Special Agent Loki Laufeyson

One-Shot: Fornell Meets Phil Coulson

The hot New Mexico sun shone down on Agent Tobias Fornell's neck as he stepped out of the rental car, slipping his reflective sunglasses on. His shoulders burned in the dark suit coat he wore, and he felt beads of sweat form on his forehead.

"This the place?" Agent Elaine McGuire asked, wrinkling her nose as she slammed the car door closed. "I mean, if the aliens were to start attacking us, it makes sense they would start in an out of the way place. Just watch Men in Black."

Fornell just gave the agent a look. Elaine, who resented the fact that her name was from a popular nineties sitcom, lifted an eyebrow at him and rolled her eyes. "Oh, just say it, Fornell."

"What's the fun of scolding you now?" Fornell said. "McGuire, this isn't a sign of extraterrestrial life. It's just a precaution."

"Yeah, because the FBI is in the habit of sending agents across the country to check out random, earthly items that are not objects of interest in murder investigations or terrorist activity," Elaine said, rolling her eyes again. "Rodriguez was miffed, though. He thought he'd get the detail."

"I don't care about Rodriguez," Fornell stated, slipping the keys into his pants pocket. He turned his eyes to the crater before him, where a weighty hammer supposedly rested, at least according to FBI intel.

At first, he hadn't been sure he could take the assignment seriously. Meteorites landed all the time, or at least frequently enough where the FBI didn't freak out at the report of one. Anyway, didn't NASA deal with meteorites? Even if it wasn't them, Fornell knew it damn sure wasn't the FBI's job.

But there was something about this one...Owen St. Claire, an agent out of the Santa Fe office, had sent a report back to DC claiming this meteorite was different.

"It appeared after a freak storm, in the middle of a crater suspected to have been formed by its impact. It's shaped like a hammer, and is impossible to move. Some of the locals have made a field day of trying to move it, but for nothing."

Fornell's superiors had decided to send their own team out to investigate, to join with Agent St. Claire at the site of the meteorite crash, outside the small town of Puente Antiguo. St. Claire was to secure the scene and Fornell, with Elaine McGuire and FBI forensic specialist Dalton Gregg, were there to give a detailed report on the meteorite. Even though he hadn't even seen the object yet, Fornell was already toying with the idea of bringing in Abby Scioto of NCIS for help on the forensic analysis.

"Gregg," he called, turning back to the car. "Get your ass out of the car."

Grumblingly, Dalton pushed open the side car door, blinking as he stepped out. He gripped his black backpack to his chest, which held preliminary instruments to examine the meteorite. "I hate the heat," he muttered. "I hate, hate, hate this heat."

"Just come on," Fornell said, exasperated, as Elaine fell into step beside him.

"Do you think it might actually be from an extraterrestrial?" she asked curiously as they walked toward the crater. Fornell didn't answer, for the sight of the white siding of a temporary structure drew his attention.

The FBI team reached the lip of the crater and stared down at the structure erected in the middle of the large indent. Dark vans were parked on the opposite side of the structure, next to a sleek dark car. A large chain link fence was beginning to be installed around the crater, and Fornell could tell that barbed wire rolls would be added to the top.

"I thought we were to take complete charge of the scene," Elaine said slowly, narrowing her eyes. "Not Santa Fe."

"We are," Fornell said, confused and angry at the same time. He was getting the bad feeling that a crime scene was about to stolen out from underneath him...again.

"Then what is...all that?" Dalton asked, gesturing lamely to the white structure, a fabric tunnel partially installed leading away from the main structure.

"SHIELD." The new voice came from off to the side, and Fornell, Elaine, and Dalton all turned to see a man approaching them. Like Fornell, he wore a suit, although his dark sunglasses were folded in his hand instead of shielding his eyes. He lifted his hand and showed his ID, the stylized hawk symbol of the counterintelligence agency verifying his first statement. "Agent Phil Coulson. SHIELD will be taking over this site."

Fornell just looked at him. "This is an FBI, uh, meteorite scene. We have jurisdiction here."

"Not anymore," Coulson told them. "This is a SHIELD operation now. We've already informed FBI Agent St. Claire of that. You're free to be on your way."

Incredulous, Fornell stared at the agent, who didn't seem fazed by this at all. So they were trying to steal his scene. "You can't just do this. I have authorization for the scene."

"Actually, I can," Coulson said, almost pleasantly. "And as you can see, I already have control of the scene, regardless of what your authorization says."

"We have orders from our director," Elaine argued.

"And I have orders from mine," Coulson said, cutting her off. "I would thank you to be cooperative in this matter."

Elaine threw her hands up. "Really? Really? You should be the one cooperating, buddy, for you're the one trespassing on our scene."

"SHIELD has more jurisdiction here than the FBI does," Coulson pointed out. "And more experience. Please, leave this to us."

Fornell whipped out his phone, dialing the FBI director. "We'll see if this stands."

****

The diner coffee was good, strong and bitter. Fornell drank his straight down, without cream or sugar. Normally, he took a little of both, but today he was angry enough to drink it without anything else.

The decision had stood. Fornell's director had agreed to allow SHIELD to handle the investigation into the supposed meteorite, albeit reluctantly. There had been no promise of interagency cooperation on this investigation, which was typical of SHIELD. Joint ventures weren't really their style, unless they could control everything.

"This sucks," Elaine groused, sipping at her own mug of coffee. Beside her, Dalton stirred his straw through his glass of lemonade. He was relatively happy to be heading back to DC.

"I hate SHIELD," Fornell agreed. "Oh, I hate SHIELD."