Chapter 3 already. My updating schedule will soon not be as good, as study leave is nearly over, but for now I hope you all enjoy the rapid writing. Thank you to all those who followed, I hope you like were this is going so far!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters aside from my own OC. The rights of the other characters belong to Marvel and its affiliates.

Enjoy!

"Do you intend to make a habit of disfiguring my agents, Miss Quinn?" Coraline jolted into consciousness, and immediately regretted the sudden movement as her neck complained stiffly as it was moved from its cricked position leaning against a table top.

The light of the room wasn't blinding, but the darkness dancing across her vision forced it in and out of her retinas as she blinked to clear it, and the resulting ache across her temple was protesting to having her eyes open, let alone having to work against a strobe light pointed in her general direction.

Coralline's mouth felt dry, her body not quite her own. She was so far beyond confused she couldn't even start to work out what didn't feel right, what wasn't quite normal.

That was until two photos were thrown down in front of her. Instead of staring at them – something her head was most definitely protesting the idea of, she went against the shouts and twinges of her muscles to find the source of the voice. Sure enough, to her left a man in a long black coat was flanked by two other men. All three looked suitably unimpressed with her, or at least she guessed unimpressed. Specific expressions were hard to distinguish when nothing would focus properly.

As Coraline squinted up at the main man through her headache, she noted his dark skin and his even darker expression. However this small moment of clarity in her otherwise still hazy world clearly sapped whatever strength reserves she had been depleting, because to accompany her observations, all her mouth could manage was a mumbled groan, followed once she had breathed a little bit by a :

"What?"

The man took a seat next to her, and waited for her wavering eyes to return to his face before continuing.

"When attempting to discuss a potential job with you, Agent Clarke suffered a broken nose at the hands of one of your encyclopaedias. Once you were necessarily subdued, you're returning to consciousness aboard one of our private jets resulting in another agent suffering a similar fate this time by your innate struggling."

Coraline directed her attention to the photos in front of her, which sure enough did show two slightly put out looking agents sporting bloody noses.

"Oh," She murmured under her breath, while a hand reached out to touch the throbbing mark on her own head. Wincing as her fingers made contact with a raised gash stuck together by small plastic strips, Coraline's eyes widened in realisation.

"Hold on," The man opposite her looked up at her outburst. "Clarke wasn't offering me a job; he was pointing a gun at my face, completely unprompted. Two strange men in my office one of them just waiting to pull the trigger; what were you expecting me to do?"

The man looked riled momentarily, before his stern demeanour returned.

"And the other agent, the one that was most certainly trying to help you when you became distressed on the plane?"

"I...uh… I don't remember that," Coraline looked at her hands, while bringing her bottom lip between her teeth. The man sat back in his chair across from her and crossed his arms in apparent victory.

"Wait," her outburst was panicked this time. "Plane? What plane? Where am I? And who are you? And what's going on? Why was there a plane?"

The man put his hands up in as placating a gesture as he could bare himself to do.

"Miss Quinn, there is no reason to be alarmed-"

"Don't start a sentence like that, now I'm definitely alarmed," She interrupted as she wrung her hands fretfully.

"Miss Quinn," He continued, undeterred. "You are currently in New York City, America. You were flown under S.H.I.E.L.D protection from London and arrived here in the early hours of the morning."

S.H.I.E.L.D. She recognised it – from the nicer agent. His face was hazy, as was the rest of her memories of the morning, but small flutterings of memory were returning in dashes and dots behind her eyes.

"…the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division would like you to organise the funeral of Captain Steven G. Rogers…"

"He's not dead… defrosted him and he took half the New York office for a run around Times Square"

"The head office wants her too"

Coraline assumed the man in front of her was still talking, but any lingering politeness had to be pushed to one side before the memories formulating some kind of understanding slipped away again.

"So, it must have been embarrassing for you," She watched his blank expression and mirrored it in her own features as she continued while forcing back a smile. "Being outran by a 70 year old I mean."

The man in front of her laughed, before directing his attention to the silent agent standing at the door of whatever room she hadn't noticed she was in.

"Coulson wasn't wrong. She is smart," He then turned back to her, his hand outstretched. "Coraline Quinn, welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D. I am the agency's Director but pleasantries we can skip. Let's talk history."

Thoughts? Questions? Criticisms? Reviews very welcome!