Tony Stark was about to be kidnapped.
And with that, Iron Man would soon be born.
Evenson couldn’t have cared less.
If destiny wanted to create Iron Man, it would create Iron Man. There was no point trying to wrestle fate over someone else’s origin story.
Besides, out of all the future Avengers, Tony Stark was the one Evenson worried about the least.
A Warlock didn’t curse the armor.
He cursed the man wearing it.
Not that Evenson hadn’t briefly considered saving Tony.
If he pulled that off, asking Stark for the price of a couple of Lamborghinis afterward wouldn’t exactly be unreasonable.
The problem was... how?
Buying a one-way economy ticket to the Middle East was within his budget.
Finding Tony afterward was another matter entirely.
Everyone knew Stark was kidnapped somewhere in the Middle East.
That narrowed it down to only several million square miles.
Afghanistan?
Iraq?
Somewhere else?
Who knew?
He certainly wasn’t going to spend months dragging Habus across endless deserts, hoping the dog could sniff out one billionaire among countless miles of sand.
By the time he found Tony, he’d probably be the one waiting to be rescued.
No.
Watching the stock market was a much better use of his time.
At least that determined whether next month’s dinner consisted of premium instant noodles or the bargain-brand variety.
SHIELD Headquarters, TriskelionDirector’s Office
Nick Fury stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Potomac.
The one-eyed director of SHIELD was a man wrapped in layers of secrets. Few people knew how much he knew. Fewer still knew how many secrets he personally kept.
To many within the intelligence community, Nick Fury wasn’t simply a spymaster.
He was the definition of classified information.
His appearance, as always, was unchanged.
Black eyepatch.
Black sweater.
Long black leather coat.
The look projected authority and mystery.
It also suggested his office air conditioning was set unreasonably low.
A knock sounded.
"Come in."
Fury crossed back to his desk.
The door opened just as he sat down.
Phil Coulson and Melinda May entered together and stopped before him.
Fury folded his hands.
"Hill told me the two of you insisted on delivering this mission report in person."
His lone eye studied them carefully.
"Why?"
Normally, there was no need.
Agents completed a Level Six assignment, submitted the paperwork, attached their evaluations, and the report disappeared into SHIELD’s archives.
Only exceptional cases reached the Director personally.
Coulson nodded respectfully.
"I realize it’s outside normal procedure, sir, but I believe this is something you should hear firsthand."
Fury trusted Coulson.
The man wasn’t prone to dramatics.
If he requested a personal audience, there was a reason.
"I see." Fury leaned back slightly. "Something unusual happened."
A brief pause.
"Did our enhanced individual refuse to cooperate?"
"Actually..." Coulson searched for the right words. "He was surprisingly cooperative. After our investigation and direct contact, Agent May and I reached the same conclusion."
"The target poses no immediate threat."
Fury raised an eyebrow.
"Harmless?"
That wasn’t impossible.
Just uncommon.
Most enhanced individuals SHIELD encountered fell into one of two categories.
The fortunate ones were decent people who simply lost control after awakening extraordinary abilities. With proper guidance, many eventually became stable.
The others embraced their new power immediately and decided society’s rules no longer applied to them.
Fury personally preferred dealing with the second group using overwhelming firepower.
"He has complete control over his abilities," Coulson continued. "More importantly, he respects governmental authority enough to avoid reckless behavior."
That removed two major concerns.
No accidental disasters.
No delusions of becoming a self-appointed god.
Fury nodded slowly.
"Those are encouraging signs."
Then his expression sharpened.
"But you didn’t ask for this meeting just to tell me he’s well-adjusted."
Coulson hesitated.
"The unusual part... is the nature of his abilities."
He frowned.
"I’m aware this is going to sound unbelievable."
Another pause.
"But..."
How was he supposed to explain this?
How did you tell the Director of SHIELD that they’d encountered an actual magician without sounding like you’d suffered a nervous breakdown?
May solved the problem for him.
"Magic."
She said it with complete confidence.
"More specifically, he’s a Warlock."
Silence.
Fury blinked.
"I’m sorry."
He looked directly at May.
"Did you just say... magic?"
"I did."
She remained perfectly calm.
"It’s not scientific."
"It doesn’t make sense."
"It’s still real."
Fury slowly turned toward Coulson.
Coulson gave an apologetic smile.
"As difficult as it is to believe, sir... Agent May is correct."
Fury rested both elbows on the desk.
"Explain."
Coulson did.
He summarized everything that had happened during their visit to Richter Curios, from Evenson’s demonstrations to his explanation of Warlock magic.
When he finished, Fury was quiet for several moments.
Then he asked exactly the question Coulson had expected.
"How difficult is it to learn?"
Whether magic violated conventional science didn’t concern Fury in the slightest.
Call it magic.
Call it psychic energy.
Call it cosmic resonance.
The label didn’t matter.
Only three questions mattered.
How powerful was it?
Could it be reproduced?
Could SHIELD acquire it?
"According to him," Coulson replied, "the talent requirements are extremely high."
"And attempting to learn without the proper aptitude is dangerous."
He chose his words carefully.
"My recommendation is that we approach the subject with extreme caution."
Fury rubbed his chin.
High intelligence.
Strong willpower.
Excellent physical condition.
Exceptional mental resilience.
Those were only the minimum qualifications for beginning magical study, according to Evenson.
Even then...
Success wasn’t guaranteed.
Failure, on the other hand, could be fatal.
People with those qualities made outstanding SHIELD agents.
Was it worth risking some of the agency’s best personnel on an experiment with such uncertain odds?
That wasn’t a decision anyone should make lightly.
Finally, Fury reached a conclusion.
"The mission file will not go through standard archives."
"I’ll classify it personally."
Both Coulson and May understood the implication immediately.
A report archived directly by the Director would automatically receive Level Ten clearance.
They, however, possessed only Level Seven access.
Which meant one thing.
This information no longer officially existed.
They were expected to forget it.
If forgetting proved impossible...
Then they would never speak of it again.
"Understood, sir."
Fury nodded.
"Good."
"If that’s everything, get some rest."
Neither agent moved.
Coulson cleared his throat.
"Sir... there’s one more matter."
"It’s still preliminary, but we believe it’s significant."
Fury’s attention sharpened.
"What is it?"
Coulson exchanged a glance with May before answering.
"We believe the Dead End Gang may have ties to Hydra."
For the first time that morning, Nick Fury’s composure cracked.
His single eye widened.
"What?"
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