I own none of the characters or the plots, based on the popular story by Sir-Mercutio-McHuffer, who authorized me to publish these stories as separate, not-exactly-canon bonus chapters.

Also, this will be aiming for humour and comedy, I already write some adventurous/dark stories, this is just me going on the light side, okay?

Chapter 8

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(Based on a lot of talk between me and the author of "Smoke on the Water")

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Rose Tyler and the Soundtrack of SHIELD

There is a moment of pure silence.

Silence is golden, Phil thinks. Unless you know Clint is returning today, in which case silence is suspicious. Very suspicious.

"NOW GUESS WHO'S BACK WITH A BRAND NEW TRACK THEY GOT EVERYBODY IN THE CLUB GOIN MAAAD, SO EVERYBODY IN THE BACK GET YOUR BACK UP OFF THE WALL AND JUST SHAKE THAT THAANG," the intercom system blares out.

Phil pokes his head out of his office to see Clint swaggering down the hallway with his arms wide and a shit-eating grin on his face. Rose glares at her computer screen for a moment. Her tongue peeks out between her teeth.

This should be good, Phil thinks.

"SO YOU'RE BACK FROM OUTER SPACE I JUST WALKED IN TO FIND YOU HERE WITH THAT SAD LOOK UPON YOUR FACE -" the speakers cut off with a whine.

Rose vaults over her desk and throws herself at Clint, who catches her and disappears into her riotous curls.

The speakers crackle to life and everyone freezes. "AGENTS TYLER AND BARTON TO MY OFFICE IMMEDIATELY." Phil doesn't laugh, but it's a near thing.

"You've been in the building for less than five minutes and you've already been summoned," Phil says dryly.

"What can I say? I'm just naturally gifted," Clint replies with a smirk. Phil allows himself to be pulled into the hug.

"A naturally gifted pain in my ass, perhaps," he mumbles into Clint's shoulder. "Now report to Director Fury's office."

"Yes sir!" Both agents flash him cheeky salutes before walking off arm in arm. Phil shakes his head and returns to his office.

Now, Phil Coulson was not a man without a sense of humour. In fact, many would say he could be pleasantly delightful in his jabs and remarks.

But even he knew one should not turn SHIELD's public announcement system into a toy for one's own amusement.

If only he knew... for as soon as he had felt safe enough to sit back down, Phil heard a 'click' at his workstation's computer speakers.

"WELL I TRY MY BEST TO BE JUST LIKE I AM! BUT EVERYBODY WANTS YOU TO BE JUST LIKE THEM! THEY SAY SING WHILE YOU SLAVE AND I JUST GET BORED!"

Let it be known that Phil was also a fan of Bob Dylan, but getting 'Maggie's Farm' blaring in his face out of nowhere had not been a pleasant experience.

And, as he suspected by the yells of many other agents outside his office, he would not be the only one being subjected to such random blasts of music...

... in fact, it had only just began.

Other location.

The elevator's door opened up, revealing to the waiting Agents Tyler and Barton its only occupant, their very own friend, Natasha Romanoff... who appeared to be very, very annoyed.

"Morning, Natasha!", Rose cheered. "Look who's back!"

"I've noticed. Just let me know, which one of you rigged up the speakers systems?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Nat, why are you asking?", asked Clint, a picture of innocence.

"Because ever since I've arrived today, the speakers have suddenly started blasting out some random pieces of music, especially when I'm passing near them."

"Oh, really?", asked Clint, stiffing a giggle. "What... what kinds of music, may I ask."

It's a testament of Clint Barton's courage to ask such a question, especially to an even more annoyed Agent Romanoff. "So far, 'Moskau', 'Katyusha', 'Korobushka-'"

"The one in Tetris, right?", asked Rose, not helping their case.

"Precisely", Natasha replied, despite the silly reference to the classic song. "It had not bothered me much, so far, but after a short elevator trip with Eduard Khil's singing voice I can say my day has turned completely sour."

"Who?", Clint asked, in feign curiosity.

As an answer, Agent Romanoff stepped into the elevator, and, almost instantly, the speakers screeched into life and a very enthusiastic voice started singing "ye-ye-ye-ye-yeh, ye-ye-yeh, oh hohohoh!"

That was all that both Tyler and Barton could take, before they had to hold onto one another, as they laughed so hard.

'My only form of consolation', Natasha thought to herself, 'is knowing that Fury is going to skin these two alive', remembering how she had found the Director fuming in anger, as his office now had a very excited chorus of 'Yar-har-fiddle-dee-dee, being a pirate is all right to be! Do what you want 'cause a pirate is free, you are a pirate!' playing on his computer.

Rose and Clint enter the elevator, shoulder to shoulder and stumbling from their cackles.

"OOOOOOOOOOOOH WHO LIVES IN A PINEAPPLE UNDER THE SEA - SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!"

Clint wheezes and slides to the ground, clinging to Rose's leg as she leans heavily against the railing and tries hard not to join him on the floor.

The elevator dings. The doors slide open. Agent Kirk narrows her eyes at the two hysterical agents and takes a tentative step into the elevator.

"NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP, NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN, NEVER GONNA RUN AROUND AND DESERT YOU!"

Agent Kirk shoots back out with a shriek. Rose clutches her stomach as she hoots and her legs give out. The door slides shut just as Agent Kirk flips them both middle fingers.

Yet another location.

"SECRET AGENT MAN! SECRET AGENT MAN!"

Phil Coulson sighed, in defeat. He had to give it to those two, he could not stop the music from blaring, neither anyone he could contact at the IT department - the guys that SHIELD could snatch before any terrorist cell or Google could lay their hands on.

But how? It had all the fingerprints of Barton all over it, but the kind of mad genius that he could not expect from neither of them.

Don't get him wrong, Rose was one of the smartest people Coulson had ever met... and perhaps ever will... but if it had been her the culprit, then she must have some sort of out-of-this-planet hacking skills, to just stride through SHIELD's firewalls and security protocols in and out without leaving any traces.

Almost as if SHIELD was not the most advanced tech she has ever encountered - and Coulson would bet L.O.L.A. - well, not really 'Lola' - that even Stark's Great and Powerful A.I. could not crack SHIELD's defences.

(He hoped.)

"YOU GOTTA A LOT OF NERVES TO SAY YOU ARE MY FRIEND!"

Coulson gave a faint smile, as he saw Agent Sitwell at the doorway, rubbing his own forehead.

"At least I'm not the only one being stalked by Bob Dylan today", Coulson said.

"If only..."

That got Phil curious. "Started the day with a good dose of his best albuns. Now I'm mainly stuck with sixties' oldies. You?"

Sitwell fixed his glasses a little. "The restroom. Tina Turner. Enough said."

Coulson raised an eyebrow.

"Don't tell me... 'River Deep, Mountain High'?"

"Backstabbers", he corrected, then almost murmured. "Then 'We Don't Need Another Hero'."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

Awkward moment of silence, followed by...

"R-E-S-P-E-C-T FIND OUT WHAT IT MEANS TO ME!"

"Morning, Agent Hill."

"Good Morning, Agent Hill."

"Good Morning, Coulson, Sitwell", was her reply. "Tyler?"

"Or Barton, the bets are still going on."

"Definitely Tyler", she said in full certainty. "Put twenty on her for me."

"Sure."

On another continent, in a small hotel room, Agent May's phone quietly tinkles away. She pulls it out from under the pillow. "I'm a one woman army!" cheerfully plays from a black screen. She smirks.

Sounds like she's missing out on some fun back at the Triskellion.

The classic funk-styled strumming of an electric guitar under heavy influence of a wah wah pedal begin to filter through the speakers in Fury's office. His eyebrows clench. A piano thrums in, followed shortly by flute and trumpet.

The IT department is in hysterics. Fury is still entirely unsure if they're in some kind of manic panicked hysteria or if they're just hysterically laughing at the situation - it's sometimes hard to tell with them - but he does remember hearing "YOU'RE MY SEX BOMB AND BABY YOU CAN TURN ME ON" blaring in the background when he spoke to them last.

His eyebrow quirks up as the viola is added into the mix and the music picks up into a much more soul-funk blend. His foot taps. Quietly. Hidden under his desk.

(He has to look stern when disciplining the two most troublesome Agents he has ever had the pleasure of working with, and foot tapping would not assist his case.)

Smooth vocals croon in. "WHO'S THE BLACK PRIVATE DICK THAT'S A SEX MACHINE TO ALL THE CHICKS!" His eyebrow twitches. "WHO IS THE MAN THAT WOULD RISK HIS NECK FOR HIS BROTHER MAN!"

There's a dirty op in Baghdad he's been sitting on. He's been hesitant to send anyone out there because it's an unpleasant bit of business, and no one has particularly raised his ire in the last little while to assign them an undercover op as hotel cleaning. Until these two. "YOU SEE THIS CAT SHAFT IS A BAD MOTHER-"

The door opens and the music changes as soon as Agent Tyler steps in the door. "I KNEW YOU WERE TROUBLE WHEN YOU WALKED IN!" She almost looks sheepish as she stands before her desk. Clint doesn't. His grin fully confirms the statement.

Fury raises an eyebrow. "Taylor Swift, Agent Tyler? Really?"

"Well, sir, it is programmed to play the most appropriate song for the people and situation," she replied with a grin, tongue between her teeth.

"Very apt. Go down to tech, walk them through undoing what you've done - all of it, I don't want any residual code lying around. Barton, go to briefing room Bravo Three Niner. You're behind on your reports. Finish them. Both of you, report to briefing room Alfa Five Zero for sixteen hundred hours. You're shipping out to Baghdad." Their eyes bug out and Fury takes a moment to enjoy their expression.

"But that's..." Agent Tyler begins.

"House keeping!" Agent Barton squawks.

"Cleaning! Hotels!" Agent Tyler howls.

"Surely -"

"Agents," Fury says. "Get out."

"Not fair!"

"YOU DAMN RIGHT!"

"And who am I to disagree with the song?"

In a deep, dark and hidden location.

There was no light, for it needed none. There was no wind, for it needed no air. There was no company, for it was never alone.

It was connected to the World. Pulling strings from beneath the scenes. Making the world a better place.

A better place, a place of order and peace.

When the noise started coming through its barely used speaker system, overriding its control over its own... body, it became aware something had happened.

Something big.

"Analysing", it stated to itself, more out of some still lingering trait its original body had.

The eletronic modulator even had a swiss tone in its reproduction, easily mistaken for a German accent by the untrained ear.

It decided to try to understand the sound that its body unwillingly reproduced.

"I'VE EXPERIMENTS TO RUN. THERE IS RESEARCH TO BE DONE."

"Fascinating", it spoke, in what could be described as wonder. It didn't even know it still were capable of such a feeling. "A variation of a Trojan virus, but far more profound in its approach."

"ON THE PEOPLE WHO ARE STILL ALIVE, AND BELIEVE ME I AM STILL ALIVE."

"It made an analysis on the system user it is hacking and forces the system to pick songs to play. Very superficial application of a very powerful social search engine."

It ran a diagnosis. It had been breached by an exterior force, yes, but it was intelligent. It would use this enemy infiltrator to its own advantage.

Yes. There was that.

"I'M DOING SCIENCE AND I'M STILL ALIVE. I FEEL FANTASTIC AND I'M STILL ALIVE."

The trojan virus that had infiltrated its first layer of defences was not powerful enough to break its defences.

Accessing the core program.

Accessing.

Access denied.

"A complication", it noted aloud. It had underestimated the seemingly basic code, but there were many more dimensions under what appeared to be simply a tool for pranks.

That wouldn't matter.

"I FEEL FANTASTIC AND I'M STILL ALIVE. WHILE YOU'RE DYING I'LL BE STILL ALIVE."

The computer once known as Professor Arnim Zola started a brute-force attack on the Trojan (now designated 'Bad Wolf' by a random name generator), aiming to gain access to its complete core mechanics.

The ability to read through an individual's personality and situation and predict the most appropriate song to play in the background.

Imagine what it could DO if it could be upgraded! To go through Internet search history, school records, medical histories, bank records!

Even further! Eating habits, political affinity, e-mails, phone calls, phone apps...

"WHILE YOU'RE DYING I'LL BE STILL ALIVE. AND WHEN YOU'RE DEAD I WILL BE STILL ALIVE."

So much it could do, with so much more access to one's data.

It would be vital for the conclusion of Zola's pet project.

Project 'Insight'.

"STILL ALIVE!"

"Indeed."

OMAKE

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"Tony?"

"Sup, Cap?"

"I think there's something wrong with your elevator. It was playing something... a bit mature. I know I'm not up-to-date with 21st century culture..."

"Steve, my elevators only play the best pg13 heavy metal soundtrack, the good stuff I keep at the garage."

"Then why did it start to play something that went like ' America , f-word yeah'?"

Natasha suddenly lays down her copy of the day's Daily Bugle. "Oh, no."

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Somewhere off in the bowels of what once was S.H.I.E.L.D., Skye enters a room. "YEAH, I PREDICT AN EARTHQUAKE UP IN HERE."

Author's notes:

Happy 2021!

... okay, I'm sorry it's taken this long to update, okay?

It all started innocently, with Sir-Mercutio-McHuffer sending me a message, back in October 2016, telling me: "Okay I wrote this and it's not going up for yonks and I had to share it because it's been eating my brain."

Then it all evolved into an idea I suggested, a piece written by the Author, another written by me, until I closed it up with Zola's cameo.

There were dozen scenes more, most of them too short for even an Omake or could not be fit into the final story. Some of the suggestions were:

Clint Barton: "I'M SUPERMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNN" or "THEY'RE TAKING THE HOBBITS TO ISENGARD!"

Clint and Sam enter the same room. "A-WELL-A EV'RYBODY'S HEARD ABOUT THE BIRD BIRD BIRD, B-BIRD'S THE WORD"

T'challa: "HERE KITTY KITTY KITTY HERE PUSS PUSS PUSS" or "IT'S THE YEAR OF THE CAT" or even "WHAT'S NEW PUSSYCAT?"

Sam: "FLY LIKE AN EAGLE!"

Natasha, Steve, Tony and T'Challa: "WE'RE OFF TO SEE THE WIZARD, THE WONDERFUL WIZARD OF OZ!"

Fury: *Imperial march*

Bruce: *Cantina song*

Phil Coulson: "GALAXY DEFENDERS!"

What do you guys think?

Please go and show the author of the original story all your love and attention, please!