Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Captain Dole: Could be any time.

When he gets here,

just count the dough and let me do the talking.

You got it, boss.

You're early.

Who the hell are these guys?

You boys lost?

Gotta be off your nut, walking around like that.

- -

Captain William Dole.

New York Police Department, Fourth Precinct.

I'm a sentient Chronicom from the planet Chronyca-2.

Good for you.

Now beat it...

before we make you freaks regret being born.

Chronicoms are not born.

I'm warning you.

Last chance, pal.

Take 'em, boys!

Aah!

What do you want?

Your face.

You're early.

Simmons: He has Chronicom hardware,

which makes him our most advanced LMD.

So...

what do you think?

He would want us to consider the ramifications...

Hey, guys.

Why is no one talking?

Oh, hey.

I'm digging the hair.

Sir, you've missed quite a lot.

How did we get here?

The last scan of your brain was from the Framework.

I've done my best to update it

with all that you've missed.

But you may feel some disorientation

as your mind catches up to the present.

My arm feels different.

It's fixed.

Doesn't feel the same.

Coulson, take it easy. Let Simmons explain.

I don't feel the same. Why?

We had to make a tough decision...

Because you're an LMD.

No.

No.

No!

Was that necessary? There's no easy way to say it.

Simmons: A state-of-the-art life model,

enhanced with advanced...

Chronicom hardware.

How do I know that word?

Why am I...

Oh.

I died.

I died and I came back.

Not me.

I died and we said goodbye and I came back.

I died again and came back...

What do we do? Fix this.

I don't know how. There's a lot of data flooding his mind.

Coulson, I'm here.

Okay, so, j-just take a breath.

Do I breathe?

You are okay. You are okay.

No, I'm not okay. I'm not him.

I look like him. Pachakutiq.

May, don't!

May.

That... That was not your fault.

It really is magical,

Talbot, Tahiti, who's like us, goodbye...

Fitz, oh, God!

Simmons, do something.

It's two years of information all at once.

Dying, lying, lying, Lighthouse...

Dearly beloved, we're gathered here today...

from processing... Coulson!

A symbol that must carry on...

Ghost Rider, take the deal.

Take the deal. I'm dead anyway.

I'm dead anyway! I'm dead anyway!

What the hell?! You can't do that!

You can't just shut Coulson down.

It may be unpleasant, but he needs to go through this.

You can't... Both of you, shut up. That's an order.

Coulson or not,

anything LMD-related is a Director-level decision.

That's not up for debate. Are we clear?

Agent Simmons.

You're gonna tell us everything you know.

Right now.

Simmons: I'm saying we can't waste time.

The Chronicoms want to take Earth

and fear only S.H.I.E.L.D. can stop them.

Mack: So they plan to eliminate S.H.I.E.L.D. from history.

And if we hadn't jumped when we did...

The fight would've ended before it ever began.

So, wait, the Zephyr's a time machine now?

In a sense.

And we can jump to any time we want?

Not quite.

It's complicated. Even I barely understand it.

Alright, well, give us the basics.

There are critical launch windows,

leading to specific points in time and space.

Fitz called them "Tides."

The Chronicoms took one, and we followed them here.

Okay, but why 1931?

I mean, S.H.I.E.L.D. won't even exist

until the '50s.

Truthfully?

We never expected to go back this far.

I have no idea what the Chronicoms are up to

or how to find them.

Well, that's not great.

Yo-Yo: So we're not prepared for any of this?

We're flying blind?

We're flying on auto-pilot.

And we prepared the best we could.

Now we're talking.

Enoch: Welcome, friends, new and old!

I am scanning existing frequencies

for anything unusual...

Enoch.

Apologies for the high volume.

Simmons: That is Enoch.

I know some of you have never officially met him.

That's my workstation,

and, Deke, that... that one's yours.

Daisy: So you built all of this and solved time travel.

How long did this take?

Building it was simple enough,

but it took much longer for Fitz to design.

Bobo's really not here?

And you don't know where he is.

Simmons: The Chronicoms scanned our brains once before.

It's too dangerous for any of us to know where he is.

Please, sir.

Whatever they're planning, we're already behind.

Well, we need boots on the ground,

and our comms run off satellites.

We brought radios.

Look, we need to blend in.

Deke, can you get us clothes?

Navigating the past happens to be my specialty.

Last time, you got stupid drunk and ended up in jail.

That's not true. I was pleasantly drunk. It was...

Daisy: Deke... he'll... he'll be fine.

It's Prohibition, so alcohol's illegal anyway.

It's what?

Who would think that's a good idea?

Even the Kree let us make our own boot juice.

This should be enough.

Keep a low profile.

Yes, sir.

Yo-Yo, you're quarantined.

Do not leave this plane.

Mack, I'm fine.

And I'm glad,

but until Simmons gives the all-clear,

I can't risk introducing an alien contagion

into the past.

Or purple hair.

What?

No, I like it.

I do, but it's gotta go.

How is May?

Stable.

Her core temperature is nearly there.

Then we'll proceed.

Simmons.

How long have we been apart?

Too long.

It is good to see you.