By ten the next morning, Richter’s Curio Shop was still dark.
The shutters remained down, the sign hung crookedly in the window, and its owner was sprawled across his bed, sleeping like the dead.
Considering he’d spent half the night fighting armed professionals, that wasn’t exactly surprising.
Besides, the shop’s earnings had already shattered every dream Evenson had ever entertained about running a successful business. He opened whenever he felt like it, and the neighborhood had grown so accustomed to his erratic schedule that no one even questioned why the place was still closed.
A few particularly cynical locals had already decided the perpetually failing shop had finally gone bankrupt.
Honestly, with the shutters pulled down, the place looked as if it was only one handwritten "For Lease" sign away from disappearing forever.
That was the sight greeting Melinda when she arrived.
She stared at the weathered storefront and sighed.
I knew he was broke... I didn’t realize poverty could have an aura.
Standing in front of the shop felt like the local economy had personally given up.
Silently praying that financial misfortune wasn’t contagious, she rapped hard against the metal shutter.
It echoed through the empty street.
She waited.
Nothing.
She knocked again.
Still nothing.
After nearly ten minutes of increasingly aggressive pounding, a disturbing possibility crossed her mind.
Did he blow himself up doing another magic experiment?
She was honestly considering finding a power saw when the shutter finally rattled upward.
Evenson leaned against the inner glass door, hair sticking in every direction, eyes barely open.
"Wha... who’s... what time is..." He blinked. "Melinda? Come in."
He shuffled back inside, scratching his head.
Then he suddenly bellowed toward the back rooms.
"If you lazy lot don’t get up right now, I’m putting the most obnoxious song I can find on endless repeat!"
A chorus of sleepy movement answered him.
Someone groaned.
Something fell over.
A dog barked indignantly.
Good. At least the household was alive.
"Make yourself comfortable," Evenson mumbled. "I’m going to look slightly more human."
Melinda watched him disappear.
He’d looked terrible.
Dark circles.
Wrinkled clothes.
Hair that had clearly surrendered all hope.
A few minutes later he returned after washing his face. He hadn’t bothered changing clothes, but at least he looked conscious.
Sarah brought over two mugs of cheap coffee.
Evenson emptied his in one long swallow.
Melinda glanced around the nearly untouched merchandise covering the shelves before taking a sip herself.
"I’ve got to admit," she said, "I’m impressed. You’re this broke, and you still haven’t turned to armed robbery."
Evenson snorted.
"You didn’t come all the way here just to mock my finances."
"No."
She leaned back.
"Director Fury asked me to thank you for your help last night."
She paused.
"And he sent your car."
Evenson’s exhaustion evaporated instantly.
He practically launched himself toward the doorway, craning his neck outside.
Nothing.
Pedestrians.
Traffic.
Hobbes enthusiastically watering a fire hydrant.
No car.
He slowly turned back to Melinda.
"...Where?"
"It’s Sunday."
She shrugged.
"Traffic."
"..."
"So you came ahead of it," Evenson said flatly, "just to tell me my car is stuck in traffic?"
"I had another reason."
She raised the hand bearing the contract mark.
"Can this be removed?"
Evenson lifted an eyebrow.
"What happened? Changed your mind about having power?"
"No."
She hesitated.
"I just don’t like being... compelled. I’d rather keep my word because I choose to."
Sure you would, Evenson thought.
"And yet..." He raised his own hand, revealing the matching mark. "The contract has already activated once."
Melinda’s expression stiffened.
She hadn’t expected that excuse to work.
She’d simply felt obligated to try.
"The contract can’t be undone," Evenson said calmly. "I promised power. You’ll receive it."
His tone sharpened.
"And you promised secrecy."
"The dangers of a warlock’s magic aren’t something the average person should stumble into."
After a long silence, Melinda nodded.
"...Understood."
"I’ll honor the agreement."
There wasn’t much else she could do.
Conversation died after that.
The awkward silence lasted until a large transport truck rolled to a stop outside.
Melinda stood.
"Your car’s here."
Evenson blinked.
"It’s inside the trailer?"
"You think I wanted to drive that thing through Manhattan?"
She rolled her eyes.
"People would’ve surrounded it with cameras before I reached the second intersection."
He considered that.
She had a point.
That car attracted attention simply by existing.
A grin slowly spread across his face.
"Let’s go."
Inside the trailer sat the car.
Evenson circled it slowly, one hand brushing across the polished bodywork.
Seeing it up close was something else entirely.
It looked even better than it had in the files.
"Happy?" Melinda asked.
She sounded casual.
Her eyes weren’t.
They followed every movement of his hands.
"Very."
He continued inspecting it.
"I knew S.H.I.E.L.D. would honor the deal."
He smiled.
"I just didn’t expect this kind of efficiency."
"S.H.I.E.L.D. is always efficient."
That part, at least, was true.
The moment Nick Fury had ended his call with Coulson the previous night, he’d ordered the vehicle pulled from storage.
Not because he was eager to reward Evenson.
Because his instincts screamed that anyone who specifically requested this particular car probably knew something S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t.
The vehicle had immediately undergone exhaustive inspection.
X-rays.
Chemical developers.
Hidden compartment searches.
Microscopic analysis.
Anything that could conceal secret information was checked repeatedly.
They found absolutely nothing.
Fury still wasn’t satisfied.
If the mystery only revealed itself in Evenson’s hands...
Then Melinda’s new assignment was simple.
Watch everything.
Report anything unusual.
Evenson reached the front of the vehicle.
A HYDRA emblem still sat proudly on the hood.
"Hmph."
He tore it free without hesitation.
"HYDRA."
He started to toss it aside.
Then stopped.
Melinda’s attention sharpened instantly.
There.
He noticed something.
Instead...
Evenson weighed the emblem in his hand.
"...Pure silver."
He smiled.
With a squeeze, eldritch energy crushed the badge into a compact lump of precious metal.
"Nice."
He pocketed it.
"This should sell for a decent price."
Melinda closed her eyes.
"...You unbelievable cheapskate."
"Hm?"
Evenson was already climbing into the driver’s seat.
"What?"
"Nothing."
He started the engine.
Moments later the car rolled carefully out of the trailer and stopped in front of the shop.
Evenson leaned out the window.
"Sarah! Dumen! Get out here!"
"And bring a marker and a sign!"
The two hurried outside.
He scribbled something across a board, shoved it into Dumen’s hands, and declared proudly,
"You two are in charge."
Then he disappeared back inside.
Melinda glanced at the sign.
She froze.
Then pinched the bridge of her nose before hurrying after him.
Outside, Sarah stared at Dumen.
"If he wasn’t my master..."
She sighed.
"...I’d have smacked him by now."
The sign read:
Photos: $10
Sit Inside the Car: $20
"I genuinely don’t understand you," Melinda said after marching back into the shop.
"You wanted this car..."
"...for this?"
Evenson looked offended.
"What’s wrong with owning a car?"
He folded his arms.
"The next time S.H.I.E.L.D. calls for help, do you expect me to pedal over on a bicycle?"
Melinda considered that.
"...Fair enough."
Then she smiled.
"But can you actually afford to keep it?"
"That thing drinks fuel."
It felt like she’d driven a knife straight through his chest.
Evenson pointed dramatically toward the door.
"Someone escort our honored guest out."
Melinda laughed all the way outside.
It was easily the most entertaining visit she’d ever had to Richter’s Curio Shop.
The following morning, Nick Fury watched Coulson’s recording for the third time.
He still couldn’t make sense of Evenson Richter’s bizarre abilities.
Finally, he leaned back in his chair.
"I think it’s time I met him myself."
He looked toward Coulson.
"Bring him in."
"Yes, sir."
Coulson immediately pulled out his phone and dialed Evenson’s number.
Hopefully he could warn the young warlock before anything unpredictable happened.
The line connected.
"Hello, this is Phil Coulson. May I speak with Evenson Rich..."
He frowned.
"...Hobbes?"
A pause.
"What?"
Another pause.
"...Seriously?"
"...I see."
He slowly lowered the phone and looked at Fury with a helpless smile.
"Sir..."
"I think we may have a slight complication."
...
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