Recap: Marcus is the new head of Hydra's North American Installations, replacing the late Daniel Whitehall. He is a powered person capable of conjuring a greenish-looking fog that could bend a person's will, essentially brainwashing them to make them do whatever he wanted. (See chapter 24 for details). Skye, on the other hand, is still stuck in Lai Shi, with only Gordon and the Campbell brothers (Lincoln and Xavier) for company. She still has no idea what those people want from her.
(there's a spoiler for AoS 4x14 in the author's end note, so skip it if you still haven't seen that particular episode)
After cleaning up the mess Whitehall's obsession with alien artifacts has left, Marcus finds himself standing in a room full of his trusted people, each one patiently waiting for his orders. And who was he to disappoint them?
"Daniel Whitehall's fixation with special people and alien materials may have ultimately led to his demise." He begins. He didn't even bother to look the tiniest bit affected by his words. Everyone in the room couldn't care any less for a dead man, let alone a stupid dead man. "But that doesn't mean his ventures are entirely useless and unfounded."
Silence follows. His people know better than to interrupt him whenever he speaks.
"To answer the question which is quite possibly in everyone's minds, yes, our main concern as of the moment is finding and collecting gifted individuals for our gain." His gaze towards his men is unwavering. "However, instead of butchering and experimenting on them like my predecessor was so incline to do, I found a way to make them much, much useful."
He pulls a small device on his suit pocket and presses one of its buttons. A hologram of the earth appears in their midst. "This is a topographic map of the earth." He presses another button. The map zooms in, and focuses on a certain island. "Dr. Whitehall was killed in an incident here," A blue pointer appears. "…in San Juan, Rico. He was shot, while the rest of his men where either shot as well, or killed when the entire theater fell on the top of their heads."
Marcus expectantly stares at his people. "So what caused the theater to collapse on itself?"
The men look at each other, as if waiting for any brave soul to speak up already so they can be spared. Someone at the back tentatively answers, "Er…e—earthquake sir?" His voice is shaking.
A frustrated groan leaves Marcus' throat. "Obviously, it was an earthquake!" He says between gritted teeth. "What I'm asking is what caused it? Why would there suddenly be a massive earthquake in that place when it is nowhere near a known fault line, and there have been no reported prior seismic indicators warning everyone that there would be such a quake?"
The hydra agent regrets his answer the moment he speaks, "Maybe the seismologists simply missed it."
A woman, probably late twenties, in front scoffs at her team mate's idiocy. She then looks straight at her boss, and confidently theorizes, "it's either the effect of the alien artifact itself, or there is a powered individual at play."
Marcus almost gives in to the urge to look up to the high heavens and thank the gods that his new team didn't turn up as hopeless as he first expected. He stares appreciatively at her. "What's your name?"
"Elena."
He tilts his head and smirks. That's an odd name for a Hydra agent, but he lets it go immediately. He has more important things to think about. "Her assumptions are exactly like mine." Another button is clicked. Bright red dots emerge on various places on the map. "Here are other reports of similar incidents. Earthquakes without prior warnings, miles and miles away from the nearest fault lines. While here," Marcus swipes his hand on the hologram. A couple of green dots appear. "…are reported sightings of any activity directly or indirectly related to S.H.I.E.L.D. What do you see?"
"The red and the green dots. All of them overlap." Some other hydra agent notes.
"Yes." Marcus nods, turning back to Elena. She seems to be the only one worth talking to among the sea of idiots standing before him. "And do you think that means?"
"Whatever it was that causing the earthquakes, may it be a person or an object… it's in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s possession." She replies.
"Bingo." Marcus says. He has a hunch that whatever it is that they're looking for, it is most likely not an object. "So now, our plan is simple. We find S.H.I.E.L.D., we find the quake."
It's been three days since Skye arrived in Lai Shi.
Lai Shi. It definitely sounds Chinese, or at least something oriental. That doesn't mean that she is in China though. She's not that daft to jump to those kinds of dumb conclusions. She could be in Asgard for all she knows. During those three immensely peaceful, yet incredibly boring days, her only source of human interaction was those terse interactions she shared with Lunatic Lincoln.
And yes, she'll forever be sticking to that name. God knows the guy deserves it.
It took him hours and hours of mentally cursing and thinking up of ways to get back at him for electrocuting her before she finally came up with the proper name to call him. Lunatic Lincoln sounds absolutely perfect; it clearly embodies his magnificent personally.
After all that he did to her, he's lucky a not-so-flattering name is the only thing he got. He really should be thanking her, if anything. At least she only uses it behind his back.
And to be honest, even if she's not that graceful, it is quite a mouthful saying it out loud. Wasting her energy muttering five syllables is more effort than what Lunatic Lincoln would ever deserve.
Perhaps that's why, at the moment, she's sticking to loathing glares and eyerolls whenever he tries to engage her into conversation. Well, only when she's not blatantly ignoring him, that is.
Somehow, something in him makes it very difficult for her to ignore him completely. There's something about him that fuels such fury within her soul, so much so that attempting to giving him no mind at all siphons much of her energy it drives her absolutely nuts.
"I see you're back to the glaring phase again." He settles to the seat in front of her, a touch of mirth brushing his eyes. "I already asked for your forgiveness, Skye. All I need is for you to talk to me. What more do you want?"
Nothing short of electrocuting himself for her sheer entertainment alone would soothe her wounded pride, and she almost had the urge to tell him exactly that, but in the end, she merely frowns. She would rather not talk to him if she could help it.
"Gordon is expecting me to have completed the prep for your training by now." He tells her. "And because you're obviously not interested in talking to me, we couldn't even start with the basics.
She merely stares at him tiredly. Why can't he just leave her alone? Or better yet, since it's much to clear that she doesn't want to be here in the first place, why can't they just let her go?
"You are too stubborn for your own good, you know that right?"
One of her less flattering traits, as Coulson loves to point out. She could admit that much. But that doesn't make what he did to her a few days ago any less acceptable. He shot her up with god knows how many volts, and for what? She was scared for her life! Of course she would try to escape. He can't actually blame her for trying.
"Skye, come on."
He's hovering like an annoying fly, she's tempted, so physically tempted to actually swat him.
"Just talk to me, please." He cringes at the last word as if it had actually hurt him. He doesn't seem too fond of saying that word.
She rolls her eyes. What a pathetic excuse for a man.
Sensing the immense condescension hidden behind that nasty eyeroll, his features harden into stone. But still, the gradually deflating nice guy in him manages to let out a wild cry, leaving him with no other choice but to try again. "Please."
She snorts.
At that, something snaps inside of him. It's his final straw. They've been like this for weeks and he's tired of it. Can she even see how much of a favor he's doing her? He could be accomplishing a lot of more important things, but instead he's stuck here, dealing with this woman so stubborn, it's a wonder he still haven't wrung her neck yet.
"You don't want to talk? Fine." He growls. "I'll make you talk some other way."
In a blink of an eye, the table in front of them gets harshly thrown against the farthest wall of the room, smashing it into nothing but firewood. Energy is crackling around Lincoln in waves, and before Skye could react, he lunges at her and does the one thing she least expects him to do.
He kisses her.
The kiss-if she could even call it that-it doesn't last long. Eyes wide, she hastily pushes him off of her.
Sure, Skye probably had worse kisses in the past. No, Skye actually had worse kisses in the past. She'd kissed evil traitors before, after all. But that's not the point. Hell, it's miles and miles away from the point.
What right does this obnoxious man have to put his filthy lips against hers?
Skye is about to ask him exactly this when she suddenly felt herself being forcefully lifted off the ground.
"Hey!" She screams. "What the hell? Put me down!"
A sharp sting hits her but as he carries her on his shoulder like some demented caveman.
"You little-" Did he just use his powers on her ass? "I'm gonna kill you!"
"Oh, so now you're talking?" He keeps on walking until he reaches a wide clearing at the back of the building. Despite her wild flailing and undeniably hard punches, not once did Lincoln show any signs of being affected. It's like he's not feeling anything at all. "I'm so sick of you, you know that?" He drops her on the ground like a sack of potatoes. Very angry potatoes.
"What on earth is wrong with-ahhhh." She yelps, rolling over to avoid one of his firebolts. "What the fu-shit!" She rolls towards the other side. He's shooting at her at such rapid pace, she could barely give herself a second to breathe. The choice is fairly easy to make though, she's not stupid; she'd much rather not breathe than be burnt to a crisp. And by the looks of it, he's actually intends to do exactly that.
"Are you always this-god!" She dodges a strike that is aimed dangerously close to her neck. She couldn't even get up from where she's sprawled, "Are you seriously trying to kill me?!"
He ignores her as he fires a couple more. He narrowly misses her crotch, forcing her to scramble backwards. "Calling it trying may be a little optimistic." He grumbles. He throws another. This time it's going straight to her chest.
"Stop!" Her hands shoot out in front of her reflexively. Something escapes from her palms. It is strong-stronger than she ever felt before.
Judging by the look on Lincoln's face, he feels the force of the wave way before he could even begin to prepare himself for it. It hits him squarely in the stomach, flinging him fifteen yards from where he once stood. He lands with a thud. Craning his neck, he tries to focus his blurry vision to Skye's general direction. "Good talk," he groans.
And then he passes out.
Lincoln is still on the ground when he regains consciousness. He tries to blink back the memories of how he got there, or perhaps why he feels like he'd just been sucker-punched by Muhammad Ali, but his brain seems to like to take its time reorienting him.
"Hi there, princess." A scathing voice breaks out, the shadow of its source towering above him. "Nice nap, I take it?"
Recognition finally dawns on his features, and he immediately shoots up from where he's sprawled.
It is only then when he realizes that his hands are tied on his back.
"Give me one reason not to kill you." She says with a scowl.
"If you were ever planning to, you wouldn't wait for me to wake up." He replies dryly.
Her eyes narrow into dangerous slits. His utter smugness is really getting on her nerves. "Maybe I just wanted to watch the light leave your eyes as you take your final breath. Did you ever think of that?"
"Oh, so there's a light in my eyes then?" He teases.
"Don't flatter yourself." She tells him. "You're still a psycho."
"Well this psycho finally got you to talk." He counters. "But can you get this off of me now?" He wiggles his arms. She does tie a mean knot.
"And risk having you attempt to fry me again, no thanks."
He chuckles as he again tries to extricate himself from his bindings. "I didn't know you're into this sort of stuff."
"Ha, you'd like that, won't you?" Her eyes narrows into dangerous slits when she leans closer to his face. "Mess with me again, and I'd castrate you!" She leaves in a huff without so much as a backward glance.
"But Skye-"
Against her better judgment, she turns, glaring at him. "What?"
"But in doing so you will need to touch me." He winks at her suggestively.
She scoffs loudly. "No I don't." She says. "I'll just have to quake it right off of you."
"Exactly." He agrees with a sagely nod and a grin, glad that they've finally reached an understanding.
Even at the expense of his precious family jewels.
Sorry for the sparse updates. I'm nearing the end of my other story, Recovery, so most of my time writing (which is not that much, I have to admit, since I have two 72-hour workdays per week), is spent on that. Btw, how crazy is that last AoS episode? Coulson, Mace, Mack and Daisy [plus May] are all LMDs now. What will Fitzsimmons do? How are they going to save their friends?