Melinda slipped an arm under Evenson’s shoulder and helped him over to the car.
"How are you feeling?"
Evenson leaned against the door and lit a cigarette.
"I’ll live."
"The physical injuries will heal soon enough."
"As for my mana..."
He took a deep drag.
Immediately regretted it.
The smoke irritated the lungs that had been battered by the Ghost Rider’s punch, sending him into a violent coughing fit.
"Cough..."
"Cough..."
"Give me one night’s rest..."
"...and I’ll be mostly recovered."
Melinda quietly exhaled in relief.
On the drive here, she’d confidently claimed that her years of field experience and SHIELD training would make her useful.
Reality had been humbling.
Everything she’d prided herself on...
Marksmanship.
Combat.
Tactical judgment.
Against opponents like these, none of it had mattered.
She looked toward the unconscious man lying in the sand.
"So..."
"That’s what he really looks like?"
"He’s still alive?"
Evenson nodded.
"Mhm."
"Why didn’t you kill him?"
She genuinely didn’t understand.
Evenson wasn’t bloodthirsty.
But he certainly wasn’t soft-hearted either.
The gangsters who had caused trouble at his shop had been reduced to ash.
The Abomination had ended up as... automotive equipment.
Letting the person responsible for nearly killing him walk away alive seemed strangely merciful.
In truth...
Melinda had given him far too much credit.
Those gangsters’ souls had long since become spell components and bargaining chips.
The Abomination’s soul was still serving a life sentence powering the Soul Engine.
Offending a warlock rarely ended with death.
Death was usually just the beginning.
Evenson smiled wryly.
"Strictly speaking..."
"He’s neither alive nor dead."
"I simply can’t kill him."
"Not yet."
Then he glanced toward Johnny Blaze.
"But..."
"He shouldn’t be able to transform again for a while."
"I drained his Hellfire completely."
"It’ll probably take at least a week before he recovers."
Melinda’s eyes lit up.
"Oh?"
"Then let’s find out exactly who this guy is."
Curiosity was only part of it.
SHIELD needed a name.
A face.
A history.
Everything.
She walked over and unceremoniously rolled the unconscious man onto his back with a kick.
After being chased across half the desert all night, she wasn’t feeling particularly charitable.
She stared for several seconds.
"...Johnny Blaze?"
Evenson frowned.
"Who’s that?"
"Johnny Blaze."
She crouched beside him.
"Professional motorcycle stunt rider."
"They used to call him ’Blazing Johnny.’"
She punctuated the explanation with another kick.
Had Johnny been an ordinary man, that probably would have cracked a few ribs.
Evenson raised an eyebrow.
I almost got beaten to death and didn’t even manage a revenge kick.
She got frightened for one evening and immediately starts settling old scores.
I respect that.
"If I’d had the strength," he muttered, "I’d have kicked him too."
Melinda snorted.
"He once cost me an entire month’s salary."
"...What?"
"A few years ago, I liked watching stunt shows."
She folded her arms.
"One time he announced he was attempting a jump that, from a professional standpoint, should have been completely impossible."
"So I bet a month’s pay he’d fail."
"He made it."
Evenson stared.
"...You gamble on stunt performances?"
"I was younger."
She shrugged.
"People do stupid things."
He nodded thoughtfully.
"Fair enough."
Then something occurred to him.
"...Wait."
"You said ’a few years ago.’"
He looked her up and down.
"Can that period honestly be described as your youth?"
Melinda slowly turned toward him.
She stared.
For a very...
Very...
Long...
Time.
Finally she sighed.
"If you weren’t seriously injured..."
"I’d punch you."
Evenson laughed.
"If you’re going to try, now’s your chance."
"Give me another hour and you’ll lose."
"Hmph."
She rolled her eyes but wisely declined.
After another cigarette, Evenson flicked the butt into the sand.
"We should leave."
"The longer we stay..."
"The greater the chance someone troublesome shows up."
Melinda frowned.
"Troublesome?"
"The white wizards."
This fight had erupted too suddenly.
There’d been no opportunity to establish any concealment wards.
They’d traded spells for nearly an hour.
Anyone sensitive to magic would have noticed.
The sorcerers would almost certainly investigate.
"Your enemies?"
Melinda asked.
"Don’t worry."
"You’re a SHIELD consultant."
"We won’t let anyone come after you."
"And don’t underestimate SHIELD."
She wasn’t exaggerating.
If Nick Fury abandoned someone who had repeatedly saved the organization, every agent under his command would start questioning exactly how expendable they were.
Besides...
Outside of the Sorcerer Supreme, most practitioners of the mystic arts weren’t especially overwhelming.
Given time to understand their abilities, SHIELD could deal with them.
"Thanks."
Evenson gave her a tired smile.
"But we’d still better leave."
"The white wizards are one thing."
"If the one who comes is..."
CRACK!
A deafening bolt of thunder exploded overhead.
The blast rang painfully in their ears.
The desert fell silent.
Then...
A figure stepped calmly out of the darkness.
There had been no portal.
No flash of light.
One moment the space was empty.
The next...
Someone was walking toward them.
An elderly man.
Tall.
Straight-backed.
His white hair framed a refined, handsome face marked by the confidence of someone who had never known fear.
A long dark robe draped over his shoulders.
In one hand he carried an ornate cane crowned with a crystal skull.
Melinda’s instincts screamed.
No ordinary old man wandered into the middle of a deserted New Mexico wasteland at dawn.
She quietly shifted into a fighting stance.
"...Is this one of the white wizards?"
Evenson covered his face with one hand.
"No."
He sighed.
"Much worse."
Of course.
The one thing I didn’t want to happen...
Happened.
Another flash of lightning split the sky.
For a heartbeat...
The old man’s face changed.
Melinda instinctively stepped backward.
The gentleman vanished.
In his place stood something ancient.
Something wrong.
Skin as pale as a corpse.
Eyes glowing crimson with endless hatred.
A mouth overflowing with jagged fangs sharp enough to tear flesh apart.
Then the lightning faded.
The handsome old man returned as though nothing had happened.
He stopped a short distance away and smiled pleasantly.
"So."
"You defeated my Rider."
His cane tapped lightly against the ground.
Johnny Blaze coughed.
The unconscious stunt rider slowly opened his eyes.
Melinda leaned close to Evenson.
"...Who is he?"
Evenson’s expression darkened.
"One of the Seven Lords of Hell."
"The King of Hatred."
"Mephisto."
After a brief pause, he added with exhausted sincerity,
"Yes."
"That one."
Silence.
Melinda said nothing.
There wasn’t really anything left to say.
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