ITS FINALLY HAPPENING YOU ALL! I'M PICKING THIS FIC BACK UP.

Expect Weekly updates.

After rereading my published chapters I was disgusted with my writing so I'm fixing what I have first. Here is the fixed prologue (WITH ADDITIONAL PARAGRAPHS I FELT ADDED MORE INFORMATION THROUGHOUT)

I'M ALSO CHANGING THE P.O.V. IN THE OTHER CHAPTERS... SO

(งಠ_ಠ)ง σ( •̀ ω •́ σ)

LET THE FIGHT BEGIN!

Prologue

S.H.I.E.L.D. has fallen. All but a small handful of agents are either HYDRA, dead, or imprisoned all around the world awaiting trials for crimes against humanity. The few left are those most trusted by Fury himself, hiding in one of his personal bunkers. Agent Coulson, one of those agents and his team have been hiding out for three years, saving everything they can get their hands on and building a newer, better S.H.I.E.L.D.

Agent Coulson as director of the makeshift agency, has turned each and every one of the secret bases into a different division. He is currently visiting one of their smaller archive bases in Kansas looking through the database, searching for files connected with the words Hero, God, Greek, and Perseus. As of three years ago, he stopped by every S.H.I.E.L.D. archive base and searched for those four words and every single time, nothing useful has turned up.

FLASHBACK

Three years ago, Agent Coulson was murdered by Loki the Asgardian trickster during the battle of Manhattan and woke up ten days later. About six months after waking, HYDRA is in control of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Coulson discovered how he was brought to life. But that is not what he is searching for.

During his time out from life, he found himself in a quaint waiting room with magazines and a fake plant in the corner. The seats looked as if they had been there for a century with rips and other wear and tear to the pleather lining. The most outstanding feature of the room was the people in it, or at least the sheer amount. There were people of all ages and walks of life occupying every available surface.

As he turned to further examine his surroundings, Coulson felt something appear in his hand. It was a punch card with the text:

θ 34J θ

Thank You for doing business with us.

We hope you have a wonderful Eternity!

(Except you thirty-four I,

you're to report to the front of judgment line two

as soon as possible.)

Now Coulson was really baffled. He knew that he had died, his talk with Fury right before was proof, but he was sure that no religion or scientific theory spoke of a waiting room nor "take a number" afterlife…. Was there one? No, Coulson would have heard of one for sure. He never gave the afterlife much thought; but now, looking back on his life, he fully expected either something Norse or nothing at all. Thor's existence really shook Coulson's belief system.

There was a client counter on the wall that displayed the number thirty-three. Coulson figured that it must correspond to the number on his number card.

"Excuse me dear," A woman sitting to Coulson's left asked, "Do you have any idea what's going on?"

She looked to be in her early forties, but she was still very beautiful. She wore a hospital gown stained with blood in the lower region and her dark hair was up in a messy bun with little bits sticking everywhere as if she had been thrashing back and forth for hours.

"I think I'm dead. I can't say the same for you, but the last thing I remember is getting to use a weapon prototype on a god and then fading with my best friend." Coulson told the woman. She looked nice and he wasn't sure if he should break the news, but she was going to learn eventually.

The woman's face turned into a sad frown and she looked like she was thinking hard about what Coulson had told her. "Oh. That makes much more sense." She started to tear up a little as she played with a locket around her neck. "I just wish I could have told my family that I loved them one more time…"

She started to quietly sob so Coulson turned away, sensing her need to be left alone. He mulled over her lack of reaction that he attacked a god and turned to inquire when the machine on the wall dinged and displayed thirty-four. Coulson had no idea what was going to happen and a chill ran down his spine as he wondered the possibilities. He turned inward to feel the comfort of his own arms, and in doing so, saw the scariest and strangest thing he had ever seen in his life... or not his life, he was still getting over the new 'dead' adjective added on to the list of words that could be used to describe him. He could see through himself. The shape of the chair he was "sitting" on wasn't even shifting under his weight.

"Thirty-four" A large man in an Italian suit much like the one Coulson was wearing stood up from a desk somehow unnoticed during Coulson's earlier examination of the room and walked to the elevator and pressed the down button. Half the inhabitants of the room stood up, including the now strait-faced woman next to him. They all displayed thirty-four on their tickets with differing letters. The elevator doors pulled open slowly to reveal a normal sized elevator, with cheap, dirty mirrors lining the inside. The sharply dressed man entered the elevator and motioned for all the thirty-fours to enter as well. There was no way that they would all fit, but Coulson gave it a try. He eventually got shoved into the large man, drawing out an annoyed huff. His name tag that read CHARON in the same fancy script as the cards almost put Coulson's eye out.

Once everyone, amazingly, fit in the elevator, Charon shut the doors and everything changed. It was dark. Coulson could feel the elevator moving, but the direction seemed to change and the walls faded to reveal dark flowing water containing floating trinkets and junk all around them. The woman from before, after opening it up and looking at the contents one last time, removed her locket and released it to float with the other junk.

Coulson looked up to meet the piercing gaze of Charon, who had morphed into what Coulson considered to be a traditional grim reaper. His coat pocket felt heavy. Reaching in, Coulson felt his S.H.I.E.L.D. badge. The compulsion to shed the weight was nearly overpowering, but fighting back the urge, he forced his hands back to his sides. He felt the reapers gaze fade.

The ride was slow going and the chills from earlier only became more prominent as they neared their destination. Their vessel came to a stop and Charon instructed everyone to depart and follow the signs. If he thought the waiting room was crowded, then Coulson had no idea what to do after disembarking. He was in a sea of dead people and only after hours of wading through crowds did he come up to a three way split in the road. One had a sign over it that read

EZ DEATH

STRAIGHT TO THE FIELDS OF ASPHODEL

The other two splits were under the same sign that read

NORMAL JUDGMENT

They were numbered accordingly. The EZ DEATH line was going faster, but there were many more people there, so Coulson entered one of the other ones.

After what seemed to be hours of waiting, he entered a building that looked a lot like the Supreme Court in Washington D.C.

"Phillip Justice Coulson, You come before us to seek a place in the afterlife. Is this correct?" There were three beings on the pedestal, all see through like himself. Coulson didn't know how to respond; but, being trained to improvise, answered in the affirmative.

"We have reviewed your actions, looked into your soul, and have noted your circumstances of death. After discussion, we have unanimously found you worthy of permanent residency in the Elysian Fields. Be on your way." Coulson was then ushered out and escorted by two scary looking skeletons in American Marine Guard uniforms with pieces of flesh still hanging off of their hands and faces. They brought him to a bright, wonderful grassland with a running stream and soft music permeating from unknown locations. Everything felt tranquil.

"Hello there, fancy seeing you again!" The woman from earlier ran up to him, her dirty hospital gown a drab, grey in comparison to their surroundings but her huge smile made up for it with her black hair fluttering in the breeze.

"Where are we?" She turned to take in the beauty surrounding them.

"I think the man from before called it the Elysian Fields."

"What man? I was brought straight here from the boat." Coulson gaped at her. The line was dreadful and the very thought of someone getting VIP treatment in the afterlife bugged him.

"How did you manage that? The line was huge and there were people everywhere!"

"Oh…" the woman looked down, a habit she had probably formed in life to hide her blushing, which was impossible here. "I guess they know me already."

Coulson didn't have time for her last sentence to register when three people approached.

"Sally? Is that you dear?"

"Ms. Jackson?"

There were two adults clinging to each other with shocked expressions. Coulson now had a name to go with the nice lady, Sally Jackson.

"M-Mom…. Dad?" Sally quickly embraced the two. There was another young woman who looked to be in her young twenties waiting for her turn to embrace Sally.

"Mrs. Jackson, it is wonderful to see you again, but… if I may, how did you get here?" The girl looked sad, like as if her whole world had been turned upside-down. If they weren't already dead, Coulson would have been concerned at the suffocatingly tight embraces Sally was giving out.

"I know, I didn't expect to be here this early, but I guess these things do happen, don't they?" She stopped hugging the girl and stepped back to address all three people. "I guess something must have gone wrong at the hospital…" Sally started to tear up again. "I hope my sweet heart survived! I don't know what I would do if she didn't!" As Coulson further examined Sally's attire, he made the conclusion that, yes, she had died in childbirth and because of the lack of any young companion accompanying her, that the child had made it. The others in the small circle only now noticed Coulson's presence.

"And who might you be?" The young blond girl asked, eyeing Coulson's large blood stain on his chest and the gaping hole where his heart should have been. She held an interested gleam in her eyes, one so piercing that Coulson couldn't look away. He had never, in all his interrogation training, encountered such a strong feeling of unease, as if he was an animal on a dissection table.

But before he could answer, Sally interrupted "He's a friend, Annabeth." Sally gave Coulson a tight side hug as she recounted their meeting in the waiting room. She seemed to be the type to quickly jump to informality, but then again, they all had something in common. They were all dead. One thing Coulson could not figure out though, was why the young blond was there. She had no visible wounds to be seen. Coulson new that there were ways to die without leaving a trace, but most of them were murder techniques and the rest were discounted because she obviously wasn't old nor was she wearing a hospital gown.

"If you don't mind my curiosity, why don't you have any wounds on you?" Sally's father was about to reprimand Coulson for asking such a sensitive topic, but Annabeth waved it off. "My family has a ritual where they always burn the body after death. That way, there are no scars or wounds to see. I actually died of a knife to the heart; but, after years of practice, they are pretty good at funerals."

"We died in an airplane crash!" Sally's parents clung to each other as they shared their story. Apparently, their airplane had been hijacked by terrorists and Sally's father died of a gunshot wound to the head before the crash. Just like Annabeth, neither of them had any wounds at all. The explosion after the crash had acted as their funeral pyre.

There was an awkward silence for a moment until Annabeth asked "How was Percy doing when you last saw him?"

Sally perked up immediately. "He was doing wonderfully…. Though he was freaking out over his little sister the moment she started kicking! For the past six months he's been in super protective older brother mode. I caught him in the bathroom practicing intimidating faces in the mirror on more than one occasion. He is such a sweetie!" Annabeth laughed at that.

"Is this the grandson that we can't hear enough of? The one with the superpowers?" Sally's mother inquired.

"SEE!? He takes after me! I am amazing and this just proves that my progeny are better than yours!"

"How many times do I have to say it, he's OUR progeny! It takes two to make a baby and I didn't see you walking around with Sally in your womb for nine months!"

Sally blushed and Annabeth giggled at the squabbling couple. Coulson had to admit that they were perfect for each other. Though he would have to inquire after those superpowers they were talking about.

"Come! Let's introduce you both to the others. There are a lot of Percy's friends here that want to meet you Sally!" Annabeth lead everyone for a ways until they came upon a cozy looking house at the edge of a forest. It had smoke coming out of the chimney, signaling that someone was cooking inside.

There were so many people in the home that Coulson would have gotten a headache if the dead were able. It was strange that the majority of guests were spotless youths, yet wine flowed freely along with the conversation, but everyone seemed to only share tales of "Perseus". None of the stories lined up with the myths that Coulson has learned as a student.

Who is this great hero that everyone freely praises? Does Fury know about him? After roving around the room for a few minutes, listening in on other conversations, Coulson needed to know more, but most of what he was hearing sounded like great stories that you could find in the Odyssey or the Illiad, but as modern tales. This amazing Hero had done so much with his life. They spoke of dragons, monsters, beautiful witches, and Guinea pigs.

Time Skip: Several Days Later

Coulson moved into his own little townhouse in a suburb like area. He had a skeleton cat that would sit by the fireplace and a pomegranate garden on his front porch. The assimilation wasn't hard. His neighbors, a wonderful couple named Mr. and Mrs. Churchill on his right were having a pasta dinner and had invited him to come. Coulson didn't need to, but he wanted to bring a gift to contribute so he took a pair of cutters and prepared some fruit from his pomegranate bush. Mrs. Churchill had shown a love for the taste and couldn't get enough of them.

After wrapping the fruit in a cloth, Coulson exited his front door. He didn't bother to lock it, because this was the underworld and no one stole anything in Elysian Fields. As he started down the steps, Coulson felt a shocking pain in his head. He stumbled and fell off the last step, dropping the gift in the process. There wasn't supposed to be any pain the in heaven Coulson thought, before blacking out completely.

Winston and his wife never got their present and their third table setting went unused that night.

End of Flashback

As he typed away at his computer, Coulson felt the need to hasten his search. He didn't know why he felt that way, but Coulson was always one to follow his gut instincts. It had always been reliable in the past, apart from when it got him killed.

As the screen flashed green for a 72% match to all key words, Coulson new that he would be in for one hell of a ride.