"You're telling me that you got Captain America-the War Hero, Steve Rogers-to become best friends with a thirteen-year-old kid? What, is this supposed to slowly introduce him to how irritating Generation Z is? Project Training Wheels or something?"
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The sound of an arrow whizzing through the air until it landed hard against the target made Lizzie's body slowly come back to life. She was sleep-deprived, every muscle in her body was tense and sore, and by now, all feeling had been lost in her face after crying for so long the first few hours everything started. When she lowered the bow, squinting to see where she'd hit, she couldn't even be excited when she discovered that the arrow was in the center. Clint would've been proud, even with a bruised shoulder, she was still showing off. She missed him. She missed Steve.
"I've got another meeting to go to in a few minutes," she heard Carson call out behind her. "Monroe's going to watch you next. Sharon'll come in after him on her break."
Lizzie only gave a nod in acknowledgement. The Babysitter's Club 2.0 consisted of Sharon, Carson, and Monroe taking shifts throughout the last 32 hours when one of them would be called out for a meeting or briefing over the updating news regarding Steve's location or the death of Fury. Unfortunately, Sharon was one of the busiest of them all because of her involvement with Steve and had to constantly reintroduce old information every so often to new higher-ups that were getting involved. Lizzie hadn't seen much of her sister, the one person she actually wanted to see.
S.H.I.E.L.D. was a warzone, and she was directly in the middle of it. Every so often, she would change locations. Sometimes, she'd be in Monroe's classroom with him. Most times, she'd be in Carson's office with all of the random trinkets she made, computer galore staring her in the face for hours. Or now, when she'd convinced Carson to let her release some of her stress by shooting in the weapon's room.
"Carson?" she finally asked after a few minutes, letting her bow fall completely and turning around. Carson was seated on a few training mats, her laptop in front of her, looking even worse for wear than Lizzie remembered. All of them did.
