Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

"Agent Coulson."

Evenson looked up from the notebook where he’d been debating the most important decision of the day: how he wanted his celebratory steak cooked.

A broad grin spread across his face.

"Welcome back."

Coulson wasn’t buying the enthusiasm.

"You can skip the performance."

He glanced around the familiar shop and sighed.

"Honestly? This is one place I was hoping I wouldn’t have to visit again."

Evenson only shrugged.

"And yet here you are."

He glanced toward the doorway behind the agent.

"Flying solo this time? Agent May didn’t come with you?"

It wasn’t that he was interested in Melinda May romantically. She was undeniably attractive, but mostly he preferred having a beautiful woman in the room instead of staring across a table at another man.

"No."

Coulson shook his head.

"She’s transferred to a desk assignment."

"Really?"

Evenson raised an eyebrow.

"I figured she’d be outside with a sniper rifle pointed at my head."

"Not exactly."

A faint smile tugged at Coulson’s lips.

"Although I’m fairly certain she’d enjoy punching you."

Evenson laughed.

"That’s a shame."

"I could tell she’s a natural-born warrior."

"I imagine sitting behind a desk hurts more than getting shot at."

He poured a cup of instant coffee and slid it across the counter.

"Here."

"Thanks."

Coulson accepted it with a nod.

"She’ll probably have a difficult adjustment."

"But it was her decision."

"There were... personal reasons."

He left it at that.

Evenson didn’t pry.

"Being a warrior isn’t all it’s cracked up to be."

He leaned casually against the counter.

"I once knew a man named Darius Shaw."

"He died leading a charge."

Coulson lifted his coffee.

"Sounds like the sort of ending most soldiers would hope for."

"Maybe."

Evenson smiled faintly.

"You should try it yourself someday."

"See if it still sounds romantic."

People loved heroic last stands.

General Patton had famously said that no soldier should die for his country. Instead, he should make the other poor bastard die for his.

Heroic speeches were inspiring.

Reality was much less glamorous.

Back on Azeroth, charging the enemy head-on usually earned you a short trip back to the nearest graveyard.

Changing the subject, Evenson asked casually,

"So..."

"How did your operation turn out?"

"I heard the Dead End Gang was wiped off the map."

"You must’ve uncovered quite a bit."

Coulson’s expression instantly became professional.

"Without proper authorization, I can neither confirm nor deny any details regarding that operation."

It was such a polished non-answer that Evenson couldn’t help rolling his eyes.

"Fine."

"Be that way."

The conversation drifted through harmless small talk until both cups of coffee were empty.

Only then did Coulson finally set his cup down.

He straightened his tie.

His easygoing demeanor vanished.

Now he looked every bit the SHIELD agent.

"Tony Stark has disappeared."

"I assume you’ve heard."

"I have."

Evenson nodded.

"It’s been all over the news."

Coulson watched him carefully.

"Do you know what happened?"

"I don’t."

That answer came effortlessly.

I know exactly what happened.

I just can’t tell you.

Then he frowned.

"Why are you asking me?"

"To me, Tony Stark is just a famous name."

"I’ve never met him."

"I’ve never even seen him."

Suddenly he snapped his fingers.

"Wait."

"You don’t expect me to use magic to find him, do you?"

Coulson hesitated.

The idea sounded ridiculous.

Then again...

Magic itself sounded ridiculous.

Everything inside Richter’s Curio Shop sounded ridiculous.

Perhaps magical divination was real.

"...Could you?"

Evenson reached into a drawer and pulled out a single gold coin.

A genuine gold coin from Azeroth.

Even during the days when instant noodles counted as luxury cuisine, he’d refused to spend it.

It was both a keepsake...

...and an emergency fund.

If he ever became completely broke, selling it would probably keep him alive for another month.

He flicked the coin into the air.

It spun once.

Twice.

He caught it.

Studied it solemnly.

Then declared,

"Tony Stark is currently..."

"...in Afghanistan."

Coulson blinked.

"...That’s all?"

"For now."

Evenson slipped the coin back into the drawer.

"If you come back in a few days, I’ll probably know more."

Coulson leaned forward.

"Do you need to perform some kind of ritual?"

"Wait for a full moon?"

"Certain stars?"

"No."

Evenson pushed the newspaper across the counter.

"In a few days there’ll probably be another article."

"I’ll read it."

"Then I’ll know more."

Coulson stared at the newspaper.

The headline read:

TONY STARK MISSING IN AFGHANISTAN

His expression cycled through disbelief...

Annoyance...

Then murderous irritation.

After several deep breaths, he barely suppressed the urge to hit Evenson over the head with the coffee mug.

"That was an incredibly cruel joke."

"I think I burst several blood vessels."

Evenson spread his hands innocently.

"You shouldn’t expect miracles."

"I’m a Warlock."

"Not one of those eccentric astrologers."

"Predicting the future isn’t something mortals are supposed to do."

Even Nozdormu, the Aspect of Time himself, had foreseen the End Time and still failed to prevent it.

If even the master of time couldn’t casually rewrite destiny...

How could an ordinary mortal hope to glimpse the future whenever he pleased?

You’re not exactly the picture of normal yourself, Coulson thought.

Then he spoke.

"Maybe not."

"But I think you really can see pieces of the future."

Evenson’s face remained perfectly calm.

Inside...

Every alarm bell went off.

Beneath the counter, his right hand instinctively formed the opening gesture for a Chaos Bolt before he forced himself to relax.

Knowing the future was the greatest secret he possessed.

One he intended to keep buried forever.

He looked directly into Coulson’s eyes.

"What makes you think that?"

Coulson answered without hesitation.

"Since the day you left the orphanage and opened this shop, you’ve consistently invested in Stark Industries."

"The stock dividends have been your primary source of income."

"But shortly before Tony Stark traveled to Afghanistan..."

"When every analyst expected Stark Industries to continue rising..."

"You sold every share."

"Then you bought stock in Justin Hammer’s company."

"A company almost nobody was optimistic about."

He held Evenson’s gaze.

"Two days later..."

"Tony Stark disappeared."

"So..."

"Would you like to explain that?"

Buying and selling stocks was perfectly ordinary in the United States.

If an average investor had done it...

People would’ve called it incredible luck.

When the investor happened to be a man capable of genuine magic...

Luck stopped being the obvious explanation.

...

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