Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

"Locke..." Evenson let the name roll around in his mouth before breaking into a knowing chuckle. "Locke... huh... Locke..." The corner of his lips curled upward with complete confidence. He looked at Nahash and asked with perfect seriousness,

"So... who exactly is that?"

Silence.

A painful, soul-crushing silence.

Several people visibly twitched.

Nahash closed his eyes and leaned against the wall as though fighting off a migraine.

You don’t know who he is? Then what was that smug laugh for?!

If he still possessed a human spine instead of a serpent’s body, he was fairly certain the emotional whiplash would’ve thrown it out.

Evenson sighed inwardly.

I was buying time.

He’d laughed because he hoped the name would eventually trigger a memory.

It hadn’t.

Apparently Locke wasn’t nearly famous enough.

Nahash inhaled slowly, restoring the calm, gentlemanly demeanor he’d worn since arriving.

"Locke is one of Mephisto’s manifestations," he explained. "Effectively his personal secretary. He drafts Mephisto’s contracts and oversees much of the administrative work of Hell."

"I see."

Evenson nodded thoughtfully.

A secretary to the Lord of Hell sounded unimpressive at first glance.

In reality?

Anyone trusted to write the contracts that bound souls probably wielded authority far beyond whatever title they officially carried.

"So," Evenson asked, "what did he do?"

"He fled Hell."

Nahash answered bluntly.

"And intends to betray Mephisto."

"Idiot."

The judgment came instantly.

Manifestations weren’t truly independent beings.

Everything Locke possessed, his power, his authority, even his existence, belonged to Mephisto.

The moment Mephisto wished it, every bit of it could be stripped away with a thought.

Trying to rebel under those circumstances wasn’t courage.

It was spectacular stupidity.

"I can’t disagree," Nahash admitted. "But Locke escaped into the mortal world."

He paused.

"And once he’s there... Mephisto’s control becomes far less absolute."

"That’s a very diplomatic way of saying it."

Evenson rolled his eyes.

"Mephisto’s having a rough season. First his own son rebels against him, now one of his manifestations runs away. Maybe I should offer him a tarot reading. See if we can improve his luck. My rates are negotiable."

Claire and the others stared.

Offering fortune-telling services to one of the rulers of Hell required either incredible confidence or complete insanity.

Possibly both.

To everyone’s surprise, Nahash didn’t seem offended.

"In fairness," he admitted, "his luck has been dreadful lately."

He almost smiled.

"The other Hell Lords haven’t stopped laughing."

Evenson studied him carefully.

Nahash seemed remarkably relaxed for someone negotiating on Mephisto’s behalf.

Eventually Evenson shrugged.

"Honestly, doesn’t seem like much of a crisis. Locke can’t use much of his power in the mortal world, and demons can’t stay here forever anyway. Sooner or later he’ll be dragged back to Hell."

"Normally."

Nahash nodded.

"But this situation isn’t normal."

"Go on."

"Thirteen years ago," Nahash said, "Locke came to Earth to complete one of Mephisto’s bargains."

His expression held unmistakable admiration.

"While he was here... he fathered a child."

Claire’s face immediately darkened.

"A devil’s child."

Everyone looked toward her.

"A hybrid born from a human and a demon," she explained quietly. "Neither fully human nor fully devil."

She swallowed.

"The mortal world doesn’t reject them."

Her voice became even more serious.

"If a devil possesses such a body, they can remain on Earth indefinitely... while wielding their full power."

Then she frowned.

"But those births are incredibly rare."

Rare was putting it mildly.

Evenson couldn’t help comparing it to Azeroth.

Humans, orcs, draenei, elves... Warcraft’s races crossed bloodlines like biology was merely a polite suggestion.

But at least they were all living creatures.

Humans and devils weren’t separated by species.

They were separated by life and death itself.

The odds of producing offspring between them were somewhere between impossible and absurd.

"Yet Locke succeeded," Nahash said with unmistakable envy.

One impossible stroke of luck.

Maybe Mephisto accidentally transferred all his Luck stat into this guy, Evenson mused.

Did Locke somehow discover the ultimate RNG-stealing build?

"Perhaps," Nahash said, picking up the thread before returning to business.

"The ritual is simple."

"When the child reaches thirteen..."

"...on the first winter solstice afterward..."

"...Locke will perform the ritual and permanently possess the child’s body."

Understanding dawned immediately.

"So Mephisto wants you to send Locke back to Hell before that happens."

Evenson smiled faintly.

"Otherwise he’ll permanently lose part of his power."

Nahash met his gaze without blinking.

"Or..."

"...your world gains a true Archdevil walking freely upon it."

Before Evenson could answer, Nick Fury stepped closer and lowered his voice.

"Take the deal."

"The world’s already enough of a mess."

"I’d rather not add ’unstoppable devil with permanent Earth residency’ to the list."

Fury didn’t know exactly how dangerous a Hell Lord was.

He only knew the answer was somewhere between catastrophic and apocalyptic.

Evenson gave the slightest nod.

"I know what I’m doing."

Then he turned back toward Nahash.

"My answer?"

He smiled.

"No."

Silence.

Somewhere beside him, someone violently choked on blood.

Evenson ignored it entirely, rocking lazily on his heels while examining the ceiling as though the conversation had nothing to do with him.

Nahash merely sighed.

He had expected this.

"Regarding the San Venganza Contract," he said, "Mephisto is willing to let the matter rest."

"Wasn’t my problem to begin with."

Evenson didn’t even bother lowering his gaze.

Nahash resisted pointing out how spectacularly untrue that statement was.

Instead he continued.

"When this matter is resolved..."

"...your friend’s soul will be returned exactly as it was."

"So he can wake up the next morning and die all over again?"

Evenson’s tone remained perfectly flat.

"I can guarantee that Hell will never again interfere with the course of his life."

Nahash spoke carefully.

"If he dies naturally afterward... then his soul is ours, as it would be for anyone else."

"Naturally."

Evenson’s sarcasm could’ve frozen lava.

"And next time you’ll threaten one of my other friends instead."

"You know Mephisto dislikes using such methods."

Nahash paused.

Seeing Evenson’s expression remain unchanged, he reluctantly added,

"Very well."

"I will also guarantee that Hell will never again attempt to coerce you through those close to you."

Now Evenson finally nodded.

Better.

Still...

"I have one concern."

He looked directly into Nahash’s eyes.

"You’re the Father of Lies."

"Exactly how much is your guarantee worth?"

Nahash didn’t argue.

He didn’t defend himself.

Instead, he calmly reached inside his robe, withdrew a scroll, and tossed it across the room.

Evenson caught it.

Before opening it, he glanced sideways at Nick Fury, who looked as though he was halfway through an emergency supply of heart medication.

See?

This is how you negotiate with devils.

No contract.

No deal.

Take notes.

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