The BUS is huge up close. I've never seen it before; never had to when working at the Triskelion. But here it is, with hopefully new friends among it.

I gazed through the files overnight, signing some documents and learning about the other agents assigned to the unit. The reports aren't full; no classified information. Just pictures, names, IQs, and levels.

Some names are familiar. Melinda May; everyone's heard of the Cavalry. Coulson, obviously. And myself, obviously. The new ones include Fitz from tech, Simmons from tech, and Ward from operations.

I'm positive I'll remember the names. There aren't many; we'll have to be a tight-knit group. I only worry about the two from tech; they're not qualified for field work. That might become a problem on missions.

I look at the opening of the BUS. It's a lot to take in. From my view at the hangar, I can see a fancy lab in front, a twisting staircase to the right, and some bags tossed around. Agents are already moving their stuff in.

Look before you leap, I think. But, everything's in order. The BUS is grand, my boss is back from the dead, and the Cavalry is piloting.

Okay, so maybe not in order. But certainly exciting. So, I leap.

I trek up the ramp, holding my duffel bag by my side. As I enter, I find the other inhabitants in the lab. A young woman and man, fighting about what I assume is a gun on the table in between them.

"The dendrotoxin should work!" A Scottish accent rings through the lab, his hands working furiously and too quick for me to understand. What I can note is his curly hair, white shirt, brown tie, and unzipped brown sweatshirt.

"I told you, Fitz!" The woman gestures towards the gun in his hands, which is far different than any I've worked with. "We don't have enough. To create instant paralysis we need at least two microliters, and even that is asking too much!" The British-sounding woman wears a pastel pink shirt and black pants. Though simple, she looks well-dressed.

I smirk at the banter between the two. It's cute. They obviously know each other very well.

The bickering between the two agents continue, until I ask, "Agent Simmons? Agent Fitz?"

They stop and—in unison—turn their heads to me.

"Simmons." The Scot points towards the woman.

"Fitz." The Brit points towards the man.

"I'm engineering. She's biochem."

"Uh huh." I say.

"And you must be…" Simmons thinks, then excitedly grins, "Agent Carter!" She runs to me, and my eyes widen. They flicker between Fitz smiling in the back, laughing quietly at the antics of his friend, before landing back on Simmons right in front of me.

Simmons cocoons my hand in both of hers, shaking it furiously. "I'm so delighted to meet you! You're the granddaughter of Peggy Carter, yes?" Her eyes intensely stare at me, awaiting my answer.

"Uh, yes, that's me. Call me Ginny." I smile, a laugh escaping my throat. "I take it you're a fan of my gran?"

"Oh, yes!" Simmons says, and looks down at our hands. She's still shaking mine. As if she was burned, she drops it and smooths out the bottom of her shirt. "She's an inspiring agent. The start of SHIELD, working with Captain Rogers, the SSR..."

"She's a big fan." Fitz interjects. Seems like he knew the conversation would carry on forever if he didn't.

"I noticed." I smile. "Well, I'm sure my grandmother would be happy to know she has a fan."

"Well, when you put it that way, it sounds foolish!" Simmons ran her hands through her hair, an attempt to smoothen down her already smooth locks. "Admirer sounds better."

"An admirer. I'll be sure to tell her that next time I visit." Simmons just nods quickly in response.

I make my way to Fitz and hold out a hand. It'd feel weird if I shook Simmons and not his. He gingerly shakes it. My gaze searches his face, warm and kind; a sheepish smile on his features. His curls are really pretty. Nerves bubble in my stomach, butterflies flitting in my chest. My eyes look at his, bright and blue, entranced. The blood rises to my cheeks as my stomach does another backflip.

This handshake has gone on far too long.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" I pull my hand from his like it's burnt and grab the zipper of my duffel. Finding it tucked beside the trading card, I yank out my comm receiver from the pocket. "I was told this needed to be encoded."

"Yeah, I'll take that." Fitz says, grabbing it from my hand.

He sets it down on the table, and stares at it intently. Then, with a sudden jerk of his wrist, smashes it with a hammer. I jump at the sudden crunch of metal. So that's what science is. Neat.

"He's going to repurpose the I.D.I.S. chip." Simmons explains, bending over the table to grab an object from the other side.

"Don't need the external receiver for the inner-ear comms anymore." Fitz drops the hammer to the side and fiddles with the broken parts.

"Huh. But how does it—" I start, but am cut off by Simmons popping over and swabbing the inside of my cheek.

Simmons' hands hold my head firmly as she informs, "Embedded sensorineural silicone matched to your DNA. It's very posh."

"So," My tongue licks the inside of my cheek, "do you guys know when Coulson's coming? I was told 5 o'clock."

"Oh, he should be getting here very soon, along with agent Ward and our pilot." Simmons says, waggling her eyebrows.

"Melinda May." I've never met the Cavalry, so I can understand the excitement.

"Yes! Leo and I were just talking about her."

"Leo?" I look at Fitz, who's silently tinkering with the remains of my comm.

"Yes, Leo." He says, though I can hear his mind is elsewhere, "Short for Leopold."

"Leopold." I repeat. "I like it."

"Thanks, it was a birthday present." Fitz absentmindedly replies, then his eyes widen, "Oh, I mean—"

I laugh happily at the joke, though Fitz mutters under his breath, "That was stupid."

"No, no." I cover my mouth with my hand. "It was funny, not stupid. I liked it." Simmons gives a look to Fitz. One that I can't read. Huh. So far, I can't tell if they're dating, or if they're just friends. They obviously have history. Just what kind, I'd like to know.

Simmons says, "He prefers Leo over Leopold."

"Why? Leopold is such a great name. I don't think I've ever met another one. You're one of a kind."

"Why do you prefer to be called Ginny over Genevieve?" Fitz counters, shrugging his shoulders.

He has a point. "Touché." I look to the other Brit. "And yours?"

"Jemma." Simmons smiles brightly. "Jemma Simmons."

"Jemma." Very unique. "That's beautiful."

"Thank you."

"Ah! Here you go." Fitz hands me my new comm. "I suggest turning it on once we get in the air to make sure it works."

"Thank you, Leopold." I make sure to accentuate his name with a smirk.

"Anytime, Genevieve." He smirks back. Damn, he doesn't let up. But neither do I, and I'm was always down for a challenge.

The sound of light steps behind me grabs my attention. I flick my head and look at the new agent on deck; the other female on the team. Hello, Melinda May.

The agent holds a single duffel bag, swung over her shoulder. She wears a bored, neutral expression. I immediately sense the cold shoulder. May turns towards the staircase and bounds up, away from our little group.

"'xcuse me." I say to the two, and follow May up the stairs.

"Agent May?" I ask tentatively.

May turns and gives me a look, yet says nothing.

"I'm agent Carter." I greet and hold out a hand. May doesn't shake it and after a few second it drops limply to my side. "I was wondering if you had the files for the mission? Fitz, Simmons, and I don't have any."

There's an audible huff from her, but she sets the duffel on a nearby table. She opens it and hands me three identical manilla folders. "There have been reports of an unregistered gifted saving a woman from a building fire. The Rising Tide discovered him first. We need to find him before they do."

I shuffle through the first folder. A man, maybe in his 30s, jumping from a building and landing on the ground with a woman in his arms. The pavement underneath was turned to gravel.

"Thank you." I say. May says nothing in return. She silently grabs her duffel bag and continues her walk to the BUS controls.

"Sunshine and rainbows." I murmur under my breath as I walk back down to the lab. I make it just in time to see Jemma swab the inside of another agent's cheek. Tall. Black suit. Brown hair. Must be Ward.

I hop off the last stair and stroll back into the office, where the new guy rubs at his recently assaulted cheek.

"Agent... Carter?" Tall, dark, and handsome asks.

"Yes." I nod and hold out a hand. "You must be Ward. Pleasure."

"Likewise." He shakes my hand with a strong, firm grip. I hold his gaze steadily. His eyes are a stark contrast to my own. His are a dark brown; curious, strong. Mine are a light blue, like the sky. I decide quickly; I like him.

"I've heard of your field work with Romanoff and Coulson. Impressive, to say the least." He adds as he drops my hand. A compliment. I could get used to those.

"Just doing my job." I shrug my shoulders. "I've heard you received the highest marks in espionage since Romanoff. Quite an impressive feat as well."

"Well, I work hard, train hard."

"Something to prove?"

"More like nothing to lose."

"Hmm." I give him a curious look. "Odd choice of words, Ward."

"Only kind I have." It's his turn to shrug.

Hm. "I'm sure we'll get along swell."

A squeaking of wheels behind me gains everyone's attention. A large, bright red, and obviously old Corvette drives onto the BUS, Coulson behind the wheel.
Fitz comes up behind us. "One of Coulson's old SHIELD collectibles. Flamethrowers, world's first GPS. He's mad for this crap."

"You don't say." I laugh beside him. He gives a sweet smile in return.

As Coulson hops out of the car, another SHIELD agent—not from our team—walks to the car, presumably to clean it. He's met with a very stern, "Don't touch Lola." The worker bee walks away with a small pout.

"And he calls it a girl's name!" Leo grins. Before strutting back to the lab, he gives Ward a strong tap to the bottom. Ward flinched. I giggle silently.

This is going to be fun.