Erikson Sterling has been a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent since he was 21 years old. Working as an intelligence analyst sounds like a boring life of paperwork but he gets more excitement than he often wants.
After a being spotted on a routine surveillance mission, Sterling was abducted and tortured by an enemy agent for three days, something he still has nightmares about. However, despite the enemy's attempts to brainwash him against his own organization, Sterling remains fiercely protective of S.H.I.E.L.D. and does all he can to keep it afloat while still caring for his two younger sisters.
OOC
Sterling is an original character agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. with verses including Pre Captain America 2 and current Agents of SHIELD. Mun and muse are of age. Occasional NSFW posts will be tagged. Tagged triggers listed in 'Protocol'.
So I know I’ve been gone a while, but something amazing and Marvel related happened last night and I had to share.
I’ve been having to keep it a secret because Marvel but they wrapped the show last night, the logo has been revealed and the show was announced so I think it’s safe now.
For the last 5 or so months my husband has been working on Marvel’s new cloak and dagger series in the camera department. So last night I got to meet the actors who play cloak and dagger, comic characters I love, and got introduced to one of the producers of Agents of SHIELD.
My life is officially made! And I had strategically been wearing all my SHIELD swag because it was a marvel party so she got really excited. I gushed. Ugh, it was excellent! Everyone was so nice!
“Really?” That eased his nerves a little. Now that he knew his father was an alcoholic, some of the nightcaps he’d had over the last few months seemed irresponsible at best. But if he wasn’t as drunk as he thought he’d been, all the better. Maybe he wasn’t headed down that road as much as he was scared he might be. “I’m sure i’s fine. I’m not upset enough a’ the moment for drunk me to cause any problems.”
“Good. I don’t want to see angry drunk Fitz. That sounds terrifying.” He said, very genuinely. He’d seen Fitz upset before. Couple that with alcohol and he felt like that could get dangerous.
“What or who shall we drink to today?”
Fitz tried not to react too much to the fact that people were scared of him, scared of what he could potentially be with the wrong ingredients. Usually, an angry, drunk Fitz tended to swear at the universe and then try to punch inanimate physical constants, but that was more kind of a pathetic unpleasant, not something he would think of as terrifying. And yet, he knew the potential was there, right up the family tree, all the way down into the Framework, where he didn’t even have to be drunk to be terrifying.
So instead, he tried to think of a good answer to Sterling’s question. “To the survivors, the ones who live with the memories and the pain and the loss. They need more of a drink than the ones who’re gone.”
It was a good toast. Sobering, though he was still sober to begin with. He gave a gentle nod to Fitz and raised his drink in agreement.
“To the survivors. May their suffering not be done alone. May they find peace within themselves over time. May th–… May we continue to be survivors for as long as we can.”
Sterling’s shift from the third person to the first person didn’t go unnoticed or unappreciated, even if Fitz still didn’t put himself in the category of victimhood despite literally everyone telling him that he was. Every time he had a moment of oh my God, that’s me, it felt like all those times he’d seen descriptions of abusers, realizing that the criteria fit his father, that little bit of detached shock that he could be in those situations, in those categories, making him feel strange. “Surviving an’ living,” he said after his swig of ale. “Words that are a lot alike, bu’ can be very different.”
“Wise words as always.” He said, rising his glass before drinking to the scientist he called his friend. “And if we ever have trouble with either, may we always know we are surrounded by friends ready to help.” That was more a point to Fitz. He knew he had gone through some shit lately and he wanted him to hear that. People like Sterling and Fitz weren’t exactly trained to withstand all they had, but they were still standing. He just wanted to make sure it stayed that way, even if they had to lean on each other to do it.
He had been training. There was no doubt about that. Training with top agents. Training with avengers. Training with simulations. Even training with one of those creepy punching bags shaped like the upper torso of what he assumed was the hulk with how many muscles it had. He had even been taking German lessons in case he encountered some really old school HYDRA agents. There had probably never been a time in his life where he was more prepared than this moment. And yet, he still felt a twinge of fear. Did other agents feel this? No one seemed to show it on their faces. He imaged they wouldn’t wear it there anyway. They weren’t supposed to. He wasn’t either but he feared he was doing just that.
A tightness of the jaw. A tension in his shoulders. Perhaps he was darting his eyes too much looking for everyone else’s fear. No matter. He was here and it was time.
They walked in packs down the quiet corridor. Guns trained. Boots and polished shoes silent on the hard floor. It felt like the recon team when he was undercover in HYDRA all over again just… lighter. Emotionally and physically. He didn’t have to wear all that tactical gear. Though, now that he thought about it, it couldn’t hurt to gear up for something like this. This bulletproof vest only covered so much of him.
A fist raised in silence. They all stopped on cue at a doorway. Then, before Sterling knew it, they were all filing in, fanning out at the entrance, and shouting for everyone to freeze and put their hands up.
But these people didn’t look like soldiers. This was a hospital. These were doctors. Sterling squared his shoulders and hardened his expression. They were HYDRA doctors. He couldn’t forget that part.
He stepped to the side, close to a woman with red hair and pointed his gun in her general direction.
Tess pulled med gloves of her hands, tossing them. She bites her lip and looks into the microscope one more time, writing a couple notes on the file. She shoves two more samples into her lab coat pocket to test in the Mass Spec later.
Several other doctors worked in the lab, working on their own assignments. Tess tuned them out, and the sound of the small machines and centrifuges.
The door burst open and a swarm of agents with guns entered, yelling words she can barely hear, her senses dulled by the shock of the situation. Who were they?
Tessa freezes, panicking. By the time she’s able to move an agent is already pointing a gun at her head. Her hands shake as she sets them on the back of her head. A lump forms in her throat and her pulse elevates. What the hell is going on?
As one agent keeps the gun trained on her, another forces her to her knees and cuffs her. One by one the doctors, her coworkers, are led off by the intruders. Within minutes she’s pulled her feet and led to an interrogation room on the premise.
Tess waits cuffed to a desk, scared and a little confused. The room is brightly lit with a harsh light. She recognizes the window as a two way mirror. Whatever they want they won’t get it from her.
What did they want?
Sterling rubbed his mouth with his hand before entering the interrogation room. It had been a while since he had to interrogate someone. He supposed they were easing him back into the process with scared doctors rather than trained assassins who knew how to withstand advanced interrogation tactics. Still, these were HYDRA doctors. There was no way to tell what was in someone’s heart. As innocent as they all looked and as confused as they all seemed he had to keep his guard up. They patched up the people trying to and succeeding in killing a lot of innocent people, including his friends. He couldn’t feel sympathy for them. He couldn’t let himself be weak right now.
“Doctor… Tessa Myles.” It sounded more like a statement than the question it was supposed to sound like. Sterling read from her file for a moment before moving further in the room, finally looking her in the eye. He was well dressed, in his 30s, black hair slicked back, and brown eyes now locked on her.
He only knew what he saw on paper but people were deeper. He was here to read her.
A man enters. He momentarily pauses to read what she assumes to be her file. He knows her name at least.
Tess shifts uneasily in her chair, nervous. She has no way to know how this is gonna go. She doesn’t even know why they’re here. Why he’s here.
“Yeah…I’m Tess.” She says, quieter than she’d like. There wasn’t really a point denying it when he knew. Her picture was in the file next to her name. Along with her list of assignments, psych profile and everything else an interrogator would want on their subject. He had a gold mine on information about her as far as she was concerned. However Tess herself had never seen or read her own file.
Her breathing relaxes, but her heartbeat remains elevated and Tess still feels scared. The uncertainty of the situation doesn’t help.
“Do you have a name?”
Sterling paused in his walk around the table at her question. He shouldn’t have but he did. His features softened somewhat. She was a person. With a nickname. With a softness to her voice. Gosh, he was bad at bad cop. He swallowed and tightened his jaw again to resume interrogation mode.
“Sterling. Agent Sterling.” He said shortly but with a comfortable authority in his voice. Not too harsh but not friendly either. “Ms. Myles, do you know why you’re here?”
“No I don’t.” She answers shortly, not quite meeting his eyes. All I know is that a group of gunmen just stormed a government facility.“
What were they after? Data? research? weapons? They hadn’t found it if they were interrogating the scientists.
Not to mention she had no idea what friends of hers were still alive, if any. Tess couldn’t even guess if she’d make it out of this alive.
Tess promises herself she’s not going to help them. Who knows what they’d do once they got what they needed.
She didn’t even know, did she?
“Ms. Myles, we aren’t just a group of gunmen. Are you aware you are working for the terrorist organization known as Hydra?”
“Hydra is a government agency dedicated to scientific research for the military…I think that’s pretty far from terrorism, Mr Sterling.”
Tess doesn’t buy it. Hydra helped people. She helped people. Now this man thinks he can make her believe otherwise.
“I’ve worked with Hydra since I was 17…I doubt my co workers are a bunch of terrorists.”
“And I absolutely believe that you believe that.” He said, trying not to sound as condescending as that sentence was. “Meaning I believe that you are a good person who just wants to help people. You’re a doctor, after all.” He paused a moment. “I also know what it’s like to work for HYDRA. I know that we have the same goals but wildly different means of getting there. I know how easy it is for those lines to blur right before your eyes.” Sterling paused a moment and sat down across from her. “Do you know who I work for?”
Felicia heard the gun before she the bullet hit her leg. It hurt, but she still forced herself to run. They could worry about the damage when people weren’t shooting at her. “Any idea of how I’ll get out of this one, Agent?”
“You were an art major?” Sterling looked genuinely and pleasantly surprised.
Sterling often noticed he knew almost nothing about the people he trusted the most. It was a strange feeling handing your life to a stranger. But that was the job, he supposed, and it went both ways.
“Alright. I’ll take your word for it.”
The van hit a bump and Sterling shot a glare forward at the driver.
“Sorry! This road is rough!” The driver apologized loudly.
“Then take a different one!”
“This is the quickest route to the rendezvous point. We’ll be there in three!”
“Yes-skt,” she sucked in a breath at the bump. The fact there would have to be more almost made her groan. “I can handle it. Best way.”
She was quiet for a moment as she got a grip on the pain.
“I…I don’t remember if I actually got my degree. I was absent that last year, for a personal reason. Probably still get more use out of it than most.”
Sterling instinctively took her hand in his so she had something to squeeze through the pain. It didn’t strike him as a personal of potentially unprofessional act until a bit after, but it didn’t stop him.
“Never got to go to college. Moved straight to New York when I turned 18. Lived in my car for a while. Right place at the right time got me in SHIELD.” As well dressed and professional as he was, he didn’t look like someone who used to be homeless, but people could surprise you. After all, he didn’t peg her for an art major. He really needed to learn more about his professional contacts. Everyone was very interesting.
“I just want to hold out a bit longer. For all I know we’re just at different underground bases and unable to locate each other through all the red tape. But, I would like that drink if you’re still game.”
Hunter’s jaw tightened faintly as he nodded. Yeah, he knew enough to empathize, though he might not admit it - he’d never forget the frantic hours after he woke up in Riyadh to find Hydra splashed all over the news, the endless phone calls, the tense days until he was able to determine conclusively whether Bob was still alive. Not that it had mattered so much, maybe; the divorce papers had come in the mail not too long after.
Still. It had mattered.
And he hadn’t realized there were still SHIELD agents trying to figure out whether people they cared about had come through it.
“Yeah, all right,” he agreed automatically to the proposal of a drink. He hesitated before asking, “Have you had anyone trying to track her down?”
“Yeah. I’ve got some eyes and ears out there. Mostly mine but everyone here knows I’m looking for her. It’s only a matter of time before I get something.” Even if it was a bad news. It was better than not knowing.
“Well, I don’t know.” Sterling played along with a smile. “Toner changing is a big step. We might want to start you with something easier first.”
“You’re right, that’s a big step. Maybe we could start with changin’ the paper.” Jess laughed. “Or y’could just show me how the buttons work. Not sure I even know how t’ do that.”
“Stick with me, kid. Someday you may even be able to undo a paper jam without discharging your fire arm in frustration.”
Being married to Sterling was full of goofball moments, but none ever as funny a scene as every Sunday morning. Chen awoke to the muffled sound of 1950s doowop music pouring from the kitchen where she would always find her husband dancing ridiculously, singing into a spatula, and making pancakes.
This morning was no different. Dress pants, button up shirt, vest, tie, sleeves rolled up, and complete with a little pink apron.
“Life could be a dream (sh-boom) If I could take you up in paradise up above (sh-boom) If you would tell me I’m the only one that you love Life could be a dream, sweetheart…”
Rebecca yawned, rubbing her face as she slowly dragged herself down to the kitchen. She took a moment to pause and admire her dorky husband, smiling softly at him.
“Careful there, Mr. Astaire.” she teased as she shuffled into the room. “Ginger might walk in any second and think you’re going to replace her with a frying pan.”
“I’d rather replace her with you. Don’t start spreading rumors I’m with a frying pan now. I already get enough about the copier.” Sterling said over his shoulder, grinning at her. He put down the spatula after scooping a pancake onto a plate and turned the music lower on the tape player. The cassette tape with the little star sticker on it was almost as old as he was. It was a miracle it still played, but it was one of his treasures from childhood. It will be a sad day for Sterling when it stops working.
“Did I wake you?”
“Copier….copier…oh, you mean the actual love of your life?” Rebecca smiled, leaning against the counter. “No, you didn’t. I thought that I had finally gotten up early enough to switch all your suits out with little duckie pajamas so I could finally be the most attractive person in the morning.” She shrugged. “But alas, my plans have been thwarted again.”
“If you think you’re not already the most attractive person in any room you are as dumb as you are hot.” Sterling grinned smugly. She was rubbing off on him in her playfully mean style of affection. “And her name is Ricoh.” He pointed at her to drive the importance of that silly statement home.
“How many pancakes, my dear?”
“You better hope that doesn’t apply to you as well because then we’d have the combined IQ of those couples that people point at and say they shouldn’t reproduce. And If you’d drag your eyes away from my legs every once in a while and looked in a mirror, you’d see–actually, no, I’d still be the hottest one here.” A playful giggle managed to escape her. “Don’t tell me her name. I’m clearly the other woman and I can’t continue to deny her existence if I know her.”
Rebecca worked on pulling her hair up to make herself feel somewhat presentable. “I was going to say a hundred, but I think I’ll settle for three today.”
“I’m a leg man. I can’t promise anything. And honestly, I’m married to you so she’s the other woman… Plus, Ricoh doesn’t HAVE legs so… I guess you have a… leg up on the competition.” He stupidly open mouth smiled and paused, waiting for Chen to either laugh or throw something at him.
“I mean, I could do 100 but we’re gonna need to stop at the store first. That’s totally up to you. Also, don’t tell anyone I admitted the copier was the other woman.” He narrowed his eyes, just realizing the power she now held over him with this knowledge.
:
Here's how easy it was to get away with a bank robbery in the 30s: as long as you weren't still there when the police arrived, you had a 99% chance of getting away with it.
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It's 100% easier to do things than to do them.
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I was once on the telephone with blockbuster.
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I think Emily Dickinson's a lesbian.
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Being president looks like the worst job in the world.
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Why do people shush animals? They've never spoken.
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Things don't exist until they exist.
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You have the moral backbone of a chocolate éclair.
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You all have a relative who is an expert even though they really don't know what they're talking about.
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Sometimes babies will point at me, and I don't care for that shit at all.
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I definitely look like a toddler.
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You will die on August 7th, 2037.
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Everyone get out of the way! I just want to sit here and feed my birds.
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One feels like a duck splashing around in all this wet!
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Anyone who's seen my dick and met my parents needs to die.
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They haven't let their minds wander since Egypt.
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Adult life is already so goddamn weird!
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This is an on fire garbage can.
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I look like I was just sitting in a room in a chair eating saltines for like twenty-eight years.
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In terms of instant relief, canceling plans is like heroin.
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Would like an old turnip that we found in a cabinet?
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Quack quack!
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I'll keep all my emotions in here and one day I'll die.
Sterling watched it with a raised eyebrow, a smile slowly making its way across his face the closer it got.
“You certainly know how to make an entrance.”
“Behold, I am a sentient coffee~” She said in a squeaky voice, continuing to nudge the cup closer. “I have the power to keep you awake for more paperwork~”
“By all means, SC, lend me your powers.” Sterling grinned. He needed a silly five minute break from staring at these papers for the last few hours. “How does it work?”
“You must drink me after I am no longer hot enough to burn off your taste buds~” Eira continued, the squeaky voice failing slightly near the end. “Okay, talking like that hurts, holy shit,” she said, her voice normal and slightly rough. “How goes it, O Paper Guru?”
Sterling put his hand on his forehead and rested his elbow on the desk, laughing silently at her adorable antics til he was able to speak again.
“It goes.” He said, grinning widely. “Usual stuff. Going through chatter and mission reports for inconsistencies and connections between them so further action can be taken. Chatter is actually my favorite. No one takes it seriously but it actually holds a lot of valuable information. Did you know that one of the leading mob bosses in the city prefers 2% milk?”
Felicia heard the gun before she the bullet hit her leg. It hurt, but she still forced herself to run. They could worry about the damage when people weren’t shooting at her. “Any idea of how I’ll get out of this one, Agent?”
“You were an art major?” Sterling looked genuinely and pleasantly surprised.
Sterling often noticed he knew almost nothing about the people he trusted the most. It was a strange feeling handing your life to a stranger. But that was the job, he supposed, and it went both ways.
“Alright. I’ll take your word for it.”
The van hit a bump and Sterling shot a glare forward at the driver.
“Sorry! This road is rough!” The driver apologized loudly.
“Then take a different one!”
“This is the quickest route to the rendezvous point. We’ll be there in three!”
mun
