Chapter 1
Shield is killing me every Tuesday, so I thought I would try my hand at writing something a little lighter. A massive flu epidemic counts as lighter with how this show is going, right?
His phone was dinging with a text message and Nick Fury glared at it, willing the message to vanish. Other people got funny messages and cute pictures. He got disasters of texts like the time when his car had vanished while he was at a meeting at the Watergate and he had texted Maria Hill to activate the tracker. Not two minutes later, she was back with a reply.
Good news, we found your car.
Bad news, your license plate looks remarkably like one belonging to a guy with 92 unpaid traffic citations when viewed by an officer with astigmatism.
Your car has been towed.
And crushed into a cube.
You have 30 days to collect your cube.
If all of the senior agents are ever called to Washington for meetings I suggest we don't carpool and save the planet in case of a repeat incident.
Felix or Jasper would undoubtedly get on the wrong Metro trying to get back.
And I do not want to be in the same country let alone the same city as Victoria being told she's about to be crammed on the Metro during rush hour.
Then there was the text last week from Jasper that he really needed to contact him about.
Hey, I just heard a bunch of people saying something about hydras. Have we found out that Greek mythology is real now too? Should I bring in my copy of Bullfinch's Mythology to get everyone up to date?
And he didn't want to think of the number of different agents who had texted him with the happy news that they were in jail and needed to know who should they call for bail. So he knew this text wasn't going to be good. His text messages never were.
Victoria Hand. So at least he could rule a message from some jail out. That was one small positive. He clicked and opened the message.
I'm closing down all operations into and out of the Hub effective immediately. I expect this to last at least a week. Please reroute all necessary operations accordingly.
She was… Fury barely stopped himself from picking up the phone and calling to demand to know what she was thinking, closing down such a major base without consulting anyone. He had a feeling that a call wouldn't go well. Better a text that he could at least edit first. Five minutes, and five versions later, he hit send.
Could I ask what the problem is that makes it necessary to shut down the Hub for a week?
His phone dinged seconds later.
I have the flu.
The flu, although a frightening thought, picturing Victoria Hand with the flu, he didn't see a reason that a major base needed to be shut down over their leader's illness. But before he could text her to suggest that handing things over to her second in command and going to bed might be a better move than shutting down, his phone dinged again.
My entire staff has the flu.
There are three hundred people currently in the Hub, and not a one is healthy.
I have locked down the weapons rooms in case anyone decides that a bullet is a reasonable solution for their headache and throbbing body.
He didn't even bother with trying to edit his next message.
Everyone has the flu? Are you sure it's the flu? I thought that you had a 100 percent of your staff taking the flu shot. this year. What does medical say?
If you're asking if I have a doctor's note confirming that I have the flu, the answer is no. However the doctors in medical did say that the 150 people who were in front of me, aching, shivering and shaking did have the flu, and since I have the same symptoms, I sincerely doubt I have anything different. I have locked down the computer systems to prevent unwise access by people who are feverish and possibly delirious.
Not good. This wasn't good.
What about treatment? What are the doctors telling everyone to do?
When I staggered out and back to my office, rather than wait crammed into medical with 150 sick people, with more coming in the door by the moment, the doctors were hanging a sign telling people they have the flu, and to go find a space to sleep somewhere for the next week. I have locked down all of the doors and access into and out of the Hub to prevent the spread of the flu.
They didn't give out medicine?
We have 50 boxes of Tamaflu, because yes, we all did get the flu shot, and no, I have no clue how we ended up with the flu. Did I mention I had 150 people in front of me when I staggered into medical? Right now I am actually thankful for Phil Coulson's continuing existence, because It means I have a bottle of aspirin in my desk left over from the last time his team dropped by. I also have a bottle of liquor that I needed after that last visit, and I found a thermometer in one of the labs. I'm not sure, because I'm seeing double either from the headache, or from missing my last three appointments to get my eyes examined, but I'm fairly sure that the reading says 103. I have made a bed in my office. I intend to mix aspirin with alcohol, and hopefully knock myself out until the fever passes and my office doesn't feel like it is located in Antarctica. Do not text or call me unless the building is on fire. If you find someone that is actually willing to set foot in this den of disease, tell them to bring tissues. I am out. Barring that, forget I exist for the next week and let me sleep!
He let several minutes pass to make sure there would be no more messages before picking up the phone. He had to contact Coulson, and then he swore he was seeing about getting texting taken off of his phone.