Chapter 798

Since Evenson had been assigned to provide backup, Coulson had received a briefing of his own.

His mission would take him to the same location as Evenson’s, and the two assignments were closely connected. In fact, Coulson’s case was essentially the public-facing consequence of the very incident that had prompted Evenson’s classified recovery mission.

The subject of Coulson’s investigation was a woman named Hannah Higgins.

Hannah was an ordinary American woman with a respectable job as a safety inspector at a nearby research facility. That changed when an accident at the facility claimed four lives. She had been suspended pending the investigation and was now facing considerable pressure from the local community.

Nothing about that sounded particularly unusual, nor did it seem to warrant SHIELD’s involvement.

Then came the strange part.

According to the intelligence report, Hannah had apparently developed the ability to move objects with her mind sometime after the accident.

That made her SHIELD’s problem.

"Someone who can move things without touching them?" Skye asked, visibly intrigued. "I thought people like that only existed in fiction."

Given her background, her interest was understandable. Before joining SHIELD, she had been a prominent member of the hacker organization Rising Tide, where she had spent considerable time digging into the world’s strangest people, unexplained phenomena, and government secrets.

Even so, she had never encountered a credible case of telekinesis.

As it turned out, neither had Coulson.

"We’ve never conclusively confirmed that anyone possesses this ability," he explained. "Which is why we’re going to Batesville to conduct a proper assessment."

"An assessment?" Skye gave him an incredulous look. "So we’re going to sit down with her and ask whether she has superpowers?"

"More or less."

Coulson nodded, then grew serious.

"But we need to take this assignment seriously. People who suddenly develop superhuman abilities tend to cause trouble. In all my years with SHIELD, and through all the evaluations I’ve conducted, I’ve encountered only one case that I would consider genuinely harmless."

Skye tilted her head.

"Oh. That’s encouraging. Who was it? The harmless one, I mean."

Coulson lowered his head and sighed.

"I’d rather not talk about him."

Skye’s mouth twisted into a grimace.

"Right. I think I know who you mean. Honestly, I’m starting to question SHIELD’s evaluation procedures. How could anyone possibly classify that guy as harmless? He’s a walking disaster. A concentrated ball of bad luck with legs."

"And who, exactly, are you talking about this early in the morning?"

"Who else? Obviously, Ev—"

Skye stopped so abruptly that the last sound caught in her throat.

The voice had come from directly behind her.

She turned around.

"E-Evenson? What are you doing here?"

Her hair might as well have stood on end.

"You seem awfully interested in knowing who I’m talking about," she blurted out, trying to recover. "Well, whoever it is, I can assure you it’s not you."

"I didn’t think it was."

Evenson smiled.

A walking disaster? A concentrated ball of bad luck?

Who could she possibly be talking about?

Certainly not him.

"Did you come to say goodbye?" Coulson asked, regarding Evenson with some surprise.

Under normal circumstances, Evenson would have left the moment his assignment was complete. A polite farewell was about the most anyone could expect.

Coulson thought of another possibility and added, "Your special duty allowance and reimbursement for any expenses incurred during the operation have both been approved. The money should reach your account within two business days, so you don’t need to worry about that."

Coulson had been looking out for him. He had submitted the necessary paperwork almost as soon as Evenson joined the operation, and everything had since received the appropriate authorization.

"Thanks."

Evenson’s response was remarkably subdued.

Getting paid was nice, of course, but there was no reason to celebrate money that hadn’t arrived yet. Besides, being told that it would appear in his account was of limited comfort when he couldn’t remember the account password.

Coulson watched as Evenson made himself comfortable on the sofa.

He wasn’t leaving.

In fact, he looked as though he intended to stay.

"Wait a minute," Coulson said. "You’re not planning to sit here for the next two business days until the money comes through, are you? You don’t seriously think SHIELD is going to cheat you out of your pay."

"That’s not it."

Evenson turned toward him.

"Agent Hill issued a deployment order instructing me to assist you with your next assignment."

Coulson paused.

Headquarters had specifically requested Evenson’s participation?

Given that the case involved a potentially superhuman individual, having someone with Evenson’s capabilities available as backup wasn’t unreasonable. Still, based on the information they’d received so far, the situation hardly seemed dangerous enough to justify bringing in someone of his caliber.

Perhaps headquarters knew something they didn’t.

Perhaps this assignment wasn’t nearly as straightforward as it appeared.

"Wait. Is this mission really that dangerous?" Skye asked.

Unlike Coulson, she didn’t bother working through the possibilities in her head.

She had seen enough of Evenson’s assignments to know that they rarely ended as quietly as they began. Something that looked like an ordinary investigation had a habit of turning into a disaster once he became involved.

If all they had to do was interview a woman who could move things with her mind, why send an Avenger?

Unless someone upstairs had decided that Evenson was drawing a salary anyway, so they might as well get their money’s worth.

"I’ll decide how dangerous it is after I read the briefing."

Evenson reached over and took the folder from Skye’s hands.

Although Coulson was officially responsible for the cover operation, Evenson needed a complete understanding of the case. He couldn’t properly maintain that cover—or ensure the others remained unaware of the real objective—without knowing what they were supposed to be covering up.

He flipped through the documents.

"Batesville. Lovely place."

He sounded almost nostalgic.

Skye immediately leaned closer, suddenly alert.

"You know something about the town? Is there something dangerous hiding there?"

"Turkey."

Skye stared at him.

Turkey?

What was wrong with the turkeys in Batesville? Was there some new strain of avian influenza? Or had she stumbled upon the existence of some legendary time-traveling chicken?

As her imagination ran wild, Evenson continued without looking up.

"Batesville is famous for its turkeys. I had one there three years ago. Absolutely delicious."

Skye’s expression fell.

"Seriously? That’s what you meant?"

What sort of answer was that?

"Anyway, telekinesis..." Evenson mused, rubbing his chin. "That’s interesting."

"Wait, you know about this ability?" Skye asked, having learned to temper her expectations.

"I do."

Evenson closed the folder and handed it back to her.

"My girlfriend, Claire, has it. She calls the spell Mage Hand."

Coulson’s attention sharpened.

That made sense. Perhaps headquarters had assigned Evenson to the mission because he already had firsthand knowledge of the ability in question.

Meanwhile, Evenson carried on as though he were discussing an ordinary household convenience.

"Claire uses it to put dirty clothes in the washing machine, steal the TV remote when I’m using it, and refill her Coke while she’s lying in bed watching anime. Very practical."

"That’s amazing," Skye said enviously.

Then she frowned.

"But from the way you describe it, the ability doesn’t sound particularly dangerous."

"Maybe it isn’t. Moving a TV remote is harmless. Refilling your Coke without getting out of bed is certainly convenient."

Evenson’s smile disappeared.

"But imagine someone using the same ability to rip the Empire State Building out of the ground and hurl it at the White House. Or dragging the President’s nuclear-hardened bunker straight out of the ground."

He looked at Skye.

"Would you still consider it harmless?"

Skye went pale.

"That’s... not funny."

"Power is dangerous when it becomes large enough," Coulson said, rising from behind his desk. "But according to SHIELD’s intelligence, this woman’s abilities haven’t reached anything close to that level."

"Maybe."

Evenson smiled faintly.

"Tell me, when was the last time SHIELD got one of these assessments right?"

Coulson’s expression darkened.

Unfortunately, Evenson had a point.

How many times had SHIELD initially classified an incident as minor, only for it to escalate until the entire situation threatened to explode?

A supposedly professional intelligence organization that couldn’t accurately assess the danger in front of it was an impressive contradiction.

Still, Coulson wasn’t about to concede defeat before the investigation had even begun.

"We won’t know anything for certain until we see the situation for ourselves."

He walked over to Evenson and lowered his voice slightly.

"I want you to exercise restraint. Don’t immediately resort to excessive force. I’d prefer to resolve this without turning it into a full-scale disaster."

"Who knows how things will turn out?"

Under ordinary circumstances, Evenson would have had some idea of how an operation was likely to unfold and how it might end.

This time, however, the situation involved Mephisto.

That complicated matters considerably.

Evenson couldn’t confidently predict how things would develop when the Devil himself was somewhere in the picture.

"But you know I’m not a murderer," he added. "I’m far too lazy for that. Let your team investigate first. Once you run into something you can’t handle, I’ll step in."

That was precisely what he wanted.

Coulson and the others could spend their time investigating Hannah and documenting her supposed telekinetic abilities.

Meanwhile, Evenson could quietly get on with his real assignment: recovering that damned item.

Everyone would be happy.

Probably.

"By the way," Evenson said, studying Coulson’s face, "you look exhausted. Didn’t sleep well last night?"

Coulson nodded.

He really hadn’t slept well.

Of course, it wasn’t because certain people had been making an unreasonable amount of noise the previous evening. The hotel had excellent soundproofing, and Evenson had even cast a silencing ward. Nobody outside their room could possibly have heard anything.

At least, that was what Coulson believed.

"Nightmares?" Evenson asked.

"Actually..." Coulson hesitated. "I suppose you could call it a pleasant dream."

He rubbed his forehead, trying to make sense of the memory.

"I dreamed I was on vacation in Tahiti again. That really is a remarkable place."

Ever since hearing Evenson mention Mephisto, something had felt off to Coulson. He couldn’t put his finger on it, and no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t identify what was bothering him.

Then, during the night, he had dreamed about his time in Tahiti.

The scenes had been familiar. Everything had looked the way he remembered it.

Yet the usual warmth and comfort had been missing. Instead, the dream had carried an inexplicable sense of artificiality, as though something about the entire experience were subtly wrong.

He had awakened abruptly, and it had taken until the early hours of the morning for him to fall asleep again.

"I see," Evenson said, adopting a tone of genuine concern. "Try to get some rest on the flight back."

He didn’t explain further.

Under the circumstances, Coulson’s dream was not a good sign.

The journey to Batesville passed without incident.

When the team arrived at Hannah Higgins’s home, Evenson took the opportunity to approach Melinda.

She seemed determined to avoid being alone with him. As soon as he drew near, she shifted direction with practiced ease, attempting to move somewhere else.

"Hold on."

Evenson caught up with her.

He knew Melinda was still trying to sort through the confusion left by what had happened the previous night. Their meeting was inevitably awkward, but there was no reason to make it worse.

"I may be younger than you, but I’m not a child," he told her. "And I’m not here to talk about last night."

Melinda removed her sunglasses and shot him a sharp look.

"Then what do you want?"

"Coulson told me—"

"What did he tell you?"

She interrupted him so quickly that Evenson barely had time to finish the sentence.

He glanced at her.

"He told me he dreamed about his time in Tahiti."

Melinda visibly relaxed. She released a breath she seemed to have been holding.

Then the relief vanished.

"He dreamed about Tahiti?"

"That’s right."

Evenson looked into the distance.

"You and I both know he never actually went there. Mephisto fabricated those memories for him. The whole thing was a flimsy patch job, and it wouldn’t take much to tear it apart."

Melinda raised an eyebrow.

"Couldn’t you find a different metaphor?"

"I’m just repeating the way that bastard described it."

Evenson shrugged.

Melinda decided not to argue.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Keep Coulson occupied. Make sure his attention stays on Hannah and the investigation into her abilities."

Evenson paused.

Something beyond Melinda’s shoulder had caught his eye.

"Hang on. What’s going on outside her house?"

A crowd had gathered near Hannah’s front door. Several police officers were attempting to keep order while protesters waved signs covered in decidedly hostile messages.

"What a welcoming neighborhood," Evenson muttered.

"Protesters," Melinda explained. "Hannah is a safety inspector at the town’s particle collider research facility. Four employees died in an accident there. The people around here think she’s responsible and are trying to drive her out of town."

"Has the investigation established that she’s at fault?"

"No. They’re still trying to determine what caused the accident."

Evenson watched the crowd in silence for a moment.

"So nobody knows whether she did anything wrong, but they’ve already decided she’s guilty."

He shook his head.

"That’s a wonderful way to ruin someone’s life."

There was something deeply unpleasant about the way people gathered around someone who had fallen on hard times. Once a person became an acceptable target, others seemed eager to join in. It was easy to kick someone who was already down.

"Not a shred of self-awareness," Evenson said contemptuously. "Just a bunch of trash looking for someone to blame."

If the protesters had all been relatives of the four victims, he might have understood their anger. Grief could overwhelm reason, and expecting people who had lost loved ones to remain calm and rational would be asking a great deal.

But what about everyone else?

What had Hannah done to them?

These people had no evidence that she was responsible. They weren’t pursuing justice; they were looking for an outlet for their own frustrations and had decided that an isolated woman was a convenient target.

At least a murderer understood that they had taken a life.

These people didn’t even have that much self-awareness. They could inflict genuine harm while convincing themselves they were doing something righteous. And if the investigation eventually proved Hannah innocent, how many would admit they had been wrong? How many would apologize?

Probably none.

They didn’t care enough to feel responsible in the first place.

"Mephisto once complained that the invention of the keyboard had contributed directly to Hell’s chronic overcrowding," Evenson remarked with a cold smile. "I suspect this is exactly the sort of person he had in mind."

At that moment, Coulson approached Hannah’s home.

After displaying his credentials to the officers maintaining the barricade, he was allowed through and began speaking with her.

Then everything changed.

An unattended police cruiser parked near the end of the street suddenly roared to life.

Its engine revved.

The vehicle lurched forward and accelerated straight toward the crowd.

"Look out!"

The protesters scattered in panic.

From where the others stood, the car appeared to be moving on its own. Even Coulson’s team assumed Hannah had somehow used her telekinetic abilities to take control of the vehicle.

But Melinda’s expression changed dramatically.

She had seen the driver.

A tall man with a disheveled appearance was sitting behind the wheel.

And she recognized him.

He was one of the four employees who had died in the particle collider accident.

For a moment, Melinda could only stare.

"Over there..." she whispered.

Evenson followed her gaze.

He had seen the man, too.

"You saw him, didn’t you?"

Melinda didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

Evenson let out a soft, humorless laugh.

"Well, that settles it. This isn’t a superpower incident."

He watched the driver behind the windshield.

"It’s a paranormal incident."

A ghost had just revealed himself right in front of them.

Evenson smiled.

"Guess you could call him a real road spirit."