Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

To be perfectly honest, Claire and the Eredar twins had been at each other’s throats for a very long time.

That didn’t stop them from forming an alliance when circumstances demanded it.

At this point, their relationship was best described as a two-sided cold war.

Why not three-way?

Because the Eredar twins were effectively one side. The sisters were so close that calling them sisters almost seemed insufficient. They had been together for tens of thousands of years, and given their particular relationship, Evenson wasn’t entirely convinced they’d never crossed a few boundaries along the way.

So if some unfortunate man ever tried to impose a strict one-wife-only arrangement on them...

Who is this outsider, and who gave him permission to come between us?

Erase him.

Burn him.

The twins might spend every waking moment trying to crush Claire beneath their heels, but neither side wanted to win the war only to discover that some unexpected third faction had appeared behind them.

In other words, through a series of subtle misunderstandings and bizarre coincidences, the three women had reached an unspoken agreement.

They could compete with one another.

Nobody else was allowed to join the competition.

The man at the center of this increasingly elaborate conspiracy, meanwhile, remained blissfully unaware.

Evenson was actually in an excellent mood.

The deal was done. The contract had been signed. It was getting late, which meant it was time for him to leave Malik’s residence.

As he’d expected, he wasn’t leaving empty-handed.

The two hundred million dollars involved in the deal didn’t count. That money was being transferred through the company’s accounts, so not a cent would ever pass through Evenson’s personal hands. And he had never seriously expected the Eredar twins to offer him a commission.

The collection Malik had originally asked him to appraise, however, was another matter.

The Colt pistol, the golden mask, and everything else he’d examined earlier had all been carefully packed up.

The promised collection of Chinese porcelain was coming with him too, along with an entire box of cigars.

And, of course, there was the designer suit he’d been given. It fit him so perfectly that Evenson had no intention of leaving it behind.

Most importantly, he’d also taken a sample of the teleportation blackstone.

Given the stone’s importance to Hydra, Malik naturally raised an eyebrow when Evenson asked to take it.

"That stone is essentially one of the foundations of Hydra," Malik said. "It probably has no value to anyone else. Why do you want it?"

Evenson stared at him for a moment.

Why?

He silently rolled his eyes.

"To turn it into a pair of pants. What do you think?"

Malik and his daughter both froze.

The sheer absurdity of the answer left them speechless.

Evenson finally sighed.

"Obviously, I’m taking it for research so I can adjust my spellwork."

Then he added, with perfect sincerity, "And just so we’re clear, I wasn’t lying the first time. You were simply unwilling to believe me."

He continued before either of them could respond.

"The first time I used it, I was transporting only myself. On the return trip, I brought back one ordinary person."

His expression grew more serious.

"Next time, I may have to transport several hundred people. And when we return, I’ll also be bringing back a powerful Inhuman. That’s an enormous increase in both quantity and quality."

He gestured toward the stone.

"So I need to understand its teleportation principles much more thoroughly. If something goes wrong during the operation to rescue Hive, the consequences won’t be pretty."

Malik and his daughter exchanged a glance.

Then they nodded in understanding.

They didn’t really understand the details of magical teleportation, but the basic idea was clear enough.

If Evenson wanted the mission to rescue Hive to go smoothly, he needed to study the stone thoroughly beforehand.

Fine.

He could take the sample.

It wasn’t the original stone, after all.

It was only a piece.

And so, accompanied personally by Malik and his daughter, Evenson climbed into the same stretch limousine that had brought him there.

Once the engine started, he cheerfully waved goodbye through the window.

The moment the limousine turned the corner, however, Evenson opened the built-in refrigerator.

"Well, look at that. They restocked it!"

The refrigerator had been completely emptied of wine when he’d arrived.

Now it was full again.

Evenson stared at the bottles with satisfaction.

"That’s what I call hospitality."

He had no idea what vintage they were. But the label said Château Lafite Rothschild, so there was a decent chance they weren’t exactly cheap.

There was no reason to waste such generosity.

He might as well take advantage of it.

Especially since he could probably use a few bottles the next time he wanted to impress Claire with a candlelit dinner.

Why not have one with the Eredar twins?

Because demons didn’t exactly need candlelight and romantic conversation to strengthen a relationship.

With them, romance was considerably more direct.

Evenson decided that taking every bottle would make him look a little too shameless, though.

So he opened one instead.

He poured himself a glass, leaned back in the comfortable seat, and pulled out his phone.

This was a rare opportunity.

He was going to show off.

Evenson took a picture of the wine and posted it to his social feed.

His friends responded almost immediately.

Tony Stark’s reply consisted entirely of a photograph.

Tony was holding a glass of brandy from the Napoleonic era, wearing an expression that said he had nothing whatsoever to prove.

Bruce Banner wrote:

I have seven PhDs and I still can’t tell whether this photo is photoshopped. Teach me your secrets.

Natasha’s response was simply a photograph of an ornate, jewel-encrusted golden goblet from the era of the Russian Tsars.

Evenson stared at the screen.

Then quietly locked his phone.

So this was how it was.

His friends all looked like normal people.

Apparently, they were all secretly billionaires in spirit.

He sighed.

"Why are my eyes watering?"

At least Thor wasn’t on Earth.

And he didn’t have a phone.

Otherwise, Evenson could easily imagine the God of Thunder appearing in the comments with a bottle of Asgardian wine and proudly announcing that it had been fermented during the same historical period as some ancient human civilization.

That would have been the final blow.

Still, there was hope.

Captain America and Peggy Carter hadn’t replied yet.

Evenson estimated that the two of them were his best chance of winning this particular contest.

He waited.

Five minutes.

Ten.

Twenty.

Nothing.

Evenson stared at his phone.

Surely they weren’t going to ignore him.

He was just about to send Steve a direct message when—

CRASH!

Something slammed into the hood of the limousine.

The driver nearly jumped out of his seat.

First, there was the passenger in the back who was drinking the family’s expensive wine without paying for it.

That was fine.

The man was their employer’s guest.

But now someone had just fallen from the sky and smashed the car.

At this rate, he was going to lose his job.

"What kind of place gets this chaotic before it’s even dark?"

Evenson peered through the window.

He’d already realized what had fallen onto the hood.

It was a person.

He set his wineglass aside, opened the door, and stepped out.

He had barely reached the front of the limousine when his expression changed completely.

Three steps later, he was standing over the fallen figure.

"Captain?"

Evenson’s eyes widened.

"What’s going on? You don’t need to kill yourself just because you didn’t reply to my post!"

The man on the hood slowly lifted his head.

The moment he heard Evenson’s voice, his hand shot out and grabbed Evenson by the collar.

His eyes were filled with grief.

Anger.

Accusation.

Humiliation.

A profound sense of injustice.

And, beneath all of it, an almost unbearable helplessness.

In the end, however, all those emotions condensed into a single, exhausted sigh.

"..."