“Oh, there’s no lack of discipline. Just something much, much worse.” Trip grinned. “Haven’t you heard of the super-secret S.H.I.E.L.D. torture dungeon? I thought you knew all our secrets, dearest Skye.”
He led her through the atrium and down a hallway; on both sides were training rooms where kids would no doubt be sparring and practicing once classes started. Until then, however, it was eerily empty. “Anywhere in particular you’d like to see? Except for the dungeon, of course. That’s level 5 security clearance.”
“I thought the ‘super-secret S.H.I.E.L.D. torture dungeon’ was a code name for Colin Weber’s class,” she retorted, answering his grin with her own, though it was far from a joke. Surely, the esteemed agent Triplett knew what a colossal pain in the ass her fellow professor could be without putting any actual effort into it. It was a talent, really.
“I have no idea. The punching bags? The room where you hold explosives? I don’t need your torture dungeon anyway. I can just pay a visit to the student I confiscated that fifty shades book from. Oh, get this - he was reading it ironically.”
