Melinda and Coulson

Chapter 4: Melinda and Coulson

"Mel—Melinda?" In New York, a red vintage convertible sped down the highway. The white man behind the wheel called out to the Asian woman in the passenger seat.

The Asian woman had clearly been distracted. It took the man calling her several times before she came to herself. "Coulson, what is it?"

"You're not looking too good. We're out in the field," complained the man named Coulson.

"Whatever. I don't want to do fieldwork anymore anyway," Melinda replied absentmindedly.

"Hey, I know, May. That incident affected you deeply, but I hope you won't keep dwelling on the past. You need to pull yourself together." Hearing Melinda's answer, Coulson knew his old friend was still immersed in the pain of that mission, so he tried to comfort her.

"Fine, I know. I'll find a way to adjust, but I need time," Melinda said quietly.

"That's good. But for now, you need to finish this mission first. It'll be your last field assignment before your vacation," Coulson said to Melinda as he drove.

At Coulson's words, Melinda's expression turned strange. "Don't say that. I've heard that people who say that always die during the mission. I'm in a bad mood, but I don't want to die yet."

"Really? Who did you hear that from?" Coulson asked curiously.

"Novels. Movies usually go like that too," Melinda answered.

"Ha ha, I didn't expect you to joke around too." Coulson was a little surprised, but joking was a good sign. It meant that although his old friend was still in pain, she would eventually move past it.

"Believing in plots from novels and movies isn't what S.H.I.E.L.D. agents do," Coulson said with a smile.

Yes, they were S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and not low-ranking ones either. If this were a movie, the shot would surely freeze on their faces, followed by a flood of subtitles reading:

Phil Coulson, Level Seven Special Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., a capable subordinate and one of the most trusted men of Director Nick Fury. He possessed outstanding organizational and operational abilities, was proficient with firearms and hand-to-hand combat, and could operate all manner of vehicles.

Melinda May, Level Seven Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., Chinese-American, an experienced soldier, spy, fighter, and driver. At the age of seven, she had caught the attention of Peggy Carter (Captain America's lover) and been recruited into S.H.I.E.L.D. After the Barin Island incident, she gained the nickname "Iron Cavalry." Of course, if you dared call her that to her face, you'd better be prepared to be beaten half to death.

"Tell me, what's this mission about? Middle Eastern terrorists shipping a nuclear warhead to New York? Cholera mail? Or has some terrorist leader personally come to New York?" In a thoroughly unconcerned tone, Melinda rattled off terms that could trigger mass panic among ordinary people. Then she added, "Hopefully there aren't any hostages."

"None of those. No terrorists, no nuclear bomb, no cholera, and no hostages," Coulson answered casually.

"Ha, really? Without any of that, I don't see why they need two senior agents like us. Why not just let one of the lower action teams handle it?" In Melinda's opinion, if there was no nuclear warhead or biological weapon involved, was this really worth sending her out? Had all the little brats below them died in the line of duty?

"Ah, listen. This mission may not be very exciting, but it is rather unusual. We should still be careful. Here are the mission files." As Coulson spoke, he handed Melinda a stack of documents with red covers.

"Level Six Clearance? Looks like it really is unusual." Melinda raised an eyebrow at the red cover, then opened the file and began reading.

"What's this? The owner of Richter's Curiosities? Someone who sells talismans? Why is S.H.I.E.L.D. cracking down on feudal superstition?" Melinda said in disbelief. A Level Six Clearance file was actually an introduction to a little roadside shop, one that sold all kinds of talismans. God, had S.H.I.E.L.D. finally become so bored because the world was too peaceful that it classified this sort of thing as Level Six Clearance? Even if he counterfeited goods, defrauded customers, forced sales, occupied public space, and staged accidents for compensation, couldn't the police handle that? Did S.H.I.E.L.D. really need to step in? And classify it as Level Six Clearance? Come on, if you weren't talking about something that could kill one or two thousand people, how could you have the nerve to classify it as Level Six Clearance?

"Keep reading," Coulson said noncommittally.

Melinda also felt that Nick Fury wouldn't suddenly suffer brain shrinkage and a cerebellar puncture, then slap a Level Six Clearance label on just anything. Maybe there was more to this little shop than met the eye. For instance, perhaps a dirty bomb was hidden in the basement, biological viruses were concealed inside the talismans he sold, or perhaps he himself was a major terrorist leader who had planned and directed multiple terrorist attacks.

"I can't see anything. It's all too normal. An orphan who grew up in an orphanage until he was fourteen, then opened this shop. Normal registration, normal insurance, and normal police records." Melinda flipped through the file repeatedly, but the more she read, the less she understood. The more she read, the more normal it seemed. Legal registration, full insurance coverage, and nothing suspicious in the police records—not even a brawl. The man was practically a model law-abiding citizen. Where was the nuclear bomb? Where was the biological virus? Were they messing with her?

"Ha ha." Seeing Melinda's puzzled expression, Coulson gave an awkward laugh, which immediately annoyed her. "Hey, Coulson, I know you must know something, but if you don't tell me soon, your arm might end up in a cast."

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you." Faced with Melinda's threat, Coulson surrendered without a shred of backbone. "He did indeed grow up in an orphanage until he was fourteen. But is it normal to leave an orphanage at fourteen?" Leaving an orphanage at fourteen was indeed too early. At the very least, he should have waited another two years.

"The file says he had a distant relative who wanted him to inherit an estate," Melinda said as she flipped through the documents.

"An orphan from an orphanage suddenly inherits a huge estate? Come on, that sounds like something out of a fairy tale," Coulson teased.

"Maybe it really was just that much of a coincidence." Unhappy with Coulson's teasing tone, Melinda replied. Still, it was true that inheriting an estate sounded far-fetched, but it wasn't impossible.

"His inheritance was 800 Gold Coins. After donating 300 to the orphanage, he left with the rest. Does anyone still use Gold Coins as common currency these days?" Coulson continued.

"Gold Coins? Maybe it was a peculiar hobby." Not dollars, euros, or pounds, but Gold Coins—it was certainly strange. But that alone didn't mean there was a problem. Besides, 800 Gold Coins was a considerable sum, though not all that much by S.H.I.E.L.D.'s standards.

"But we couldn't find that distant relative at all." Coulson finally revealed the most suspicious part. There was supposedly someone who had left him an inheritance, yet they could not find that person.