Hello everyone! As promised, a week later we have chapter 10. This one is a little shorter, my apologies, because I've been very busy this past week with a move. Additionally, my muse took me elsewhere (although I did write 25,000 words on a different story, which I'm contemplating posting some time as well). This is the first half of the Thor section and I hope you all enjoy it. I think it's a little choppy because I didn't get as much editing and work done as I was hoping on it, but the week snuck up on me! I will likely come through and make some edits to this that will make things longer some time this week, and hope to have the next chapter up in two Mondays for everyone. Lot's of love, and enjoy! ~Auna

In the van, Agent Cou Cou makes several phone calls in quick succession while simultaneously doing some complicated thing with a digital map. I hold my seat belt tightly across my lap where I sit in the back between Agent Sitwell and another Agent that does not introduce himself.

One of the phone calls Agent Cou Cou makes is to Mr. Clint, which I'm excited about, and another one is about setting up a base around the thing we saw in the desert where all the truck people were trying to pull on a rock I couldn't see.

The ride is short, but it certainly could have been shorter, because Agent Sitwell offers me my breakfast burrito every twenty seconds. He seems to think I'm a volatile explosive rather than a little girl, or an accident just waiting to happen. I'm not entirely sure what the breakfast burrito is going to do in that situation, but Agent Sitwell is firm in his course.

Just as I'm debating taking it from him, although I'm not hungry yet, if only to get him to stop bothering me, we stop. Agent Cou Cou turns around to me and looks me in the eyes sternly. "We will be less than five minutes. Do not get out of the car."

I give him a face to express my displeasure, but he and all the other agents have already gotten out of the van. One of them opens the doors to the back and the rest of them begin loading in a bunch of computers and equipment from the strange building we're backed up to. I unbuckle my seat belt and turn around to watch over the headrest. He can't deny me a good view.

The silent agents are nearly done loading everything into the back when Sitwell spots me watching them. He joins me in the car, and it is very awkward. I give him the side eye when he tries to give me my burrito yet again.

I'm distracted from coming up with a good reply because a pretty woman with brown hair storms out of the building and starts yelling at everyone. Agent Cou Cou explains that he's with S.H.I.E.L.D. as the others close up the back of the van. True to his word, it took less than five minutes.

The woman tries to stop us when he gets in the front seat and pulls away, but it's useless. I think that we stole her stuff from her, and I think that stealing things from people is mean. That's what Dudley used to do to me. I watch through the back window as she yells at us driving away.

"Did we steal all this stuff from that lady?" I ask Agent Cou Cou.

"Agent Cardo, please keep Agent Evans from asking questions," Agent Cou Cou replies calmly from the front. I frown aggressively at him and turn back around in my seat.

The Agent right next to me that refused to introduce himself, covers my mouth with his big hand and then tries to use one arm to buckle me in. I starts squirming, and he has to use both hands to try to pin me down. "No, I'm going to ask as many questions as I want, you big fat nerd-face! Agent Cou Cou, why did we steal from that lady?! That's mean and- Ugh!" Agent 18 pushes me hard into the seat and then grabs the seat belt buckle with one hand, trying to be quick. I swing both my arms at his face and he releases me. I jump into Agent Sitwell's lap, which he does not appreciate, because he screams like a little girl and flails his arms.

For safety from the flailing Agent Sitwell and the angry, grabby hands of Agent 18, I jump into the front of the car.

"Ahh!" Screams the Agent in the front passenger seat.

"Evans!" Screams Agent Cou Cou, swerving the vehicle back onto the road.

"STEALING IS WRONG!" I scream at the top of my lungs. I learned long ago the power of a little girl's screech.

Everyone in the van cries out, most covering their ears, and Agent Cou Cou sweeps me onto the floor in the back with his arm.

The rest of the ride to the Middle-of-the-Desert Base is very, very awkward. I stay very, very quiet. When Sitwell tries to offer me the burrito, I glare at him but take it.

It's nearly lunchtime, but I'm not hungry because of my burrito escapades this morning. When we arrived to the base, it was not finished yet, and Agent Cou Cou left me alone in the car with all the doors locked and the air conditioning on. They took out absolutely everything that could have been remotely interesting, and I've resorted to trying to memorize the faces of the Agents walking around the base as I see them go past. They're at least doing something interesting, since half the base seems to be constructed from a metal frame and a bunch of plastic panels.

I've been feeling nauseous since halfway through the car ride out here, and I've got a small headache, but I'm determined to tough it out.

When I see the first few Agents start walking around the base with lunches, Agent Cou Cou appears, walking along with Mr. Clint.

I smack my hands on the window until they get to the car. Agent Cou Cou unlocks the door, and I jump out into Mr. Clint's arms, breathing in sweet, sweet freedom.

"Well hello, mini-agent," Mr. Clint greets me. I squish his face between my hands as I grin at him, then hug him so tightly he laughs.

"Agent Ashley," Agent Cou Cou nods at the burly man covered in tattoos, "will be watching you for the next hour. Barton and I have some things to discuss, and it's still Fury's protocol that you aren't in any confidential meetings. Stay with Agent Ashley, or there will be consequences." He grabs Mr. Clint and they disappear through the crowd of agents. I look up, up, up at Agent 19 and frown. He grins back at me, something unsettling and wrong, and takes a step forward.

I take a step back. He jerks a chin behind me. "We're going to go sit in the break room."

I narrow my eyes and he uncrosses his arms in response. My gaze flits unwittingly to a strange tattoo on the inside of his left forearm, this one of a skull with a snake coming out of it, and something inside of me cowers. I look back up at him and see his expression has darkened to something menacing.

I can't explain it but... there's something wrong about Agent 19.

Instead of turning and going obediently to wherever the break room is, I turn and run down the hall. Agent 19 thunders after me, something tightening and tugging in my stomach, but when I turn the first corner and chance a look, he has fallen to the floor.

I don't stop.

I make it nearly to the top floor of the base, as far away from Agent 19 as physically possible without running outside, when a group of three agents skids around the corner in front of me and then grabs me.

Another Agent comes up behind me, panting and holding an item that fills me with absolute despair.

"Do I have to?" I whine.

"Coulson's orders, Evans," one of them explains.

I slump over grumpily as they clip on the backpack leash (with a despicable and humiliating monkey on the front; apparently this is Agent Cou Cou's idea of a solution to my great escape last time) and glare at Agent 20 when he gives it a gleeful tug to get me to move. He resorts to dragging me down the hallway after a comical five minutes during which he tried to pick me up without touching me. Apparently I have poisonous skin now. I sigh and cross my arms from my position being dragged on the floor. My dress is going to need a good wash now, but at least dragging a child around by a backpack leash is more humiliating for the dragger than the dragee. I roll my eyes as he reaches the top of the stairs at the end of this hallway.

"Umm, Sophie, do you..." I glance up at him and scowl. He wants me to walk down the stairs.

"No." I settle down into the floor and close my eyes.

"Oh, okay then, umm."

Much too timid. I roll my eyes again, even though they're closed.

The next fifteen minutes I spend resting my eyes on the floor while Agent 20 attempts to get me down without dragging me or touching me.

A few people pass us as he tugs me closer to the stairs but doesn't dare push me down them. The threat of his superiors if I were injured on his watch is apparently enough of a deterrent. The next person's footsteps down the hall are heavier, and more familiar. I suspect it's Mr. Clint, but don't dare open my eyes to figure it out. Agent 20 has just decided to lift me off the ground completely using just the backpack harness attached to the leash, and things are about to get interesting.

"Need some help there, Agent Write?"

Or not.

"Yes, please, Agent Barton. I've," he lowers me back down, and I scowl with my eyes closed, "I've heard that I should refrain from agitating her in any manner, although this leash contraption certainly doesn't seem to be helping that any, if I want to remain whole and not on fire. Not touching her seemed to be the best route, and I believe she enjoyed being dragged around on the floor for some reason. Although, she probably won't be happy with the dirt on her dress." My frown lessens. Agent 20 seems to actually be trying not to irritate me, and he's surprisingly insightful.

"Yes, well, she's the one who refused to walk." Mr. Clint says as he bends down and picks me up. I open my eyes and glare at him, but his smile says that he's unaffected. "Up, kiddo. Cliff didn't do anything to you that he wasn't ordered to. Your bone to pick is with Coulson."

"Agent Cou Cou fed me donuts."

"Both times you've been fed donuts recently coincided with you nearly dying. I think we're going to say that giving you donuts is the opposite of a positive."

"I suppose he did think that this stupid monkey," I gesture aggressively to the stupid monkey covering up the unicorn on my shirt, "would be enough to deter me from escaping my backpack leash. And you're right, the donuts have coincided with my nearly dying. So he's got negative points right now."

"Right on." He gives me a high five, and then bumps me in front of Agent 20 to go down the stairs.

I go obediently down, and when Agent 20 gives a little tug of the leash to the left or the right, I follow the hallways he directs me to. Mr. Clint keeps close by my shoulder, and I checked that Agent 20 didn't have the same strange tattoo or aura that gave me the heebie jeebies.

Agent Cou Cou is standing in front of a selection of monitors, surrounded by a large number of Agents all working quickly on a bunch of computer things, and I am directed to sit on a stool behind him. My stomach starts to twist again, the same nausea from the van ride coming back, and my head throbs lightly.

After a few minutes of watching nothing happen on all the screens, Agent Cou Cou turns around. "Agent Evans. What did you do to Agent Ashley?"

I freeze, because that is not where I expected this to go. "I didn't do anything to him. I ran away from him, because he scared me."

Agent Cou Cou frowns minutely at me, and I glance over his shoulder at Mr. Clint, who has an open but otherwise neutral expression. "Then how do you explain how he ended up on the floor, unconscious?"

I shake my head, tucking my hands underneath the stupid monkey on my chest. "I don't know. Maybe he fell? I really was just running."

"He fell, Sophie, really? That's your excuse?" Agent Cou Cou's voice rises and something cold washes through me. "You expect me to believe that out of all the agents you've already met, including Fury and Romanoff and many others, you found Ashley scary?! Stop lying to me, just tell me what happened."

The moment my blood turns to ice in my veins, I can feel it. The shivering crackle of it all racing through me. My breath hitches, I can hear it, but I can't see anything. I think a tear slides down my face, shaken from my eye by my shivers- the ice inside me is cold, so cold, and lonely- but I can barely feel my skin.

"I'm not lying," I manage after a moment. "I really don't know what happened to him."

"Shit," someone says distantly. Someone picks me up, holding me close, and as I breathe in their smell I recognize that it's Mr. Clint.

"Sir, our devices recorded an energy spike in the same area and at the same levels as were predicted capable of knocking a man out. It's likely Agent Ashley was the victim of a very unlikely accident. We're sorry the results took so long to curate, we are still somewhat unsure of some of Dr. Foster's equipment."

"Thank you, Agent Rice."

Mr. Clint leaves the room, bringing me with him.

After a warm bath, a change of clothes, and a hot lunch, I'm feeling marginally better. My stomach still feels funny and the throbbing in my head has increased rather than decreased, but it's manageable. Mr. Clint carries me, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, back down to the control room where Agent Cou Cou, Agent Sitwell, and the others are doing some work monitoring the thing that the truck people were pulling on.

I eat my yummy soup from a stool in the back where I'm out of the way and can listen easily to their conversations.

The lack of the stupid monkey leash has also helped improve my mood, I've decided, as well as the cute alligator on my shirt. Whoever found it did a great job picking it out, because it reminds me exactly of Bessie.

I'm content for a few hours to simply sit and listen, learning what I can about what is apparently a hammer from a whole in space (?), but whatever sickness I caught starts putting me to sleep as the sun goes down.

When I nearly fall off my stool, Mr. Clint puts his foot down and sends me up to bed, and I snuggle into the warmth easily. It's difficult to ignore the throbbing in my head though, and when I'm lying down it seems to pulse through me in waves.

Eventually, I make it to sleep.

I'm awoken some hours later to find the camp in the middle of a thunderstorm, lighting flashing violently outside, and some horrible, horrible klaxons blaring throughout the base in opposite timing to my headache throbs.

I pull my blanket around me and climb out of bed, determined to find out what is going on that is causing that awful noise.

Although I don't really remember the way back to the middle of the base, it's intuitive enough because that's where all the commotion is coming from.

Agent Cou Cou and Sitwell are standing side by side exactly where I left them, but Mr. Clint is gone somewhere.

I step up next to Agent Cou Cou, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders as my head throbs. He barely even glances at me, and puts a hand gently on my head to direct me to his other side so I'm standing next to Sitwell. Sitwell glances down at me twice, swallows harshly, and then gives me a nervous smile. I turn back to the screen in front of us that shows the center of the pop-up base. I'm not sure what we're waiting for, but I can wait for everyone else to be done waiting so I can ask Agent Cou Cou what the alarms were going off for.

Agent Cou Cou gently bumps my shoulder so I run into Sitwell, and then says, "Take her back to bed, Sitwell."

A few moments later, there's a crack of lightning and thunder outside, and in the flash I can see something happening. There's a man in the middle of the base near the hammer thing that nobody can move, covered in mud and soaking wet. On the screen, I watch as he grabs the handle and tries to lift it. For a few long moments, it's as though the whole world is holding its breath.

And then he's screaming, loud and deep and painfully, and it's a scream that comes from his very soul. I feel it down deep in my own soul, and it resonates with a memory I can't quite grasp. I'm certain in that moment, however, that I've heard someone scream like that before…

Sitwell interrupts my thoughts, "Evans? Did you need something? Because if not, Coulson said to take you back to bed…?"

I blink, and observe that the blond man has been moved, and Agent Cou Cou is speaking over the phone near us, saying something about an interrogation. Turning to Sitwell, I give him a winning smile. "He did, but I'm much more interested in something else now. Where can I watch the interrogation?"

Sitwell stares blankly at me for a second, before he returns the winning smile. "Right this way."

I'm parked in a corner where Sitwell can still keep an eye on me, if he turns around, on a stool with my own personal mini-computer and headphones. He has another blanket delivered, as well as a hot chocolate (Sitwell is very, very good at ensuring I am happy and occupied; the whole 'keep her fed' strategy works quite well, although I don't entirely understand why), and personally sets the computer to the right channel so I can watch.

In the cell, the blond man covered in mud hangs his head in his chair. I turn the dial on the bottom of the headphones to turn the volume up, but nothing happens.

When the door slides open, I miss Agent Cou Cou entering because the sound is unbearably loud.

It takes a moment for me to recover, but the hot chocolate helps my headache while I settle back in to watch.

"You made my men," Agent Cou Cou says calmly, voice slightly tinny, "Some of the most highly trained professionals in the world, look like a bunch of… minimum wage mall cops." They stare at each other, and I stare through the screen. "That's hurtful."

What play is Agent Cou Cou going for? The blond man he's interrogating continues staring at the floor.

"In my experience, it takes someone who's received similar training to do what you did today. Why don't you tell me where you received your training? Pakistan? Chechnya? Afghanistan?" There's a pause for a moment, but nothing happens, so Agent Cou Cou continues. "No, you strike me as more of the soldier of fortune type. Where was it? South Africa? Certain groups pay very well for a good mercenary like you."

Agent Cou Cou holds for a second, before speaking again with a stiffer tone. "Who are you?" The blond man just continues to stare at Agent Cou Cou sullenly, who lets the silence hold for the longest pause yet. "One way or another, we find out what we need to know. We're good at that." Agent Cou Cou's pager beeps and he pulls it out of his pocket to read it. Then, he turns and walks out of the room. "Don't go anywhere."

When the door closes, a strange, sallow man is standing where Agent Cou Cou was. He's tall and has dark hair in the same style as the blond mans.

"Loki!" The blond man explains, practically in relief. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to see you," replies the strange man, Loki, in a low voice. I lean forward, closer to the screen, although the headphones on my ears mean that the feed doesn't get any louder.

"What's happened? Tell me, is it Jotunheim?" The blond man is distressed, leaning forward, and although his voice is still quiet I can hear his desperation. Although I don't know what Jotunheim is, I can feel his pain. His voice carries the same hurt that I felt in his scream earlier. "Let me explain to Father–"

"Father is dead," says Loki flatly. He's holding something back, likely heartbreak if the two are siblings as their conversation seems to imply, but also something else.

The blond one takes a moment, incredulous, before he breathes, "What?"

A ball forms in my throat and I swallow hard against it. A difficult thing for him, in the middle of all of this.

"Your banishment, the threat of a new war… it was too much for him to bear," Loki says softly, tears in his eyes. Identical ones run down the blond man's face, and he begins to shake his head. Denial. "You mustn't blame yourself. I know that you loved him. I tried to tell him so, but he wouldn't listen. It was so cruel to put the hammer within your reach, knowing that you could never lift it. The burden of the throne has fallen to me now."

The man, captive with a breaking heart, shakes his head in his seat and then looks up at his brother. "Can I come home?"

I clench my jaw.

Loki just barely shakes his head. "The truce with Jotunheim is conditional upon your exile."

"Yes but, couldn't we find a way–"

"And mother… has forbidden your return." There's a pause as they look at each other. "This is goodbye, brother. I'm so sorry."

"No… I am sorry," the blond says, shaking his head. "Thank you for coming here."

"Farewell," Loki says, then turns and walks out through the wall to disappear.

"Goodbye," says the blond, just as Coulson walks back in.

"Goodbye? I just got back."

I lean back in my chair, confused. Nobody else has said anything about Loki, the strange man, appearing in the captive man's cell. I look around at all the other screens I can see in the room, which is not a ton because of the poor set up and arrangement of the temporary base, but manage to catch a glimpse of him again on the screen showing the hammer in the middle of the base. Sitwell is looking at the very same screen, which I can only see because I'm supposed to sit near him, but he doesn't say anything about Loki standing there.

I pop the headphones off my ears and set them next to my hot chocolate mug before walking over to him.

"Who's that?" I ask, pointing. He jumps and looks down at me, before looking back at the screen.

"Who?"

"The man standing there, pulling on the hammer?"

Sitwell looks between me and the screen a few times, takes his glasses off to clean them, and then observes the screen again. "There's… no one there, Sophie." He looks down at me, a slight pinch between his brows. "Maybe Coulson was right, and you are getting sick. You should go back to bed. Do you need someone to walk you?" The stiff posture of his shoulders and jaw tells me that he clearly does not want to spend any more time in my company than necessary, nor does he wish to be the one to inform any of his superiors that I'm sick.

I stare at him for a moment and think quickly. Nobody else can see this man that I can see, except the captive blond man downstairs in the cell… "No," I shake my head, pulling the blanket closer around my shoulders. "I'll make my way there myself."

"Alright," he sighs in relief. I smile a bit to myself and glance at the screen one last time before turning away. Loki is gone.

As I turn to head down what is definitely the wrong hallway, Sitwell's pager goes off. He reads it quickly and then runs downstairs past me.

I follow him to the blond man's cell, where Sitwell tells Agent Cou Cou that the man has a visitor. I'll have to be quick then. Agent Cou Cou and Sitwell leave quickly, to go talk to whoever the visitor is. Most of the Agents working in this section of the base are busy elsewhere, and the ones that are here are working hard.

I push the button myself and slip into the captive's cell.

He looks sharply up at me from where his head was in his hands.

"Hello," I say softly, resituating the blanket around my shoulders. "I'm Jasmine Potter. What's your name?"

He regards me for a moment and then asks, just as quietly, "Are you with them?"

I shrug. "Sort of. But not really."

He gives a little half smile. "You remind me a bit of my brother, Loki. Call me Thor, little one. Do you know what realm we're on?"

I tilt my head as I blink at Mr. Thor. "No… but we're on planet earth. I don't know what realms there are, so I'm sorry but I'm not much help."

"Midgard then." He nods like this answers something for him, and although I don't understand all of it, I'm glad to have helped him. He begins to explain. "There are nine realms–"

"I'm very, terribly sorry," I interrupt him, anxiety rolling through my stomach at the action, "But we haven't got much time before they let your friend in here to take you away, and that's something I can look up later."

He stares at me, and I force a slightly awkward smile. "Nine realms, Midgard, got it. I promise I'll look it up, and when I see you again I will have full understanding. Now, I need you to tell me who that man was that was in here with you a minute ago, and why I'm the only one who could see him."

His face clouds over slightly and he gives a serious nod. "Very well, young Midgardian lady. You have a commanding presence. My brother, Loki, who hails from Asgard as I do, came to visit me. He told me about my father, Odin Alfather, and that my father is…" His face takes on a strange gray tint as he trails off for a moment, and I get the sense he isn't really seeing me.

"I understand," I say softly. "I heard your conversation. Which I'm sorry about as well."

He nods, giving a fake smile and still staring off into the distance. "Loki is… Well, in my youth, I trained as a strong warrior. My weapon of choice was Mjolnir, my hammer, which is only usable by those that are worthy. That's why no one else can lift it. Unfortunately, in my quest to become King of Asgard… I allowed my arrogance and my greed to govern my choices, and my father banished me and declared me unworthy of Mjolnir. Which is why I could not lift the hammer when I tried."

I nod a few times as he tells his story, some of the dots coming together.

"Loki, however, chose to train in the art and skill of magic and deception. He is good with daggers and occasionally a sword, but he is better at mind and magic arts. Strategy and trickery, he's known for his silver tongue. The other midgardians could not see Loki because of his magic. I imagine he made it so that he did not even show up on their machines. The bigger mystery is why you could see him." Mr. Thor regards me carefully, apparently thankful for the distraction, as he rubs his beard. "Perhaps… it was rumored that they had all died out, but perhaps… yes, it's possible." He tilts his head again and asks me, "Are you a Seidr?"

The furrow between my brows makes the headache from earlier bloom again.

"Hmm. If you were, you wouldn't know it. And you likely wouldn't know what a seidr was anyway…" He thinks to himself for a moment, standing and pacing behind his chair, and then turns to me. "And you must have the most awful headache right now, being so near such a high concentration of it, and I suspect some nausea too, because if you don't know what I mean then you probably aren't used to it."

He waits for a second, clearly actually asking if I'm feeling not great, so I gather myself to respond. "I– yes, I've had a headache for most of the day, and I was nauseous earlier so I went to bed… how did you know?"

He smiles and comes to kneel in front of me. "Well, if you are indeed a seidr, as I suspect, then you'd have experienced something similar to my brother. Let me see if I can do something to help, little mage. May I?" He holds a hand up as if to put it on my forehead, and I shrug and nod.

"You may."

His hand is warm and callused, and he closes his eyes and mumbles something under his breath that doesn't sound like any language I've ever heard before. A wave of warmth goes through me, and then all my symptoms are gone and I feel suddenly fine.

"Whoa!" I breathe. Mr. Thor grins back at me, eyes alight, and the contrast to his expression from earlier makes it all the more clear how much he was hurting.

Then, the door snicks open and an old man comes in. "Oh, Donny!" He nearly shouts. "Donny, Donny, Donny!" Mr. Thor turns around sharply, between me and the man, and I can't see his expression but he's shifted into a half crouch. The old man pauses and looks between Mr. Thor and me, who I think he can barely see over Mr. Thor's shoulder. When Mr. Thor relaxes and stands up, the man resumes his fake playful half shouting and goes to drag Mr. Thor out of the room. Mr. Thor turns to me before he goes, and gives a bow.

"Farewell, Lady Midgardian."

"Farewell, and thank you!" I wave, countenance improved upon my change in health. And Mr. Thor is gone, along with whoever it was that came to pick him up and called him by the wrong name.

Agent Sitwell and the others that are all standing just outside the cell are staring at me in alarm. I walk past them out the door, which closes behind me, and follow the direction that Mr. Thor and the loud old man went, because they likely had to walk past Agent Cou Cou in order to leave. "What?" I ask Sitwell, who is shaking and sweating as he walks next to me down the halls.

"Just, umm," he pulls out a handkerchief and dabs at his forehead, "that you were… alone with the prisoner, who was dangerous, while I was supposed to be watching you."

I shrug and skip a bit, dodging an intern carrying an unplugged keurig, happy now that I'm not bogged down by feeling crummy. "Nothing happened."

"And while that is splendid, Agent Evans, that is not entirely the point," he squeaks.

He takes me to where Mr. Clint and Agent Cou Cou are watching Thor leave.

"Thought you wanted her to talk to him." Clint says, the unsaid 'why are you letting him leave' in his tone.

"I think he's a little too far on the crazy side for me to be comfortable leaving them to talk."

"Well, she already did," Sitwell says quietly. Both of them turn around, identical looks of alarm on their faces.

"Excuse me?"

"What did you say?!" Mr. Clint actually draws an arrow in his bow, leveling it at Sitwell, who steps solidly behind me. "Is that why she wasn't in her room when I went to find her? You let her talk to the crazy, dangerous prisoner we know nothing about?!"

Behind them, Mr. Thor steals one of the lady's notebooks from the table. Betting on him doing it to return it to her, I don't say a word.

Rather, I turn to both Mr. Clint and Agent Cou Cou and give them my prettiest smile. "Fury gave me a title. Why shouldn't I use it?"

Hello to everyone who reads the end notes. Please let me know if you guys like the chapters shorter and every week, or longer and every two or three weeks. I'm working out a schedule for this semester and need to plan out my writing time, so let me know if you have a preference! I love hearing from all of you! Until next time xx