In just two weeks, the barren stretch of New Mexico desert where Mjolnir had fallen had transformed into a heavily secured S.H.I.E.L.D. research facility.
Temporary structures assembled from modular construction materials spread across the impact site, filled with cutting-edge equipment and staffed by scientists determined to unlock the hammer’s secrets.
The speed of the construction was genuinely impressive.
The design...
Not so much.
Calling it a laboratory was generous.
Most of the complex consisted of steel scaffolding wrapped in sheets of reinforced white polymer. The enclosed hallways connected a collection of prefabricated buildings that looked as though someone had assembled them from the world’s most expensive emergency shelter kit.
Even stranger, the facility’s centerpiece was completely open to the sky.
The object constantly emitting enormous amounts of mysterious energy...
The artifact everyone was risking their careers to study...
Didn’t even have a roof over it.
Rain.
Sun.
Wind.
Lightning.
Mjolnir endured all of it without so much as a tarp.
Whoever approved that architectural decision had either been sleep-deprived...
...or catastrophically overconfident.
Since construction finished, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s scientists had subjected the hammer to every scan modern technology could devise.
The result?
An impressive collection of atomic structure diagrams.
And absolutely no idea how the hammer actually worked.
If the research team had accomplished anything of practical value, it was persuading commercial airlines to reroute flights whenever Mjolnir released one of its unpredictable electromagnetic pulses.
Everything else had been spectacularly unproductive.
"Front gate, unidentified vehicle approaching. Prepare for inspection."
Despite its questionable architecture, the installation remained a military-controlled facility.
The moment the security office spotted a car heading toward the entrance, the guards moved into position.
"Copy that."
The gate sentries stepped forward, though none of them looked particularly enthusiastic.
Before S.H.I.E.L.D. had arrived, this place had become something of a local curiosity.
People came to picnic.
To camp.
To take photographs of the mysterious crater.
Clearing them out had been the first challenge.
And not everyone had appreciated being told to leave.
If those people had simply hired lawyers and challenged the government’s authority in court, life would have been easy.
The courts understood classified matters.
There would have been hearings, paperwork, bureaucratic delays...
Nothing S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn’t manage.
Unfortunately, many people preferred a more direct approach.
They climbed fences.
They snuck inside.
Some even tried driving straight through the checkpoint.
Judging from the approaching vehicle...
The guards assumed this was another one of those cases.
The lead sentry raised a hand.
"Please stop the vehicle and switch off the engine, ma’am."
"Or you can turn around now."
"I’ll pretend I never saw you."
Less paperwork was always preferable.
The driver pulled to a stop.
Instead of leaving, she calmly held a small black credential wallet out the window.
"I’m here on official business."
The sentry nearly rolled his eyes.
Official business?
In... whatever this thing is?
The car looked as though someone had challenged an engineer to build a muscle car after reading too many comic books.
It hardly screamed government vehicle.
"Please shut off the engine."
The guard repeated the order.
The woman clicked her tongue impatiently and turned the key.
The engine continued idling.
She tried again.
Nothing.
After the third attempt, she actually removed the key from the ignition.
The engine kept running.
She frowned.
"...Looks like it’s broken."
"I can’t turn it off."
The sentry sighed.
"Right..."
He gestured discreetly behind him.
Several guards immediately dragged a spike barrier into position.
Then he accepted the identification she was holding.
His expression changed instantly.
"..."
"...What?"
He looked again.
Then hurriedly grabbed his radio.
"Control?"
"Confirmed."
"It’s her."
"...Understood."
He lowered the radio, suddenly standing much straighter before respectfully returning the credentials.
"You have full authorization to enter."
"Welcome, Agent May."
His throat felt unexpectedly dry.
The highest-ranking officer assigned to this installation was only a Level Seven agent.
Standing before him...
...was Level Eight Agent Melinda May.
The Cavalry.
Her reputation alone was enough to make most tactical teams instinctively stand at attention.
He hesitated before cautiously pointing toward the passenger seat.
"And... the gentleman with you?"
Melinda didn’t even look in Evenson’s direction.
"Special Envoy."
Her voice remained perfectly flat.
Though somehow...
It carried the faintest hint of embarrassment.
The sentry stared.
Evenson lay reclined in the passenger seat wearing dark sunglasses.
Both arms were stretched behind his head, completely limp.
If his mouth hadn’t been slightly open as he breathed, the guard might have concluded he was transporting a corpse.
Special Envoy...?
That’s what a Special Envoy looks like?
He wisely chose not to ask any further questions.
As the barrier opened, Melinda slowly drove forward.
She glanced around the perimeter fencing.
"You’ve gone all out with security."
Her tone carried obvious irony.
From her perspective, the installation’s defenses were full of exploitable weaknesses.
The sentry completely missed the sarcasm.
"We don’t really have a choice."
He rubbed his face tiredly.
"People keep trying to sneak inside."
Then he grimaced.
"And the guy who showed up last night..."
He let out a long sigh.
"...That one was something else."
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