After very reluctantly agreeing to assist Nick Fury with Phase Two, Evenson finally headed home.
What else was he supposed to do?
Stay behind and help Fury come up with names for the project’s future phases?
At the moment, Phase Two amounted to little more than a decision to base the project around the Tesseract.
They hadn’t chosen a research facility.
They hadn’t decided how it would need to be modified.
They hadn’t even finalized the list of personnel beyond Evenson himself.
By his estimate, it would be another three or four months before the project reached the point where his expertise actually mattered.
That was far too much time to waste.
There were plenty of other things he could accomplish before then.
Just before sunset, Evenson finally returned to his little shop.
He’d only been away for about a week.
It merely felt much longer.
He parked outside and stretched lazily.
A shower.
A proper bed.
Maybe twelve uninterrupted hours of sleep.
The past several days had been one crisis after another.
He’d barely rested.
Just as he reached for the door...
A sudden chill ran down his spine.
The sensation was so intense that every instinct he possessed screamed danger.
Then a sweet, pleasant voice drifted into his ears.
"You actually had the nerve to say, ’A promise is a promise.’"
The voice was lovely.
The resentment behind it was not.
Evenson froze.
Then, with horrifying clarity...
He remembered.
The day he’d left, he’d promised Claire they would spend the evening gaming together.
Instead...
He’d disappeared for an entire week.
Very slowly...
He turned around.
Claire stood there smiling brightly.
It was a warm, beautiful smile.
For some reason...
Evenson felt as though he were standing before the Warchief of an army preparing to execute deserters.
"Claire..."
He raised both hands in surrender.
"I honestly didn’t mean to stand you up."
"I had no idea the job would turn into something that complicated."
"It just kept dragging on."
Claire folded her arms.
"What kind of business takes an entire week?"
She glanced at the weathered sign above his occult shop.
"What, were people lining up to buy cursed trinkets?"
The expression on her face clearly said:
People actually hire you?
Voluntarily?
"I do more than sell mystical items."
Evenson lowered his voice dramatically.
"I also have... side jobs."
Claire leaned in.
"Like what?"
He grinned.
"I’m a private detective."
Claire’s eyes immediately sparkled.
"A detective?"
She whispered theatrically.
"Like that high-school detective who’s somehow been trapped in elementary school forever?"
"...Close enough."
Evenson almost laughed.
Anime references.
The universal language.
Changing the subject had worked perfectly.
"So..." Claire asked excitedly, "did you solve a murder?"
"I..."
Evenson was just about to fabricate an outrageous story when she interrupted him.
"I know."
She looked around suspiciously, lowering her voice.
"Client confidentiality."
"You can’t reveal names."
"But you can tell me what happened, right?"
Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed his sleeve.
"Come on."
Before Evenson could protest...
He was already being dragged into her store.
"Everyone!"
Claire announced cheerfully.
"We’re closing early today."
"Thank you for coming!"
The customers filed out without complaint.
Evenson looked around.
Then suffered another emotional critical hit.
There were currently more people shopping in Claire’s store...
Than had visited his own shop all week.
Fortunately...
He’d experienced this particular form of pain often enough that he had developed immunity.
Mostly.
"Okay."
Claire sat down opposite him, practically vibrating with anticipation.
"Tell me everything."
Evenson’s brain shifted into overdrive.
At that moment, every famous mystery writer he’d ever read seemed to possess him simultaneously.
If he couldn’t reveal classified S.H.I.E.L.D. operations...
He could at least recycle them into fiction.
"So..."
He folded his hands dramatically.
"The case involved two extremely powerful families..."
An hour and a half later...
Evenson finally finished.
He’d transformed Thor, Loki, Odin, the Ghost Rider incident, and everything in between into an elaborate detective story involving rival crime dynasties.
Frankly...
He was beginning to suspect he’d missed his calling as a novelist.
Claire listened with complete fascination.
"So let me get this straight."
She counted on her fingers.
"In the first family..."
"The rebellious son of a powerful crime boss runs away from home, recruits his own organization, plans to overthrow his father, and even convinces one of the assassins sent after him to switch sides."
Evenson nodded solemnly.
"That’s about right."
"And the second family..."
"The eldest son argues with his father and gets kicked out."
"Then his younger brother discovers he’s adopted, completely loses it, decides to kill his older brother, drive his father to death, and inherit everything."
"...More or less."
Claire narrowed her eyes.
"And somehow..."
"You manipulated both families into fighting each other until the entire problem solved itself."
"Exactly."
Evenson smiled.
Claire stared at him for several seconds.
Then snorted.
"Not buying it."
"What kind of mafia family hires you as a detective?"
"Are they all legally blind?"
Evenson laughed awkwardly.
Well...
The guy who hired me was definitely involved with some very dark people.
And he really does only have one good eye.
"Still..."
Claire waved dismissively.
"You told a good story."
"So I’ll forgive you."
Evenson’s shoulders relaxed.
Then she smiled.
The dangerous kind.
"But..."
She walked to the front door.
Click.
She locked it.
"You still owe me."
"So tonight..."
"We’re making up for lost time."
She turned around with a grin.
"Let’s get fifty wins."
Evenson’s face went pale.
"Fifty?"
"That’s an all-night session!"
"I haven’t slept in two days!"
The following morning...
Evenson stumbled out of Claire’s shop looking like a man whose soul had been harvested.
If spending the night alone with a beautiful woman had exhausted him for other reasons...
He probably would’ve considered himself lucky.
Instead...
A handsome young man and an attractive young woman had spent the entire night in the same room.
Playing video games.
Nothing else.
It was, somehow, the saddest possible outcome.
He dragged himself toward his own shop, barely keeping his eyes open.
Then he noticed someone.
A man stood beside his car, studying it intently.
Evenson frowned.
His vehicle certainly attracted attention.
When he’d first brought it home, people stopped constantly to admire it.
But the novelty had worn off weeks ago.
The neighborhood barely glanced at it anymore.
This man was different.
The closer Evenson looked...
The stranger he seemed.
He was powerfully built.
Not with the sculpted physique of a gym enthusiast...
But with dense, practical muscle earned through years of real combat.
His expression was even more unusual.
When he looked at the car, Evenson caught flashes of conflicting emotions.
Nostalgia.
Regret.
Bitterness.
Even hatred.
Everything...
Except simple admiration.
His clothes drew even more attention.
A faded gray T-shirt bearing a U.S. Army insignia.
Khaki military trousers.
Evenson’s eyes narrowed.
That uniform pattern...
It was retired years ago.
The man looked to be in his late twenties at most.
He shouldn’t have been wearing that style of military clothing.
Unless...
A possibility surfaced in Evenson’s exhausted mind.
He squinted at the stranger.
No way...
Could it really be him?
...
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