Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

It was still daylight in Eastern Europe.

In New York, night had already fallen.

In a quiet part of Brooklyn, a detached house stood behind a modest patch of lawn. It wasn’t particularly large, perhaps only a little bigger than Evenson’s fortress.

Maybe.

That wasn’t the point.

Anyone who could afford a house like this was comfortably middle class. A man living here shouldn’t have needed to worry about keeping food on the table.

At least, that had once been true.

Now the owner, Adrian Toomes, sat alone at the dining table after his wife and daughter had gone to bed.

His eyes were bloodshot.

Stubble covered his face.

He looked exhausted.

And for good reason.

He was bankrupt.

Adrian had mortgaged everything he owned and poured every dollar into his cleanup operation, gambling his family’s future on the Chitauri salvage operation.

He’d expected to make a fortune.

Then Tony Stark had appeared and turned the entire situation upside down.

Every dollar Adrian had invested was now gone.

The bank, naturally, didn’t care.

They had given him the money he’d asked for. They hadn’t forced him to borrow it. If he couldn’t repay the loan, that wasn’t their problem.

Interest still accumulated.

And eventually, the bank would take the house.

Adrian understood that much.

He probably had only a few days left in this place.

Once the bank repossessed the house, the little money he had remaining would barely be enough to rent a cramped apartment in Queens.

The thought bothered him less for his own sake than for his daughter.

New York had plenty of neighborhoods with impressive names that somehow didn’t always inspire confidence.

Queens was one of them.

And while people from Queens and Brooklyn weren’t exactly sworn enemies, there was enough local rivalry that Adrian didn’t want his little girl caught in the middle of it.

He dragged both hands through his hair.

Forget that for now.

He needed to figure out how his family was going to eat.

Then the doorbell rang.

Ding-dong.

Adrian froze.

Who would show up at this hour?

A debt collector?

The bank?

Surely they weren’t already here to seize the house.

He stood and walked toward the front door.

Then he stopped.

His hand went to a drawer.

He pulled out his handgun and tucked it behind his back.

It was one of the most valuable things he still owned.

Given America’s less-than-stellar crime rate and the very real possibility of armed robbery, selling his gun had never seemed worth the risk.

Adrian positioned himself behind the door.

"Who is it?"

A man’s voice answered from outside.

"Mr. Toomes, we’re here to discuss a business proposition. May we come inside?"

The speaker sounded polite enough.

His tone, however, was remarkably flat.

"Business at this hour?"

Adrian didn’t buy it.

"Whoever you are, come back tomorrow. Otherwise, I’m calling the police."

"We intended to come during the day."

The man didn’t leave.

"But tomorrow will be rather busy for you."

A pause.

"I’m sure the bank representatives will occupy most of your time."

Adrian’s hand tightened around the gun.

He still didn’t trust the stranger.

But if there was even a chance of making some money before losing the house, he couldn’t afford to ignore it.

Besides, Adrian had always been willing to take risks.

If he hadn’t been, he never would have gambled his entire fortune on the Chitauri salvage operation in the first place.

He made his decision.

Adrian opened the door with the gun in his hand.

A bald Black man stood outside in an immaculate suit, carrying a briefcase.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Luthor."

The man gave a small nod.

"I’m here on behalf of Gospel Corporation. I’d like to discuss a business arrangement."

"Gospel..."

Adrian searched his memory.

Then his brow furrowed.

"Is that the medical equipment company that was registered a couple of days ago?"

"That’s correct."

Adrian studied him for another moment.

"All right."

He stepped aside.

"Come in."

As he led Luthor into the living room, Adrian gestured vaguely at the modest surroundings.

"Things haven’t been going particularly well for me lately. I don’t have much to offer, so don’t expect anything fancy."

Then he noticed the gun still in his hand.

"Oh."

He quickly put it back in the drawer.

"American nights. You understand."

"I don’t mind."

Luthor sat across from him without the slightest concern.

"So, Mr. Luthor..."

Adrian leaned forward.

"What exactly do you want from me?"

He held up a hand.

"And just so we’re clear, I don’t know much about medicine."

"I know."

Luthor nodded.

"Our company isn’t limited to medical equipment, either. We’re interested in all kinds of talent."

He looked directly at Adrian.

"We’d like to offer you a position on our research team."

"Research team?"

Adrian almost laughed.

"You’re kidding."

At this point in his life, the idea of anyone considering him a researcher seemed absurd.

"Not at all."

Luthor placed the briefcase on the table.

Click.

He opened it.

Stacks of neatly arranged hundred-dollar bills filled the case.

There had to be close to a million dollars.

Adrian’s expression changed instantly.

Not because of the money.

Sitting on top of the cash was a handgun.

Luthor looked at him without emotion.

"Do you accept our offer, Mr. Toomes?"

Cash and a gun.

The combination looked less like a job offer and more like the kind of thing a gangster might use to persuade a witness or juror.

Adrian immediately regretted putting his own gun away.

At the same time, anger began burning in his chest.

Stark Industries was a massive corporation.

Tony Stark had already destroyed the one opportunity Adrian had staked his life on.

And now another company had arrived claiming to offer him employment while placing a gun on top of a million dollars as an incentive.

"Is the choice really that difficult?"

Luthor leaned back against the couch.

He didn’t seem remotely concerned that Adrian might reach into the briefcase, grab the weapon, and point it at him.

"Money or bullets?"

"Why should I choose?"

Adrian’s voice suddenly rose.

"Why are people like you always like this?"

He slammed his hand against the table.

"To companies and corporations like yours, people like me don’t matter, do we?"

"You can push us around whenever you want."

"You can threaten us whenever you want."

Luthor nodded.

"Yes."

Adrian stared at him.

Luthor didn’t soften the answer.

"I suppose that’s exactly how it works."

"Why?"

Adrian surged to his feet.

"I put everything I had into my business!"

His voice cracked with anger.

"And Tony Stark took it all away!"

He pointed toward the briefcase.

"Tell me, is that fair?"

"No."

Luthor slowly shook his head.

"It isn’t fair at all."

He stared directly into Adrian’s eyes.

"If the world were truly fair, you and your entire crew would have been killed at the salvage site by mercenaries sent by Tony Stark."

"Then Stark would take every piece of Chitauri technology you’d spent days digging out of the wreckage."

"And everyone else would shrug and say that’s perfectly reasonable."

Luthor’s expression remained utterly calm.

"Now that would be fair."

Adrian stood frozen.

For the first time that night, he wasn’t sure whether the man sitting across from him was offering him a job...

Or offering him a chance to take his life back.

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