London, September 24, 1570

"Here you go son." Michael took the loaf of bread from the baker and turned to hand it to his son who was staring longingly at the pastries and sweetbreads on the shelves. He kneeled down so that he was on his son's level, "Which of those do you like? It will be Christmas soon, we should have our own little feast."

Ace shook his head, "I'm fine."

Michael sighed, "I know we don't have much right now Ace, but I will find work soon, and then everything will be-" His words were cut off by the sound of an explosion. He looked up to see flames pouring from the windows of a large building down the road. "Ace, stay here with the baker, people may be hurt, they may need my help." Without another word he dashed down the road to the alley behind the building. Michael checked for anyone watching him, seeing no one he grabbed hold of the stone wall, crushing it beneath his fingertips like brittle clay.

Down the road a young woman, dressed in the fanciful clothes of a traveling fortune teller, watched with rapt attention. Everyone else might believe that the explosion was simply due to a careless spark touching the gunpowder stored in the building, but she knew better, she knew that there was something more going on here, and she was determined to find out what.

While everyone else was focused on the front of the building and the men pouring out, covered in soot and ash, she kept her attention on the back of the building. If she had learned anything in her life, it was that the most obvious thing was rarely the most interesting, or the most important.

As another small explosion rocked the area Skye saw a man leap from one of the upper windows, a woman in his arms, and land perfectly in the back alley. He gently set the woman on the ground, looked both ways, and then disappeared into the crowd.

Skye smiled and hurried back to her wagon, she had work to do.

Paris, Same day

"We have to call this off Grant, we've learned that The Rising Tide has also discovered the location of the item and they posted it on churches and shops all across Paris."

Grant shrugged and smiled before leaping astride his horse, "If this job was easy..."

The older man rolled his eyes and continued, "it wouldn't be any fun. Go on then, but take care."

Grant weaved his way through the mass of wagons and people that filled the streets of Paris until he reached his destination, a stately mansion in the wealthiest part of the city. He dismounted, leaving his horse tied to a post, and slipped in through the back entrance, with the feast going on nobody would notice another servant.

Following the directions he'd been given the day before he went up the back staircase, down the hall, and through the third door on the right. Inside he went straight to the fireplace, feeling for the hidden button he'd been told to press. Just as Grant's fingers touched the release he felt someone come up behind him. He whirled around and delivered a hard punch into his assailant's nose and then drove his knee into the man's groin. The man fell to the ground groaning and Grant jumped over him to meet his second attacker.

The man dove at him, his meaty hands wrapping around Grant's throat. Rearing his head back Grant drove his forehead into the man's nose and then flipped him over his shoulder. The first man tried to rise but a quick kick to the head put an end to that.

Stepping over the unconscious thugs Grant activated the mechanism in the fireplace and removed the carefully sealed box from the space. With the package in hand he slipped back down the stairs and into the alley, and onto the back of a coach moving swiftly down the street.

The Shield's primary fortress, Later that day

Lady Maria Hill, one of the highest ranking members of The Shield, leaned back in her seat, affecting a relaxed posture, "Tell me Agent Ward, what does SHIELD stand for?"

Grant sighed and leaned back in his chair, he hated these meetings, "Safety and Health In England and Lands Distant."

"And just what does that mean to you?" Lady Maria prompted.

"It means someone really wanted our name to be The Shield."

Lady Maria quirked an eyebrow and Grant sighed again, "It means that it is up to us to keep this world safe, to be the last line of defense, to uphold the boundaries between our world and a far stranger one. When things appear that people simply aren't ready for, we take care of it, things like this." He reached into the inner pocket of his coat and withdrew the box he'd recovered earlier that day, he leaned across the table and handed it to Lady Maria.

"Do you know what Vanchat's plans for it were?"

"I am far more interested how Rising Tide learned about it. I thought they were just con artists and misguided scholars, what changed?"

"Everything." Lady Maria leaned forward across the table. "The Battle of York was the end of the world, and the start of a new one, it paved the way for things nobody thought possible."

Growing impatient Grant leaned farther forward, "Why was I taken from Paris?"

"That is a question for Sir Phillip."

"I'm of the sixth order Lady Maria, I know that Sir Phillip died in the Battle of York."

"Welcome to seventh order Agent Ward." Sir Phillip stepped out of the hallway with a smile, "My apologies, I couldn't help myself."

Grant sank back into his chair, it had been a long day but it looked as if it was just getting started.