Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

Some things simply had to be faced head-on.

Running away from them would accomplish nothing. Evenson had learned that lesson long ago. It was like playing a Warlock in a dungeon. No matter how carefully you kept your head down and tried not to draw aggro, eventually someone was going to hand you the summons and ask you to open the door.

So Evenson had accepted his fate.

He returned to the airborne bus through a demonic ritual circle he’d prepared in advance.

It was still dark outside. Everyone else was asleep.

That was exactly how he wanted it.

Evenson stepped out of the portal with his hair sticking out in every direction and cautiously checked the corridor to make sure nobody was around.

He sighed.

Sleep later than a chicken. Wake up earlier than one.

He immediately slipped into the washroom.

A thorough decontamination followed.

He used enough shampoo and body wash to empty nearly half a bottle of each, then stripped off every piece of clothing he’d been wearing and threw the whole lot into the washing machine.

Only after showering, changing, and making himself presentable did Evenson finally relax.

He poured himself a drink, dropped onto the sofa, and took a slow sip.

Last night...

He glanced toward Clea’s door.

As far as he was concerned, he had nothing to feel guilty about.

Well...

That was perhaps a little self-serving.

But it really hadn’t been that serious.

Just as Melinda had said, it had been an expression of gratitude.

Nothing more.

Besides, by ordinary American standards, it wasn’t exactly some earth-shattering scandal. Two consenting adults had spent some time alone together. Their conversation had become a little more intimate than usual, and they’d slept somewhat closer than necessary.

The next morning, everyone simply got on with their lives.

He and Melinda were still friends.

They would remain friends.

Neither of them had any intention of turning that friendship into something else.

Certainly nothing like the situation he had with the Eredar Twins.

Evenson took another drink.

So that was basically a one-night thing.

He stared at his glass.

Huh. I really am getting corrupted.

As expected, once everyone else gradually woke up, the airborne bus returned to its usual bustle.

Melinda behaved exactly as she normally did.

It was as though nothing had happened the previous night.

Then Clea approached Evenson.

She leaned closer and gave his clothes a sniff.

"You smell really nice."

"Of course I do." Evenson answered without missing a beat. "I just showered."

"Mhm. Definitely shampoo and body wash."

Clea nodded, then narrowed her eyes and looked him over.

"You changed your clothes too."

"New day. New beginning."

Evenson kept his chin raised with the dignity of a man who had absolutely nothing to hide.

Clea remained suspicious, but eventually accepted the explanation.

"My observation period officially starts now," she said. "Don’t waste this opportunity."

"I’ll treasure it."

Evenson nodded so quickly he nearly gave himself whiplash.

And let’s officially forget what happened last night.

The day passed without further incident.

Around noon, everyone gathered for another lavish meal aboard the aircraft. It served as a celebration for the successful completion of the mission.

Nobody drank this time.

They were already getting close to the United States, and nobody wanted to arrive at headquarters smelling like a bar when it was time to give their reports.

By evening, the aircraft finally reached S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters.

The mission was officially over.

As they disembarked, Brock Rumlow approached with the members of his team.

"It was an honor fighting alongside you," Rumlow said. "I’m sorry we weren’t able to contribute much."

Evenson gave him a faint, knowing smile.

"Don’t sell yourself short. You helped me quite a bit this time."

Rumlow’s expression froze for half a second.

He quickly ran through everything he’d done during the mission.

As far as he knew, he hadn’t slipped up anywhere.

So this was probably just polite conversation.

After exchanging the usual pleasantries and expressing hope that they would work together again, Rumlow led his team away.

Once they were gone, Evenson turned to Clea.

"There are a few things I need to report to Director Fury privately. You can head home if you want, or you can wait here and we’ll leave together."

"I’ll wait."

Clea answered without hesitation.

Before Evenson could ask whether she knew where she was supposed to wait, Melinda spoke up.

"Go give your report. I’ll keep her company."

She gestured toward Clea.

"I’ve done this plenty of times before. When Hobbs and Sarah came here, I was the one who handled them too."

"All right."

Evenson nodded and headed for the elevator.

Clea watched the doors close behind him.

The elevator began carrying him upward.

She waited until it was out of sight before moving closer to Melinda.

"Don’t think I don’t know what you two did last night."

"Oh?"

Melinda remained completely composed as she turned toward the lounge.

"What did we do?"

Clea followed.

"The soundproofing on the aircraft is pretty good, but there’s no way it could hide everything from a mage’s senses."

"Is that so?"

Melinda sounded almost bored.

"You didn’t come out and stop us."

She glanced sideways at Clea.

"I have to admit, I’m surprised."

"You think I’m the kind of woman who gets jealous over every little thing?"

Clea rolled her eyes.

"I can tell you aren’t a threat to me. You and Evenson are just friends."

She paused.

"You don’t want to change that relationship, do you?"

"Of course not."

Melinda shook her head.

"I already have someone in my heart."

She smiled faintly.

"But it isn’t that man. He’s not my type."

"Good."

Clea seemed satisfied.

Then Melinda stopped walking.

She turned around.

"There is one thing I want to warn you about."

Clea raised an eyebrow.

Melinda’s expression became slightly more serious.

"I don’t know what Evenson thinks about all this, and I don’t know what his situation was like before. But I do know that men like him are going to attract attention from other women sooner or later."

She looked directly at Clea.

"You’d better hold on to him."

"Because those women aren’t necessarily going to be content with being his friends."

Clea almost laughed.

It’s not like that’s a future problem.

Women had already been circling Evenson for quite some time.

But then she remembered what had happened the previous night.

"That incident last night counts as part of your warning too?"

Melinda raised one finger.

A tiny spark of flame danced across its tip.

"Then tell me something."

"Who do you think quietly disabled the anti-scrying spell that Evenson installed?"

Clea’s lips tightened.

"Agents."

She said the word with obvious irritation.

"Those people have far too many tricks."

Melinda smiled.

"So you understand my point."

Clea sighed.

"I’ll accept your warning."

Then she narrowed her eyes.

"But too many warnings become annoying."

"I don’t intend to give you many."

Melinda shrugged.

"I only intend to thank him once."

Neither woman knew that Evenson had absolutely no idea his activities from the previous night had already been exposed.

At that very moment, he stepped into Nick Fury’s office.

Fury looked as though he’d been waiting for him.

Evenson closed the door behind himself.

The two men spoke at exactly the same time.

"I have something to tell you."

They both stopped.

A beat of silence followed.

"Who goes first?"

"Who’s the director? You go first."

"Whose business is more important?"

"Mine is important."

"So is mine."

Evenson finally gave up trying to negotiate.

"Fine."

He took a breath.

"I have a head of state who could probably win several Nobel Peace Prizes if he tried, and he wants to meet with you to discuss tourism on Earth."

Fury stared at him.

Evenson continued.

"And there’s a very real possibility he’ll want to establish diplomatic relations."

Nick Fury blinked.

For perhaps the first time in quite a while, he looked genuinely blindsided.

"Okay."

He lifted a hand.

"You win. You go first."

Evenson didn’t waste any more time.

He clapped his hands six times.

The room immediately filled with a distinctly frivolous male voice.

"Beautiful, here’s my number..."

The voice suddenly paused.

"Wait. This is a terrible time to summon me."

Fury and Evenson turned toward the source.

A man in a suit stood there with a wineglass in one hand.

His shirt was almost completely unbuttoned.

Several lipstick marks decorated his face.

He looked like he’d been interrupted in the middle of an exceptionally successful evening.

Evenson gestured toward him.

"Allow me to introduce you."

The man tossed his wineglass aside, buttoned his shirt, and wiped the lipstick from his face.

"One of the Seven Princes of Hell."

Evenson paused.

"And... several other titles that I’ve forgotten."

He shrugged.

"Anyway, this is Mephisto."

...

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