that Fury had hung up on him. He took another drink and sat for a moment, assessing what he had to do. Finally, he slapped a hand on his knee and stood up.
"Jarvis, I need you to alert me immediately when Stark sends the information and I'll need pictures of the prisoner as well as an underground layout of Beacon Hills." Stiles walked past the wide eyed werewolves and dumped the rest of his coffee in the sink. He clapped his Dad on the back and went back upstairs.
~Right away, Agent Stilinski~
Stiles grabbed his larger duffle bag and set it down on his bed, unzipping it and pulling out its contents. He laid them all out carefully and discarded the bag after he was done, not even paying attention to where it landed in his room. He had a stony expression on his face as he picked up a Beretta and loaded it.
"I still can't believe someone fucking escaped from Prison 42," Stiles muttered to himself. "It's a fucking anti-matter prison. It's literally supposed to be impossible to escape from it."
"An anti- matter prison? Now that sounds like fun." Peter stated, leaning against his door frame.
Stiles' shoulders tensed, but he didn't move, just checked his other Beretta to make sure that a bullet was in the chamber.
"I'm sure you'd make loads of friends in there, Peter." Stiles replied, lifting the gun and looking down its iron-sights. Peter looked at him with a raised eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest.
"I'm sure I would," He said wryly, shaking his head at the statement. "Lydia was right, you've changed."
Stiles lowered the gun to his side. "I had to do what I've always done: survive."
"And I commend you for that, but you've also shut out your pack, Stiles." Peter said, coming into the room and sitting down on the corner of Stiles' bed.
Stiles shook his head. "Peter, I was kicked out of the pack before I was rescued from the Alpha pack." The older wolf looked at him in shock.
"What?"
"Derek and Scott. They kicked me out of the pack right and then the whole thing with Deucalion happened." Stiles answered, setting down the pistol. "That's why I haven't called or contacted the pack. My dad knew where I was, but I didn't think anyone else needed to know."
Peter sat there in contemplation, a frown marring his face and the muscle in his jaw flexing everyone in a while.
"My nephew is a grade A idiot."
Stiles snorted. "That… I won't argue with."