Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

Melinda parked in the facility’s lot and tried turning the key one last time.

The engine continued to idle.

"...Seriously."

She glanced at Evenson.

He was still asleep in the passenger seat, sprawled out with all the elegance of someone who had completely surrendered to gravity.

She sighed.

Then drove a fist straight into his stomach.

"GHK—!"

The punch exploded with terrifying precision.

Evenson jackknifed upright, eyes bulging as he clutched his abdomen.

"What was that for?!"

"We’re here."

Melinda shrugged.

"I was waking you up."

"You couldn’t have used a normal method?"

"I did."

"It didn’t work."

Evenson stared suspiciously.

"Really?"

"Really."

She nodded with complete confidence before casually changing the subject.

"By the way, your car’s broken."

"I couldn’t turn off the engine."

"I even took the key out."

"Oh."

Evenson snapped his fingers.

The engine immediately fell silent.

"I never told you?"

"The key’s decorative."

"The car runs on my magic."

He narrowed his eyes.

"And don’t dodge the question."

"You actually tried waking me up normally?"

"Convenient spell," Melinda commented as she climbed out of the car.

"You’ll never lose your keys."

Then, without looking back, she added,

"And I swear on S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters that I tried."

Evenson blinked.

For some reason...

That oath made him trust her less.

The pair crossed the parking lot and approached the laboratory entrance.

Three people were already waiting.

The man in the middle was immediately familiar.

Agent Phil Coulson.

The commander of this installation.

Standing to Coulson’s left was a bald man of Indian descent wearing plain glasses. Nothing about him stood out at first glance.

To Coulson’s right stood a stern-faced man whose calm eyes carried the unmistakable confidence of someone exceptionally dangerous.

Coulson smiled.

"I have to admit, I’m surprised you came all the way out here."

"In my experience, leaving home ranks somewhere below dental surgery on your list of favorite activities."

Evenson spread his hands.

"Remember my title?"

"Mystic Consultant."

"If something mysterious shows up..."

"I’m contractually obligated to care."

"So you already know what we’re dealing with?"

Coulson glanced toward the heart of the facility where Mjolnir rested.

"That’s a relief."

"Though you’re a little later than expected."

"We ran into... unexpected complications," Melinda replied.

She still looked faintly haunted by everything that had happened the previous night.

"Like threatening an innocent supermarket cashier into not calling the police," Evenson added helpfully.

Coulson froze.

A second later he realized exactly what Evenson was referring to.

"That wasn’t a threat."

"I was preventing unnecessary complications."

Evenson considered that.

"...Coercive persuasion?"

Coulson took a deep breath.

"We should move on."

He had reached the conclusion that the more Evenson described the incident...

...the guiltier he sounded.

Better to change the subject before someone decided he’d abandoned a girlfriend and intimidated witnesses.

"As the Director’s Special Envoy," Coulson continued, "you should know who’s assigned here."

"Before your arrival, this facility had three senior agents."

He gestured toward the bald man.

"Level Seven Agent Selvig."

Evenson shook his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you."

Dr. Erik Selvig looked more like an academic than an intelligence officer.

Nothing about him suggested field operations.

Finally, Coulson introduced the third member.

"And this is Agent Barton."

"Level Nine."

"He oversees site security."

Evenson’s expression immediately became more serious.

"Agent Barton."

He extended his hand.

"I’ve heard plenty about you."

"...Hawkeye."

For the briefest instant he almost said something else.

Black...

He caught himself just in time.

Old gaming habits died hard.

Clint Barton accepted the handshake.

"I’ve heard about you too."

"Natasha speaks highly of you."

Evenson frowned.

"...You’re joking."

Barton raised an eyebrow.

"You two worked together."

"I assumed you got along."

"We did."

"So long as she wasn’t writing personality evaluations behind my back."

Barton looked interested.

"You saw that report?"

"I did."

Evenson began counting on his fingers.

"Greedy."

"Lazy."

"Avoids trouble."

"Lacks ambition."

"No heroic spirit."

He shrugged.

"Fine."

"I’ll accept all of those."

"They’re basically accurate."

Then his expression darkened.

"But the last line..."

He pointed accusingly into empty air.

"She questioned my sexual orientation."

"Her evidence?"

"I didn’t react when she tried flirting with me."

"Oh, come on."

He turned dramatically toward Coulson.

"Tell me honestly."

"Would you dare get involved with the Black Widow?"

Coulson immediately shook his head.

"Absolutely not."

Then he leaned away from Evenson ever so slightly.

"So... about you..."

Before the conversation could become any more awkward, Melinda spoke.

"He’s seeing someone."

"Not officially."

"But he’s taking the relationship seriously."

"He even argued with the Director over her."

Coulson visibly relaxed.

"Oh."

"That’s good."

Evenson’s eyes widened.

"...Did you just breathe a sigh of relief?"

"You were actually suspicious too?"

Coulson looked mildly embarrassed.

"You have to understand."

"You’re in your twenties."

"You’ve shown almost no romantic interest in anyone."

"In America..."

"That’s unusual."

"And Sarah is a very attractive woman."

"As far as we know, your relationship has remained completely innocent."

"So..."

He gave an awkward smile.

Evenson groaned.

"I used to be focused on studying."

"And I’m admittedly a little dense when it comes to relationships."

He rubbed his forehead.

"As for Sarah..."

His expression turned complicated.

"The real issue isn’t me."

"...She doesn’t like men."

Coulson blinked.

"...Well."

"That’s certainly unfortunate."

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