A/N: Hello lovelies! We aren't going to the BUS (or the start of the first season,) just yet. We have a little bit of a backstory to go through before we meet all our favorite agents. Hold on, though! They're coming, I promise.

UPDATE AS OF 6/8/2020: So uh, hi guys! I haven't been on this story for a while. Some of that is just busy life; some of that is because I didn't know where to go in terms of the story. The things with SHIELD is that their first season is mainly composed of a-case-a-day episodes. And while they're important for character development, I don't want to go through every. single. episode. and add Ginny. Let's be honest, she's not changing much.

I'm still trying to find my beat for Unite We Stand, but in the meantime I'm going to give my story a little facelift! Enjoy the updated chapters; they flow much nicer than they did.

Two figures huddled close in the night, sanding in the shadow of a tall building. Movement was minimal, fidgeting kept at bay and coms tucked securely at their ears. They stood quietly, listening. Waiting.

People began to bustle down the street, past the still figures. Good. Just what they wanted. Stay out of light, finish the mission, report back to HQ. In and out. Quick and seamless.

When the group of businessmen were deemed far enough away, the two ran through the street to their goal. The building was lit up; still inhabitants inside. No problem. It was surprisingly small for a building in New York. Three stories. Brick. If they wanted to make an entrance, they could. Walk right through the front door, get what they needed, and get out.

But this was a stealth mission, curtesy of Nick Fury. If no blood had to spill, it wouldn't. Fury believed most of the workers innocent—they didn't know the type of boss they were working for. Not exactly cause for the two agents to barge through, guns blazing. They planned to use the roof entrance instead.

The one on the left looked to the one on the right. Leftie was taller, but not by much. Probably by an inch or two. Her hair, a strong, bright red, flew in waves down her shoulders. Her startling green eyes focused, concentrating on any bystander that passed. Both legs held a gun holster, and each gun was locked and loaded.

Rightie was almost the same. Her red hair was darker in color, and a few inches longer but held up in a tight ponytail. She was deemed short by her SO; only because she missed that one inch her SO has. Eyes—normally a sky blue—were dark like an ocean in a storm, focused. Her legs, too, held gun holsters, complete with artillery, standard SHIELD issue. But in her hands was a grappling hook. If they were getting to the roof, it apparently had to be old school.

"You sure this is going to work?" Rightie asked, holding up the hook. It was heavy and hard to maneuver which didn't sway her concern.

"Of course I am! It's not the hardest thing we've used. This'll be a piece of cake."

Rightie started swinging it in circles, the metal gaining momentum. "Fine, but if I die climbing this I'll haunt you, Romanoff."

"Deal." Romanoff rolled her eyes at the younger agent playfully. She'd been her SO since Carter joined SHIELD, and she had to say, she was quite fond of the spitfire. Genevieve Carter was a handful, but one Natasha handled with ease.

Genevieve threw the metal to the roof, securing it in place and tugging it a few times. Just to be sure.

She showed the rope to Natasha, cheerfully saying, "Superior Officers first!"

"Really, Genevieve?" Natasha eyed it.

"Ginny, and yes. If it's so secure, show me." Ginny handed the rope over with a teasing smile.

Romanoff begrudgingly took it—tugging as Ginny did—and hopped, her feet landing on the wall. Ginny could hear her strong, panicked breaths at first, but Natasha evened her breathing steadily. She then took a tentative step up, and another, and another.

"Hey, this ain't so bad!" She called down as she was past the first floor. "You'll live."

"Thanks, Nat." Ginny rolled her eyes, though she did keep them trained on her SO. Just in case.

"Alright," Natasha grinned as she hopped onto the rooftop, "Your turn."

Ginny grabbed the rope with her hands, heart thumping lightly. Next time she was on a mission, she wouldn't let Coulson pick the gadgets. He's still stuck in Captain America times, she thought with an inward eye roll.

The moment she was off the side of the building, she threw her hands in the air and danced.

"Yes! Score one for Ginny, zero for scary building!" She whispered excitedly. Natasha took the grappling hook and set it aside, leaving it so they could use it for their escape plan.

"That was the easy part, shorty. We still have to get past security, sneak into the main office, and download the files from the computer, remember?"

Ginny stopped dancing to frown. "Can't you just let me have my moment?"

"No." Natasha started for the building's entrance. "Happiness is bad for SHIELD agents. It's a disease."

"Oh, bugger off with that pessimistic nonsense," Ginny teased as she got to the door, shaking the knob. Locked.

"Excuse me, agent Carter? Is that any way to talk to your Superior Officer?"

"Why, yes, yes it is." Ginny smiled innocently.

Nat couldn't help but chuckle under her breath—her replies didn't help Ginny's bad behavior—before taking a small piece of metal from her pocket. Barely three inches long, its circuits glowing with little blue lights. It was one of Coulson's favorite gadgets.

She set the little metal on the lock, and stepped a foot away from it, Ginny in tow. They stood quietly, and—

BZZZT!

The instrument buzzed to life and exploded, getting them inside.

From there, the pair worked in complete silence. Only the sound of their breathing and light steps echoed through the halls. They ran through building silently, searching through office windows until they found the one they needed. The large one—obviously the boss's—who worked for something called Centipede. Ginny hadn't heard the name before, but from what Fury said, it was bad news.

The light in the room was on, but no one was inside. They were taught to think the worst; that there was no good luck on a mission. But, no one noticeable in the room? Ginny was thinking for once, luck was on their side.

"Anyone?" Romanoff whispered.

Carter shook her head. "Lucky today." Her British accent shone.

Romanoff scoffed. "No such thing as luck on a mission."

"As Fury thinks. I prefer Coulson's mindset."

Together, they inched to the door, finding it locked. Expected. This time, instead of using a handy dandy mini-bomb, Romanoff used bobby pins to pick the door. That way, they wouldn't leave a trail.

CLICK.

Romanoff smiled silently, pushing the door open. The agents walked in cautiously, scanning their surroundings and checking for surveillance cameras. None.

"Doesn't seem like this place is state-of-the-art on surveillance." Ginny noted.

"It's not state-of-the-art anything. Makes our job easier."

Ginny tapped her com, turning it on. "Alright, sir. We're in."

"Good job, agents." Nick Fury's voice rang strong through their ears. "Get into the computer yet?"

"No, sir." Romanoff answered. "Working on that now."

"Alright. Check back in when you do."

"Yes, sir." Ginny clicked the com off.

Natasha checked into the swivel chair at the large desk in the middle of the room. She spun once, her legs kicking out easily. "Comfy. I could get used to this."

"We'll make a petition." Carter said with a chuckle. "'Every SHIELD agent level four and above gets a swivel chair at their desk. Colors are black, grey, and really dark grey.'"

"I like it." Romanoff grinned as she set the USB into the computer and started clicking away at the keyboard. "It'll be perfect. No chair for Fury though. Agents only."

"Our lovely Director would disagree." Ginny clicked her tongue, but nonetheless held her smile. She loved their banter on missions.

"Ooohhkay." Natasha held the 'okay' out. Her fingers clicked the keys quickly, downloading the intel. "40 percent done. Anyone outside?"

Ginny went to the window, peering through the slits of the blinds. "No. You're still good. But if you sped up, I wouldn't mind either."

"Neither would I." She stared at the screen intently. "60 percent."

The two were glued to their spots in the quietness that followed after. They were in that room for a minute—or was it an hour? Ginny couldn't tell. A minute could be an hour, an hour could be a minute on missions. Time was never on her side.

Ginny took another peek out the window as Natasha informed, "74 percent." There were two men wearing comfortable-looking clothing heading down the hall. Office type. Khaki pants, boring shirts tucked in, ties with patterns to make them feel exciting. The men themselves wore bored expressions. One held a manilla folder with papers sticking out the sides, words made of tiny print barely legible.

"We got company." Ginny stated. "Drop to the floor."

Romanoff and Carter knelt out of sight, and through the windows the workers were unaware of their presence. Romanoff underneath the desk, Carter behind a personal bubbler.

From what Carter could distinguish from the small corner of window she saw, the two not dressed to impress were making their way to the office.

"Dammit." Carter grumbled.

The workers made it into the office. Ginny was hoping they'd take a left at the end of the hallway, but it seems luck wasn't on her side after all.

"—And then, he said 'cover my shift Saturday!' Can you believe it?" One worker finished telling a story as he walked to the desk, dropping the files down on the desk.

"What an asshole!" The other inquired. "Tell Jim to suck it up. He'll live with it. I'm sure Denise will understand."

Throughout the conversation, Carter seamlessly walked behind them, no noise made. Only the tap on their shoulders made them aware of the extra presence in the room.

They jumped, shocked, and turned. The small redhead behind them wore a black, SHIELD-issued suit, complete with gadgets and strips of a bright blue hue. Her blue eyes looked at them seductively.

Carter's voice went down an octave. "Hey there, sweethearts."

The men looked at her, confused yet mesmerized. Then, she swept her legs underneath them, sending them downward. They dropped to the floor, groaning.

"You have ten seconds." Carter told Romanoff.

"I need fifteen." Romanoff said, fingers flying to tap keys.

"Well, I'm certain one of these two just set off an alarm, so you have ten." Carter looked down at them, and sure enough, one had a cell phone in hand, and before Ginny could stop him he pressed Emergency Breach. They weren't as stupid as they looked.

"Great." Carter rolled her eyes, the faint hum of an alarm sounding through the office. She hoped it didn't blare through the entire building. "If you need me, I'll be outside covering your ass." She quickly took the phone, threw it to the ground and stomped on it.

"I'll be here. While you do that, maybe I'll make myself a cup of coffee." Natasha's jaw jutted to the espresso maker on a lousy plastic table to her left.

Carter glared at her in mock-anger, but dropped it as she said, "Make me a hazelnut."

"I'll add it to the list."

"Take care of these two." Carter gestured to the two on the floor, and she took out her guns from the holsters on her legs. From what she was hearing, there were workers coming from each hallway, half a dozen making a group.

There were three hallways: one from the left, one from the right, and one staring down the door of the office, where she had hoped the two would go. She cocked her guns, flicked the safety off, and, one in each hand, kicked open the door.

Her arms flung themselves from her sides. Up, aiming, and firing one after the other. The intruders from the left and right began dropping to the floor in mindless heaps. She shot enough to incapacitate, like legs or arms, but not enough to kill. She only killed when absolutely needed.

When her clips were completely empty, she released the cartridges from the metal and threw the guns to the ground. The six at her front were staring her down, and she grinned. She loved hand-to-hand combat. They always thought they'd overpower her. They were always wrong.

The first one charged at her with a knife in hand. She easily blocked it with her forearm, and flipped him over her shoulder. He landed on the floor, and she kicked the knife from him. Two more barged at her, left and right. She easily blocked their attacks, and kicked the one to her right—whom she'd call Number Two—in the stomach. He groaned at the pain, his hands maneuvering to his attacked site. While he was occupied, she swung an arm out to her other assailant, Number Three. She gave him a good, strong punch to the jaw. With barely a second to spare, Ginny ducked to the left as he ran forward with his arms stretched out. She kicked him in the back, knocking him to the floor with the first one.

Number Two came back to his senses, swinging an arm wildly to punch her. She grabbed the arm with both hands, hooked a leg onto one of his, and dropped him to the floor with her knee on his stomach.

Ginny got up with a backflip off the man. The knife she kicked from her first assailant was swiftly grabbed from the floor. It landed in Number Four's shoulder. He yowled in pain, his hand immediately going to the protruding metal. Ginny swung her leg high, kicking him in the face and knocking him out.

Numbers Five and Six tried. They tried, and failed miserably. Five held a taser in his hand. A taser? Really? He pointed it at Ginny, attempting to click the buttons to shoot the probes out. She was faster than he was.

Her left arm smashed his forearms upward, taser flying in the air as his grip loosened. Ginny caught it, and released it on Number Six.

Six landed on the floor in a heap. Five was then knocked unconscious by Ginny's elbow. Smirking, she surveyed her work. 12 shot, one stabbed, one tased, four knocked out. She was getting quicker. And better.

She made her way back to Nat, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. "Got it?"

"Got it." Natasha said, taking a sip from a mug.

Ginny deadpanned. "You didn't."

Natasha smiled behind her mug. "I did. They didn't have any hazelnut, but I found vanilla for you."

Natasha jerked her neck to a table, where another steaming mug was.

Ginny grabbed it and took a quick sip, savoring the strong flavor. "Natasha, you're a gem."

Natasha gave her a playful wink. "I try."

As Ginny sipped her mug, she looked at the two workers she left with Natasha. Their hands were tied together, with duct tape over their mouths. They were knocked out cold. After a few sips of the delicious vanilla, Ginny turned on her com, Natasha following suit.

"Sir, we've the intel." Carter announced.

"Good work, Agents." Fury said as Romanoff took a sip of her beverage. "Now get back to the Triskelion. We have to debrief… Are you guys drinking?"

Natasha swallowed her sip. "Guilty as charged, Director."

"What in the hell, Romanoff?" Ginny could hear the disbelief in his voice. She barely held back a chuckle.

"There's a coffee pot here." Nat explained, taking another sip. "We decided to make good use of our surroundings."

"Get your asses back to the Triskelion, finished coffee or not." She could hear the eye roll the Director was most certainly giving them. "You know, I thought you—of all my agents—would be professional on missions."

"We are, sir." Ginny interjected. "But to be professional, we need to be awake and alert. Caffeine helps. Therefore: coffee equals necessity."

"I can hear that snark in your voice, Agent Carter." Fury was only teasing, the harsh tone faltering at the end. "That's coming from your goal of being Level Six by the end of the year."

"Ouch." Natasha smirked.

Ginny clutched her heart in fake-pain. "Director, no! That's not fair. My heart can't take it!"

"Yeah, yeah." He said, and Ginny was certain there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Can you guys make it here in 15?"

Carter looked at the clock on the wall. Natasha smirked, "Make it 10."

"Fine, 10. Coulson will debrief you."

"Yes, sir."

"See you soon, Agents."

CLICK.