TW: self harm, torture, implied/referenced child abuse, depression, etc.

At the temple in Peru, May realized two things.

One: Keeping an eye on Coulson was going to be much harder than she initially thought if he continued to run directly into collapsing temples (and that she was probably going to have to report for combat in order to prevent this man from dying… again).

And two: Whatever alien crap Fury had running through Coulson's veins must seriously be fucking with his head if he truly believed that HYDRA was back, and that this earthquake girl needed saving.

Coulson's idealistic kindness proved to be a risk to the team when that Comandante whatshername and her soldiers hijacked the plane. Fortunately, they'd been able to regain control, and after a long day of finding yet another superpowered person not on the Index (and Phil's claims that she's somehow not dangerous), being outed as "the Cavalry" by the rookies, and a Peruvian thorn in her side, May was ready for a shot of whiskey and a good, long sleep.

Of course, Coulson came to find her in the lounge as she was pouring herself a glass.

"Mel," he greeted. "I see you're enjoying the full bar on the Bus."

She merely flicked her eyes upwards at him in exasperation.

"Isn't that so cool?" he continued, ignoring her subtle hint for some silence and solitude. "You can make, like, any drink you want up here."

"Lots of planes have bars, Phil."

Coulson snorted. "Well, you're no fun," he chuckled. "Pass me a glass."

May sighed. Accepting that she wasn't going to have her scotch in peace, she slid a glass over. "On the rocks or straight up?"

"Straight up," Coulson responded, nudging her teasingly. "When have I ever taken it on the rocks?"

May shrugged, a smirk playing on her lips to disguise whatever undertone was threatening to slip out in her voice. "I don't know, Phil, maybe something changed when you died."

Definitely more than just your drink preferences.

Coulson shook his head, pouring himself a glass. "Perhaps. But I'm still the same guy. Just had a little perspective, that's all."

Perspective indeed.

May swirled the scotch around in her glass before downing the rest of it. As she got up to leave, Coulson grabbed her arm to stop her.

"I wanted to apologize for today," he started.

"Nothing to apologize for," she responded. Not that I'm not pissed.

Nevertheless, he continued. "No, I know you didn't want to see combat, and I'm sorry you did," he said. "And… I'm sorry for what happened at the temple. But I want to track that girl. I really think she's in danger."

May raised an eyebrow.

Coulson let go of her arm, turning to face her fully. "I really don't think it's her, I think she's afraid. They're doing something to her, I just know it."

"Phil," May started slowly. "This woman that you are defending slaughtered a rookie scientist in cold blood with absolutely no hesitation."

Coulson flinched at that.

"Tristan Kalmowitz did not deserve to die," she stated, her voice even toned and slow, making sure every word hit. "This girl – who you think is being controlled by a dead terrorist organization – is a lawless, dangerous murderer with zero regard for other human beings. And for you to defend her – for you to want to save her – is an insult to Agent Kalmowitz, his inconsolable family, and everyone on this team."

Her stomach felt sick as she left for her room.

After Peru, she'd had a rough couple of weeks.

The smiley superior had been less than pleased when the angry one brought her back in the condition she was in, and even more upset to learn how she'd frozen up, disobeyed multiple orders, and overall blamed her for the mission failure. He was right, of course; she didn't bury the 0-8-4, and Coulson's team got it instead. All of the pain she was in was simply punishment for her bad behavior – she'd endured all this pain for nothing, please make it stop – and she didn't earn her right to eat – but dear God she was so absolutely starving she couldn't even think straight-

The smiley one knew that she was able to heal more quickly than others, so he gave her a day to rest and let her bones heal (even though he made it very clear that this was out of the kindness and generosity of his heart, and that she did absolutely nothing to earn time off). But the price was she didn't get to eat… again.

After all, no work, no pay. You earn everything in this life.

She'd spent her day off curled up in her cell, watching the door and drifting off every once in a while; Kalmowitz's strangled, dread-filled cry echoed in her nightmares, his crimson tide bubbled up and up until it filled her lungs and gurgled in her throat, the air reeked iron and rotting and death, Coulson's absolute gut-wrenched horror, the desperation and pain written on his face burned in her mind, horror at her, at what shehad done, God she was a monster-

But after that day she was whisked back into training, and after two days of no food she was finding it increasingly difficult. It was a vicious cycle – she didn't eat, so she felt weak and shaky and dizzy, performing lesser than usual, which meant that she didn't earn her right to eat, rinse and repeat.

Worthless piece of-

You owe us your goddamn life, the least you could do is-

The electricity coursing in her neck every time she underperformed didn't help, either. Constant pain and fatigue and starvation was taking its toll – her heart was starting to race at every little thing, and all the vibrations were so loud and so overwhelming, and her chest was so tight all the time she found it hard to breathe, and she was so desperate to please the superiors but every day they were just more and more frustrated with her because every day she felt worse and worse and her stomach was tied into tight knots and rippling waves of nausea would seize her up and God it was absolutely debilitating-

At one point, maybe the second or third day after her day off, she'd physically started shutting down mid-training. She'd been weakly hitting the punching bag and a superior – the smiley one – had shouted that she wasn't trying hard enough and she should be better by now and that she was pathetic and why did HYDRA even bother with her.

And to prove a point – to please him – she'd summoned all her strength and hit it as hard as she possibly could. It swung back, and the black spots that had formed in her vision blinded her from seeing it rebound. She'd stumbled back when it hit her full-force and fell to the mat, her head reeled and every single muscle burned and ached and her heart raced and, quite frankly, she thought she was dying.

Though, she wasn't sure if she was afraid of dying so much as she was afraid that they'd take it away from her.

The smiley superior marched over, grabbed her by the hair, and what he said right before she'd blacked out was permanently burned into her mind.

If you don't get your shit together, we'll turn you back over to Whitehall, and he will rip you apart piece by piece and drain you of everything you have until there is absolutely nothing left of you.

And you will be conscious for all of it.

May caught everyone a little off guard when she volunteered to infiltrate Quinn's party in Malta, especiallyCoulson, who pulled her aside just to make sure she knew what she was signing up for. It was sweet, but she could handle herself, and quite frankly this team needed her expertise.

She wondered if this was Coulson's intended role for her all along.

(Despite the fact that technically this team was put together by her, not him, so technically she'd set herself up for this).

And as much as she claimed she enjoyed the papercuts and the smell of ink and the constant silence only punctuated by the sound of turning pages and clacking staplers, she sort of missed the exhilaration of combat, the adrenaline, the control she had in the field to make sure everyone was safe and that they carried out the mission successfully.

Because communicating with her teammates from the Bus where she wasn't able to do anything sucked.

They'd been unable to save Franklin Hall, but they were able to secure the Gravitonium and deliver it to the Fridge. A few days later and they had their next assignment – a thief in Stockholm who had stolen diamonds with her eyes closed.

Coulson had recognized this thief as Akela Amador, his former protégé. Of course, his big heart got the better of him again, and he insisted that she deserved a second chance. That she was in danger. Something, or someone, was controlling her.

Sounds familiar.

May was concerned he was becoming delusional.

"You told me that you were ready for combat. That you had my back."

"Don't ever doubt it."

Coulson had always prided himself in being able to read "the ambiguous Melinda May." Sure, she'd always kept her emotions under lock and key, especially since… the incident, and out of all the people she knew, he knew her better than anyone else. He probably thought she meant something along the lines of I always have or just like the old days or even just a simple promise within that statement.

The image of the phone line to Fury burned in the back of her mind.

So, while in a sense, he was right, in reality he had absolutely no idea.

Everything I do, I do for you.

"But you are defending this girl at the expense of our team," she continued after a beat, her voice a low and threatening growl. Fitz-Simmons shared an uneasy glance, and Ward shifted his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably.

"Because we protect our own," he matched, holding her intense gaze.

Ward hesitantly cut in; "With all due respect, sir, she's not one of our own."

Coulson's eyes flickered over to him in acknowledgement, then back at May, who set her jaw and lifted her chin.

Even if Coulson thought he could read her better than he actually could, her message was loud and clear.

Her eyes burned when she opened them again – a brilliant white light flooded her vision, and she was convinced she was dead.

But as the rest of her senses started to come to, her throat dried up. A beeping next to her ear sped up almost perfectly in synch with her racing heart, and a pinching in her arm made her eyelids grow heavy and her whole body feel sluggish and this is how it starts isn't it oh God I remember this someone please-

"About time you woke up," a female voice muttered next to her. She looked over to see a redheaded woman standing by her bed – she was in a bed, a white bed, and it was stiff and hard but so much softer than the floor of her cell; despite this, her muscles were tense and tight. The woman's arms were crossed over her chest and she was regarding her with narrowed eyes and a set jaw.

She looked incredibly familiar.

"You don't remember me," the redheaded woman sighed exasperatedly. "I'm Debbie. You almost killed me when you quaked my office down in LA."

Oh. Right.

"Tell your handlers that if they want you to be at your top potential at all times, then they need to stop starving you half to death."

Her head was spinning, and Debbie's words were only half making sense. Those lights weren't so blinding anymore, but she still squinted as she lifted her hand, bending her fingers and studying it carefully. Strange tubing had been taped to it, but unable to decipher what it was for, she ultimately decided it wasn't her top priority. Flipping over her hand, flexing her fingers out, she scanned the room, taking in every surface, every corner.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a shadowed man in a white lab coat towered over her, holding something sharp and pointy that glinted in the harsh lights. A murmuring rumbled through her thoughts, a short, incoherent, jumbled sentence that she couldn't quite make out but somehow still managed to spike her heart rate again. A drug-dampened tremor clambered its way down her spine.

Debbie regarded her curiously. "God, if you can take down a building with just your raw power, I cannot wait to see what you can do with a dose of the serum."

She suppressed a wince at the thought of being injected with whatever it was blowing up those soldiers, and all over again she had to remind herself that she had it easy compared to them – that she was one of the luckyones. After all, she couldn't think of a worse way to die – being blown apart from the inside out.

Though, maybe dying on an operating table-

The man's blurred face flashed in her thoughts again; his rounded glasses shining in the lights. Again, the voice – his voice – reverberated in her mind, the words muddled somewhere in a corner of her mind where she'd locked them away a lifetime ago.

She thought for a moment that maybe she could smell latex and disinfectant and maybe iron – or maybe that was a figment as well.

Her breath shuddered as she exhaled, turning her bleary vision back over to the redheaded doctor. Her head was getting foggy, the man a mere ghost in her mind.

Debbie rolled her eyes. "You're really not one for conversation. Don't unplug your IV, and you're benched for a couple days. I've got places to go and people to see."

As her hand reached the doorknob, she tossed over her shoulder, "Oh, and that sedative will knock you out sometime within the next few minutes. Your superiors are under strict orders to sedate you every time you wake up. Your body quite literally doesn't have the energy to panic, so try to suck it up and relax, yeah?"

After escorting Amador off the plane, May had retreated back to the cockpit for takeoff again. She had a lot that she needed to mull over, and was eager for the welcoming silence and security that piloting the plane offered her.

Coulson had made the right call regarding Amador, and even if she'd originally thought he was too close to the case to make objective decisions, it was that very fact that saved that woman's life and gave her a second chance. Of course, that was something that specifically applied to Amador as a former SHIELD agent.

His stance on the other girl was more difficult to comprehend.

The superhuman they'd encountered was a similar situation, sure. Someone with absolutely no autonomy, taking actions at the very whim of their handlers, regardless of their own wants or needs.

Or if they were hurting themselves in the process.

But Coulson wanting to save Amador made sense because Amador had been his protégé. He had absolutely no relation to the unregistered superhuman. And if he truly thought she was HYDRA, then they should be eliminating the threat before she became a bigger issue.

"Mel, you coming for dinner?"

She took her eyes off the sky and turned her attention towards the door. She'd felt Coulson's presence a few minutes ago – he wore that gentle, welcoming smile that always seemed to thaw her icy barricade. Flipping the plane's controls to autopilot, she stood, letting the corners of her mouth twitch upward in an attempt to return the smile; he frowned, clearly noticing she had a lot on her mind.

"If this is about Amador-"

She shook her head. "You made the right call," she admitted.

He smiled. "Everyone deserves a second chance."

"Not everyone."

Coulson sighed. "If I get a chance to save that girl, I'm taking it."

"And if I get a chance to eliminate the threat, especially if she comes after Fitz or Simmons, I'm taking it," May murmured tersely, holding his gaze.

Coulson stared at her helplessly. "You really think she's a threat?"

She shrugged. "Is it worth the risk if she isn't? Amador will get a fair trial – we know her, she was one of ours, and she was coerced. That girl will be Indexed and labeled a murderer. Or upon report, they'll simply put her down."

"We could make her one of ours," Coulson thought aloud.

May let an amused chuckle escape her lips. "Now I know you're delusional."

Coulson sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning his big, pleading eyes on her. "Trust me on this?" he asked. "Please?"

May pursed her lips, dropping her gaze. All logic aside, he had made the right call when it came to Amador, even if May's first instinct had been to eliminate the threat. With a sigh, she murmured; "You know I always have your back."

Coulson smiled that big, dorky smile again. "I appreciate you, you know."

"I know."

"Come on." He turned, starting to head back towards the kitchen. "I made pasta tonight."

The next couple days had been a confusing, muddled blur of bright lights, incoherent mumbles, beeping and pinching in her waking hours, and darkness and the constant feeling of falling in her unconscious ones. Her head spun, her muscles felt like concrete, and she was so disoriented that she could have convinced herself it truly was the end if she'd had the mindpower to even form a cohesive thought.

At some point, the bright lights lingered for longer than usual, and the mumbling started to clear up, the words starting to take shape. A gruff voice next to her had muttered that "vacation's over," and before she was fully conscious, he'd ripped the tubing out of her hand and demanded that she stood.

She'd shakily gripped the sides of the bed as she sat up straight, her head whirling at the sudden motion, her stomach clenching up like it was going to be sick. But she complied – swinging her legs over the side of the bed and letting her bare feet touch the cold ground, slowly shifting her weight onto them, her raw knuckles white as she held on. Her superior's lip was curled in disgust, his brows knitted as he watched her with steel eyes, his arms crossed as she concentrated on finding her balance again.

He tossed her black uniform at her – she caught it at the last second, stumbling backwards, nearly falling back into her bed. "Get dressed," he ordered. "Let's hope you're well rested after your extended vacation."

Once she was dressed, she followed him blindly, expecting to be brought right down to the gym for training. As her mind was finally starting to sharpen up again, the sleepy drug-induced fog starting to lift, he opened a door and a breeze hit her face, the bright lights blinding her once more. She stopped for a moment, blinking to try and adjust to the outdoor environment.

Her superior grabbed her by the arm, and she stumbled after him, the shapes around her clearing up and coming into focus. As he started to drag her into a helicopter, she turned her face up to the open blue sky, taking in the puffy white clouds and the formation of birds crossing the horizon before the ramp closed behind her.

She'd lost track of how long she'd been in the back of the helicopter. From her view she could hardly see the windows, but she knew that it had gotten dark at one point, and then light again. She also realized that despite how long it had been since she'd had solid food, she strangely didn't feel hungry at all. Eventually they landed in front of a large building and she followed closely behind her superior as they marched inside.

"They requested your presence," her superior explained, "in case the new subject lost control." He scoffed. "They called him Scorch."

Somewhere above, she felt hot, blazing vibrations igniting, and suddenly it was burning through the air. She grabbed her superior's arm and ducked just as a burst of fire flew past their heads. Standing back up straight, he shot her a dirty look before ascending the stairs.

She scanned the room, her skin prickling with unease at the scientists and the machinery. In the center of the room, a familiar-looking brown skinned woman in a long, floral dress stood, musing over a Chinese man with unguarded intrigue. The man turned to her, a huge smile on his face.

"Your power is an amazing gift." The woman's voice was buttery smooth, and the Chinese man only got more fired up as he declared how the whole world will see the amazing things he can do now.

Her breath hitched. Her superior cleared his throat. "Raina," he greeted, his voice cold and one-note.

Raina.

Raina turned her attention to the two of them, an innocent smirk playing on her face. The Chinese man seemed unbothered by the newcomers, instead igniting a fire on his hands and swirling the flames around, mesmerized by his own power.

Her superior continued; "I've brought Quake, as requested."

"Quake…" Raina's gaze swept across her, taking in the full sight. "Mmm, yes, it has been a while hasn't it?" Raina's silken voice sent tremors down her spine – she knew full well the effect she could have on people. The way she studied her made her chest jitter with nerves – her wide eyes swept over her innocently enough, but her gaze always seemed to pierce her as if she were ripping a hole into her soul and rummaging through all of her secrets.

Restless vibrations danced between her fingertips, and she straightened herself up, lifting her chin in an effort to contain them.

"Your father says hello, and that he misses you dearly, my girl."

She bristled at Raina's comment, but clamped down the buzzing that had risen inside her. Uncertain why or how Raina had managed to touch a nerve, she crossed her arms over her chest, casting a quick side glance to her superior, who motioned for Raina to follow them across the room. The Chinese man – Scorch? – paid no mind, too busy playing with the flames in his palm.

"Chan is quite pleased with the effects of the serum," she explained, her voice low. "It's enhanced his natural power beautifully." Raina's gaze swept over to her, and she dug her fingernails into her palms to redirect the vibrations back inside.

"Quake is to be stationed here until the procedures are complete." The corner of her superior's mouth twitched upward, an unreadable gleam in his eye. "Or until your subject explodes. Whichever comes first."

She did not like the sound of that.

Not one bit.

Defy me and see what happens.

The superior removed his watch, dropping it in Raina's outstretched palm. "Use this if she steps out of line," he growled. Raina's gaze fell on it, interest sparking in her eyes. "It's her shock collar. Works every time."

Her stomach twisted as Raina studied it. "Which button is it?" she asked innocently, her slender finger outstretched as it reached for the watch. "This one?"

She cursed internally as the spark crackled in her neck and down her spine.

"And Quake," her superior continued, roughly lifting her chin with a harsh grip, forcing her to look right at him. Her eyes had followed the movement warily, and she'd suppressed a flinch upon contact. His gaze darkened as he regarded her. "You know what happens if you fuck up."

Her throat dried up, and she nodded a mute "yes sir." He pushed her away by his grip on her chin, and she stumbled back, quickly stabilizing herself and regaining her composure. Casting one last glance at Raina, her superior left.

Raina turned her attention back to her, and again she felt her probing gaze like a specimen under a microscope. "Daisy," she drawled, her eyes sparkling as the name lingered on her tongue. Something about that name made her chest constrict – she gritted her teeth, focusing on clamping down the vibrations rather than grasping at whatever imagery her mind had fleetingly conjured up at the sound of that one word. "What an interesting fate you've found for yourself."

May had just finished up Tai Chi when they received a call from SHIELD's Hong Kong headquarters. Quan Chen filled them in – one of the Indexed superhumans Chan Ho Yin had disappeared. His pyrokinetic abilities had been revealed by a hacker from the Rising Tide, and after taking in their prime suspect, they discovered that Miles Lydon had sold the information to Centipede.

"First LA, now Hong Kong?" Ward frowned; his brow furrowed in confusion. "What kind of organization are we dealing with?"

"International. Well-financed. Interested in creating a super soldier."

Coulson cast a quick glance across the table to May. She met his gaze, narrowing her eyes just a bit. It was clear to her that he still thought this was HYDRA – though, when he laid out the groundwork, she had to admit he made a convincing argument.

"Any idea what Centipede wants with Chan?" she asked.

Fitz piped up; "Hard to say, but Simmons thinks that considering he's pyrokinetic-"

"-There's a good chance that his genetics could stabilize the Extremis elements of the Centipede serum-"

"-Keep the test subjects from going-"

"-Boom!"

If that was true, they were running out of time.

"This is no test. This is torture."

Scorch's voice shuddered as he spoke. She suppressed her own shiver as she watched Raina and the redheaded doctor – Debbie – standing over him like hungry wolves out for blood.

"I won't let you," he growled, forming a fireball in the palm of his hand – the stench of burning flesh filled the air and he started howling in pain. She steeled herself, lifting her chin to try and squash down the tremors building inside of her, but her mind projected images of the man with the round glasses, and she dug her nails into her palms.

"-the reason you don't burn is because your blood platelets are fire resistant," Debbie was explaining.

"Which is why we're removing them," Raina added simply, as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

Drain you of everything you have-

Conscious for all of it-

The tools on the table started shaking, filling the air with a loud, shuddery clinking. She hadn't meant for it to happen, and quickly tried to reign in the vibrations, but with concrete below her feet she wasn't able to redisperse them anywhere absorbent. Begrudgingly, she let the vibrations rattle her bones, wincing only slightly before completely neutralizing her face again. Raina noticed her discomfort, however, acknowledging it with a bemused smirk. "What's the matter?" she cooed. "Remind you of the good ol' days?"

She narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin, squashing another quake before it could slip out of her control.

Scorch cast a pleading glance over to her before turning his attention back to the two women who'd turned around to leave. "Raina-" he begged.

"Keep an eye on him," Debbie instructed her, and she nodded silently in response. "Subdue him if necessary."

"Raina!" Scorch's voice grew desperate. "Raina!"

Her stomach flopped and she turned away, unable to look at him. He called again, but upon hearing the door slam shut, he directed his attention back to her. Her chest felt tight – his vibrations were red-hot with anger, sharp with betrayal and pain, and they came off him in waves so thick she felt she was drowning.

Scorch's voice was strained. "What about you?" he challenged.

She turned to face him, forcing herself to stand rigidly, rolling her shoulders back and puffing her chest, all the while her legs shook and her nails dug into her palms. His glare was intense, sweat beading on his brow.

"You've got one too, Quake. A gift," he spat. "That's what Raina called it. What will they do with you?"

Icy panic clawed at her throat, and before her mind could extrapolate that thought, stirring up all sorts of anxiety-inducing memories or fears, she squashed it down, pushed it away. Unable to answer, she turned her back, lifting her chin and balling her hands into fists.

Nothing. They'd do nothing.

They needed her.

Hail HYDRA.

"There. Heat signature confirmed." May handed Coulson the pick-lock device and he attached it to the door, busting it open. Upon entry, May quickly took out the guards in the room, standing up to find that Coulson had frozen in place.

"You again," he gasped, and she followed his gaze to see that he'd been staring right at the earthquake-powered superhuman, who took a few steps back, her expression completely unreadable.

"Coulson, focus," May snapped. Quan had gone over to Chan's side. May's fingers flexed by her side, ready to leap into action at a moment's notice. If Coulson wasn't going to take this girl out, she would.

But the girl seemed completely bewildered at the sight of them, and without a superior to order her around, she looked lost, unsure of what to do or how to react. Keeping her in her peripheral, she turned her attention back to Quan-

-Who collapsed to the ground, his body engulfed in flames. Chan stood over him, a malicious glint in his eye. He tossed a needle aside and it clattered to the ground. Dread filled May's chest.

He'd used the Centipede serum.

Son of a bitch-

Now she was going to have to fight two enhanced individuals, one of them on actual steroids-

Coulson stared in disbelief. "Chan, what have you done?"

"I've set myself free." His voice was low and dangerous, his muscles flexed and his fingers tingling by his sides as power coursed through his veins. May gritted her teeth. Before either of them could react, he shouted, flames erupting from his hands and bursting straight for them.

The girl sprang to action, leaping in front of Coulson and May, her arms extended as she released a quake that dissipated the flames away from them. Coulson gaped at her, his eyes wide, and before he could say anything to May she grabbed him and ducked behind some rolling racks.

Chan howled in pain as the flames licked up his arms. The stench of burning flesh filled the air, and he paced like a hungry animal, his eyes trained on the girl. "Who's side are you on, Quake?" he growled. "Whatever organization you choose, you'll suffer the same fate."

"Mr. Chan, I know you're in pain," Coulson called from his hiding spot.

"This is nothing!" Chan spat. "You were the ones killing me! Forcing me to keep this gift locked up inside!"

May thought for a moment. "Chan, I'm sorry you lived a life you didn't want," she called out in Cantonese. "But violence will solve nothing!"

"It will keep me from being kept prisoner," he spat back, speaking his native tongue. Bobbing his head over to the girl, he added; "like her."

"Chan-"

"By you, by them, there's no difference," he continued. "I was given this gift for a reason. To burn bright!"

"There's no turning back," she warned.

"I don't want to go back."

Gritting her teeth, she turned her attention back to a hopeful Coulson, who hadn't understood a word they'd spoken. "So we're good, right?" he asked almost humorously.

Not even close.

Angrily, Chan lashed out again, sending a massive burst of fire towards Coulson. He ducked and rolled over to May just in time, but turned, his eyes searching wildly. "Quake?" he called, before lowering his voice and asking May; "Do we have a normal name for her? I feel sort of lame calling her Quake."

"Forget her," May hissed. "She can handle herself. Did his file say anything about him being homicidal?"

"Just that he was kind of a tool." Coulson sighed in relief as the flames cleared up and the girl came in sight again. "Mr. Chan, believe it or not, this could still get worse!"

And it did.

He called himself "Scorch."

Quake and Scorch. Dear God.

They split apart and took him on from either side, but as Coulson started firing a round of ICERs, Chan created a fiery barrier between them, melting the bullets upon impact.

"Nothing can stop me!" Chan shouted as they ducked behind the racks again.

He ducked as a blast of vibrational energy shot towards him. Coulson spun around as the girl shot another blast from her palm, gritting her teeth. With a howl he directed his own blast of flames right at her.

"Quake!" Coulson shouted, starting to stand up before May grabbed his arm.

"Phil," she warned.

As the smoke cleared, Chan was nowhere to be found. The girl had crouched into a ball, shielding herself with her own barrier of vibrational energy. She stood, her eyes wild as she searched for him, then freezing when they landed on Coulson and May.

"Do you know where he went?" Coulson asked her.

Great, so we've now decided that this "Quake" girl is one of ours officially, May thought to herself begrudgingly.

Though the word "prisoner" had stuck in her mind, and now, getting a closer look at the girl's ghostly pale complexion and sunken in cheeks, the way her black uniform didn't quite hug her thin frame, it seemed fitting.

The girl closed her eyes, her brow furrowing as she concentrated. May watched her curiously, but suddenly the girl lashed out her arm and quaked one of the doors off its hinges, as if she knew exactly where to go. She tilted her head for them to follow as she marched out the door, though May definitely noticed how she trailed to the side in order to keep them in her peripheral.

"That tranquilizer was his last chance," May murmured to Coulson. "You know that, right?"

He nodded. "Time to minimize the damage," he responded.

The girl's eyes flicked over to them warily before she turned the corner. May grabbed a couple of the Centipede serum needles before following her out, Coulson right on her heels.

The stench of burning flesh was overpowering, and the girl stopped short at the sight at the end of the hallway. A mountain of ash surrounded the burning man, and he studied his arms, his face twisted in pain and disgust. She took a step back, glancing warily again at Coulson. May skirted around, out of Chan's sight, as he turned to face the two of them. His gaze locked onto the girl, panting heavily as he looked her up and down.

"I won't be a cog in their machine," he growled. "Not like you."

The girl's eyes narrowed, her fingers twitching at her sides as her brow furrowed in concentration. May took a step back, her stomach twisting nervously as the girl suddenly shot her hands up, quaking him down.

"You still think you can stop me?" he snarled as she stepped forward, her seismic energy holding him down. "I'm not afraid of you!"

She didn't stop.

May watched as the power flowed from her, pressing down on his airways almost expertly, as if she'd done it a million times. Horror snaked its way into her chest as she watched the girl's face drain of any emotion, her fingers clenching as her power squeezed at his throat. Fear flickered in Chan's eyes and he gasped for breath, his palms igniting once again.

Coulson grabbed May by the arm and pulled her back. "We won't need the serum needles," he breathed. "I think her power can rival his."

"That's not very reassuring for us," May grumbled back, the realization causing icy panic to claw at her lungs.

If this girl's natural power could rival a Centipede-enhanced pyromaniac, the thought of what she would do when they inevitably stuck her with the serum was… too horrifying to even begin to imagine.

The girl widened her stance to ground herself. Clumsily, Chan lashed out again, but his fire sputtered this time, bouncing feebly against the tile. Coulson sidestepped to avoid one of the flames, unable to take his eyes off the girl. Chan gasped for breath, his whole face contorting with sheer terror as he realized what was happening.

Without warning, the girl flicked her wrist.

A loud snap echoed through the hall.

And both Chan and the girl collapsed.

May let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Next to her, Coulson let go of her arm, taking a hesitant step forward. The girl panted, her fingers digging into the ground as she tried and failed to get back up.

Chan was dead.

"Hey." Coulson stood next to the girl, who immediately snapped her gaze back up at him. He offered her his hand, which she studied warily before summoning all her strength to stand up on her own, taking a few steps away from him. He offered her a friendly smile. "You did good."

Still trying to catch her breath, the girl took another couple steps back, her gaze flickering from him to May. May gave her a reassuring nod, though her stomach still felt knotted at the sight of her.

"We should go," May murmured to Coulson. "Before they find us."

Coulson nodded in agreement before turning back to the girl, who suddenly looked very nervous at the mention of the Centipede team. "You could come with us," he told her gently. May shot him a look, which he subsequently ignored, stepping towards the girl and offering his hand again. "You don't have to be afraid anymore."

The girl looked down at his hand, then back up at him, her brow creasing. Somewhere in the hall, May could hear heels clicking against the tile. "Phil, it's time to go," she repeated, more firmly this time.

The girl must have picked up on the footsteps too, as she pushed past the two of them, casting one quick glance back over her shoulder, her expression unreadable, before turning and jogging down the hall towards the sound.

Coulson frowned, unable to hide his disappointment as he turned back to May.

"I was hoping-" he started.

"I know," May murmured. And, despite her better judgement, she added, "Maybe next time."