Chapter 576

The Rising Tide was an international hacking organization.

Not because it was particularly large, but because its membership was a chaotic mix of nationalities. Almost every country on Earth seemed to have someone in the group.

It was also a nonprofit organization. Its sole purpose was to expose truths governments had deliberately kept hidden from the public. And to its credit, the Rising Tide actually did that. Its members uncovered secrets, dug through classified information, and released what they found without asking for anything in return.

Beyond that, however, the organization had almost no rules.

There were no ranks. No real chain of command. No official leader.

Most members had never met one another in person. Hell, they often didn’t even know what their fellow members looked like, let alone their real names or even their genders.

Calling the Rising Tide an organization was almost generous. It was closer to a massive social group for people who happened to share the same interests.

Naturally, most members only showed up when they had free time, helped with whatever happened to interest them, and then disappeared again. Their participation was less reliable than a web serial’s update schedule.

But there were exceptions.

Skye was one of them.

She had practically devoted her life to the Rising Tide. She treated its cause as her own, scraping together every penny she could spare for their activities. She could live in a battered van and survive on cheap bread, but she would never ask the organization for a cent.

Which was why the organization’s most dedicated member was currently sitting inside that very van, practically vibrating with excitement.

For once, Skye had done it.

She had found two people with superhuman abilities before S.H.I.E.L.D. could bury the truth, and, more importantly, she had managed to get their contact information.

It wouldn’t be long before they contacted her.

Skye was convinced of it.

Her performance today had been nothing short of spectacular. Her investigative skills had been sharp, her instincts had been excellent, and her negotiating had been even better.

The second guy had been easy enough. The mysterious black hero in the hood had remained cool and detached from beginning to end, but Skye was confident she’d made an impression.

The first one, though?

That was the real victory.

The man hiding inside that strange occult shop had absolutely been won over.

He had denied everything after she revealed who she was, of course. But Skye had seen his eyes.

There had been something there.

A tiny flicker of happiness.

He had been genuinely pleased by her arrival. She was sure of it.

Soon, he would become one of her most reliable allies.

The thought sent another surge of excitement through her.

Skye decided to strike while the iron was hot. She would publish a declaration proclaiming the Rising Tide’s ideals while simultaneously throwing down the gauntlet to S.H.I.E.L.D.

And because she was riding an enormous high right now, the declaration came out with all the passion of a revolutionary addressing an army.

"How will you find us? Will you search the skies? The streets? How will you silence us this time? What can you possibly do? The truth is already riding the wind, spreading everywhere. You cannot stop the Rising Tide. You cannot find us. You cannot see our faces. But make no mistake, we will fight back against anyone who tries to hide the truth from the world!"

She drew a breath and raised her voice.

"And nothing in this world can possibly stop me—"

The van door slid open.

Two men dressed in black stood outside.

Skye froze.

For several seconds, nobody moved.

Then she gave them an awkward little smile.

"Hey. How’s it going?"

Ten seconds later, she had a black hood over her head and was being hauled away.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Had that weird shopkeeper actually been right?

Had she really been walking around with a death flag over her head this entire time?

She’d even bought his lucky charm!

How the hell was it not working?

"Hold on. Coulson is cleared for field duty already? And Nick Fury gave him a team?"

At a military airfield in New York, a familiar aircraft sat on the tarmac.

Evenson knew that plane well. He had ridden in it before.

He leaned against its landing gear with Melinda May standing beside him.

"That’s what Coulson and the director believe," May said calmly. "His attending physician strongly disagrees."

"That doctor..."

Evenson lit a cigarette, remembering the black doctor named Sterden.

"But does his opinion really matter?"

He exhaled a thin stream of smoke.

"You and I both know what happened to Coulson. His resurrection involved things that have absolutely nothing to do with modern medicine."

"Which is why you’re here."

May glanced at him, a rare hint of amusement appearing on her face.

"I knew it."

Evenson crushed the cigarette beneath his shoe and rolled his eyes.

The whole situation should have been simple.

He’d given May the information on Skye, and S.H.I.E.L.D. would transfer the bounty into his account. The entire exchange could have been handled over the phone.

There had been no reason for him to come here personally.

Yet May had repeatedly insisted that he show up to collect his payment in person.

Now he understood why.

"Like you said, we both know how much inexplicable science was involved in Coulson’s resurrection," May said. "So the doctor’s opinion isn’t what matters here. Yours is. The director wants you to observe him for a while."

"All right. I get it."

Nick Fury really was talented at finding new ways to create work for other people.

Evenson suspected that what Fury meant by not being reassured was that he wanted confirmation that Coulson’s soul was intact, and that the layer of memory Mephisto had patched over the gaps wasn’t hiding some unforeseen problem.

Mephisto had repeatedly guaranteed that everything was fine.

But expecting Nick Fury to take a demon lord at his word would have been ridiculous.

Even Evenson sometimes wondered whether he’d overlooked something back then.

"So this team is Fury’s backup treatment plan?"

Evenson tilted his head toward the laboratory.

Inside, a young man and woman appeared to be having an argument intense enough to qualify as a natural disaster.

"Yes."

May nodded.

"Coulson may be fine physically, but he’s still carrying significant psychological trauma. He’s been promoted to Level Eight and placed under absolute secrecy. His family can’t know he’s alive. Neither can the woman he used to play the violin for."

"The cello," Evenson corrected automatically.

"Whatever."

May’s expression remained perfectly calm.

"He can’t contact them. He doesn’t show it, but he’s having a difficult time."

Evenson noticed something peculiar when May mentioned Coulson’s girlfriend.

There was a distinctly satisfied look on her face.

Probably his imagination.

"But what about the people on his team?" he asked.

Inside the laboratory, the two scientists had progressed from arguing to shouting. Both were red in the face, and one of them slammed a hand onto the table.

Evenson watched them for a moment.

"Are they reliable?"

"Fitz and Simmons..."

May glanced toward the laboratory and sighed.

"You’ll get used to it. That’s just how they communicate."

"That’s how they communicate?"

"Apparently."

May sounded like she wasn’t entirely convinced herself.

"But they’re both excellent scientists. They should be perfectly capable of handling the team’s research and support needs."

"And the agent accompanying Coulson is Grant Ward. Level Four. Excellent combat skills. He’ll make a good assault specialist."

May finished her introduction.

Then she noticed Evenson staring at her.

"Anything else?"

"You’ve introduced everyone else."

Evenson looked her directly in the eye.

"But you seem to have forgotten someone."

"Me?"

May gave him a strange look.

"I assumed we knew each other well enough already."

"We do."

Evenson’s eyes briefly drifted upward.

"We know each other very well."

Then his expression became serious.

"But do you really understand what you’ve become?"

May’s expression hardened.

"You’re different from before. You gained your power from me, but I want you to be careful with it. If possible, don’t use it."

"Why?"

The question was perfectly reasonable.

If she wasn’t supposed to use the power, what was the point of having it?

"Remember? Your enhancement isn’t finished yet. You still have two rituals left."

Evenson’s voice was unusually stern.

"If you force yourself to use your full strength in your current state, the consequences could be irreversible."

"Will I die?"

"No."

Evenson shook his head with a cold smile.

"It’ll be worse than that."

May waited.

"You’ll become a mindless killing machine. No reason. No distinction between friend and enemy. Just an undead thing that knows how to kill."

May’s expression darkened.

"And even if you don’t overuse the power, the moment you reveal it, Coulson and Fury will demand to know where it came from."

Evenson grabbed her right hand.

A contract sigil appeared across her skin.

"And because of this contract, you won’t be able to tell them."

He looked genuinely troubled by the prospect.

"That would be awkward."

May raised an eyebrow.

"Of course, given how smart they are, they’ll probably figure out that it has something to do with me anyway."

He shuddered.

"And that’s exactly what I don’t want. I’d rather not wake up one morning and find some bizarre combination of a bald egg and a black pudding standing in my bedroom, loudly demanding answers."

May stared at him.

Then she shook her head.

"Fine. I’ll try. But I can’t promise anything."

She knew better than anyone how unpredictable an agent’s assignments could become.

"Then be subtle," Evenson said. "And don’t worry too much. Once your final ritual is complete, you won’t have to worry about hiding it anymore."

May frowned.

"Why? You won’t be worried about exposure then?"

"No."

Evenson shrugged.

May was about to ask why when he suddenly looked toward the horizon.

"Ah. They’re here."

May followed his gaze.

A battered blue van was coming toward them, trailing a cloud of black smoke.

That had to be Coulson and Ward returning from their mission.

And the van was presumably Skye’s bedroom, office, kitchen, transportation, and general excuse for a residence all rolled into one.

Evenson stared at the poor vehicle.

Honestly, after seeing its condition, he felt a sudden, almost overwhelming sense of pride.

He’d taken a hundred dollars from Skye and then handed her over to S.H.I.E.L.D.

And now, looking at that miserable van, he felt he’d done her a genuine service.

I’ve actually ridden on that plane.

He glanced at the aircraft beside him.

Trust me, Skye. Even a holding cell is going to be more comfortable than that thing.

You can thank me later.