2. Diet coke

I get there, and I immediately spot him. He's wearing a suit, and has a broad, warm smile that reminds me of a picture of my uncle when he was younger. Not good. He greets me with a firm handshake and a "thanks for coming". I call the waitress, even tough he tells me he's already ordered my cappuccino with extra cinnamon, just like I like it. Is he trying to scare me, or to impress me? He apologizes again for the intrusion. I don't answer. I ask for a diet coke and ignore him when he points out I never drink that.

He starts talking about me. Apparently, I'm a bright young man with perspective and huge potential. But I know that already, why is he trying to flatter me? But its obvious now: he wants to hire me. Or something like that. He keeps talking, but I interrupt him. "why would I want to work for you?".

"Straight to the point, good." He stirs his coffee. "You want the long version, or the short one?"

"The long one, but make it short" He smiles. "We can fund you, you don't have to worry about the bills, or those expensive Osborn materials you've been buying so much. And we can keep you out of the police radar"

"So, money and some peace of mind while I do my job"

"That's the short version, yes"

"And in return?"

"You commit to stay within a few guidelines we provide, don't worry, you won't have any problem with them. You also have to take a monthly medical exam. And you should probably meet a few potential coworkers…""Coworkers?" If anything could dissuade me more than the medical exams, that was it.

"Oh no, not like that. You see, if something big happens, you guys might need to help each other. We just make sure you stay in contact.""…right. Well, thanks but no thanks. I don't like needles."

"We already have your fathers research and your DNA you know. We haven't found whatever let you survive that bite, but it was probably a genetic mutation. Still, we'll find it eventually, with or without your help. This is the twenty first century Peter, we don't need your body to make you a lab rat, we got more than enough on invasion day. The checkups are for your own good, to make sure that you stay healthy given your…extraordinary circumstances."

"Okay then, glad to know a mysterious faceless organization is watching out for me, you guys are the best, really, but if you are so friendly, why did you threaten Gwen?"

"What?"

"The folder. Right between her eyes. Why?"

"What?" He looks genuinely surprised.

"That."

"I guess… whoever was given the task didn't handle it well. We just wanted to make sure you wouldn't miss it." he is clearly watching his words, thinking them carefully. He probably thinks he's good at it, but for me, every tiny pause lasts long enough to say the whole sentence.

"Well, it worked." I press my hands against the tip of the untouched coke and lay my head on them, trying to look casual, calm, maybe even interested "You've certainly given me something to think about mister nameless organization"

"you know our name" He is frowning.

"What, the folder? What does that even mean?"

"I'm surprised you couldn't figure it out mister Parker. Its quite a simple acronym, there are lots of conspiracy theories about us on the internet."

"It was an acronym?" Stupid, stupid, stupid. "it didn't have the dots" Still, stupid stupid, stu…

"It didn't have the dots?" He seems surprised again.

"It didn't have the dots."

"Seriously Barton? Seriously?"

"What?"

"Nothing" he says, but at the same time I hear a voice coming from his ear: 'oops'. Something is wrong. I realize the voice is not just coming from his ear, its coming from the room too. Whoever broke into my house is here, so that's at least four, counting the two from the table next to us that are obviously with him. His eyes move for a second and I have the position of the fourth man, he's to my right. "How many more are there?" He realizes his mistake and sighs. "just him"

"try again."

"and them" he says pointing with his head to the couple next to us. I don't say a thing, maybe he'll tell me more. "and her." A redhead next to the entrance. Poker face Parker, keep the poker face "and those two, and that's it. Really" His poker face is worse than mine.

"Oh come on, even I can tell you're lying and I can't even see your face" screams the Barton guy from behind a newspaper. "all of us kid, we are all in on it. The whole building."

"oh."

"yeah." The man in front of me smiles apologetically. I can't help liking him.

"Well…" I stand up and grab my coat "what does it stand for?"

"what?"

"the acronym."

"oh. That's Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division"

"Ah." He looks at me with a face that tells me that he's been trough this conversation a lot "I'll just stick with 'shield' if you don't mind"

"Not at all."

"So. I'm gonna go now, but I'll think about it. Really. Promise." He doesn't believe me, but the worst part is I actually mean it. "Just two more questions"

"Go ahead"

"You said Shield would fund me. Does that include laundry?"

"Yes. Why?"

"No reason. Second question: do I have to keep calling you mysterious organization guy?"

"Phil works just as well."

"ok Phil, see you later, I guess." Another firm handshake, and a card with an address. I turn around. A wink from Barton. As I open the door, I can hear the mint I stuck on the bottle cap fall and I can't help but smile. The door closes, and trough the glass I see Phil, with his suit completely covered in diet coke. Barton is laughing. The rest of the people in the café are standing, startled, most of them with guns out. I open the door again, and they all point at me.

"Sorry! I'll take care of that, I promise. Shield pays my laundry."