Skye's voice cracked with disbelief. "You can really read minds?"
"So read everyone else's," Fitz muttered, half-dazed.
"Yes," James said. "But I'm telling you now: I have never used it on any of you."
Skye immediately pushed back, suspicious on instinct. "Are you telling the truth?"
James's mouth twitched. "Honest to my life."
He glanced at her. "If I had, I don't think we'd still be calling it a probation period."
Skye froze—then understood what he meant.
A moment later she huffed. "Hmph! Fine probations over, you passed."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When they reached the parking lot, James flashed his credentials to the men who were manning the surveillance cameras, then had Fitz start working to see if any of the surveillance footage could be recovered. While Fitz dug in, James questioned the security guard about the man who owned the 1962 Chevrolet Corvette.
It was a standalone high-rise garage with constant traffic going in and out, surrounded by dense commercial blocks. People who worked nearby parked here every day on predictable schedules.
That made Lola stand out.
A flashy red convertible didn't blend in anywhere.
The guard remembered it easily. He saw thousands of vehicles a week; remembering cars was part of the job, and that one had caught his eye, that he'd even looked at it on the camera feed.
Lola had been parked in a clear line of sight. It seemed that Coulson had deliberately chosen that spot covered by cameras.
James understood why immediately.
Whoever Coulson planned to meet—he didn't trust them.
Fitz came back with the bad news: the camera system had been hit hard. Recovery might not even be possible.
The security guard also couldn't describe the other person who came. Their vehicle had been backed toward the camera. An inconspicuous SUV, and the occupant never even stepped out. They spoke through the window, then the footage cut. When the cameras came back, they were all gone.
The guard hadn't thought about it again until James showed up.
James called May on a secure channel. "Check for any recent Centipede movements."
May grew wary. "You think it's them?"
"Yes," James said. "And I know who leads them. I didn't say it in the car because it would've changed how the team reacted. But you won't flinch."
He kept it clean and direct.
"The leader is codenamed 'Clairvoyant', a level Eight S.H.I.E.L.D. asset: John Garrett."
May's voice sounded surprised, but she kept herself calm. "Agent Garrett? Why would he take Phil?"
"His body's failing," James replied. "He's chasing a serum to stay alive, and his ambition's growing. Even if Hydra falls, he won't stop. He wants freedom and power."
May sighed at that . "Garrett and Phil were raised by the Director. Didn't think he'd turn against us."
May's keyboard clicks bled through the line. "I found something. A Prison break, they only took two minutes. Three attackers went in and pulled the prisoners out. Surveillance shows another centipede device on one of their arms."
James's eyes narrowed. "Store it away, we'll review it when we get back."
He ended the call and moved to Lola. He crouched and examined the rear of the car with focus.
"Cortana, do a scan for me."
[Visual sweep engaged.]
James's eyes went slightly unfocused as Cortana took priority.
[A trace was detected. On the rear panel, there's a red biological residue, likely to be blood.]
James focused on the perceived blood, leaning in.
It was almost invisible—too small and too fresh, what's more the red paint masked the color. If it had oxidized darker, it would've been obvious. This was a thin smear, barely there.
He called Fitz over. "Hey Fitz! Come here and do a swab."
Fitz stared, incredulous at what he saw. "How did you even see that? UV light might not even catch it."
"An Agent's eye," James said and didn't elaborate further.
"We're done here, you two take our vehicle back. I'm driving Lola."
They soon returned to the Airbase, James went straight to the conference room. May already had the prison-break file up and waiting.
James started linking the pieces of evidence.
Raina was still their informant—She couldn't stop playing her role inside Centipede or she'd lose access. To draw out the Clairvoyant, she needed the machine running. That meant someone broke Edison Po out of custody.
The ex-marine officer himself wasn't the real issue.
The real issue was Coulson.
Where was he being held?
Was it still the abandoned nuclear test site? The timeline had changed, but the logic could still match, and this time, whoever took Coulson used violence.
So who had he gone to meet? Sitwell? Garrett?
James ran the scenario over and over. The details were different, but the motive was clear: someone needed Coulson alive, intact, and talking.
A hand tapped his side, it was Skye.
"James?"
He blinked out of it and looked at her. "I'm organizing our findings. We missed the prison break, but it's all connected. May pulled the file and reported Phil's disappearance to HQ for support."
Skye frowned. "If it's Centipede, why aren't we calling Raina?"
James shook his head. "We can't. We gave her one number to memorize. She will only call after she meets the Clairvoyant. If we haven't heard from her, then she chose not to call—because she hasn't made contact. We don't have her location."
Skye hesitated. "Do you trust her?"
"No," James said instantly. "She's a disposable asset. If she's useful, we keep her out of jail. If she isn't, we detain her later. Her talent is influence and seduction. That can't move Coulson, his loyalty isn't his weak point."
He looked around the room and snapped into command mode.
"Skye—pull everything on Edison Po. Fitz, Simmons—look for alien metal shipments. Chitauri scraps, black-market transfers, anything you can find. If you need something, request a data share from HQ. May—get the aircraft ready to launch at any moment. I'm making a call."
He left the room and headed straight for Coulson's office.
He dialed Nick Fury—a direct line.
"Hello?"
"Fury," James said. "Phil's missing, I suspect John Garrett wants the secret of his resurrection so he can stabilize his own serum."
Fury's voice came back colder. "Garrett going loud again?"
"Not yet," James said. "If he wants answers, he has to push Phil into deep recall, hypnosis-level. Phil's life isn't in immediate danger."
Nick Fury was silent for a moment on the line. Then he said, "The three new Helicarriers are… nearly finished."
James paused. "What? You said two years, It's only been one."
"Originally, I intended to delay the weapons issuance to delay time," Fury said. "But Alexander Pierce signed it off. The new Helicarriers aren't pretending to carry heavier armament—they're matching the active configuration. Main assembly is complete, and internal installation is moving fast.
They also found a large amount of finished equipment already installed. Hydra's been preparing longer than we thought."
James gritted his teeth. "Then we need to move faster. Do we hit them when they're completed or before?"
"Before," Fury replied. "I've been moving personnel out of HQ as quietly as possible. Moving them to the New York branch. I want a concentrated armed force there—then we punch HQ directly."
He exhaled. "Other branches are still a problem. Haven't solved that yet."
"I have a method," James said. "But it takes time to set, I'll tell you when it's ready. It will keep the branch staff alive."
Fury's tone eased. "That's one good news I needed to hear."
Then his voice hardened again. "About Coulson, got any leads?"
"Yes," James said. "But we don't know who he met. If we find Phil, whoever met him gets exposed. Depending on who it is, that could force an early move by Hydra."
"I'll check who left HQ at that time," Fury said. "I'll get back to you."
"Copy that." James ended the call and returned to the conference room.
Skye, Fitz, and Simmons were still digging through for data. James stood off to the side, watching, while Cortana quietly sorted and cross-referenced what was coming in.
The room stayed quiet—with nothing but clicking on keyboards.
After a while, May came in.
"James," she said, "headquarters is sending help for Phil."
James frowned. "Who authorized it?"
May's expression didn't change. "John Garrett. He's coming with Victoria Hand. They're bringing a lot of people."
James's frown deepened. "Tell them we don't need support. We can handle recovery ourselves."
May gave him a look. "Garrett is a level Eight Agent. He's taking operational control here with full force."
James didn't argue with her. He pulled out his phone and called Fury again.
"Someone is taking over the base," James said the moment Fury picked up. "It's Garrett."
"I know," Fury replied. "I tried to refuse. He leaned on history—said he and Phil went through hell together. I couldn't shut him down, so I told Victoria Hand to go with him."
James's tone stayed flat. "Hand trusts Garrett."
Fury sighed. "Then I'm putting you in charge of this operation. You're a level Seven, but you're also an Avenger. They can't box you in, and if Garrett shows his hand… we'll take him down."
James rolled his eyes. "Maybe. We'll see. If he gives me an opening, I'll take it."
He hung up.
He'd made the call from the lounge. With all the noise and everyone busy, no one else had heard the call.
James sat for a moment, thinking—then stood up and headed to the office again.
In Coulson's office, he opened the hidden safe. Only he and Coulson could access it.
Inside was an ID packet—prepared for Skye. An official credential, though entry-level, it was a start.
Coulson had intended to grant her as level One first. James had been satisfied with her progress and wanted her tested for level Three.
Now there was no time for that.
James went back down and gaved the ID to Skye.
"Skye," he said, "this is what Phil had prepared for you. It's a level One clearance—as of now, you're officially S.H.I.E.L.D."
Skye stared at it, shocked. She opened it and saw her name, her photo—taken from the day she'd been brought in. The badge looked untouched and new.
"Why now?" she asked, confused and wary.
"It's not safe for me to explain," James said. "Pack up and leave the base immediately. We're going to make it look like you got kicked out. Understand?"
Skye's stomach dropped. "James—"
"Bring your equipment," he said. "Weapons too. Fitz, Simmons—prepare a kit for Skye."
Fitz and Simmons froze, then nodded. They bolted for the lab to get it done immediately.
James pulled Skye in and hugged her—gentle but quick, to re-assure her.
"We'll message you," he whispered. "Your job is to find Phil, do you understand?"
Skye understood what's going on. "Hydra is in the team that's coming."
"Yes," James said. "So we'll be pinned down here. But you won't. They don't know you, and you're not an official agent in their eyes. You're invisible. That's why you're the best one to move."
He gaved her a kiss goodbye. "Be careful out there."
Skye nodded, then moved fast—packing like she'd been thrown out of the team, tears in her eyes. Fitz and Simmons had already prepared her gear outside: combat clothes, weapons, and essentials.
Skye left with a dejected look.
James watched her cross the area and disappeared into the distance, then turned back to the conference room.
"Hydra's in the incoming detail," he said to the others. "Act normal. If you can't act normal, stay busy and stay useful. Keep searching."
"Understood," Fitz said, already moving.
Simmons followed him without another word.
James looked to May. "Secure control of the aircraft."
May nodded and headed for the cockpit. She didn't need the details. She trusted James.
It didn't take long for the support to arrive.
Multiple heavy transport helicopters descended onto the base.
James stood at the rear cargo ramp and waited as they touched down.
John Garrett and Victoria Hand approached first.
"Agent James Gibson," Garrett said, smiling as he extended a hand. "We meet again."
James shook it—and held it just a fraction longer than necessary, eyes on Garrett, then he released.
Hand stepped in next, offering her own.
James shook it too, in the same manner.
"Welcome," James said evenly. "We didn't request backup—but I'm aware Director Fury couldn't exactly refuse you."