The first customers through the door were none other than Phil Coulson and Melinda May.
The moment they stepped inside Richter Curio Shop, both agents slowed to a stop.
The place was... overwhelming.
If a religion had ever existed on Earth, it probably had a display shelf somewhere inside.
Christian crosses.
Jewish Stars of David.
Islamic prayer beads.
Buddhist statues.
Taoist talismans.
Hindu idols.
Voodoo masks.
Objects from dozens of indigenous traditions.
And then there were the pieces neither of them recognized.
A towering wooden totem bore a plaque reading:
May the Great Mother Watch Over You.
Nearby hung brilliantly painted ritual masks labeled:
Voodoo Endures. The Black Arrow Never Misses.
Another shelf displayed a necklace carved from polished bone beneath a sign proclaiming:
Strength and Glory. Blood and Thunder. For the Horde!
May picked it up.
At first glance, it looked like something fashioned from the bones of fallen enemies.
A closer inspection told a different story.
"...Cow bone."
Very convincing imitation.
Not remotely human.
Both agents possessed extensive training in world religions and cultural history.
Normally that knowledge served them well.
Today...
They kept discovering artifacts they couldn’t identify.
Then they discovered something even stranger.
Almost everything in the shop was fake.
Not counterfeit antiques.
Just... creatively manufactured souvenirs.
Coulson happened to pick up an exquisitely carved jade Buddha.
Or what appeared to be jade.
He turned it over in his hands.
A streak of green rubbed off onto his fingertips.
He stared at it.
"...The paint came off."
From behind him came a warm, enthusiastic voice.
"Excellent choice, sir."
Evenson Richter approached with the smile of a man greeting his first customers of the day.
"I can already tell that statue has chosen you."
Coulson turned and politely held up his green fingertips.
"A color-changing Buddha certainly makes an impression."
Evenson glanced at the evidence.
Not a flicker of embarrassment crossed his face.
Instead, his expression grew solemn.
"True divinity transcends material form."
"A genuine blessing has nothing to do with whether the statue is carved from jade... or something considerably more affordable."
"What matters is whether it has received a sacred blessing."
Coulson fought to keep a straight face.
The confidence.
The delivery.
It was almost inspirational.
"So this Buddha has been blessed?"
"Naturally."
Evenson answered without the slightest hesitation.
"It was personally consecrated by a revered master from the East."
"In China, the ceremony is known as kai guang."
Coulson slowly looked toward May.
"...China."
She caught the look immediately.
As someone of Chinese heritage, she was probably the most qualified person in the room to evaluate that claim.
"So," Coulson asked pleasantly, "which master performed the blessing?"
May folded her arms.
"I’m curious too."
She spoke in flawless English.
Evenson smiled mysteriously.
"It was personally blessed by..."
He paused dramatically.
"...Archbishop Wang."
"The official representative of Wudang Mountain to Shaolin Temple."
Silence.
The title landed with tremendous confidence.
To anyone unfamiliar with Chinese culture...
It sounded extraordinarily prestigious.
To anyone who knew even the basics...
It was complete nonsense.
Coulson wasn’t sure what he’d just heard.
May, meanwhile, stared at Evenson as though trying to diagnose a medical condition.
Either the man’s powers had damaged his brain...
Or he was simply committed to the bit.
She decided to test him.
Switching effortlessly into fluent Mandarin, she asked,
"So..."
"Aren’t all those religions going to start fighting each other?"
Evenson’s smile froze.
For one glorious second.
He felt exactly like a con artist enthusiastically lecturing someone about fake martial arts...
...only to discover he’d been talking to Bruce Lee.
He slowly turned away to hide his expression.
At that exact moment, his disguised Felhunter lay sunning itself near the entrance.
Habs lazily scratched the floor twice with one paw.
Its tail flicked three times.
To anyone else...
A dog being a dog.
Through the soul link, however, the message arrived with perfect clarity.
Two targets.
Three firearms each.
Evenson’s amusement disappeared.
Well.
There goes today’s business.
The dog still looked wonderfully innocent.
The coded gestures were just for show.
The real communication had traveled directly through their bond.
Evenson turned back.
His enthusiasm for making a sale had evaporated.
"Who knows which gods are real?"
He shrugged.
"Might as well hedge your bets."
"If even one answers, that’s still better than none."
The shift in tone didn’t escape either agent.
A moment ago he’d been an eager shopkeeper.
Now he sounded calm.
Almost detached.
Coulson smiled politely.
"I should probably report you for consumer fraud."
"Perhaps."
Evenson casually walked behind the counter and sat down.
"But I don’t usually see ordinary customers carrying three guns apiece."
The atmosphere changed instantly.
Around the shop, disguised demons quietly began converging.
Tyler rose from his recliner, cracking his knuckles with obvious enthusiasm.
His broad grin suggested he’d finally found something worth hitting.
Sarah drifted silently toward the entrance.
Dumen opened his eyes.
Tripsy looked positively delighted.
Only Habs ignored everyone, continuing his nap in a patch of sunlight.
Just as Tyler prepared to step forward...
Evenson raised a hand.
"Stand down."
The Demonguard stopped immediately.
"Sarah."
"Lock the front door."
"We’re closed."
"I’d like to have a proper conversation with our guests."
The demons dispersed, though none wandered very far.
May watched them carefully.
"A wise decision."
She nodded toward the retreating figures.
"It’ll keep them from getting hurt."
In her assessment, only the enormous man posed any real threat.
The woman, the overweight man, and the dwarf didn’t concern her.
Coulson could certainly handle a Husky.
As for the tiny one...
She was honestly more worried about accidentally stepping on him.
"Maybe."
Evenson neither agreed nor argued.
You’d be surprised, he thought.
The Husky alone could probably kill both of you.
Unfortunately, Habs was currently pretending to be an ordinary dog and had chosen to ignore every instruction in favor of enjoying the sunshine.
Evenson sighed internally.
Then his attention returned to the two visitors.
"What interests me..."
"...is who you really are."
He studied their immaculate suits.
Their disciplined posture.
Their calm eyes.
"The Dead End Gang doesn’t dress like that."
"Neither do ordinary shoppers."
He’d already considered the obvious possibilities.
The FBI.
The CIA.
Even local law enforcement.
People had disappeared.
Sooner or later, someone was bound to ask questions.
Fortunately, there were no bodies.
No murder weapon.
No witnesses.
Nothing that could prove anything.
Those agencies didn’t particularly worry him.
One organization did.
Coulson reached into his jacket.
He produced a black leather credential wallet and opened it.
"My name is Phil Coulson."
"Special Agent."
"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."
He gestured toward his partner.
"This is Special Agent Melinda May."
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