Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

Mephisto’s solution was exactly what Evenson had come to expect from a devil.

Find a loophole. Slip through the back door.

This time, he was going to install a Trojan horse inside Coulson’s soul.

If a human soul could be compared to an operating system, then memories were individual folders. Whenever a person wanted to remember something, they opened the appropriate folder and accessed the files inside.

Mephisto’s "virus" would leave the folder untouched.

Coulson would click the same icon as always.

But what appeared on the screen would be something completely different.

Nick Fury was silent.

He rested his chin on one hand while his other fingers tapped a steady rhythm against the couch arm. After thinking for a long while, he finally asked, "Can you guarantee it will work without fail?"

"Hahaha..."

Mephisto laughed three times.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he surveyed the room with the confidence of a king.

Fury actually relaxed a little.

Then Mephisto answered with absolute certainty.

"Of course not."

Crash!

Fury promptly fell off the couch.

He managed to catch himself before completely hitting the floor, then slowly climbed back into his seat while clutching his lower back.

"Damn it..."

That nearly threw his back out.

"What exactly did you expect?" Mephisto asked, looking genuinely baffled by Fury’s reaction. "It’s only a membrane. A little too much stimulation and it could tear on its own."

He shrugged.

"That’s the only method I have. And I can only repair the membrane once. Do you have a better idea? Let’s hear it."

"I was planning to perform neurosurgery."

Fury thought for a moment before deciding to explain his original plan.

Perhaps Mephisto and Evenson could point out problems he’d overlooked.

"The procedure would involve a series of operations over an extended period. We’d repeatedly stimulate and adjust the relevant neural pathways until the memory was effectively replaced."

"Interesting."

Mephisto didn’t immediately comment on the plan.

Instead, he looked at Fury with amusement.

"You already have your own solution. Why come to me?"

"Because this is important."

Fury’s answer was simple.

"It’s better to hear more than one perspective."

"Hmm."

Mephisto gave a quiet, humorless laugh.

"You’re just like me."

He leaned forward slightly.

"Neither of us trusts anyone. If something matters, we only feel comfortable when it’s in our own hands."

His eyes narrowed.

"But you already have a plan, and yet you’re still asking me for another solution."

He smiled.

"That can only mean one thing."

Mephisto pointed at Fury.

"Your plan has a serious flaw."

His smile faded.

"And that flaw..."

He paused.

"...is probably you."

Evenson glanced sideways.

Fury had quietly lowered his head.

Mephisto continued.

"Whatever form this surgery takes, if you want to avoid leaving Coulson permanently disabled, there’s no guarantee that the memory will even survive the procedure. In that case, all of this would be pointless anyway."

He studied Fury’s expression.

"So there is another possibility. Deep down, you don’t want to perform this surgery on Coulson. You’re resisting the idea because you know exactly what it would do to him."

"As long as there’s another option," Fury admitted, "I don’t want to use it."

"Then the surgery must have a serious impact on Coulson."

Evenson’s gaze lowered.

"Pain? Reduced lifespan? Nerve damage? What exactly happens to him?"

"Pain."

Fury rubbed his face hard.

"That’s the problem."

He exhaled.

"During the procedure, we’d have to conduct extensive stimulation tests to determine exactly where that memory is stored. Only after we identify the relevant area could we begin adjusting it."

He paused.

"Do you have any idea how many neural pathways there are in the human brain?"

Evenson’s expression tightened.

"The testing alone could take three days."

He looked at Evenson.

"And throughout those three days, Coulson would have to remain conscious so we could accurately monitor his responses."

"Conscious..."

Evenson’s fingers trembled as he slowly touched his own scalp.

"Conscious..."

He looked genuinely disturbed.

"Pain applied directly to the brain’s nerves isn’t much different from pain inflicted directly on the soul."

His expression hardened.

"If that’s what you’re planning, you might as well kill him."

"The memory would be buried once the surgery was complete."

Fury shook his head.

"He wouldn’t remember any of it. He wouldn’t suffer afterward."

His voice became quieter.

"He wouldn’t suffer."

But Fury would still have to live with knowing what he’d put Coulson through.

And that was what he couldn’t accept.

"That surprises even me."

Mephisto actually looked impressed by the plan.

"I torture people because they deserve it."

His expression became strangely thoughtful.

"You’re willing to torture someone simply because you need him to keep working."

He smiled.

"You know, you sound more like a devil than I do."

"No."

Fury shook his head.

"I’m human."

His voice was calm.

"Humans can go to Heaven. Humans can go to Hell. We can be as kind as angels, or as cruel as devils."

He looked directly at Mephisto.

"My job, and the choices I make, mean accepting the cruelty of a devil. Accepting the pain of Hell."

His expression hardened.

"So that more people can live their lives as though they were in Heaven."

Mephisto stared at him.

Then he began applauding.

Slowly at first.

Then with genuine admiration.

"Remarkable."

He smiled.

"That kind of conviction reminds me of someone."

He thought for a moment.

"Joan."

"Saint Joan of Arc."

Evenson’s eyes widened.

"Saint Joan went to Hell?"

Then he stopped.

"Wait. She led armies into battle and killed plenty of people. I suppose Hell wouldn’t exactly be surprising."

"No."

Mephisto shook his head.

There was something almost wistful in his expression.

"She went to Heaven."

His voice softened.

"In the thousand years since Judaism and Christianity established their traditions, plenty of people have been given the title of saint. Every Pope has carried the word in one form or another."

He gave a dry laugh.

"But aside from the first five generations, most of them are standing in line down in Hell."

Then his expression changed.

Nostalgia entered his eyes.

"And Joan..."

He smiled faintly.

"That girl deserved the title more than any of them."

"She was a true believer. Her faith was pure, but it was also rational."

Mephisto’s gaze seemed distant now, as though he were looking through centuries.

"I once appeared before her. I told her my name. I told her exactly what I was."

"She didn’t panic like the other believers."

He shook his head.

"She didn’t scream at me. She didn’t curse me."

"She simply faced me."

Mephisto smiled.

"She told me she understood me."

"And we talked for a long time."

His expression darkened.

"Unfortunately..."

His eyes slowly turned red.

"The people who opposed her later twisted all of that into evidence against her."

His voice became bitter.

"They accused her of falling into corruption. They called her the Dragon Witch who had brought war into the human world."

Mephisto’s fists tightened.

"I did tempt her."

"I offered her power. Strength. Victory."

He paused.

"Even immortality."

"She rejected every offer."

His voice carried something dangerously close to admiration.

"Just before she was burned at the stake, I did something I almost never do."

"I offered to help her escape."

"Free of charge."

Evenson stared.

Mephisto gave a bitter smile.

"And she still refused."

"She told me that she was a sacrifice for peace. If she escaped, the war might continue. She was willing to carry the world’s hatred and die if her death could bring the conflict to an end."

His voice became quiet.

"When the flames consumed her, I saw a golden light."

"Even Saint Paul would have been humbled by it."

Mephisto looked toward the ceiling.

"She went straight to Heaven."

For a moment, there was genuine sorrow in his expression.

"All I could do was..."

His eyes burned crimson.

Bang!

His fist slammed into the table.

"...make absolutely certain that the people who falsely accused her never leave Hell."

He glared into the distance.

"I don’t care if Hell runs out of housing and I have to move into a tent myself."

"I will never release them."

"They can suffer there forever."

Nick Fury listened to the entire speech in silence.

When Mephisto finally stopped, Fury looked almost uncomfortable.

"Should I be..."

He hesitated.

"...embarrassed?"

He genuinely hadn’t expected the Lord of Hell to hold him in such high regard.

"No need."

Mephisto answered immediately.

"I only said you remind me of Joan."

His expression became stern.

"In reality, you’re nowhere near her level."

Fury’s brow twitched.

"Not just because you’re ugly."

Evenson’s mouth twitched.

Mephisto continued without mercy.

"It’s also because you’re arrogant."

He pointed at Fury.

"That plan of yours won’t work."

...

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