People often joked that Habs was the biggest shut-in imaginable.
The truth was...
Evenson was worse.
At least Habs took himself for a walk every morning and evening.
Evenson, meanwhile, could happily spend weeks without setting foot outside his front door.
He had a perfectly reasonable explanation for that.
You people think staying home means I never travel.
Please.
I’ve been farther from Earth than any of you could imagine.
The Twisting Nether is a little farther than the next subway stop.
Of course, there was one tiny detail he conveniently ignored.
Every trip to the Twisting Nether involved projecting his consciousness while his actual body remained safely at home.
Physically speaking...
He was still an accomplished couch potato.
That wasn’t entirely his fault.
Without a car, every trip meant walking, taking the bus, or squeezing into the subway. Taxis were an unnecessary luxury.
Buying a car?
Maybe someday.
He could certainly afford a bicycle.
He simply refused.
As a proud warlock and a reincarnator...
There were limits to the humiliation he was willing to endure.
Because Evenson rarely left the house, grocery shopping naturally became Sarah’s responsibility.
After carefully evaluating everyone’s qualifications, he had concluded she was the only viable candidate.
Habs?
He was a dog.
Sending him to the market with cash in his mouth, expecting him to haggle over produce, would probably result in every research institute in America descending on the neighborhood.
Tripsy was too small.
The grocery bags would likely outweigh him.
Evenson wasn’t interested in being reported for exploiting someone with a visible disability.
Doomguard?
He would probably stand in front of a vegetable stall from sunrise until closing time, silently contemplating the tomatoes without ever making a purchase.
Tyler was physically capable...
But one look at his towering demonic frame and intimidating face would have half the vendors dialing 911 before he finished saying hello.
That left Sarah.
She blended in effortlessly.
And if she ever chose to flash one of her irresistible smiles, half the shopkeepers would probably forget to charge her.
Unfortunately...
The succubus stubbornly refused to weaponize her charms for grocery discounts.
Evenson found that deeply disappointing.
Twenty days had passed since his trip to the Twisting Nether.
Like every other morning, Sarah picked up a shopping basket and headed toward the market.
After walking two blocks, she slipped into a deserted alley.
She casually dropped a small piece of paper onto the ground.
Then she walked back out and continued toward the grocery district without a backward glance.
Nothing appeared unusual.
A few minutes later...
A faint pulse of green light flashed inside the alley.
The paper vanished in a puff of flame.
In its place stood a man.
He wore a perfectly tailored black suit, polished leather shoes, black gloves, and dark sunglasses. His blond hair was slicked neatly backward, and his expression was as cold as carved stone.
"What a nuisance," he muttered.
"Leaving the house shouldn’t require this much preparation."
The man was, naturally...
Evenson.
The alley contained a Demonic Circle, one of a warlock’s teleportation rituals. As long as the circle remained active, it allowed the caster to instantly travel to its location.
The only drawback was that it faded after several days if left unattended.
As for the disguise...
Anyone who saw him would immediately assume he was the kind of villain destined to survive at least three sequels.
That was exactly the impression he wanted.
Because today...
He intended to cause trouble.
After a twenty-minute walk, Evenson stopped before a sixty-story office tower.
Officially, it belonged to a private scientific research corporation.
Unofficially...
It housed one of Hydra’s secret laboratories.
He entered through the front doors and approached the reception desk.
"I have an appointment with Mr. Daniel Howister."
The receptionist smiled politely.
"May I ask if you scheduled in advance, sir?"
"I did."
"And your name?"
"Albert Wesker."
She checked the computer.
"Mr. Wesker, your appointment begins in thirty minutes."
"Please make yourself comfortable."
Evenson thanked her and settled onto one of the lobby sofas.
Half an hour wasn’t long.
He spent it quietly reviewing every possible outcome and preparing responses for each.
Exactly thirty minutes later, another employee escorted him into a private elevator.
They rode to the top floor.
From there, she led him into an office spanning nearly two hundred square meters.
Two rows of security guards stood waiting.
Six in total.
The moment Evenson entered, two stepped forward.
"Sir."
"We’ll need to search you."
"No problem."
He raised his arms.
The search was thorough.
Once it was complete, the guard nodded toward his companions.
"No weapons."
"He’s clean."
Only then did a hidden door at the side of the office slide open.
Daniel Howister emerged.
He looked like an elegant university professor.
White hair.
Thin-framed glasses.
Perhaps fifty years old.
Nothing about his appearance suggested he was one of Hydra’s senior leaders.
Appearances, however, could be deceiving.
Long before Hydra infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D., long before Alexander Pierce rose through its hidden ranks, Daniel Howister had already been one of the Red Skull’s direct disciples.
He had once commanded Hydra’s Austrian branch.
When Hydra fell at the end of World War II, Peggy Carter and the Howling Commandos captured him, and he spent decades imprisoned in a high-security facility.
Only after Hydra secretly rebuilt itself during the 1980s and embedded its agents throughout S.H.I.E.L.D. was he finally freed.
As for his youthful appearance...
That had been purchased with unimaginable cruelty.
Years earlier, he had captured a female enhanced individual gifted with extraordinary regenerative abilities.
He dissected her alive.
From her body, he extracted the biological factors that restored his youth.
Howister sat behind an enormous desk without speaking.
He simply studied his visitor.
Evenson smiled politely.
"Albert Wesker."
He extended a gloved hand.
"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Howister."
The Hydra leader ignored it completely.
"You have five minutes, Mr. Wesker."
His tone was cold enough to freeze steel.
Ordinarily, someone of Howister’s status couldn’t be contacted by the general public at all.
Twenty days earlier, immediately after returning from the Twisting Nether, Evenson had begun trying to arrange this meeting.
Had he not insisted he possessed information of great importance, something Howister would definitely find interesting...
His request would have been discarded without a second thought.
Even then, the appointment had been pushed back by nearly three weeks.
And limited to five minutes.
Evenson withdrew his hand without the slightest trace of embarrassment.
"Five minutes is more than enough."
His smile remained calm.
"Let’s skip the introductions."
"I’ve come here to help you, Mr. Howister."
A faint smile appeared on the Hydra leader’s face.
"Help me?"
His amusement was obvious.
He commanded thousands of Hydra operatives.
Controlled vast resources.
Ran one of the organization’s largest research divisions.
What could an unknown man in a black suit possibly offer him?
"Tell me..."
"What exactly can you do for me?"
Evenson’s answer erased the smile from his face.
"I can help you recover something."
His voice remained quiet.
"Something that originally belonged to you..."
"...was stolen from you..."
"...and is the one thing you’ve been desperately trying to reclaim ever since."
The color drained from Daniel Howister’s face.
For the first time since entering the room...
The veteran Hydra leader looked genuinely shaken.
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