Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

"Completely impossible?"

Nick Fury hadn’t been particularly confident in the surgical approach himself, but Mephisto had dismissed it so casually that he couldn’t help being curious.

"How do you know?"

"Your method might work on an ordinary person."

Mephisto had already shed the melancholy he’d shown while talking about Joan of Arc.

"But Coulson isn’t ordinary. He’s been to Hell."

He tapped a finger against the arm of the couch.

"This wasn’t a normal death followed by reincarnation, where you hit factory reset and install a new operating system. His memories of Hell are engraved directly into his soul."

Mephisto shook his head.

"You can alter his body all you want. It won’t be enough."

"Changes to the body can affect the soul."

Fury glanced at Evenson.

"If that principle is correct, then altering his brain through surgery should affect his soul as well."

"The principle isn’t wrong."

Mephisto also glanced at Evenson before continuing.

"But the relationship works both ways. The soul can affect the body, too."

He leaned back.

"Only when the body has permanently lost a part of itself does the soul truly lose the corresponding part. Your surgery would only make a minor adjustment. Given enough time, the soul would simply force the body back toward its original state."

Fury didn’t immediately accept that explanation.

Instead, he looked to Evenson again.

Evenson nodded.

That was enough.

Fury let out a long, defeated sigh.

"Fine. I didn’t want to use that method in the first place. Looks like I’ll have to rely on you."

He suddenly remembered something.

"Wait. Your method doesn’t cause any pain, does it?"

Mephisto immediately stood up and slapped a hand against his chest.

"Three minutes, completely safe and completely painless! Walk in today, back to work tomorrow!"

Evenson and Fury stared at him.

Something about that promise sounded suspiciously familiar.

"Right..."

Evenson rubbed his forehead.

"Then I’ll leave it to you, Doctor Mephisto."

"No problem."

Mephisto happily sat back down.

"Just call me when it’s time for the procedure."

Then his eyes brightened.

"Which reminds me. My green card should be ready now, right?"

"Yes."

Fury agreed immediately this time.

Then he added, "However, to protect your basic rights while you’re in the human world, and to ensure you can enjoy your time here without unnecessary interference, we need to establish some rules governing your conduct beforehand."

One corner of Mephisto’s eye twitched.

If you want to restrict my behavior, just say so.

Why dress it up as protecting my rights?

Do you really expect me to believe you’re being generous?

Still, he smiled.

"Understood. No problem."

"Though I assume you’ll want a written agreement?"

Mephisto reached inside his coat.

"Of course."

Fury nodded immediately.

This was the twenty-first century.

Even if the other party wasn’t literally the Devil, trusting a verbal agreement between two humans would already be questionable.

"Perfect. I happen to have one ready."

Mephisto pulled out a scroll.

Then he flicked it forward.

The scroll unfurled across the room.

Evenson’s smile froze.

So did Fury’s.

Their eyes began to blur.

Not because the document contained some magical sleeping agent or an enchanted poison.

The problem was much simpler.

The thing was enormous.

At least twenty meters of parchment spilled across the floor, covered from top to bottom with more than a thousand clauses, subclauses, conditions, exceptions, and amendments.

Just looking at it made Evenson’s eyes hurt.

"What the hell is this?"

He pointed accusingly at the document.

"Are you trying to blind us? Nobody can read all of that!"

Fury was handling it better.

Mostly because his expression had frozen into exactly the same position it had occupied when the scroll first appeared.

"Not bad."

Mephisto produced a magnifying glass and casually spun it between his fingers.

"I love this part of negotiations."

He gave the contract another shake.

"Let’s begin."

"AAAGH!"

Evenson suddenly screamed.

He clutched both eyes and wailed as though someone had just stabbed him.

"I’ve suffered a catastrophic magical backlash! I’m blind! I can’t see a thing!"

He turned toward Fury.

"Reviewing the contract will have to be left to you, Director."

Fury’s single eye drifted toward him.

He said nothing for a moment.

Then, very casually:

"Hey. Who dropped that hundred-dollar bill on the floor?"

"Where?"

Evenson sprang upright.

His supposedly blind eyes swept across the floor like searchlights.

He froze.

Damn it.

He’d fallen for it again.

The same cursed luck that had plagued him for years had apparently evolved into a weapon.

With his lie exposed, Evenson had no choice but to sit down and help review the contract.

The process lasted all night.

By the time they reached the bottom, the document looked as though it had survived a small war.

Nearly every earlier clause had been circled in red, crossed out, rewritten, or covered with handwritten amendments.

"Here."

Mephisto pointed to another clause.

"The undersigned shall have the right to reside indefinitely in Los Angeles, as well as the right to participate in democratic politics and peaceful demonstrations."

"Hold on."

Fury stopped him.

"This needs clarification."

He pointed at the clause.

"You cannot organize or initiate demonstrations yourself. And any participation in democratic politics must be conducted entirely within the bounds of the law."

"Hmm."

Mephisto considered it.

"Fair enough."

He picked up a pen and amended the clause.

Evenson leaned back.

His eyes were bloodshot.

"Speaking of Los Angeles..."

He rubbed them carefully.

"I won’t ask why you want to move to the City of Angels."

He gave Mephisto a suspicious look.

"But why do you care about participating in democratic politics? Do you actually have some political agenda?"

"I intend to petition the Los Angeles government to abolish the death penalty."

Mephisto chewed thoughtfully on the end of his pen.

"It’s a barbaric form of punishment."

Evenson stared at him.

Given who was saying it, the irony was almost painful.

"Considering the circumstances..."

He slumped deeper into the couch.

"That’s probably a good idea."

Mephisto continued reading.

"Next clause. Due to my unique physiology, I am permitted to possess laundry powder and marijuana."

"Personal use only."

Evenson immediately cut in.

"No selling. No giving it to anyone else. No distribution of any kind. And no stockpiling large quantities."

He sounded remarkably confident on the subject.

Mephisto glanced at him.

"Understood."

He amended the clause without complaint.

Another hour passed.

Finally, they reached the end.

Evenson sat up straight.

"One more clause."

Mephisto looked at him.

"Any hidden clauses contained within this document, regardless of how they are concealed, are automatically null and void."

"Naturally."

Mephisto added the clause.

Then, without hesitation, he signed his name and handed the contract to Fury.

"Done."

He smiled.

"Your turn."

Fury took the pen.

He hesitated for exactly two seconds, then signed.

"Excellent!"

Mephisto happily rolled the contract back into a scroll.

"Then we have a deal."

He stood.

"I’m going home to throw a party."

He grinned.

"Would you two like to come?"

"Don’t let the door hit you on the way out."

Evenson and Fury answered simultaneously.

Mephisto laughed and left.

Once he was gone, Evenson finally looked up.

"Right. You said you had something you wanted to tell me at the beginning."

"Yes."

Fury sat up and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I have an assignment for you."

Evenson’s eyes widened.

"You’ve got to be kidding me."

He pointed at himself.

"I just got back from a mission. I haven’t even gone home yet. I spent all this time helping you negotiate with Mephisto, and now you’re giving me another assignment?"

He stared at Fury in disbelief.

"Are you even human? Do you believe in labor laws?"

"Come on."

Fury waved him off.

"This is an easy assignment."

He gave Evenson a reassuring smile.

"You just need to go over there, chat with someone, make some conversation, eat well, drink well, and enjoy yourself."

He paused.

"You might even get a gift."

Evenson’s exhaustion vanished instantly.

"Wait. Seriously?"

He sat up.

"Who’s paying?"

"Gideon Malick."

Fury looked at him.

"You’ve heard the name, right?"

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