Agent Raven of S.H.I.E.L.D. (COMPLETE)

The Drafting System, according to some hotshot

I sat attentive to whoever had joined me. He still hadn't introduced himself, and I hadn't either. Clearly, this guy thought he knew everything there was to know.

"It's a ranking system," he started, grabbing the screen I had just put back. "It resets every six months, and it's based on how well you do during the rest of the year." He showed me his profile, which was much more bulky than mine. He had a large white 34 next to his name, probably his points, and clearance level, Level 6. I hid a smirk. This guy was talking big game, but he wasn't anywhere near Top 10. Probably near the middle somewhere.

"See these categories?" He pointed his out and I nodded, playing along. I loved playing stupid. It was so amusing.

"They're weighted." I figured that out, thanks. "You get points from missions, and the better you do, the more points you get. It's called your point average, or your PA. The more points you get, the higher rank you have. The better rank you have, the better team you get during drafting season."

Again, I knew all of that. Jeez, I was sixteen, not six.

"It's kind of like the Fantasy Football app, except it's a little more dangerous," he told me, pulling the screen away, probably before I could ask about his rank. He exited out of his profile and smiled at me. "You ever play?"

I shook my head. I didn't care about football.

"You'll get used to it, once you get in the system. Give it time," he said, and he looked at me the way an adult would console a sulking child.

"The teams are called units, sometimes, and they're split into three tiers," he moved on. "5-O teams are made up mostly of Level 5 agents. 6-O's are made of 6's, 7-O's...you get the idea," he trailed off, and I nodded again. "Sometimes, you can get on a better tier unit, if you're good, but it only happens every once in a while."

I remembered that he was a Level 6 agent. "What unit are you with?" I asked him, playing to my supposed ignorance.

"6-11," he told me. I was right, he was smack in the middle of the pack. I was suddenly taken over by a desperate hope to get on his team, so I could smack that egoistic grin off of his face. Figuratively, of course.

"What about S.T.R.I.K.E.? What level are they?"

He laughed. "Yeah, everyone loves S.T.R.I.K.E.. They're all Level 8 and up." He stared at me quizzically. "What's your name, kid?"

"Raven," I told him. "What about you?"

"Jesse, but everyone calls me Smith."

"That's your last name?" I clarified.

"Yep. It's easier to say in the middle of a fight."

I nodded just as someone called out to Smith from the center of the room. He turned and must have seen a friend, maybe from his unit, and he excused himself. "I'll see ya around, kid. Keep your head low."

I nodded and smiled sweetly, before we both walked away from the booth. He walked to his friend and I walked out of the Point Hub, nearly dying of laughter.

He bought every innocent word out of my mouth. Half of what he said, I already knew. Natasha had already told me plenty about Field. If only I could make it onto 6-11. That would be a blast, just from watching his face.

I was almost to the lobby of the Field Department when my phone buzzed. I stepped to the side of the hall and pulled it out, reading the notification from SHIELD. My paperwork had already been scanned and entered into the system. All I had to do was check out gear, and I was on the sub list.

Something Smith had forgotten to mention was the sub list. When agents are new, or injured during draft season, they get put on the sub list. Then, when agents on a team, or a unit, apparently, get injured or killed, the leaders select a sub to fill their place. If the sub is a good fit, and the dropper is out for longer than a week, the sub gets the spot, and the dropper gets put on the sub list. It was a pretty good cycle, from what I knew.