Chapter 588

Michael collapsed.

Just like the rebellion he believed he represented, his defeat had always been inevitable.

There were plenty of people like him in the world—people dissatisfied with their circumstances, people desperate to fight back against a reality they believed had cheated them. There was nothing inherently wrong with wanting a better life.

The problem was that they were fighting the wrong battle.

They looked at the world and saw gods and giants standing above them, placing barrier after barrier in their way. They worked themselves to exhaustion and saw only a meager paycheck at the end of it.

What they failed to understand was that even if some invisible ceiling really existed, they were nowhere near touching it.

A person’s income wasn’t determined by how exhausted they were at the end of the day.

It was determined by the value they created.

Imagine three workers being hired to dig a foundation.

The first was incredibly strong and could swing two shovels almost faster than the eye could follow.

The second was an expert who could operate every excavator on the job site.

The third could somehow just point at the ground and make the earth obey.

By the end of the day, it was obvious who had worked the hardest.

It was just as obvious who had accomplished the most.

The person who created more value earned more.

The person who created less earned less.

And someone who created nothing had little choice but to survive on charity and pity.

That was an ugly truth, but pretending otherwise wouldn’t change it.

So instead of wasting their lives fighting something they couldn’t change, they should put that effort into becoming more valuable themselves.

It wouldn’t be easy.

Nothing worthwhile ever was.

Children born into wealthy families certainly had an easier road, but that was the privilege of being born into those families. Their ancestors had made choices that had accumulated into wealth and influence.

Why hadn’t your own family done the same?

Go back generation by generation, and eventually you’ll find a point where two families stood on similar ground.

One chose to take risks, gambling everything for the possibility of a better life.

The other chose security and mediocrity.

Those choices compounded.

Sometimes the risk-takers ended up hanging from a streetlamp.

Sometimes they became rich.

The safe family remained safe.

And ordinary.

Change could make life worse.

It could also make it better.

Refusing to change was certainly safer—but safety had a ceiling of its own.

Those were my ancestors’ mistakes. Why should I have to keep paying for them?

Because consequences could be inherited just as easily as wealth.

So what was the smarter choice now?

Correct the mistake and begin building something better with your own hands?

Or keep passing it down, complaining endlessly about how unfair the world was while envying everyone who had more?

And even if someone didn’t want gradual change—if they wanted to make a grand gesture, start a revolution, overturn the entire system and become a legendary hero—there was still one inconvenient fact.

Rebellion required ability too.

A capable revolutionary might become a founder of an empire.

Someone less capable might still become a famous rebel leader.

The truly unfortunate ones?

They might launch their grand rebellion only to be crushed by the local police precinct before anyone outside the neighborhood even learned their name.

Michael had certainly decided to rebel.

He just hadn’t developed the necessary qualifications.

Now McKenna had his arms twisted behind his back and was locking a pair of specialized restraints around his wrists.

"You’re taking him with you?"

Coulson moved quickly when he saw McKenna dragging Michael toward the exit.

"Of course."

McKenna didn’t even slow down.

"What else would I do? Leave him here for Christmas?"

"But this is a S.H.I.E.L.D. case."

Ward had come down from the upper level and now stood beside Coulson.

"Here we go again..."

McKenna lazily adjusted the brim of her cowboy hat.

"Your friend should have told you already. The Black Badge Division has the same legal authority to execute operations as S.H.I.E.L.D., at least inside the United States."

Coulson didn’t move.

"Equal authority," he said.

He was thinking about Michael.

The man might have made terrible choices, but he was still a victim of circumstances beyond his control. Coulson had no idea what would happen if the Black Badge Division took custody of him.

"Exactly," McKenna said. "Equal."

She raised an eyebrow.

"So we could chop him in half and split the pieces between us."

She paused.

"Although, since I caught him, I’ll give you an arm at most."

Seriously?

Evenson had to resist laughing.

If McKenna hadn’t jumped into the middle of things and verbally beaten Michael half to death, S.H.I.E.L.D. might have already secured him.

"Michael is an extremely unusual case," Coulson said firmly. "I believe S.H.I.E.L.D. is better equipped to handle him."

McKenna’s eyes narrowed.

"And the Black Badge Division isn’t?"

She gestured at Michael.

"Michael Peterson is suspected of aggravated assault, destruction of property, causing public panic, and multiple other serious crimes. The district attorney will be filing charges shortly."

She started walking again.

"If you really want him, wait until the judge rules and post bail."

She glanced over her shoulder.

"Assuming bail is granted."

McKenna had barely taken another step when Ward moved across her path.

"The Black Badge Division has only existed for three months. How do you have the authority to do all this?"

McKenna stopped.

A cold smile spread across her face.

Then she looked directly at Coulson.

"Commander Coulson, are you sure you want to make the front page?"

Her tone sharpened.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. agents forcibly remove heavily charged criminal without legal authority. Federal agents obstruct justice."

She gave him a pointed look.

"Even if you managed to take him from me, I’d have him returned within a week once the public and the U.S. government started asking questions."

Then she snapped her attention back toward Ward.

"Hands where I can see them!"

Her revolver was suddenly in her hand, aimed directly at him.

Ward immediately raised both hands and took a step back.

What did I do?

He hadn’t even done anything.

And it wasn’t as if he was carrying two four-shot shotguns.

"You really intend to take him?" Coulson asked, his back turned toward McKenna.

"Even if it comes to force?"

"It’s my constitutional right."

McKenna tilted her head.

"Don’t forget, S.H.I.E.L.D. has authority to operate."

She smiled.

"But you don’t have the same authority to enforce the law."

Coulson fell silent.

She was right.

S.H.I.E.L.D. could arrest people, but it didn’t have judicial authority. If the government didn’t interfere, S.H.I.E.L.D. could disappear a prisoner into one of its own facilities and nobody would ask too many questions.

But if the government wanted someone returned, S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn’t simply refuse.

Usually there were ways around it.

It depended on how determined the government was to make an issue of things.

And even when government authorities took custody of a suspect and prosecuted them, the prisoner often ended up transferred back into S.H.I.E.L.D.’s specialized detention system afterward.

"Come on. We’re all on the same side here."

Evenson finally stepped forward with an easy smile, playing the role of peacemaker.

"There’s no need to get this tense. If you can’t agree, keep negotiating."

He glanced between the two groups.

"But if you really want to fight, one side is going to have a very bad day."

McKenna’s eyes narrowed the moment she saw him.

Fear flashed through her.

For one brief moment, she remembered standing on the wrong side of Evenson’s hand gesture, knowing that a single decision from him could determine whether she lived or died.

But he was supposed to be one of the good guys now.

McKenna buried the fear and forced her voice to remain steady.

"Evenson Richter. I know who you are."

She looked him over.

"And honestly, you’re right. I wouldn’t have much chance against you."

"You know me?"

Evenson looked delighted.

"That’s wonderful. It saves me the trouble of introducing myself."

He grinned.

"So, since we’re acquainted, maybe you can do me a favor."

He pointed at himself.

"I’ll sign an autograph for you later."

"I’ll pass."

McKenna’s smile turned cold.

"Unless you want to sign it on an admission of guilt."

"...What?"

"And I’ve already given you enough courtesy."

She gestured toward Michael.

"Otherwise, you’d be wearing restraints too."

Who gave you that kind of confidence?

Evenson couldn’t help but wonder whether the Twins were responsible.

Then another thought occurred to him.

Well... if that’s the kind of handcuff game they want to play, I suppose I wouldn’t exactly refuse—

He immediately stopped himself.

No. Stay focused.

"I’m a law-abiding citizen," Evenson said. "I’m nothing like him. You don’t have any reason to arrest me."

"Such a law-abiding citizen."

McKenna’s expression suddenly changed.

"Do you know how serious tax evasion is in the United States?"

"Tax evasion?"

Evenson’s throat tightened.

"My shop files its taxes properly. You can audit the books yourself."

"Mhm."

McKenna smiled sweetly.

"But what about the salary S.H.I.E.L.D. pays you?"

Evenson froze.

"And the money Tony Stark paid you the two times he hired you?"

She tilted her head.

"Did you report all of that?"

"..."

A bead of sweat rolled down Evenson’s forehead.

He had not.

Not even a little.

"Let’s see."

McKenna started counting on her fingers.

"Income tax. Taxes on miscellaneous income. Sales tax. High-income tax..."

Her smile grew more predatory.

"How large do you think that unpaid bill has become? And once the IRS and the district attorney’s office start looking into it, how serious do you think those charges will be?"

There was a gleam in her eyes.

Before McKenna had left, her boss had already given her instructions.

If Evenson gets difficult, use this.

Apparently, it worked.

"Well..."

Evenson walked over and casually put a hand on Coulson’s shoulder.

"I don’t think it’s worth antagonizing the U.S. government over one person."

He nodded toward McKenna.

"Besides, she already said you can come back later and post bail."

Coulson frowned.

"But Michael..."

He clearly didn’t trust the Black Badge Division.

Yes, there would probably be a trial.

But if they wanted to drag things out, it could take six months or longer.

Six months was plenty of time for something unfortunate to happen.

Michael could easily wind up dead in custody before the case was ever resolved, perhaps under circumstances no one could explain.

"Don’t worry."

Evenson immediately softened his tone.

"If the Black Badge Division were handling this entirely on its own, I’d be worried too."

"But S.H.I.E.L.D. is involved this time. They’ll have to be careful."

He gave Coulson a reassuring pat.

"They’ll have to give us an answer eventually."

"Besides, the U.S. government isn’t going to start a war with S.H.I.E.L.D. over a single prisoner."

Coulson considered it.

After a moment, he nodded.

That was enough.

McKenna turned and led Michael away.

Outside, she placed him on the back of her motorcycle, then used the chain she’d originally brought to secure the restraints.

With Michael firmly attached, she started the engine and rode away.

Coulson watched her disappear.

Then he turned slowly toward Evenson.

"You’re telling me you haven’t been paying taxes?"

There was genuine irritation in his voice.

"Do you have any idea how disgraceful tax evasion is?"

"Uh..."

Evenson scratched the back of his head.

"I thought the salary you guys paid me was after taxes."

He gave Coulson an embarrassed smile.

"How was I supposed to know I had to file it myself?"