Most people imagined the Swiss Guard as little more than ceremonial soldiers.
Fewer than a hundred men in brightly colored Renaissance uniforms, carrying halberds and posing for tourists inside the Vatican.
Reality was considerably different.
The ceremonial guard was only the public face.
Behind it stood a much larger force, professionally trained and equipped with modern weapons.
The Vatican had spent over a thousand years collecting wealth from across Europe. Funding a capable military had never been the problem.
For a nation barely visible on a map, its influence on the world stage was astonishing.
Evenson slowly surveyed the bodies scattered across the church.
"If the Pope personally deployed the Swiss Guard here..."
"...then this place is protecting something very important."
Claire’s expression darkened.
"Maybe..."
"...the Devil’s Child was here."
"Possible."
Evenson turned toward Melinda.
"Contact Headquarters."
"Have them reach out to the Vatican."
"I want to know exactly how much they know and how far their own investigation has progressed."
"Understood."
Melinda immediately stepped aside to make the call.
Meanwhile, Evenson looked toward the dead attackers.
"Rumlow."
"Find out who they are."
"If we’re lucky, they’ll lead us straight to whoever hired them."
"Yes, sir."
Rumlow knelt beside one of the corpses and activated the tactical computer mounted on his forearm.
A beam scanned the dead man’s face.
The terminal connected directly to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s databases, and with Rumlow’s clearance, identifying most known operatives around the world took only seconds.
He checked one body.
Then another.
Then several more, just to be certain.
Finally he let out a low whistle.
"Well..."
"They’re fairly well known."
"They work for Carrigan."
Evenson frowned.
Well known?
I’ve never even heard of the guy.
Rumlow noticed the expression.
"They’re called..."
"...the shame of the mercenary world."
That explained absolutely nothing.
Evenson stared at him.
"If they’re such an embarrassment..."
"...how did they break through the Swiss Guard?"
Rumlow answered without hesitation.
"The signs are obvious."
"The church was taken completely by surprise."
"And Carrigan’s people had overwhelming numbers."
He shrugged.
"And when people call them the shame of the mercenary world..."
"...they aren’t talking about their combat ability."
"They’re talking about their character."
Evenson raised an eyebrow.
"Mercenaries have standards now?"
"I thought the whole profession boiled down to ’pay first, ask questions later.’"
"Most do."
Rumlow’s voice carried unmistakable contempt.
"Carrigan’s worse."
"In what way?"
"They routinely extort their own employers."
"They’ll wait until a mission reaches its critical moment..."
"...then demand more money."
"If they don’t get it..."
"...they abandon the contract."
"And mercenary work isn’t their only business."
Rumlow ticked the list off on his fingers.
"Kidnapping."
"Drug trafficking."
"Illegal arms dealing."
"Highway robbery."
"Protection rackets."
"They’ll do anything."
"I see."
Evenson shook his head.
"So one man is single-handedly lowering the reputation of an entire profession."
Which was impressive, considering the profession hadn’t exactly started with a sterling reputation.
He exhaled.
"Forget the scumbag."
"Whoever hired him isn’t the kind of client he can casually betray."
He looked at Rumlow.
"You know what to do next?"
Rumlow nodded immediately.
"Use satellite surveillance to locate Carrigan."
"Monitor every communication."
"Identify whoever’s giving him orders."
"Exactly."
Evenson smiled faintly.
No wonder Fury trusts him with command.
The man’s quick.
He turned toward Melinda.
"Anything from the Vatican?"
She lowered her phone.
"No."
"Headquarters says the Pope has entered seclusion for intensive prayer."
"Everyone else refuses to discuss Eastern Europe without direct authorization from His Holiness."
Evenson blinked.
"They won’t even cooperate with S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
"That’s... surprisingly stubborn."
"It isn’t entirely their fault."
Melinda looked mildly uncomfortable.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Vatican haven’t exactly been getting along recently."
"Really?"
"What happened?"
"The Battle of New York."
She folded her arms.
"Once Thor became public knowledge..."
Evenson suddenly looked alarmed.
"Don’t tell me the Pope declared Asgard heretical and started organizing another Crusade."
"Not quite."
Melinda almost smiled.
"But you’re closer than you’d think."
She continued.
"The Vatican’s position is that if the long-forgotten Norse gods turned out to be real..."
"...then God must certainly exist as well."
"So after a great deal of internal discussion..."
"...they proposed appointing a Cardinal with genuine executive authority inside S.H.I.E.L.D."
She paused.
"And they expected S.H.I.E.L.D. to support restoring the medieval tithe system."
Evenson stared.
Then laughed.
"They actually need medical attention."
"And besides..."
"Even if God exists..."
"...He’d probably turn out to be another extraterrestrial civilization like the Asgardians."
"Cooperating with aliens is one thing."
"Worshipping them is another."
"And taking orders from them?"
"That’s just selling out your own planet."
Melinda wisely ignored that philosophical detour.
"We can debate theology later."
She looked around the church.
"There are surveillance cameras everywhere."
"Most of them were destroyed."
"But if the recording system survived..."
"...the security room might still have footage."
"Worth checking."
Evenson nodded.
Before anyone could move, however, the search team he had dispatched earlier returned.
They weren’t alone.
Between them they dragged a large Black man wearing a brown leather jacket.
Several of the agents looked considerably worse for wear.
One had a swollen eye.
Another sported a split lip.
The squad leader was still nursing a bloody nose.
Really?
If you’ve already lost the fight, at least stand in the back.
Don’t lead the procession like you’re expecting a medal.
The agents unceremoniously threw the prisoner onto the stone floor.
One of them jabbed him with a stun baton for good measure.
Evenson frowned.
"Seriously?"
"What did he do?"
"...And why didn’t anyone invite me?"
The squad leader saluted despite his battered face.
"Sir."
"During our search we found a wrecked SUV and a crashed motorcycle."
He pointed at the prisoner.
"We heard someone shouting for help."
"We found this bastard hanging from a tree growing out of the cliff."
He rubbed his bruised cheek.
"Luckiest son of a bitch I’ve ever met."
Judging by the injuries on the agents...
The man they’d rescued hadn’t exactly come quietly.
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