Early disclaimer or whatever: For anyone reading this, lemme get one thing straight: I wrote this mess of a story two years ago. It's garbage. But there's been a big resurgence of readers, so I'm trying to make it... er, nicer garbage. The fact that I'm stuck on the other story on my account right now is definitely helpful to this goal.

So here's the key: if the chapter has a title other than "Chapter *insert number*," then it's been rewritten recently. If it has a number... you can either enter the cringe-fest or wait for me to update it.

Thanks.

"Checkmate."

"What?! You're kidding me!" Liz blurted, frantically searching the board for an escape, "How the hell did you put me in check with a pawn?!"

Bruce shrugged, "I don't remember. But here we are."

Liz growled, then tipped over her king in defeat, "I hate this game."

"Makes sense, considering you keep losing," he said, doing nothing to hide the satisfied smirk, "Want to play again?"

"Hell no!" she shouted, lying back on her bed with a huff.

Bruce folded the chess board and set it aside, "Anything else you'd like to do?"

"I wanna get out of this damn bed and train so I can go back to kicking the shit out of psychopaths. Is that too much to ask?"

He smiled, measured, "A decent enough goal." His eyes drifted away, appearing passive; he knew of the minefield he was about to traverse, "How's the rehab going?"

"Fine," she answered bluntly.

Bruce kept his smile tolerantly, "Alright, now… try again with a little more detail, maybe."

Liz sighed, "… It's fine. I just want it over with."

"Are you in a lot of pain?"

"Sometimes."

"Meaning?"

She crossed her arms, "Meaning sometimes. I can handle more than they think— just walking around isn't going to help anything anytime soon."

Bruce shrugged, "Well, maybe you don't need to be worried about healing fast enough. Maybe healing fully is a little more important." He stood, "Don't try to rush things, Elizabeth. Or you'll have to go through this all over again."

"Hell knows I don't want that," she muttered, "And don't call me Elizabeth."

"It's your name, isn't it?"

"Yeah but- you know what I mean!"

He looked ready to continue the debate, but the sound of commotion suddenly broke out beyond the room's door.

Liz sat up, "What the…?"

Bruce wasted no time, opening the door and disappearing down the hallway. Liz quickly threw her legs over the side of the bed to follow him, pausing briefly to quell the protest of her ribs. She took in a breath, locked her jaw, rocked to her feet, then rushed after him.

Agents were rushing to the upper deck in swarms, most heavily armed and frantic. She was able to meet up with Bruce amidst the chaos, and the two followed the crowd up to the open flight deck, where quite a sight was unfolding.

Two heavy-duty SHIELD helicopters lowered a colorful heap of wreckage onto the deck, loose scraps snapping from their wiring and flying off in the heavy wind. It was unceremoniously released and dropped, erupting in a series of piercing scrapes, accompanied by a heavy shockwave that made the ground rumble beneath them.

Well, now I know why we made an ocean landing, Liz mused, Special delivery.

She cast Bruce a sideways glance, "Some great security we've got on this oh-so advanced helicarrier, huh?"

"Lay low," he cautioned, "Before anyone realizes we shouldn't be here."

She nodded, glad they'd come up with similar plans of action. After another quick facial cue, the two split up. Bruce was careful to stay at the back of the crowd, but Liz, acting on a death wish of sorts, inched forward into an opening to watch Fury.

He stood at the front, solemnly observing the process. He was approached by Coulson, and Liz strained to make out their conversation.

"…in the middle of the desert, near the Nevada border," Coulson informed, "Which makes me wonder how much longer our luck will last, before one of these falls in the middle of a major city."

Fury didn't crack a smile, "What do you know about it?"

"Well sir, it's a smaller craft—in fairly good shape, despite its crash landing." Coulson gestured to the left underside of the mess, "We believe the burns indicate it was fired on, resulting in the crash. It was still sparking when we made it to the scene, so it's most likely still functional."

"What about the pilot?" Fury immediately questioned.

Coulson paused, "We were unable to gain access to the interior upon or initial arrival."

"So you're telling me you didn't check inside?" Fury asked sharply.

"Not as of yet, sir."

Fury turned away to face the craft once more, "It's a little late for precautions now then, isn't it?" He nodded, signaling to a row of agents who instantly surrounded the wreckage. They held guns at the ready, their strides gradually shrinking until they merely inched towards it, obviously worried about what if anything lay inside.

One stepped forward cautiously, a crowbar in hand. She approached a giant slab of metal which Liz assumed used to be a functioning door, and slipped the crowbar into one of the slits on the side. After a decent struggle, little to no progress was made, so another agent stepped in to assist her. It was then, his attention diverted for a moment, that Coulson spotted Liz in the crowd.

Her blood went cold, and she smiled tightly.

Well shit.

Her mind naturally rushed to conjure up the excuse she'd use when he confronted her, an entire audience of agents behind him.

Before either could make a move, the remains of the door was severed from its hinges and fell with a metallic clang, revealing the dark and demolished cabin within. Smoke still hazed about inside, briefly interrupted by the bright fizz of broken wires, but no further sound was heard.

The agents looked to Fury for direction, and after a moment, received the command to advance. Two more agents, these holding slender black rods (Liz had no clue what they were aiming to accomplish with those), led the group forward. For a while, only the sound of boots on metal was heard, seemingly fluid and unfaltering.

Coulson let out a noticeable breath, then looked back to Fury, "I didn't think anything would have been able to survive a crash like—"

A scream burst forth, and like a gunshot, an agent was sent flying out the craft, engulfed in a bluish wave of electricity. Several rushed forwards to help him, but only seconds later, another flew out in a similar manner, landing on top of the first agent.

Fury stepped back, a hand gravitating towards his gun, "What the hell is going on in there?!"

From inside, an agent began to reply, but his voice was quickly drowned out by a horrible sound, something halfway between a snarl and a hiss, followed by commotion amidst the agents. Liz's eyes broke away for a second to search for Bruce, but couldn't spot him in the crowd. While she didn't blame him in the slightest for slipping away, specifically after seeing the airborne agents, another shrill howl erupted- this time accompanied by the sound of surging electricity.

Suddenly, a shape darted out of the cabin, then zipped behind the craft and down the runway. Fury drew his pistol and fired several rounds in quick succession, but the shape seemed to zigzag at random, making each miss its mark.

Instead of marveling at the rarity that was the director missing his target, Liz shoved through the crowd and immediately pressed into a sprint, "I got it!"

She was sure she heard Fury telling her to back off, but didn't turn to check how angrily he'd done so (she'd surely find out later). Instead, she ran after the blur, ignoring the protests of her knee. She was still unable to make out a shape; it was dark in color, significantly smaller (and faster) than her, and showed no signs of slowing down. Before she could come up with a strategy to corner it, the thing abruptly stopped, and unable to halt as quickly, Liz passed it. By the time she'd realized the trick, it was running in the opposite direction.

"Dammit!" she snapped, and began pursuing it once again.

Just as she started to doubt she'd be able to catch the speeding creature, it made a mistake—it was heading straight for the edge of the helicarrier. She increased her pace, already out of breath, preparing to confront it before it realized it was trapped.

Sure enough, the moment it reached the edge, the thing halted dead in its tracks. Liz was about to take a dive to tackle it headlong into the ocean—but froze in shock only a few feet away. She looked the creature up and down multiple times, trying to disprove her initial conclusion.

It was only a few feet tall, with browning grey and black fur. It had pointed ears and a long, ringed tail. It stood upright and was dressed in a dirtied orange space suit. Then it talked.

"… Well, shit, " he muttered, staring at the endless ocean abyss below, "This didn't really work out the way I was thinkin' it would." He peeked over his shoulder to formulate another plan, and caught Liz's wide-eyed expression. Rather than immediately attacking, he made a face, "What are you lookin' at?"

Liz had no idea, herself.

"You…" she began breathlessly, "Are a talking… raccoon."

His ears flattened instantly, and he snarled, "I am not a mother—" His voice was momentarily drowned out as he pulled out and cocked an odd looking gun, "—ing raccoon!"

Seeing as he was heavily armed, Liz tried to regain her senses and cough up an apology, but he'd already pulled the trigger. She unceremoniously hit the deck as the blast of energy flew overhead, then rolled to the side when she realized he was still firing at her. After a few seconds of this, she was able to rise to her knees, and took the slim opportunity to knock the "not raccoon" off his feet with a sweeping kick. The gun slipped from his grasp on impact, and he scrambled to regain it. Liz leapt forward and pinned him down with an arm, receiving a threatening hiss in protest.

"No you don't," she said, though not eager to sink all her weight into the small creature. In retaliation, he reared back and clawed at her face, causing her to falter and release her hold. He made another grab for his gun, but Liz snatched up his tail, yanking him back within her reach. She wrapped an arm around his middle, pulled him to her chest, then slipped the other arm underneath his throat. She wasn't nearly as gentle as before.

"Hey!" he yowled, squirming violently to free himself, "Piss off! Get your flarking hands off me you-"

She strained to get a grip on him, "What, so you can try to shoot me again?" After a minute, she mumbled tensely, "I'm talking to a raccoon…"

"I told you I'm not a goddamn raccoon you flarkin' moron!" he bellowed directly in her ear, clawing feverously to find a part of her to bite.

Liz tightened the arm at his throat, though not enough to choke him, "Calm down. I don't want to hurt you."

"—You say that as you're pinning me to the ground," he snapped, "And your friends are doing a damn good job of helping you out, by the way. The douchebags with guns don't work so they send in some prissy kid-"

"Okay you know what-"

After several more frantic seconds trying to hold him in place, agents rushed over to her, instructing her to keep him still.

"What the hell do you think I've been trying to do?" she spat, but bit back the rest, wanting to get rid of the writhing creature as soon as possible.

One of the agents extended one of the previously useless rods towards his head, a thin translucent loop at the end.

"Can you try to get this around his neck?" the agent asked her.

Liz struggled to keep her hold on him, both arms occupied, "No!"

She heard him grumble in annoyance, but could care less.

"I'm sorry, does that inconvenience you?"

The creature tried desperately to escape the binding, but was eventually forced to submit, and the loop was lowered over his head.

"Oh yeah, because this is a real fair fight," he snarled, loud enough for Liz to catch it.

She replied on the same level, "You fired on me when it was obvious I didn't have any weapons. You weren't fair, so I don't feel the need to be either, furball."

He let out a short breath, "Bitch."

Another loop was lowered in the same manner, falling down to his neck and tightening. On command, Liz slid out, allowing the first loop to lower around his torso, pinning his arms to his sides. He fought nonetheless, especially once Liz removed her arms and stood, though his resistance had little effect.

"Remain still," an agent commanded loudly, "Or we'll be forced to retain you."

He scoffed, unaffected, "That line didn't work on me the first time—what chance do you got?!"

In retaliation, the two agents hit a switch on the end of their rods; the previously clear loops flowed with visible electricity, and the creature cried out in pain and surprise, falling to a knee. The flow continued for a second longer before the it was stopped.

He drew long, heavy breaths, his head lowered in stubborn defeat.

"Yeah… that'll about do it," he panted, unwillingly accepting surrender.

Fury arrived a few moments later, looking the creature up and down. For a moment, he caught Liz's gaze as if expecting an explanation. She offered an exaggerated shrug, clueless.

"Not my pet," she quipped, "Guess we need to start laying down rodent traps."

Fury ignored her comment and turned to the agents around the creature, "… Take it down to Containment Level B," he ordered, "The rest of you, secure the craft below deck in the upper hangar. Make preparations for flight; I want take off in an hour."

As agents set off to fulfill their orders, Bruce approached Liz from behind, nudging her arm when she didn't turn.

"You alright?" he asked, breaking her out of her trance.

She jumped slightly, "What?" After a second, she stammered, "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. In one piece..." She rubbed her forearm (which she discovered was now littered in claw-marks), "Ish."

Liz glanced back at the strange creature, who was practically being dragged along by the SHIELD agents. For a second, he glared at her loathingly, then lowered his head again, making no effort to keep up the pace. Liz didn't remove her gaze, still in disbelief.

"What the hell is that thing?" she muttered to herself.