Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

Nick Fury was many things.

The King of Spies.

The greatest intelligence operative of his generation.

Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Among those who operated in the shadows, his reputation bordered on myth. Alexander Pierce had once considered Fury indispensable, believing there was no one better suited to command S.H.I.E.L.D., unify its agents, and stand against every enemy the organization faced. Fury’s integrity couldn’t be bought with power or wealth, only appealed to through duty itself. Under his leadership, S.H.I.E.L.D. had risen to unprecedented prominence, outshining every rival intelligence agency in the world.

At least, that was how history would probably remember him.

Evenson had a much simpler assessment.

First, Nick Fury was Black.

Second, he was an incredibly important Black man.

Combining those two facts with Ryan Mercer’s lifetime of catastrophically bad luck produced one terrifying conclusion.

The Unluckiest Man Alive is inviting a Warlock to a private meeting.

Nothing good had ever followed that combination.

"Damn... this place is huge."

Evenson looked around S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Triskelion Headquarters with open amazement.

"You got a map? Otherwise I’m absolutely getting lost."

Coulson didn’t even look back.

"Forget the map."

"As long as you stay behind me and don’t wander off, you’ll survive."

"What about taking a few pictures?"

Evenson had already pulled out his phone.

"No."

"Fine."

He pocketed it.

"What if I just make a mental scan?"

"...Also no."

Coulson still wasn’t entirely sure what "mental scan" actually meant, but the word scan alone was enough to reject the idea.

"I promise I won’t look at anything classified."

"The entire building is classified."

Evenson clicked his tongue.

"I mean... if I did scan it, you probably wouldn’t know."

Coulson gave him a perfectly calm smile.

"In that case, I’d recommend to the Director that we let you live here permanently."

"..."

Evenson immediately raised both hands.

"I was joking."

The two continued bickering as they walked through the sprawling headquarters.

Just before reaching Fury’s office, two women appeared from opposite directions.

The first was walking at a measured pace.

Melinda.

The second approached much more quickly.

Evenson had never met her before, but he recognized her almost instantly.

Black tactical suit.

Athletic build.

Short auburn hair.

A face beautiful enough to lower anyone’s guard.

And beneath it all...

A dangerous allure that practically radiated from her.

She reached them first.

Coulson checked his watch.

"You’re late."

She shrugged.

"Budapest turned into a headache."

Then she offered Evenson her hand.

"Natasha Romanoff."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Richter."

At that exact moment, Evenson heard someone nearby inhale sharply.

It sounded suspiciously like love at first sight.

He shook Natasha’s hand.

"Evenson Richter."

He smiled.

"Likewise... Black Widow."

One elegant eyebrow lifted.

"You know who I am?"

"Of course."

"You’re fairly famous in certain circles."

He shrugged.

"And I’m hardly an ordinary civilian."

That seemed to satisfy her.

Natasha wasn’t a public figure, but she certainly wasn’t unknown among the world’s intelligence communities.

"I honestly expected you to break out of jail."

Melinda finally caught up.

"Then I’d have had an excuse to beat you up."

Evenson blinked.

"I thought you’d retired from field work."

"I’d make an exception."

"Just for you."

He sighed dramatically.

"What exactly did I do to deserve this level of hatred?"

Melinda ignored him completely.

Instead she turned toward Sarah.

"Ms. Sarah."

"Please come with me."

Evenson gave a small nod.

Sarah reluctantly followed.

She glanced back several times before disappearing down the corridor with Melinda.

Only after she was gone did Evenson realize whose exaggerated breathing he’d heard earlier.

He stole a glance at Natasha.

Sarah’s taste is impressive.

She skips straight to the Black Widow.

Even I’m careful around that woman.

Coulson checked his watch once more.

"Time."

He lowered his voice.

"One piece of advice."

"Don’t mention Hobbes to Director Fury."

Evenson looked at him curiously.

"Why?"

"I’m not telling you."

The office door opened.

Nick Fury stood in the center of the room with his hands clasped behind his back, waiting for them.

Evenson smiled warmly.

"Director Fury."

"Nice to finally meet you."

"Hobbes speaks very highly of you."

Fury froze.

Very slightly.

His lone eye drifted toward Coulson.

Coulson immediately raised both hands in silent surrender.

I warned him.

"I’ve heard a great deal about you as well, Mr. Richter."

Fury turned back with practiced composure.

"Melinda’s reports were... remarkably accurate."

Especially the part about never knowing when to keep his mouth shut.

"I’ve been observing you ever since Coulson first made contact."

"Oh?"

Evenson settled comfortably into his chair.

"And what’s the verdict?"

"Overall?"

Fury nodded.

"Positive."

"You obey the law."

"You don’t abuse your abilities."

"You’ve assisted S.H.I.E.L.D. on multiple occasions."

"As far as enhanced individuals go..."

"You’re practically a model citizen."

Evenson’s eyes brightened.

"Do model citizens receive gold medals?"

Fury stared at him.

"...I believe the automobile you requested is worth considerably more."

Evenson spread his hands.

"That wasn’t charity."

"I earned it."

"And before you ask..."

"I’m not selling it."

"I happen to like my car."

Fury allowed himself a faint smile.

"If finances are becoming a problem..."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. pays very well."

"Would you consider joining us?"

Evenson answered with a question of his own.

"Could you tolerate an agent with terrible discipline and no respect for organizational rules?"

"No."

Fury didn’t hesitate.

"Neither can I."

Evenson smiled.

"I couldn’t tolerate yours, either."

That settled the matter.

The rejection didn’t bother Fury.

The offer had never been entirely serious.

He had something else in mind.

"Very well."

"If you continue conducting yourself responsibly, S.H.I.E.L.D. is prepared to provide financial assistance."

He spoke matter-of-factly.

"The last thing I want is for someone with your abilities to make desperate decisions because of money."

Losing a capable supernatural ally to the wrong side over something as mundane as finances would be an avoidable tragedy.

Evenson shook his head.

"I don’t want charity."

"If S.H.I.E.L.D. needs help, especially with anything supernatural..."

"I’ll provide professional services."

"You pay me for the work."

"That’s a business arrangement."

"Not a handout."

Poor as he was, he still had his pride.

Then his expression changed.

His eyes narrowed.

"And besides..."

"I don’t think things are going to stay peaceful much longer."

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