Whhhyyyy must my chapters be so short? WWWHHHHHYYYY?! Hi guys, Es here. I finally have this chapter out. I have reasons for why it has been delayed, though. First off, I went to a Paul McCartney concert at the end of August, and yes, it was the best thing in the world. Second, I went to Comic Con in my home city (haha, I won't tell you where I live :P), where I met Barbara Eden, Bill Daily, and STAN LEE! And I was at the Barnum and Bailey's Greatest Show On Earth last night. Buuut I posted today, so be happy. Be very happy.

Replies to Reviews:

edboy4926: Thanks. And yes, yes I did.

Spencer Chamberlain: Thanks! And that won't be happening quite yet, I want this story to not be too fast paced, but yeah. And Mockingbird won't play a big part in the story, right now she's just there for a fun little cameo, but I might make her have a relationship with Clint later on in the story. And I'll try to make the chapters longer, I really will (but not this one, this one is a short one :P). Your English is actually really good!

saashi samy: tHANK yOU!

Disclaimer: I think you know that I don't own anything here. It's called 'fan' fiction for a reason, folks!

The young woman stared at the body of the boy, covered in shiny pink and red burns. She nodded slightly to herself and began typing out notes onto a translucent holo-pad, while her companion, a curly haired man, looked at some records on a screen.

"Poor kid," he said with a Scottish accent, "he had a really hard life."

"Mm," the girl hummed slightly in response, absorbed into her notes. She looked up. "From what I can tell, the injuries under the burns are older, and he has quite a lot of them." She, too, had an accent, though hers was British.

"He appears to have been bullied in school, no friends until his senior year, and then one died." He said. "Simmons, did Coulson tell you why we're looking him over?"

The woman, Simmons, pursed her lips, and brushed some of her brown hair out of her eyes. "Somewhat. He had contact with an 0-8-4, and gained superhuman powers."

"Oh," the young man said with a small nod, "that makes sense."

There was a small beeping noise, as the machinery attached to the body began to detect a heartbeat.

Simmons brown eye's widened. "Fitz," she breathed, "he's alive!"

"But he was impaled through his chest," Fitz exclaimed, "how the bloody hell is that possible?"

After making sure that the boy was indeed alive, although unconscious as of yet, Simmons turned towards him. "Well, that 0-8-4 certainly did wonders, didn't it?"

The red haired woman was glaring at Matt.

Or she could be glaring at Clint, who was currently sitting next to him on the plane-like vehicle, that Clint had called a Quinjet, but he couldn't really tell.

The silence was incredibly awkward, and Matt shifted slightly in his seat. His eyes darted between the unnamed woman and Clint.

"So," he said finally, "you said that you'd answer my questions."

Clint turned to face him. "Oh, I did, didn't I?"

The red-head fixed them both with an icy glare. "Your questions will be answered to the best of our ability when we reach somewhere where we won't be overheard."

"Um, okay." Matt said slowly.

The rest of the ride was endured with silence once more.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, they made it to their destination – wherever it was, because Matt had no idea where he had been taken.

"We're back in the US," Clint said to him.

"That was abnormally fast." Matt replied.

"It's how we work," The red-haired woman said coolly from behind him.

She walked in front of Matt, while Clint walked behind. They were probably trying to make sure he didn't do something stupid, like try to escape. Well, he supposed that it would be rather easy to get away from them – after all, he had powers and they didn't – but he wasn't about to walk away from the only people who could possibly give him answers.

He looked around the building that the Quinjet had brought them into. It was huge, the length of three or four football fields combined, with concrete everywhere. The woman led the other two up a flight of steep concrete steps and into a more aesthetically pleasing part of the building. It was decorated more like an upscale office.

"We're here," the woman announced, stopping in front of a door with a plaque that read 'Director' on it.

'Director?' Matt thought to himself. 'What, does he make movies?' He didn't voice his question, however. He probably would have looked stupid if he did.

"Come in, Agent Romanoff," a deep voice came from behind the closed door before the woman – Romanoff – even knocked.

The three of them did so. Seated behind a desk was a tall African American man. He was bald, though he had a black beard, and had a black eye patch strapped over his left eye.

"Mr. Garrety," The 'Director' said to Matt with a nod.

"Ah, yeah, that's me," Matt said uncomfortably, shifting from one foot to the other. "So you're the guy with the answers?"

The man raised his eyebrow. "That depends," he said.

"On?"

The man did not answer. Instead, he stood up and walked out from behind his desk. He held out one large hand for Matt to shake. "Director Nick Fury." He let go of Matt's hand. "I want to join S.H.I.E.L.D., son."

Guess what? I'm now on Twitter! So if you guys have an account there, you can follow me TheWriterEs. Have a great day! (Also, for any Danny Phantom phans, I just posted a one-shot. I command you to read it)

~Es