Everything you can imagine is real.

Pablo Picasso

She stared at herself in the mirror. She looked pale and haggard, her limp hair falling loosely next to her cheeks, her eyes dull and colourless. Her dark clothes matched her mood, and she pushed the sleeves of her black top up slowly, exposing her undamaged skin. A bubble of hysterical laughter bubbled up in her throat, as she stared. She looked like how she used to look when she was a teenager and the realisation, strangely enough, seemed to comfort her. All she was missing were the raccoon eyes that she used to draw on every morning.

Shaking her head at her predicament, she turned away from her reflection in sudden frustration. If she hadn't accepted the job in the first place, then she wouldn't be here, looking like death warmed up and being reminded of days that were long gone.

But she couldn't change the past.

"Which is why I should just get over it and do what I signed up to do," she muttered, finishing the thought quietly.

She walked through the house, her covered feet barely making any sound as she re-entered the small living room, staring at the place where the laptop was still perched. She was tempted to go up to it again and just double check all of her information, but she knew that it would be pointless – the data on the screen was all but unforgettable and she was certain that the location and the name of her target would be burned into her brain for the years to come.

Or rather, they would be if she survived this.

Taking one last look around the tiny safe house, she made sure that she had everything she needed. Phone, check. ID, check. Realising that those were the only things that she really needed, she finally turned around and headed towards the door. Hopefully, hopefully, she thought, as she placed a clammy hand on the doorknob, this would be the last horrible thing that she would have to do.

But a voice inside told her that this was only the beginning. And she couldn't help but think that that little voice was right.

The late afternoon sun was warm on her skin, as she stalked outside, but she hugged her jacket even tighter around her slim shoulders. She glanced down the street, her eyes landing on two children that were playing happily in the front yard of one of the houses. She could hear their excited squeals from where she was standing, but she forced herself to turn away, looking instead for the non-descript dark blue car that she had been told would be waiting outside.

She found it sooner than she would have liked and started pacing towards it, keeping her head down and buried in the collar of her coat, as she walked past the garden in which the two children were playing in.

"Phoebe!" one yelled, as she strode by. "I'm gonna get you!"

Phoebe giggled. "No you're not!"

She tried to ignore them for the rest of the way, shutting out the sounds of their afternoon play, and it was almost with relief that she arrived outside of the car.

"For a moment there," the driver commented to her, as she opened the door to the backseat, "I didn't think that you would be coming out at all."
"I just wanted to finalise my plans," she lied coldly, buckling herself in. She could still hear Phoebe and the other child chortling delightedly.

"All right, all right," the driver muttered, starting the engine. "Hold your horses. It wasn't an insult or anything."

She said nothing in response and chose to glare out the window. The sound of the kids faded into the distance.

"We'll be there in about half an hour."

She said nothing in response.

"You might want to check out the case on the seat next to you. Just a hint."

She glanced briefly to her right, noticing the dark leather case for the first time. She stared at it uncertainly for a moment, before saying, "What's in there?"

The driver snorted. "Open it and see for yourself."

Without any further hesitation, reminding herself that every movement that she made was a test in itself, she reached out and pushed a button next to the handle. The lid opened automatically with a hiss and she found herself watching in blank fascination, as the contents of the case revealed itself.

"What are they?" she wanted to know, her fingers skimming over the vials of bright liquid and the few guns.
The driver shrugged. "How am I supposed to know? I'm only the driver. It's not like anyone tells me anything."

She raised an eyebrow at his comment – as a driver, she was pretty sure that he was privy to some pretty confidential conversations.

"Sure you are," she muttered, closing the lid of the case, and staring out the window once more. "Sure you are."

"Sorry for the short wait," Daisy said conversationally, as she sank down in the seat opposite Ginny. "But, you know, things happen. There was something we had to deal with."

Ginny's eyes flashed in amusement, and she raised her mug of coffee to her lips. Daisy looked younger than what the pictures in her file had shown. "Don't worry," Ginny said eventually, "I definitely get it. It's a part of the job."

Daisy tilted her head curiously in response. "You're English? They didn't tell me about that. Just saying, but I love English accents. Truth be told, I wish I had one, but we can't have everything." She sighed and brushed a hand through her hair. "Anyway, we have about five minutes tops before we have to meet back at the pl-" she glanced surreptitiously towards the partially open door to the kitchen, "bus. You nearly ready?"

Ginny gulped back the last dregs of coffee and looked at the empty cup somewhat mournfully, as she placed it back on the table. She wasn't usually a big coffee drinker, but today, she had welcomed the bitter taste instead of rejecting it. It probably had to do with the fact that she hadn't had a proper meal all day.
"Ready," she said, getting to her feet and leaving a generous tip on the table for the woman. She followed Daisy out the door a second later. "How far away are we from the lab?"

"On the plane, only about forty minutes."

Ginny turned to look at Daisy curiously. "Plane?"

"You'll see," was all Daisy said, as she led Ginny through the devastated town. "So, is it true that you're working with the Avengers?"

Ginny shifted uncomfortably, staring at a collapsed house. Bricks still littered the road from its destruction and she wondered how long they had been sitting there, lying abandoned on the road. "To an extent. I used to be their secretary, but now…"

Daisy nodded in understanding. "Yeah, don't worry about that – I have a similar story. I was picked up by S.H.I.E.L.D. after getting in too deep with my past job and even though I was their 'captive' for a while, it's not so bad now. I mean," she shrugged, "I get a lot of perks."

Daisy fell silent and grimaced as they walked past another demolished building. This one was larger than the last one had been, and if Ginny looked closely, she could still see pictures – paintings – hanging on the walls inside the house. The realisation caused a shiver to tremble down her spine.

"Do you know what happened here?" Ginny asked, gesturing to the wreckage with a hard swallow.

Daisy looked at her in curiosity. "You don't know?"

Ginny shook her head.

"Well, simply put, Thor did it. It was a little bit before aliens decided to invade the world, but it involved Loki as well. I don't know much more than that, but S.H.I.E.L.D. tried to get the locals to move. A number of them, though, decided to stay anyway. They probably haven't cleaned up because it reminds them of what happened."

"Did," Ginny hesitated, "did anyone die?"

"I don't think so, but... These types of things leave scars and they don't always leave the prettiest ones."

Ginny silently agreed, as they turned out of the small town and out onto a small path that led into the desert. She squinted into the distance sceptically.

"It's not much further," Daisy promised. "In fact, it's…" they rounded a hill. "Here we are."

Ginny stared blankly at the space that Daisy was gesturing to and wondered if it was a joke of some kind. "I'm not seeing anything."

Daisy sighed in irritation and tapped something on her wrist. The air in front of her started to shift. "Sorry about that. New protocol. I'm still getting used to it."

But Ginny was no longer paying any attention to Daisy.

The plane that seemed to form out of nothing in front of her was, in a single word, massive. It was black with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo printed on the side, its wings spanning metres out to the sides. Even the Avengers didn't own a plane this large and she found herself stepping towards it in pure disbelief.

"How…?"

"Cloaking technology," Daisy answered with a small smirk, as the back hatch began to lower. "Cool, isn't it? We call it 'the Bus.'"

"Who pilots it?"

"I do," came a sharp response and Ginny snapped around to face a petite, Asian woman who was striding towards her, purpose lining her every step. Confidence, similar to that of Natasha, seemed to ooze out of her very pores and Ginny instinctively knew that this woman was not one to be on the bad side of. "Agent Prewett," she said, her dark eyes assessing, "I'm Agent May. Agent Coulson's on the Bus and he'll greet you when we go inside." She turned her hard stare to Daisy. "You both ready?"

"Sure. You?"

Ginny nodded tightly.

"In that case then," May said, "let's go."

The inside of the plane, if possible, seemed even larger than the outside of the plane and it was with little success that Ginny tried to hide her blatant incredulity.

"Don't worry," a voice said from above her and Ginny looked upwards. A light smile touched her lips. Agent Coulson. It had to be. "Most people look like that the first time that they see this. It's pretty cool, though, isn't it?"

Ginny finally found her voice. "Sure is, sir."

"So," he started walking down the stairs, followed by two others who Ginny hadn't yet noticed, "you must be Agent Ginny Prewett."

"Yes, sir."

"Welcome to the team. I'm Agent Coulson and this," he said, gesturing to the two standing behind him, "is Fitz," Fitz waved, "and Simmons." Simmons beamed. "You'll be working with them to find whatever it is that you're looking for at this lab of yours, which reminds me. What are we actually looking for? Because Fury, typically, didn't tell us anything."

Ginny frowned. "We need to see if we missed anything the last time I was there. That's why Fury sent me out to meet you guys."

"But what did you miss?"

"To be honest, I don't know if I missed anything, but our main lead in an investigation died, so now we're grasping at straws."

Coulson shared a look with Daisy. "And do we get to know what this investigation is about?"

Ginny sighed, wondering how much she could risk giving away. "All I can say, is that it involves HYDRA, the Inhumans, and a third party."

"The Inhumans?" Daisy interrupted tightly and Ginny stared at her carefully. "What about them?"

"Some of them," Ginny said cautiously, "are joining forces with HYDRA and combined with the third party, whom we know is also becoming actively involved, they're proving to be a large threat."

"Do we know who the third party is?"

"Yes," Ginny replied simply. "And in many ways, they can be even more dangerous than the Inhumans."

Luna skipped down the hallway, her eyes closed, her arms dangling by her sides, her glasses slipping down her nose. She quite liked it here, at the compound. She liked the way that everything seemed to fit together, as though everything was a chess piece that was a part of the larger game. Neville, on the other hand, didn't like it nearly so much – being around so many Muggles who had strength and powers that were not so different from their own made him nervous. But Luna, well, she embraced it. Muggles were so much more innovative than what she had been taught in class. She especially liked the wrackspurts, though, that seemed to float around the facility in large hoards. It was funny, she thought, how Muggles were constantly surrounded by magic, but never seemed to realise it.

She came to a halt in her skipping, as she approached the living quarters of the Avengers, seeing the silver haired twin pacing in irritation outside of the corridor. She tilted her head curiously, wondering what he was so annoyed about, before spotting the aforementioned wrackspurts. Her expression cleared. No wonder he was so frustrated.

"Why don't you just go in?" she asked, gesturing to the door that led to the personalised rooms for the Avengers. "It is open, isn't it?"

"Yes," he grumbled, "it's open."

Luna waited patiently for him to speak again.

"How well do you know Ginny?"

The question was a surprising one. "Quite well, I like to think," Luna responded slowly. "But what one shows on the outside is never the same as what is on the inside."

"So," he said, his expression sceptical, "you're saying that you don't know her?"

"I'm saying that you can never truly know anyone."

Pietro was briefly silent. "Do you trust her?"

"With my life." Luna paused. "She's a very brave person."

"Yes, I know," he muttered hollowly. "That's why I'm annoyed – she lied to me. She told me that she was going to the far gym, but she never went. Maybe it's me she doesn't trust."

"Oh, I don't think so," Luna smiled dreamily. "I personally think that she trusts you too much."

Pietro snorted. "If she trusted me, then she would tell me the truth. Ever since I me her, it's been lies and evasion. The whole time."

"Are you sure about that?" Luna asked. "Evasion, yes. But lies? It's rare that Ginny will ever intentionally lie to anyone about anything. If she does, then it's to protect those whom she loves, whom she trusts. She does it out of duty, not out of mistrust or spite."

The wrackspurts began to fly away from Pietro's head, as he pondered Luna's words, and Luna waved goodbye to them as they flew off. She would see them again later, no doubt, stirring more trouble.

"I never looked at it that way," Pietro finally admitted. His electric blue eyes met Luna's own, just before she turned away to resume her skipping. "Thank you."

The lab was on the tenth floor and it looked just like Ginny remembered, as they walked into the burnt, sullied room. The plasterboard was blackened from flame and ash had settled in dead, undisturbed piles on the floor. The scent of burnt plastic still hung in the air and vials, beakers, and broken computer screens were scattered haphazardly, creating peculiar shadows on the walls. Three scorched hospital beds had been pushed to one side, their sheets hanging limply from the mattresses.

Ginny stepped forward tentatively, almost afraid to disturb the eerie calm.

"Nice place," Fitz muttered, slamming his case on the floor. A puff of ash floated into the air in quiet protest. "What is it we're looking for exactly?"

She breathed out slowly and glanced over her shoulder to look at him in annoyance. They had already gone over this. Multiple times. "Anything out of the norm. Anything that shouldn't be here."

"Well, that's just as helpful as the last time that you said," he said sarcastically, ignoring Ginny's glare. "Come on, you have to give me something to go off here, or otherwise Simmons and I won't be able to do anything."

Ginny stepped further into the room, ignoring the Scotsman, her eyes scanning over every inch that she could see. The dark blood splatters were still there by the desk and the smashed glass was still lying in pieces next to the legs of a broken chair. Around her, the ash moved and drifted, and she held her breath, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck raise up, as it settled once again.

She walked deeper into the lab, carefully assessing before-

"Over here," she called, pointing to a glowing red light that belonged to a small box on the floor. The muddy footsteps next to it were recent as well. "This wasn't here last time."

Fitz jogged over to her. "Well," he muttered, bending over to look at the box, "that's interesting. I've only seen one of them in the…" his eyes widened. "We have to get out of here."

"Wait, wh-"

"Everyone, we have to leave."

"Why?" May demanded. "What have you-"

The room exploded.

Her vision was fuzzy and her ears buzzed. She raised fingers to her temple and was surprised to feel the blood that bloomed there. She blinked sluggishly, the world spinning in a haze of both colour and fire. Wincing in pain, she looked to her left and cursed when she saw an unconscious Fitz.

"Fitz," she wheezed and he stirred, moaning. "Fitz!" she snapped more loudly and she dug out her wand from her holster, performing a brief examination spell. Broken ribs, concussion, bruising. Not as bad as she had originally thought, she mused wryly, and she healed the worst of his injuries quickly, before waking him up.

"Jemma," he muttered. "Simmons. Where is she?"

Ginny looked over to the corner where the young biochemist had been standing. "We'll find her," she promised thickly, helping him sit up. "Can you walk?"
"Think so."

"Good. Get everyone out." She got to her feet, stumbling slightly, her head throbbing in pain.

"What about you?"

"Me?" she laughed bitterly. "I'm going to catch the son of a bitch who did this."

She half tripped, half ran throughout the room, checking on the status of the others, before finally exiting the now completely ruined lab. The person who did this did it for a reason, she thought grimly, so there was no way that they would have left just yet, especially seeing as there had been either nothing or very little of use in the lab itself.

An invisible hand gripped around her throat.

Ginny reacted instinctively, slashing her wand downwards in a cutting motion. The hand let go, as the body was slammed up against the opposite wall with a yelp.

"Reveal yourself," she demanded. "Reveal yourself, or this is going to be a lot worse for you."

Slowly, a figure started forming before Ginny's stunned eyes. Her skin was tanned, with her platinum blonde hair falling knottily next to her cheeks. Her eyes were wide and frightened, as she struggled against Ginny's magic. Inhuman, Ginny realised.

She breathed in deeply, trying to focus her thoughts. "Did you just do that? Set off the grenade?"

"Wasn't a grenade," she coughed. "Was one of the potions that they gave me."

"Potions? Potions from who?"

The girl whimpered and tried tugging herself free. "I-I don't know."

Ginny's gaze hardened, and she forced the pain that was threatening to overwhelm her into the very back of her mind. "You sure about that?"

She nodded vigorously and Ginny released her, the girl falling slowly into a heap on the floor.

"What's your name?"

The girl was silent. She looked so pitiful and pathetic, slumped there in the uneven shadows with tears dripping down her cheeks, that even Ginny was tempted to feel sorry for her.

"Joanna," the girl finally whispered. "It's Joanna Forettas."

"Right. So, Joanna, I want you to listen to me and I want you to listen to me very carefully. You will answer my questions and if you lie, then I'll know. Understand?"

Joanna nodded again, her head bobbing quickly.

Ginny tilted her head. "Was I your target today?"

Joanna hesitated, before she muttered, "Yes."

"Were you supposed to kill me?"

"N-no. Just take you."

"Why?"

She shook her head, her dirty hair falling in her face. "I d-don't know. They don't t-tell me those kind of things!"

"And what else have they told you to do?"

Joanna paled and her eyes flickered nervously toward the doorway, but Ginny stepped smoothly in front of her. "What else have they gotten you to do?" she repeated.

Joanna's hands started shaking. "I, u-um, they told me… They told me to kill someone."

"And did you do it?"

Joanna looked imploringly at Ginny, her eyes wide and desperate. "You have to understand," she babbled. "They were going to kill me if I didn't and I've done too much, worked too hard to get where I am today. So they took me to this prison-"

"Prison?" Ginny interrupted sharply, her thoughts racing. With what this girl could already do… "What prison?"

"I-I don't know. But it was dark… and cold. There was ice on the floor. I don't know how we got there, but one minute I was on a beach and the next minute, I was in a d-dungeon."

"And what was the name of the person you had to kill?"

Joanna turned her head away, fresh tears leaking down her face. "G-g-greyback," she gasped. "That's all I know, I swear it. I swear it."

"All right," Ginny said slowly. "Here's what you're going to do for me." She handed Joanna a small button on a key ring – her own panic button. "You're going to go back to your bosses and you're going to tell them that you failed."

Joanna was already shaking her head. "No, no, no, no, no. They'll kill me. You don't understand!"

"They won't kill you and I do understand."

"They're going to kill me!"

Ginny grabbed the girl's shoulders and forced Joanna to look at her. "Joanna, hey. Look at me." She took a deep breath. "Calm down. They're not going to kill you. Do you know why? Because they want you. They want you for your gift. They wouldn't have contacted you otherwise. So, take this." She shoved the small key ring into Joanna's hands. "Put it somewhere safe – maybe you're wallet. It has a tracker and a microphone on it. The button itself is a panic button and if you press it, then no matter where you are, I will come for you. Understand?"

Joanna tucked the little object into one of her pockets. "You'll be listening?" she said, her voice small.

"I'll be listening," Ginny confirmed.

"And if I press the button, then you'll come?"

Ginny nodded. "I'll come."

Joanna nodded, dread filling her delicate features. "I don't know why I agreed to this. To any of this."

Ginny hated the way that Joanna's voice sounded so broken and defeated. "Because you wanted a chance at a better life," she responded quietly. "It's not your fault for wanting something as natural as that."

Joanna glanced at Daisy, who was still slumped on the floor. "I'll only do it on one condition," she whispered. "And that is, that I won't be prosecuted once all this is over."

Ginny sighed. "It's not as-"

"Promise me," she repeated.

"I… I promise."

And with that, the girl wobbled to her feet, sending one last reproachful look at Ginny. "You'd better come," she said, before disappearing into the smoke and darkness.

"Hermione," Steve greeted, as the brunette walked into the small conference room. She glanced quizzically from Sam, to Steve, and back to Sam.

"What's going on?"
Steve shared a meaningful stare with Sam.

"We were hoping that-"

"You mean you were hoping," Sam interrupted with a raised eyebrow.
"I was hoping," Steve corrected, "that you could help us with a… situation."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "A situation. I'm sorry, but you're going to have to be a little more specific."

Sam sighed and scratched his nose. "He means a person. He wants to know if you can help him find a person."

"I wouldn't ask if I weren't desperate," Steve added quickly. "But can you, you know, do that?"

"Find people?" Hermione replied, amused. "Yes, I can find people. But once again, you're going to have to be a little more specific."

Hi everyone! I hope that you all enjoyed today's chapter and if you spotted any mistakes, grammar or spelling, then please let me know ASAP and I will get on that right away.

Special thanks to all of my readers, followers, reviewers, and favouriters. You're all awesome!
Special shout out to this week's guest: Becca! Thank you so much for your kind words! They are always appreciated.

And, without much further ado, I hope that you all have a great week!

HC