Evenson looked down at the man lying on the church floor.
He wore a weathered brown leather jacket, heavy gloves, and well-worn combat boots. Everything about him suggested someone accustomed to field work rather than sermons. His powerful physique spoke of a man in his prime, yet the streaks of gray in his thick beard gave him the appearance of a seasoned veteran.
"Run his face," Evenson ordered.
A man dressed like that, appearing at this place, at this time, after being rescued from a cliffside, was no random traveler.
Rumlow immediately activated the scanner on his tactical bracer.
Within seconds the results appeared.
"Father Moru," Rumlow reported. "French national. Officially registered as a priest attached to a local Catholic parish."
"A priest?"
Evenson’s eyes drifted toward the scouting team.
At least five of them bore fresh bruises.
"A priest shouldn’t be able to do that."
Whether they answered to Fury or, secretly, to Hydra, every member of this tactical unit was an elite operative.
One man injuring five of them barehanded wasn’t remotely normal.
He looked toward the squad leader.
"Levin... right?"
"Yes, sir."
"You rescued him."
Evenson folded his arms.
"So why did he attack you?"
Even with the Vatican and S.H.I.E.L.D. on poor terms, that hardly justified attacking federal agents.
Besides...
Between the man’s combat skills and the unmistakable smell of alcohol clinging to him, Evenson doubted he was an ordinary Catholic priest.
If anything, he was probably one of the Outer Church’s warrior-monks.
Levin sighed.
"I don’t really know."
"We spent twenty minutes pulling him out of a tree growing from the side of the cliff."
"The second he woke up..."
"...he tried to steal our weapons."
He rubbed the bruise on his cheek.
"He knows how to fight."
"We had to subdue him with a stun baton."
Levin had recognized that the stranger might possess information relevant to the mission.
Otherwise, attempting to seize weapons from a S.H.I.E.L.D. tactical team would’ve justified lethal force.
Evenson nodded.
"Rumlow."
"Search the surveillance room."
"I want to know what they were protecting."
"And what everyone died for."
Rumlow immediately led his men deeper into the church.
Evenson crouched beside Moru and flicked a finger.
A gentle psychic shock rippled into the unconscious man’s mind.
"...Mm."
Moru groaned.
His eyes snapped open.
The instant he regained his bearings, he exploded upward with surprising speed.
Levin reacted even faster.
Crack!
Instead of activating the stun function this time, he swung the baton like a club and smashed it into Moru’s knee.
"Agh!"
The priest cried out, collapsing onto one knee.
Evenson drew a breath, ready to deliver an appropriately intimidating opening.
State your name before this court...
Instead—
Moru straightened his back, glared at them, and roared,
"Who are you? Identify yourselves!"
Evenson opened his mouth.
Melinda beat him to it.
"We’re agents of S.H.I.E.L.D."
Evenson silently screamed inside.
Will someone please let me have one dramatic entrance?
"S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
Moru looked genuinely bewildered.
"What are you doing here?"
"This has nothing to do with you."
Before Melinda could answer, Evenson spoke first.
"Classified."
Finally.
He’d managed to contribute.
Moru shook his head.
If they weren’t willing to explain, neither was he.
More importantly, he had somewhere he desperately needed to be.
"Listen."
"If you’re really S.H.I.E.L.D..."
"...then you’re the good guys."
"You should let me go."
"I’m trying to do something important."
"A very good thing."
Evenson chuckled.
"If we’re all good people..."
"...why don’t you tell us what you’re doing?"
"Maybe we can help."
Moru immediately shook his head.
"No."
"This isn’t something ordinary people can be involved in."
"I’m saying this for your own safety."
His words sounded sincere.
But beneath them...
Evenson caught something else.
Pride.
Not arrogance born of ego.
The quiet certainty of someone convinced he carried a sacred mission.
It still irritated him.
Ignorance wrapped in righteousness was dangerous.
"Funny."
"We aren’t ordinary people either."
He looked toward Claire.
Your turn.
Claire immediately understood.
Without saying a word, she raised one hand.
Golden lines of light wove themselves together into a slowly rotating cube that floated above her palm.
The spell possessed no practical purpose whatsoever.
Its only function was to unmistakably announce:
Sorcerer.
Evenson gestured toward her.
"This is a senior steward of Kamar-Taj."
"She’s here to assist with this investigation."
He expected the display to change everything.
Instead...
It made things worse.
"Witch..."
Moru whispered.
His face went pale.
Ancient stories flooded back into his memory.
The bald witch who had defeated the Church’s guardians one after another...
...then publicly humiliated them.
"We don’t need anyone’s help."
He glared at Claire with undisguised hostility.
"Not S.H.I.E.L.D..."
"...and certainly not your coven."
"We can solve this ourselves."
Evenson rubbed his forehead.
The Ancient One had clearly left a lasting impression.
He was just beginning to consider less diplomatic interrogation methods...
...when Rumlow came sprinting back.
He looked genuinely flustered.
Without a word he removed his tactical terminal and handed it to Evenson.
"We found the surveillance recordings."
Evenson activated the playback.
"They didn’t erase the footage?"
He snorted.
"Carrigan really does deserve that nickname."
Less than ten seconds later...
His expression froze.
The next instant he slammed the tactical terminal onto the stone floor so hard that it shattered directly in front of Moru.
Rumlow winced.
There goes this month’s equipment budget.
Evenson pointed accusingly at the kneeling priest.
"You said you could handle it?"
"You idiots lost the child!"
The footage had been perfectly clear.
A long-haired woman wearing a red leather jacket had dragged a thirteen-year-old child into a waiting vehicle.
The car smashed straight through the church gates and escaped.
The instant it happened...
Moru and the mercenaries abandoned their battle with each other and raced after the vehicle.
Too late.
The Devil’s Child was already gone.
Evenson turned toward the others.
"The child isn’t here anymore."
"We’re leaving."
"Now."
"We stick to the original plan."
"Hopefully we’re not already too late."
He no longer had any interest in questioning Moru.
As he strode toward the shattered entrance, the kneeling priest called after him.
"You don’t understand!"
"No matter what you know..."
"...only we can stop this!"
Evenson didn’t even turn around.
"Oh?"
His voice dripped with sarcasm.
"Then why did Mephisto come to me?"
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