𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍|
— Thissio Flea Market, Athens, Greece.
— 7:45 p.m., April 15, 2015.

"𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐖𝐀𝐘, 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐒?" Wes shouted into his comms to be heard over the noise of the crowd as he exited the metro station.

"Right," Williams replied, "I think..."

"You think?" Wes's eyes frantically searched the vendor-covered streets. "I need you to be sure, we can't lose this guy."

"Right," Williams confirmed before quickly changing his mind, "Wait, no, left, go left!"

"Williams!"

"It's a left for sure," Williams quickly explained, "the schematics screen had the lock-direction feature on—"

"Thank you, Williams," Wes interrupted and sprinted down the street to his left.

Although it took a minute, he finally caught sight of the raven-haired boy. He increased his pace, but not subtly enough to go unnoticed. Realizing that the chase was back on, the boy also increased his pace. Wes swore under his breath at the small, stabbing pain that had started to form in his chest which began to radiate down toward his left leg. He tried to push the feeling of discomfort to the back of his mind; however, it only grew as he tripped over a box of fresh produce that one of the vendors had just set down.

The vendor immediately began to shout at him in Greek too quickly for him to even try and translate. He shook his head to clear his vision that had blurred. He stood, dusting himself off, and tried to move away from the vendor, but the little old lady was insistent that he clean up his mess.

Wes lifted a hand to his comm. "I've lost him."

"I've got him!" Rhodes had piped in at the exact same time. "Theo, I need somewhere nearby that I can cut him—"

Wes turned off his earpiece. It was against regulation, and he'd gotten in trouble for it more than once, but he didn't want to be reminded of his failure. He'd regroup with the others at the rendezvous point in about an hour or so. He needed some time to think. Respectfully, he retrieved the fallen produce and paid the vendor to compensate for her loss of sales before walking down the bustling street. The sun was starting to set, and the nightlife was growing more crowded by the minute. However, he drowned out the noise with his own thoughts.

It had been his first mission back since his injury just over four months ago. Recovery had gone slower than he would have liked, and as the pain occasionally still throbbed in his leg, it was still an ongoing process. Word had gotten around of a mole within the newly formed S.H.I.E.L.D. which explained the technology which continued to go missing. How S.H.I.E.L.D. had been compromised so quickly after rebuilding was beyond him, but it wasn't his issue to solve.

Although he may have personally failed the mission of the day, his team had been improving and quickly received praise and recognition back at the base. It was as if the disaster of the first mission was completely forgotten. The level of difficulty of each mission had grown as well as the security clearance required for each. Rhodes and Williams had made quick strides in moving up the ranks, each earning the clearance of a level six agent. He'd briefly experienced pride by their achievements, but at the same time a feeling of jealousy had formed a pit in his stomach. More than anything he'd wished to be back out in the field; however, even now that he was, it wasn't the same as before. He'd been told that it would take time, but he just didn't have the patience to wait.

His thoughts were interrupted by the flickering of the shadows within his peripheral vision. He slowly turned as a cloaked figure seemed to appear out of thin air. He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, but as it turned its own head he quickly looked away. The cloaked figure checked its shoulder once more before turning the corner into a tunneled alley. Wes should have turned around, but his curiosity got the better of him and he followed after the cloak.

The tunnel was dimly lit by the occasional lantern hung on the wall, and the strewn cobwebs and shattered bottles set the mood of what could only be some sort of underworld market. The small, cloaked figure walked through the long street of vendors before stopping at the very last one. The cloak held out a petite, pale hand and with a sinister grin, the vendor shook his head while speaking to his customer in his native tongue of Greek.

Wes reached up to his comm, turned the device back on, and readjust the settings to translate the conversation unfolding before him.

"Money first." The vendor extended his hand.

The cloaked figure didn't argue, instead they pulled out a small pouch that jingled as they shook it. Then, they tossed it onto the table of the stall and again extended their pale hand to receive the desired product.

The merchant ducked down and pulled out a cooler from beneath their stand, and carefully took off the lid to reveal five small vials, filled to the brim with a glowing green liquid. Wes's eyes widened as he recognized the vials from his last mission in the field. Without hesitance, he moved forward and grabbed the cloaked figure's wrist before they could run off with S.H.I.E.L.D. property.

The hood fell back from the figure's face revealing a small, malnourished girl. Although she was briefly startled by the unpredicted contact, Wes paled in horror as he was sucked down a long tunnel of repressed memories.

"Taylor?"

The girl looked straight through him and yanked her wrist away before slinking back into the shadows. Wes hardly blinked, but she was gone all the same as if she'd never been there at all. The clattering sound created by the vendor beside him was the only thing that snapped Wes from his trance. He pulled out his gun and turned around to press it against the vendor's forehead. Wisely, the vendor froze and lifted his hands into the air to show he was unarmed.

"Where did you get these?" Wes asked, referring to the five vials in the cooler.

The vendor shook his head as if he didn't understand.

"Where did you get these?" Wes repeated his question, twitching his finger near the trigger for good measure.

The vendor's eyes widened as he stumbled to provide an answer in poor English. "The boy. The boy bring them."

"What boy?" Wes pressed the end of his gun into the man's forehead once more.

"The boy give no name, just things to sell." The vendor's eyes squeezed shut as if dreading the worst.

"I'm taking this," Wes informed him and he placed the lid back over the cooler.

"Yes, you take it all," the man quickly agreed with relief as Wes placed his gun back into its holster.

Without another word, Wes took the cooler and exited the underground market. His comm immediately screamed at him the second he hit the surface.

"Gah!" Wes winced and raised a hand to his ear, tempted to take the device out.

"Wesley!"

Wes frowned, knowing it could only be one person on the other end. "Agent Pierce. What can I do for you?"

"You're an hour late." Wes looked down at his watch to realize that two hours had indeed passed since he last checked. "Meet at the rendezvous point. Now."

The comm went silent, but the feeling of dread still remained, only he couldn't differentiate whether it was because the firm tone of his mentor meant he was displeased or the fact that he'd seen a ghost from his past considering the girl he recognized had been dead for ten years.