Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

"It looks like... we misunderstood you."

Melinda spoke slowly, breaking the silence after Captain America and Peggy had disappeared together.

At this point, the truth was impossible to ignore.

A ninety-year-old woman had regained her youth, awakened supernatural power, and casually dragged Captain America away by the collar.

That wasn’t torture.

If that counted as torture...

Well, plenty of people would probably volunteer.

"Exactly." Evenson smiled. "I told you Nick Fury was too impatient. If he’d waited one more hour, none of this would’ve happened."

"...Fine."

To Evenson’s surprise, Melinda didn’t argue.

"We were wrong."

She accepted it with the blunt honesty of someone who valued facts over pride.

"Now that everything’s been cleared up..."

"...would you mind removing the spell?"

Evenson studied her for a moment before snapping his fingers.

The Curse of Weakness vanished.

"Much better..."

Strength flowed back into Melinda’s body. She stood, stretched her shoulders, rolled her neck...

Then, the instant Evenson glanced away...

"Hah!"

She threw every ounce of force she had into a punch aimed squarely at the side of his head.

Thud.

"...Ow."

The invisible barrier stopped her fist cold.

Evenson calmly turned back toward her.

With exaggerated coolness, he slipped on a pair of sunglasses and took a puff from a conjured cigar.

"You honestly think I’d make the same mistake twice?"

He remembered their first meeting very well.

Melinda May held grudges.

And she hit hard.

The barrier had never come down.

Melinda maintained a perfectly professional expression.

Only the tiny twitch at the corner of her eyebrow and the way she discreetly rubbed her throbbing right hand behind her back betrayed how much that punch had hurt.

"...Fine."

She cleared her throat.

"Then why didn’t you simply explain everything from the beginning?"

Evenson’s grin widened.

"I’m sorry."

"That’s classified."

Melinda actually laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because she’d heard—and used—that exact phrase countless times.

"So classified that even Director Fury isn’t cleared to know?"

"I’m sorry."

"That’s classified."

She stared at him for several seconds.

"Evenson."

"There’d better not be a next time."

The meaning couldn’t have been clearer.

He intended to explain everything to Fury personally.

She simply wasn’t authorized.

Melinda slowly raised her fist again...

Then looked at her still-reddened knuckles.

After a brief internal debate, she lowered it.

"Next time..."

"...I won’t waste any effort trying to bring you back alive."

"You’ve been warned."

"Fair enough."

Evenson stepped behind her and lowered his voice.

"As a friend, I’m sorry for keeping you in the dark."

"But you’re an agent."

"You know better than anyone that some secrets aren’t allowed to bend for personal feelings."

Then he gently lifted her right hand.

The contract mark etched into her skin shimmered into view.

"Besides..."

"It’s not a bad thing that you witnessed Peggy’s transformation."

"At least now you know exactly what you’re investing in."

Melinda looked down at the glowing mark.

"...I’ll go through something like that someday?"

Long ago, she’d signed a contract with Evenson.

He had promised power.

Months had passed.

Nothing had happened.

She had even wondered whether he’d simply been humoring her.

Now those doubts were gone forever.

Peggy Carter stood as undeniable proof.

Evenson shook his head.

"No."

"I’ve made different arrangements for you."

"Your path won’t be the same as Peggy’s."

"So your transformation won’t look like hers either."

Melinda nodded.

"But I’ll obtain that kind of power eventually."

There wasn’t a hint of doubt in her voice.

"Yes."

Evenson answered just as confidently.

"You have my word."

Satisfied, Melinda exhaled.

"Then let’s end this pointless battle."

"...Battle?"

Evenson blinked.

He almost laughed.

"Have you noticed how quiet it is outside?"

Silence settled over the room.

Natasha had been... thoroughly occupied by Sarah.

Melinda had slipped inside.

Captain America had been abducted by Peggy for a sixty-year-overdue dance.

That left only ordinary S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.

Against Evenson’s remaining forces.

The result had been inevitable.

Hubs had charged through the battlefield carrying two demonic hounds.

Tripsy had blanketed the area in enormous fireballs.

Doom enclosed them within his Susanoo-like spectral guardian while smashing anyone who got close with devastating strikes.

Then Tyler, having lost Captain America as his opponent, had joined the cleanup.

The fight hadn’t lasted long.

Every remaining strike team member was now lying somewhere outside, groaning.

"It’s over."

Through the demonic telepathic link, Evenson issued a single command.

"Fall back."

His demons immediately disengaged.

A few moments later, the surviving S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel limped into the warehouse.

In truth, only two of them were still capable of walking under their own power.

Natasha Romanoff.

And Captain America.

"So..."

Natasha looked around the room.

"This whole thing was just one enormous misunderstanding?"

She stood with her legs pressed awkwardly together, a faint blush still lingering on her face.

Sarah remained glued to her side, one arm wrapped around Natasha’s slender waist while affectionately rubbing against her.

"That’s right," Evenson admitted.

Natasha stared blankly into space.

"...Then what exactly did I suffer for?"

Evenson’s eyes drifted toward her.

For a split second...

His brain betrayed him.

The state of Natasha’s clothing reminded him of an old manga scene where Bulma shamelessly negotiated with Master Roshi.

A tiny tear.

A dangerous amount of exposed skin.

No.

Do not look.

Absolutely do not...

He forcibly dragged his attention elsewhere before his nose had the chance to embarrass him.

"So..."

He coughed.

"How was the dance, Captain?"

"...It was..."

Steve answered weakly.

"...Good."

The world’s greatest super soldier looked exhausted.

Closer inspection revealed several fresh tears in his uniform.

One eye, mostly hidden beneath his mask, was rapidly darkening into what promised to become an impressive black eye.

Apparently, dancing with a Demon Hunter demanded more endurance than fighting one.

"But..."

Steve smiled despite everything.

"Thank you."

His voice was utterly sincere.

"Thank you for giving Peggy back to me."

He tightened his grip around Peggy’s hand.

Bruised.

Disheveled.

Completely happy.

Evenson grimaced.

"Then you’d better find a reliable job."

"Supporting a wife isn’t cheap."

"I don’t know..."

"You and Tyler could probably make decent money performing strongman acts."

"Breaking rocks with your chests, maybe."

Peggy answered before Steve could.

"We’ll manage."

"We both have government pensions."

"And quite a few senior benefits."

"Money isn’t really an issue."

Evenson clutched at his chest in exaggerated agony.

"Out."

He pointed toward the door.

"Agent Carter stays."

"Everyone else leaves."

"We need to clean this place up."

Everyone stared at him.

Especially Steve.

"What?"

"I just completed a major magical ritual."

Evenson spoke with complete seriousness.

"If someone without the proper knowledge tampers with what’s left..."

"...the consequences could rival radiation exposure."

Whoosh.

Everyone vanished almost instantly.

Well...

Almost everyone.

Natasha moved considerably slower than the others.

For reasons she preferred not to discuss.

Only after the warehouse had fallen silent did Evenson turn toward Peggy.

His expression became completely serious.

To ensure no one could eavesdrop, he switched to the Demonic tongue.

"Agent Carter."

"Now..."

"...tell me."

"What exactly did you see?"

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