"So," Nick Fury said, hands buried in his coat pockets as he stared across his office with open disdain, "care to tell me how many times this makes now?"
"As a consultant for S.H.I.E.L.D., getting detained by the police this often isn’t exactly helping my reputation."
Evenson lounged comfortably on the office sofa, utterly shameless.
"Only twice."
"And this time I never even made it to the station."
To be fair, the DUI checkpoint had caught him off guard.
Most people weren’t drinking over breakfast.
The officers were actually looking for drivers who’d spent the entire night partying or were still hungover from the previous evening.
Normally, Evenson would have passed through without incident.
Unfortunately, he happened to be driving an eye-catching black sports car.
One curious glance led to another.
Then the officers noticed the woman in the passenger seat.
She was wearing full plate armor.
Their minds never leaped to alien warrior from another realm. They were police officers, not science-fiction writers.
Instead, they reached the far more reasonable conclusion that she’d spent the night at some elaborate costume party.
People leaving all-night events were exactly the sort most likely to be drunk.
Or worse.
So they’d decided to investigate.
"You didn’t end up at the police station because Melinda got there before the situation spiraled completely out of control," Fury said with a tired sigh.
"You really think what happened afterward wasn’t enough to get you arrested?"
"That part wasn’t my fault."
Evenson raised both hands in surrender.
"I cooperated."
"The VIP was the one causing trouble."
He’d only had a single can of beer the previous evening.
After an entire night, two major battles, and enough adrenaline to restart a dead heart, there was no alcohol left in his system worth mentioning.
Even if the breathalyzer somehow detected a trace, flashing his S.H.I.E.L.D. credentials would’ve ended the conversation.
That had been the plan.
Reality had chosen a different script.
The moment the officers began questioning him, Sif realized they suspected him of driving under the influence.
She immediately interpreted the investigation as a personal insult.
Without warning, she’d leaped out of the car, drawn her sword, and challenged the officer conducting the stop.
The officer had reacted quickly.
He drew his sidearm.
Sif casually knocked it out of his hand with a single swing.
The officer reacted even faster.
He called for every available backup unit.
Meanwhile...
Evenson was still frozen halfway through pulling out his identification.
He’d never even gotten the chance to explain.
Lady Sif...
That was an incredibly loyal thing to do.
But why?
They were investigating me, not you.
Fury rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"Asgardians..."
"They really do have a talent for creating problems."
"It wasn’t really her fault."
Evenson shrugged.
"It was cultural."
Afterward, he’d asked Sif why she’d escalated a routine traffic stop into an armed confrontation.
Her answer had left him speechless.
She genuinely believed the police officer had challenged his honor.
At first, that sounded absurd.
Then she’d explained.
Among Asgardians, there were certain things you simply didn’t do.
You never questioned someone’s courage.
You never questioned someone’s ability to hold their liquor.
And under absolutely no circumstances did you interfere with an Asgardian enjoying themselves after drinking.
Street racing.
Dragon racing.
Starship racing.
If alcohol was involved, all three were perfectly respectable recreational activities.
Trying to stop them implied they were either cowards...
...or lightweights.
Either accusation usually ended with a drunken brawl.
Sif herself had emptied well over half a case of beer the previous night.
She hadn’t even felt a buzz.
By Asgardian standards, she hadn’t come remotely close to being drunk.
She also hadn’t been the one driving.
None of that mattered.
She’d felt obligated to defend thousands of years of proud Asgardian drinking culture.
Fortunately...
Earth humans were considerably more fragile than Asgardians.
An Asgardian hero could crash a starship while intoxicated and walk away with little more than a few scratches.
Humans attempting to imitate that tradition generally ended up on the evening news.
"So no," Fury said as he settled behind his desk. "That little misunderstanding isn’t what concerns me."
"You know what I’m talking about."
Evenson’s relaxed smile disappeared.
"I do."
"You mean the consequences of Asgard’s civil conflict."
Fury nodded.
"I’ve already submitted my report to the World Security Council."
His expression darkened.
"Do you know how they reacted?"
Since Evenson’s request for military support had required Fury to brief the Council, he’d been forced to explain that Earth might soon find itself caught in a conflict involving an advanced extraterrestrial civilization.
The response had been immediate.
Within a single hour, several of the world’s most powerful militaries had raised their readiness levels by three full stages.
Strategic nuclear forces had even begun preliminary launch preparations.
As far as available intelligence suggested...
An interstellar war could break out at any moment.
"Thankfully," Fury continued, "those alerts are being scaled back now that the crisis is over."
He leaned back in his chair.
"But I think the biggest consequence isn’t the near-war."
"It’s the fact that humanity now knows we’re not alone."
"There are civilizations out there."
"Older."
"More advanced."
"So what do we do?"
"Approach them peacefully?"
"Or prepare for the worst?"
Evenson stood.
"We do both."
Fury raised an eyebrow.
"I’ve heard that somewhere before."
"Asgard isn’t likely to become our enemy."
"Not unless another extraordinary crisis occurs."
"Their crown prince has a favorable opinion of Earth."
"So diplomacy has every chance of succeeding."
He paused.
"But that doesn’t mean we stop strengthening our military."
"If anything..."
"We accelerate."
"Peace between unequal powers isn’t really peace."
"It’s dependence."
"Real diplomacy requires both sides to possess enough strength that neither can simply ignore the other."
"And Asgard won’t be the last civilization we encounter."
"Who’s to say the next one will be friendly?"
"Military strength is the foundation that allows peaceful negotiations to exist."
Fury nodded thoughtfully.
Building military power wasn’t simple.
Weapons improved every year, but genuine revolutions were rare.
From muskets to assault rifles, humanity had refined technology again and again.
At their core, though...
They were still chemical explosives hurling pieces of metal at high speed.
Then Fury smiled.
"But now we have an opportunity."
"The Asgardian construct."
"The Destroyer."
"It stayed on Earth."
"If we can study it..."
"It could redefine military technology."
Then his smile faded.
"Unfortunately..."
"You destroyed it."
"That makes our research considerably more difficult."
Evenson leaned back in his chair, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Does it?"
He met Fury’s eye.
"I’d argue destroying it was the best possible outcome."
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