A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, faved amd followed this story; I really appreciate all the support. Now, to the plot!

Taking AIM

Rays of early morning sunlight peaked in through the crack in the curtains the next morning. The hotel room was a mess. An empty whisky bottle with two accompanying glasses sat on the table, two overturned chairs lakes across the floor and a line of clothes, both Grant's and Melinda's led from the table to the bed. The sheets were just barely covering Grant's feet and the bed's comforter was slung to the floor.

He awoke that morning to two very familiar things. The throbbing, nearly unbearable headache that always accompanied his hangover, and Melinda up and already getting dressed. She moved with all the grace she had when sober, making him believe that she couldn't get hungover. It didn't surprise him. There were a lot of things that Melinda just wouldn't allow herself to succumb to that normal people just had to deal with. Aging being the first and foremost thing on that list.

Looking unattractive was another. Even with a sleep addled face, bed/after sex hair strewn in every which way and reddened eyes, she was still gorgeous. Being in her underwear, black with red lace, didn't hurt either.

"Surprised too see you awake this early," she commented without having ever looked in his direction.

He tried to say something witty in return, but ended up gagging on his own tongue. She rolled her eyes and threw him something. "Take that. Water's on the table." A pair of pills with the initials 'JS' on them. Whatever they were, Simmons was a godsend to the bleary hungover agent. "Sober up. We have a meeting with Coulson in thirty."

He closed his eyes and let the pills do their work. He felt his headache and nausea fade away in record time. The wonders of SHIELD medical science never ceased to amaze him. Clearing his throat, he shook his head and threw the covers off of him. "Thanks. Same time next week?"

She very obviously eyed his bare crotch before smirking. "Don't see why not," she said while opening the door to leave.

"What, no kiss goodbye?"

She stopped, and for a second he thought he had said something wrong. That was until she walked back and sashayed toward him. Wow, that actually worked. She leaned down once she reached the bed, their foreheads almost touching. His heart starting racing as she pursed her lips. He prepared to close his eyes and lifted his hand to cup her cheek when he heard something rattle on the bedside table. Her aviators. "No," she stated as she slipped them on and strode out the door.

He sighed and took a moment to get a hold of himself. "Temptress." He stood and glared down at his half-aroused manhood. "Doesn't take much," he said as he strode to the bathroom.

Showered, dressed and almost completely sober, Grant walked up the ramp to the Bus and was greeted by a grinning Skye. Grant knew from experience that a grinning Skye was an snarky Skye. His fears were confirmed when she gave him an appraising look and then an appreciative nod. "Gotta say, SO, the way you and May were slingin' them back last night, I half expected you to be doing your best hungover fratboy impersonation. Nice job."

He sighed wearily. Fortunately, he had already heard all of her best material. "You can thank Simmons for that. The girl's a miracle worker."

"Mm." She then smirked and easily kept up with his long, but slow strides. "So, I couldn't help but noticed that you and May were the only ones still up when we all went to bed. Didja," she elbowed him in the ribs and clicked her tongue while throwing him a suggestive wink.

He somehow managed not blush or look flustered and instead rolled his eyes. "Melinda May is an esteemed colleague and a close friend. I'd be remiss to even thinking of trying anything with her." His lying skills were top notch, he was told.

"So, ya got stone-walled. Tsk, it happens, Bro. Besides, she's too old for you."

"If I go any younger, I'd be a pervert," he replied with a amused inflection. She looked at him strangely. "What? You mean Melinda isn't 21?"

Skye's hazel eyes lit up with amusement. "O. M. G. Did Mr. Roboto just tell a joke?! Wait, I think I can hear hell freezing over."

"You know I have a sense of humor. I just choose not to make an ass out of myself every waking second."

"No, just every waking minute." He gave her an exasperated look as Coulson walked up to meet them. "AC."

"Ward, Skye, everyone is waiting." He walked quickly and led them into the meeting room.

Skye practically skipped into the meeting room and sat next to Simmons at the holo-table. Ward sat on a stool near the door. "So, what's today's crisis?" she asked Coulson.

"AIM," he stated simply while Fitz fired up the holographic projector within the table.

"Aim for what?"

"No, AIM. Advanced Idea Mechanics. They were the ones financing the Extremis serum research and development. They just attacked a research facility in Ireland."

"I thought they were just a business that dabbled with science," Ward said. "Terrorism shouldn't be in their wheelhouse."

"It isn't, an' they were," Fitz answered. "When Aldrich Killian was killed, 'at left a huge void in th' power structure. Everyone from every which corner was jockeyin' fur position. Well, now it's spillin' ower into th' public sectur."

An image of a black haired woman of Caucasian decent wearing a yellow and green tight fitting uniform appeared on the projector. "Monica Rappaccini," Coulson informed, "AIM's new Scientist Supreme after Killian was killed. She's a genius biochemist and a world renowned authority on biological toxins. She was one of the lead scientists on the Extremis project, along with Killian and Maya Hansen. When the former was taken out of the picture, she was quick to jump into his spot. She was influential in the recent power struggle, and managed to collect half of AIM's membership behind her. The other half…" He pressed a button, and Monica's photo disappeared, replaced by the image of a grotesquely ugly being with a head at least ten times bigger than what it should have been. His entire diminutive body was attached to what looked like a rocket chair. "George Tarleton, now known as MODOK, Mental Organism Designed Only for Killing. He, like Rappaccini, is extremely intelligent and extremely dangerous. He has powers we don't yet fully understand. What we do know is that he has the other half of AIM backing him, and he isn't backing down from Rappaccini."

"So, they fight and kill each other off," Ward posited thoughtfully, "What does SHIELD want us to do about it?"

"Besides protecting innocents, capture one of them." Melinda pressed a button and brought a world map on the projector. Over a hundred yellow dots filled various countries. "AIM has dozens upon dozens of sleeper cells around the globe. Even if the main body kills itself, they're still out there, and with no one to take orders from…"

"Chaos. Everyone following their own agendas and goals. There's no way SHIELD would be able to handle all of it, most happening simultaneously. That's where we come in. Rappaccini and Tarleton will be too busy going after each other to notice us subtlety moving things in our favor. First order of business is to get to that facility in Ireland and find out what they took. Until then, dismissed."

Grant nodded and stood from the stool he had been sitting on. A new day's a new mission. While he didn't care for them by even the thinnest stretch of the word, he did enjoy sticking it to organizations like AIM. Them, Hydra, Al Qaeda, the Ten Rings, there was something about them that seemed… legitimate. It wasn't right to think of it that way, he knew. Still, it was better than fighting Centipede seeming every week.

"Ward, before you leave." Grant turned around to find Coulson handing a folder to him. "Rappaccini will be easier to capture than MODOK, so bring yourself abreast of her."

Grant groaned and took the folder. "We're really not calling him MODOK, are we?"

Coulson smiled and shrugged. "Why not. It's a catchy name, if not a little cheesy."

"A little? It's full blown farcical." Coulson gave him an amused look. "What? I know words, too." Grant smirked and turned on his heels to head for the cockpit. Another day, another mark. He opened the file and eyed Rappaccini's picture. Not bad, for a bad girl. She wasn't any Melinda, but then, who was? From the looks of it, he already knew that she was going to be trouble. He also knew that he'd rather be locked in a room with her than that Tarleton freak. Seriously, Coulson? MODOK?

A/N: Hopefully, you all have already seen Iron Man 3 and thus has already heard of AIM. Rappaccini and MODOK are two comic characters associated with AIM, so you can Google them if you want to know more about them.