Evenson continued, "Warlocks aren’t healers. We’re built for combat."
"My approach to healing is brutally simple."
"I replace lost vitality."
He spread his hands.
"The obvious question is where that vitality comes from."
A faint smile crossed his face.
"Because I can promise you one thing. I won’t be using my own."
Nick Fury understood immediately.
"If it isn’t yours... then it belongs to someone else."
He studied Evenson carefully.
"What happens to the person it’s taken from?"
"They die."
Evenson answered as if there were nothing surprising about it.
"Life force is exactly what it sounds like. Science might explain life through biology, chemistry, and electrical signals, but from where I stand, all living things are sustained by the same underlying essence."
"When that essence is drained away, the body ages almost instantly. Organs fail. Everything shuts down."
"They don’t survive."
The room fell quiet.
One life in exchange for another.
More accurately, one life sacrificed to buy Tony Stark more time.
Was it worth it?
Fury considered the question for only a few seconds.
"There are countless people in this world who live ordinary lives without ever making much of a difference."
"That’s normal," Evenson replied. "You can’t expect everyone to be Newton or Galileo."
"Exactly."
Fury’s voice hardened.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. exists to protect those people."
"To make sure ordinary men and women are free to live ordinary lives."
"But there are others."
His expression turned cold.
"People who destroy lives for their own benefit. Murderers. Predators. Monsters who trample over laws and basic human decency."
"They make the world worse simply by continuing to breathe."
"I call them the world’s garbage."
Evenson nodded.
"So you’re planning to use that garbage to keep Tony alive."
"Garbage needs to be taken out."
Fury didn’t hesitate.
"If the life of someone like that can extend Tony Stark’s, then their existence will finally have meant something."
"They should consider it the greatest contribution they’ll ever make."
From Fury’s perspective, the logic was straightforward.
Criminals sentenced to die would die one way or another.
A firing squad.
A lethal injection.
The electric chair.
Or a warlock’s ritual.
The outcome was the same.
At least this way, someone worthwhile might benefit.
"Fine."
Evenson gave a small shrug.
"If you’ve made your decision, I’ll do it."
"But I need to make one thing clear."
"I’ll only perform the spell on Tony three times."
Fury frowned.
"Why only three?"
"The spell was designed for warlocks."
He lied without missing a beat.
"Tony’s an ordinary human. After three castings, it simply stops working."
The truth was considerably more awkward.
After a third treatment, the fel corruption would begin reshaping Tony into something alarmingly similar to a satyr.
Explaining that would raise far too many questions.
"How long does each treatment last?" Fury asked, clearly disappointed.
"Each casting restores Tony to peak physical condition."
Evenson thought for a moment.
"From there, the palladium poisoning starts over."
"So however long it would take to poison a perfectly healthy man... that’s roughly how long each treatment buys him."
He silently admitted he had absolutely no idea how long that actually was.
Fortunately, Fury did.
The director ran through the medical estimates in his head and gave a satisfied nod.
"That should be enough."
He stood.
"I’ll arrange for you to meet Tony as soon as possible."
"Just me?"
Evenson pointed toward Natasha.
"What about her?"
Natasha answered with effortless confidence.
"I have my own way of getting close to him."
"Oh?"
Evenson deliberately dragged out the word.
"Your own way."
Considering Tony Stark’s legendary weakness for beautiful women, there wasn’t much left to the imagination.
Natasha ignored the teasing.
"Our objectives aren’t identical."
"But I may need your cooperation from time to time."
"Works for me."
Evenson looked back at Fury.
"So when’s this introduction happening?"
"Tonight."
His eyebrows shot upward.
"That soon?"
"From what I saw, Tony still has some time left."
"He does," Fury admitted.
"Your real assignment won’t begin immediately."
"I’m meeting Tony tonight for another matter."
He shrugged.
"I figured I’d introduce you while I was there."
Evenson rolled his eyes.
"So I’m the side errand."
"The difference in treatment is incredible."
Tony Stark received a personal visit from the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Evenson had been greeted by two Level Seven agents.
Being a billionaire genius certainly had its perks.
"When we first approached you," Fury replied, "we had no idea you were... quite this unusual."
Judging by Evenson’s skeptical expression, Fury knew he wasn’t buying it.
"So let’s just say Tony also happens to have created a rather large mess."
That was an understatement.
Obadiah Stane’s sudden death had already drawn enormous attention.
Multiple witnesses had seen the armored battle raging through the night sky.
Covering it up would require a miracle.
"I don’t believe S.H.I.E.L.D. lacks a contingency plan," Evenson said.
"We do."
Fury nodded.
"The official explanation was prepared."
"’A catastrophic accident during a Stark Industries experimental project. Obadiah Stane was killed in the incident.’"
"Coulson already gave Tony the statement and instructed him to repeat it during today’s press conference."
He sighed.
"The problem is..."
"You don’t have to finish."
Evenson laughed.
"I know exactly what happened."
"Tony Stark doesn’t like taking orders."
"And he enjoys making an entrance."
Fury looked thoroughly defeated.
"Precisely."
The press conference exploded into chaos.
Camera flashes lit the room like lightning.
Questions flew from every direction.
Tony Stark stood behind the podium, glanced across the sea of reporters, then casually tossed aside the carefully prepared statement.
"I am Iron Man."
Silence.
Then absolute pandemonium.
Ignoring the barrage of shouted questions, Tony turned and walked away without another word.
It was well past midnight when Tony returned to his Malibu mansion.
The lights were dim.
Someone was already waiting inside.
A lone figure stood in the middle of the living room with his back turned.
Before Tony could speak, the man turned around.
Nick Fury.
He looked Tony up and down with open disdain.
"’I am Iron Man.’"
He snorted.
"You really think you’re the only remarkable person on this planet?"
He spread one arm.
"How about meeting the one-eyed man?"
Only then did Tony notice the polished black eyepatch covering Fury’s left eye.
A low, familiar chuckle drifted from the darkness behind him.
Tony froze.
He recognized that voice immediately.
It belonged to the mysterious spellcaster who had killed Obadiah Stane and saved his life.
The shadows rippled.
Evenson stepped into the light.
He wore the same dark robes as before, though this time the hood was lowered and the skull-topped staff was nowhere to be seen.
Tony finally got a clear look at his face.
Blond hair.
Blue eyes.
Young.
Surprisingly young.
He looked several years younger than Tony himself.
Evenson’s lips curled into a faint, unsettling smile.
"Tony Stark."
His voice carried the same ominous calm Tony remembered from the rooftop.
"You owe me."
He raised two fingers.
"Twice."
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