𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗡 | 𝗡. 𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗙𝗙

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

On her way to the conference room she had been paged to, Truth Castello received a phone call.

Phone calls weren't an oddity when you worked a job that required having hundreds of connections and favors that could make the difference between a successful mission and a failed one. Knowing the right people could take you far, and it was often the quickest road with the least amount of resistance.

Truth had friends and acquaintances all over the world. She could name at least one person she had established a work relationship with on all of her missions at S.H.I.E.L.D., and that didn't count the independent jobs she took on the side. If you added Michael's own list of work friends, the twins likely always knew a guy that owed them a favor or two.

So, phone calls were expected. Sometimes it was people cashing in favors. Other times they asked for her consult, or they informed her of a job that was in her field of specialty. It got a bit dicey when she had to lose a phone number or two due to the occasional compromised situation, but she didn't make it too hard for her contacts to reach her unless she was on a mission. Their friend Viktor usually handled both Truth's and Michael's calls, letting them know who they had to get back to and who wanted what and why.

It was also another reason why they paid him such a hefty amount. Otherwise, Truth was sure she would've thrown her phone off the top of the Triskelion a long time ago.

And, knowing that Viktor always warded off the people she couldn't give a damn for, Truth had made a habit of just answering the phone whenever it rang without introducing herself or IDing the caller. 



Sometimes, she just didn't have the time or patience to do so.

So, she just didn't.

Truth picked up the call as she walked into an empty elevator, giving a command before holding the phone up to her ear.

"What?" she answered.

"Do you never look at the contact before you answer the phone?"

Truth raised a brow, though she recognized the voice of the person on the other line. One of the small perks of having a perfect memory.

"Funny of you to think spies save contacts, Liz. You of all people should know that, I think."

"Touché. Is this a bad time?"

Once she reached her floor, Truth stepped out of the transport, noting that there weren't many people out this morning.

"Not yet. Any updates?"

"The doctors here have done everything they can, and they are confident that she can make a full recovery. They performed the surgery to perfection—the bleeding has stopped, and there were no traces of shrapnel, which is good. The only thing is—"