Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

The Hydra Schmidt.

Once the personal vehicle of the Red Skull himself.

The six-wheeled open-top roadster looked as though it had been designed by someone obsessed with speed and intimidation in equal measure. Its streamlined body wrapped around a supercharged sixteen-cylinder engine, giving it the performance of a supercar without sacrificing off-road capability.

Evenson had coveted that car for years.

Back in his previous life, all Ryan Mercer could do was admire it through a computer screen.

Now...

He finally had a chance to own it.

"The car was confiscated by Peggy Carter after Red Skull’s defeat," Evenson continued. "It should still be in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s possession. And don’t tell me it was scrapped. I won’t believe that for a second. Something with that much historical significance doesn’t just disappear."

Throughout history, victors had always kept trophies from defeated enemies.

Helmets.

Weapons.

Armor.

Anything that symbolized triumph.

S.H.I.E.L.D. was no different.

After Red Skull vanished, the Hydra Schmidt had become one of the agency’s war trophies.

Its history, and its infamous former owner, made it far more than just another vintage automobile.

Nick Fury couldn’t help asking,

"Why that car?"

A sliver of suspicion crossed his mind.

Does he know something about it?

Was something hidden inside the vehicle all these years?

Evenson, however, answered without hesitation.

"Because it’s cool."

"It’s unique."

"And most importantly..."

"There’s only one."

"What could possibly be more valuable than a one-of-a-kind car?"

Lamborghinis.

Maseratis.

Limited editions.

No matter how exclusive they claimed to be, there were always dozens of them somewhere in the world.

The Hydra Schmidt...

There was exactly one.

Fury pictured the vehicle.

He had to admit...

It was an impressive machine.

Compared to Tony Stark’s life, an old trophy from sixty years ago wasn’t much of a sacrifice.

"Fine."

"You have a deal."

The symbolism of the car no longer mattered as much as it once had.

Hydra had returned.

Keeping Red Skull’s old automobile as a museum piece was no longer a badge of honor.

If anything, it had become an uncomfortable reminder that history had failed to stay buried.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Director Fury."

Evenson ended the call.

Fury turned immediately to Coulson.

"If the warlock enters the fight, I want everything documented."

"Observe carefully."

"Record the entire engagement."

S.H.I.E.L.D.’s assessment of Evenson’s abilities had been built almost entirely on scattered clues and educated guesses.

This was the first real opportunity to watch him in action.

They weren’t about to waste it.

"Understood, sir."

Coulson ended the secure connection.

Then he looked back toward the battlefield.

Iron Man and Iron Monger were still tearing the industrial district apart.

Missiles.

Explosions.

Collapsed buildings.

He could do absolutely nothing except watch.

Grinding his teeth, Coulson grabbed his phone again.

Instead of calling Evenson directly, he dialed the surveillance team assigned to monitor him.

He didn’t want to risk slowing the warlock down if he was already on the move.

"This is Level Six Agent Phil Coulson."

The moment the line connected, he asked,

"Has Evenson Richter left his residence?"

After confirming his identity, the duty agent answered immediately.

"Yes, sir."

"He left a few minutes ago."

"He seemed to be in a hurry."

"He rode away on a bicycle."

Coulson relaxed for half a second.

Good.

At least the man hadn’t ignored the request.

Then the last sentence registered.

"...A bicycle?"

He nearly choked.

A bicycle?!

We’re fighting for Tony Stark’s life, and he’s pedaling across New York?

At this rate the National Guard would arrive before he did.

"Listen carefully!"

Coulson roared into the phone.

"Get in your car right now."

"Find him."

"Pick him up."

"And get him here within twenty minutes."

"If you fail..."

"I’m transferring every one of you to Antarctica."

"...Until you find Atlantis."

The agents stared at their phones.

Atlantis?

In Antarctica?

That’s complete nonsense.

Of course...

None of them were brave enough to point that out.

"Yes, sir!"

They sprinted downstairs without another word.

Moments later, two surveillance vehicles shot out of the parking garage.

Each driver silently prayed.

Please don’t let him have disappeared.

I really don’t want to spend the rest of my career counting penguins.

They accelerated hard.

Barely made the first turn...

...and slammed on the brakes.

Standing calmly beside the road was the very man they were searching for.

One hand rested casually on his bicycle.

The other gave them a cheerful thumbs-up.

He was waiting.

Evenson walked over as though this had been planned all along, opened the passenger door, and climbed inside.

"Let’s go."

"Coulson sounds pretty desperate."

He glanced back through the rear window.

"Oh, and tell whoever stayed behind to take my bike home."

The agents sat frozen for several seconds before remembering they were supposed to drive.

The engine lurched back to life.

Finally, one of them couldn’t hold back any longer.

"...How long have you known we were watching you?"

Evenson looked at him as if he’d asked whether water was wet.

"Since the beginning."

"...The beginning?"

The agents exchanged devastated looks.

They were assigned to covert surveillance.

Their target had noticed them immediately.

That hurt.

Evenson suddenly seemed to realize something.

"You’re the new team, aren’t you?"

"Didn’t Melinda tell you what happened to the last group?"

One agent hesitated.

"They were... transferred after suffering some kind of psychological problem."

He paused.

"...That was you?"

"Who else?"

Evenson shrugged.

"What did you think happened?"

"They developed claustrophobia from sitting in the van too long?"

All three agents swallowed nervously.

No wonder Agent May had specifically warned them not to provoke this man.

Anyone capable of casually driving fellow agents half insane was someone to treat with extreme caution.

They silently vowed never to speak to him unless absolutely necessary.

The car became uncomfortably quiet.

Eventually Evenson broke the silence.

"Relax."

"As long as you don’t break into my shop or start planting surveillance equipment inside, we’ll get along just fine."

One of the agents answered almost reflexively.

"Our orders are limited to external surveillance."

"We won’t do anything like that."

"Good."

Evenson leaned back.

The conversation ended there.

Meanwhile...

Coulson’s situation continued to deteriorate.

Tony’s armor simply couldn’t compete with the Iron Monger.

Its power reserves were running dangerously low.

The only reason he was still alive was because he’d managed to lure Stane into the upper atmosphere.

Just like during his own first test flight, the freezing temperatures had temporarily shut the larger suit down, sending Iron Monger plummeting toward the ground.

Unfortunately...

Being enormous had its advantages.

Iron Monger crashed into the earth like a meteor...

...and stood right back up.

Now he was hunting Tony once again.

Obadiah Stane laughed as he raised his massive armored arm.

"You know, Tony..."

"I never liked this thing."

"But I have to admit..."

"It feels incredible."

The rotary cannon mounted beneath his arm spun to life, pointing directly at the barely mobile Iron Man.

"You wanted to rid the world of weapons."

"And instead..."

"You built the greatest weapon of them all."

A cruel smile spread across his face.

"Now you’ll die by your own creation."

"Your father would be proud."

"Heh..."

A low, sinister chuckle drifted through the night.

Stane frowned.

"...What?"

The laughter rose sharply.

Then a voice rang out from high above.

"Justice from the heavens!"

Before Obadiah could react...

A blazing rain of fire crashed down from the sky, swallowing Iron Monger in an eruption of flame.

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