Chapter 913

The situation had spiraled completely out of Coulson’s control.

First Skye had collapsed. Then Evenson had somehow taken control of her body and used her life as leverage. The entire sequence had happened so quickly that Coulson hadn’t even had time to react.

But he understood one thing perfectly: he was at a serious disadvantage.

Even if he were willing to disregard Skye’s safety, there was another problem. She was unconscious, and every movement her body made was being controlled by the mechanical exoskeleton. She was little more than a puppet on strings.

Even if Skye actually died, there was no guarantee the machinery would stop functioning.

So how exactly was he supposed to stop it?

You couldn’t kill someone who was already dead. Besides, the only weapons Coulson’s team had were the tranquilizer guns Fitz had developed. No matter how potent the sedatives were, they weren’t going to work on an inorganic machine.

Still, surrendering wasn’t an option.

Coulson decided to negotiate.

"You’re using Skye’s life to threaten me. I have to admit, you know me pretty well. You know I care about her. I practically consider her my daughter. There’s no way I’m going to abandon her."

He was only willing to say something so embarrassing because Skye was unconscious and couldn’t hear him. If she’d been awake, Coulson would have rather taken a bullet than admit he’d practically adopted her.

"But what about your relationship with her?" he continued. "Can you really bring yourself to kill her?"

"She joined SHIELD because of you. You might be strict with her, but I know you look out for her. She sees you as an older brother. And I believe you feel the same way about her."

Coulson paused.

"Are you really prepared to kill your own little sister?"

Skye—or rather, Evenson controlling Skye’s body—fell silent for a long moment.

You call her your daughter, then tell me I’m her brother?

Seriously? You’re a SHIELD agent. How are you getting away with this kind of emotional blackmail?

When Evenson failed to respond or make any movement, Coulson began to wonder if something had gone wrong.

Did the altitude interfere with the signal?

Before he could investigate, Skye’s head lifted slightly.

She placed one hand over her chest, adopting an almost theatrical pose.

"As you said, if I were Hawkeye, would I really care about this little girl’s life?"

As he spoke, Skye’s head suddenly twisted to one side, as though someone had grabbed it and was about to snap her neck.

Coulson and Melinda May both grimaced.

"Can you just talk without manhandling her?" they exclaimed almost simultaneously.

"That’s not the point—ah!"

Skye suddenly cried out in pain.

Coulson immediately tensed, but a closer look revealed no obvious injury. Skye merely raised a hand to her forehead, rubbed it, and turned her head toward something—or someone—off to the side.

"That wasn’t intentional! Could you two go a little easier on me? I’m bleeding here! Look, there’s blood everywhere!"

A considerable amount of time passed before things finally settled down.

Skye rubbed both hands over her face as though washing it, then looked up again. Her voice sounded noticeably weaker.

"Where was I?"

"Well..." Melinda narrowed her eyes and regarded her with the patient expression of someone dealing with a particularly difficult idiot. "You were talking about being Hawkeye."

"Right. That’s where you stopped," Coulson confirmed.

His expression was strange.

He knew better than to underestimate an opponent during an operation. Yet, despite the situation, he was finding it increasingly difficult to take any of this seriously.

There was simply too much absurdity happening at once.

"But..." Coulson hesitated. "Are you actually Hawkeye?"

"And what if I’m not?"

Evenson’s voice had become cold and detached.

"Even if I weren’t Hawkeye, I’ve worked alongside your team long enough. You’ve certainly read my SHIELD psychological evaluation. What did it say about me again?"

"Antisocial personality disorder," Fitz answered.

Since the incident began, Fitz had locked himself inside the laboratory. No matter who tried talking to him, he refused to open the door. He was currently speaking through the laboratory’s bulletproof glass.

"There’s something I’ve always wanted to tell you, Coulson," Evenson continued. "I know you’ve been trying to turn this team into a family. But not everything is suitable for children to hear."

Skye’s closed eyes shifted slightly.

Evenson had just rolled them.

"But yes. SHIELD’s evaluation concluded that I displayed certain antisocial tendencies."

He paused.

"According to the report, I have little remorse for my actions and considerable difficulty empathizing with other people. Emma, Hannibal, Silas Crowe... Tell me, do you honestly believe someone with those characteristics would care about whether another person lives or dies?"

"First, I’d like to correct something," Coulson replied calmly. "Your evaluation didn’t diagnose you with antisocial personality disorder. It stated that you might have it. There was never a definitive conclusion."

He nodded slightly.

"Your actual personality was described as cold and withdrawn. The humor you pride yourself on, those childish pranks and the way you enjoy messing with people... The report suggested they were simply a disguise for what’s underneath."

Coulson paused before continuing.

"I even discussed this with the director once. We questioned whether SHIELD should leave you alone rather than recruit you and bring you into our operations."

Evenson remained silent.

"But the director believed you could still be helped. He thought your personality was the result of your childhood environment. And after you found a girlfriend and developed stronger ties with SHIELD, he became even more convinced that you could change."

Coulson looked directly at Skye.

"Have you ever wondered why, among all the operational teams in SHIELD, it’s always my team that works so closely with you? Why are we the only team authorized to request your assistance?"

He spread his hands.

"Because the director believed that bringing us together would create something resembling a family. He wanted you to spend more time with us, hoping that the relationships we developed would help you overcome your problems."

"Is that right?"

Evenson was genuinely surprised.

Nick Fury had previously told him that Coulson’s team had been assembled to help Coulson recover from his own psychological issues.

Interesting.

Compartmentalization. One arrangement, several objectives. Everyone has a different assignment, and nobody realizes the others are working toward separate goals.

Nick Fury really is something else.

"That might have been his intention," Evenson said. "But did he forget that antisocial personality disorder isn’t something you can simply correct?"

"You’re right," Coulson acknowledged with a nod. "But you’re overlooking something important."

He continued patiently.

"People with antisocial personality disorder rarely acknowledge that anything is wrong with them. They don’t consider themselves abnormal. Quite the opposite, actually. They believe they’re perfectly normal and that everyone else is the problem."

Coulson shrugged.

"Why shouldn’t humanity be as indifferent as nature itself?"

"Can I ask you something?" Melinda interrupted, frowning. "Could you stop casually quoting Hitler? It’s incredibly awkward, and it’s not doing your reputation any favors."

"Fair enough."

Coulson gave a small shrug before returning his attention to Evenson.

"So, Evenson. Do you actually have that disorder?"

"Of course not. I’m not crazy."

Coulson’s expression brightened slightly.

For a moment, he thought he’d finally gained some ground in the negotiation. If Evenson genuinely rejected the diagnosis, perhaps there was still a chance of reaching an agreement.

It also made it even less likely that he was Hawkeye.

Then Evenson continued.

"I simply paid the necessary price while practicing magic. A portion of my soul was sacrificed in the process."

Coulson’s expression froze.

That sounds considerably worse than a personality disorder.

"What I achieved was a deliberate, highly controlled separation of certain aspects of my personality. It allows me to exercise an extreme form of self-serving emotional detachment."

Evenson glanced down at the body he was currently controlling.

"Take this situation, for example. I’m using Skye’s body to negotiate with you. Not because I want to show off, cross-dress, or take advantage of the situation."

He paused.

"Don’t look at me like that. I’m being serious."

"I’m doing this to spare us the awkwardness of meeting face-to-face. It also leaves both sides some room to maneuver. But if you reject this gesture of goodwill, I can become very, very cold."

His voice dropped.

"At that point, Coulson, you’ll be nothing more than a stranger to me. And you’ve seen what happens to people who reject my goodwill."

Coulson looked at the possessed Skye, then glanced toward Melinda.

The negotiations had gone nowhere. And judging by the situation, his tranquilizer gun wasn’t going to be much use against either of them.

He finally exhaled.

"All right."

Slowly, he bent down and placed his weapon on the floor before raising both hands.

"Could you put your hands down?" Skye said, waving dismissively. "This is getting awkward. It’s not as though I’ve taken you hostage."

She paused.

"I just need to borrow Melinda for something. There are reasons you don’t know about."

"Reasons I don’t know about?"

Coulson lowered his hands, looking thoroughly displeased.

"What exactly do you want her to do? Now that I’m apparently allowed to remain here, could you at least explain?"

"Suit yourself."

Skye shrugged.

Coulson felt a flicker of satisfaction.

If he could just learn what Evenson wanted Melinda to do, he might be able to work out the real objective behind all this.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t what happened.

Instead, Skye suddenly launched into a rapid stream of Cantonese.

"Melinda, something’s happened. Hydra has made its move. Nick Fury has been taken out, and Captain America has been ordered to be arrested. Get back here immediately."

Melinda’s expression changed dramatically.

"How could this happen? What do you need me to do?"

Evenson didn’t bother explaining further.

"There’s no time to discuss it now. Get back here first. We’ll assess the situation and decide what to do when you arrive."

Melinda nodded, then glanced at Coulson with some concern.

"What about the people here? Aren’t we taking them with us?"

Evenson shook his head.

"The situation is too dangerous. Bringing them along without knowing what’s happening would be practically asking for trouble. They’re safer staying here."

"All right."

Melinda reluctantly accepted his decision.

Just as she was about to leave, Evenson suddenly remembered something.

"Oh, one more thing. Claire left something in your room last time. I’m sure you’ll be interested."

"Don’t tell me..."

A knowing smile spread across Melinda’s face.

Without another word, she hurried toward her quarters.

Coulson watched her disappear, then turned back to Skye with an awkward but perfectly polite smile.

"So..."

He paused.

"What exactly did you two just say?"

"You heard everything, didn’t you?"

Evenson stopped, adjusted his tongue, and cleared his throat.

Then he spoke again in perfectly ordinary English.

"Didn’t you?"

Coulson’s expression darkened.

So it’s my fault I couldn’t understand you? What the hell language was that?

Before he could complain, Melinda returned.

The rooms aboard the aircraft weren’t particularly large, and a trained agent like her was unlikely to overlook anything unusual in her own quarters. It hadn’t taken her long to locate what Evenson had mentioned.

In her hands were two items.

The first was a small bottle containing an unfamiliar green liquid.

The second was a necklace with an oversized black pendant.

Melinda immediately recognized the liquid.

The final stage of her enhancement was finally here.

She raised the bottle and looked toward Evenson.

He nodded.

Without hesitation, she removed the stopper and drank the entire contents.

This final enhancement should have produced the most intense reaction of all. However, thanks to the groundwork laid during her previous treatments, Melinda experienced no particularly violent symptoms.

Her body trembled involuntarily a few times before gradually settling down.

Coulson stared at her in disbelief.

"You’re kidding me. You’ve been letting her take drugs this entire time?"

He looked between them.

"What is this supposed to be? Some kind of magical human-enhancement experiment?"

"Something like that."

Melinda slowly opened her eyes.

"Thanks for worrying about me, Coulson."

Coulson shot her an exasperated look before turning toward Evenson.

"When did this start?"

His voice rose.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Sorry."

Evenson gave a rather perfunctory shrug.

"You don’t have the clearance to know."

Melinda ignored their exchange and put on the oversized pendant.

She noticed a red button in its center.

Without giving it much thought, she pressed it.

What followed was difficult to describe.

There was a series of mechanical noises remarkably similar to those made by the Transformers when they changed forms.

Yellow beams of magical energy erupted from the pendant. Layer upon layer of dark purple plate armor materialized around Melinda, covering her body from head to toe.

The armor was thick, sturdy, and possessed an unmistakably mystical aesthetic. Its design combined the imposing appearance of heavy plate armor with an otherworldly elegance.

Melinda seemed quite pleased with it.

She was just about to say something when—

CLACK!

A helmet suddenly snapped into place over her head.

Two red lights flashed in its eye sockets.

A hoarse, distorted voice emerged from the helmet.

"Ar...thur!"

Melinda immediately tore the helmet off.

"What the hell is that voice?!"

"Well..."

Evenson tilted his head awkwardly.

"An accompanying sound effect?"

He offered her an apologetic look.

"Just bear with it for now. Anyway, I’ve got to get back. Find a way to meet up with us."

With that, the connection abruptly ended.

Back in New York, Evenson removed the strange headpiece from his own head. It resembled the equipment used to record an electroencephalogram, and taking it off immediately severed his control over Skye.

"That was interesting."

He shook his head with considerable satisfaction.

"Controlling that armor remotely through mental energy is surprisingly entertaining."

"Is that so?"

The Eredar Twins exchanged strange looks.

Their expressions suggested they were thoroughly enjoying themselves at his expense.

"We thought you were simply developing an interest in dressing up as a woman."

One of them smiled mischievously.

"Would you like to borrow some of our clothes next time?"

"Give me a break."

Evenson dropped into a nearby chair, looking utterly exhausted.

"Speaking of which, could one of you make me some black chicken soup? I’m losing blood over here!"

He wiped his forehead, where blood was still streaming down his face.

"Honestly, do you two have any idea what restraint means? I told you those movements weren’t intentional, and you still decided to ram your horns into my head!"

The Eredar Twins’ horns were no joke.

Evenson couldn’t help wondering whether they could be fashioned into daggers. He wasn’t sure if they’d qualify as Legendary weapons, but he was absolutely certain they’d come with a bleeding effect.

He’d already used two Healing Stones on the wounds they’d inflicted, and neither had managed to stop the bleeding.

What kind of horns do these two have?

Are they secretly Artifact weapons?

Back aboard the aircraft, Skye finally began to regain consciousness.

The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was Coulson standing over her, his face full of concern.

Confused, she blinked at him.

"What happened to me?"

"Well..."

Coulson hesitated, trying to figure out how best to explain the situation.

Unfortunately, Fitz suddenly burst out of the laboratory.

"You were possessed by Evenson!"

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Skye’s eyes widened.

She immediately looked down at herself, then crossed her arms over her chest and instinctively tightened her clothes.

"Are you saying he got inside me?!"

"Ahem!"

Coulson coughed violently.

"Not like that! He possessed you! That’s what I meant!"

"Oh..."

Skye frowned, looking thoroughly disgusted.

"So you’re saying he... entered my body?"

"NO!"

Coulson waved both hands, forming an enormous cross in the air.

What’s gotten into this girl? Why is her mind suddenly going in that direction?

"To be precise, he controlled the mechanical exoskeleton attached to you. He didn’t enter your body or... do anything else. He only controlled the machinery."

"Oh."

Skye turned her head to the side, wearing an expression that was difficult to interpret.

"So Evenson was inside a metal frame?"

Coulson stared at her for a moment.

Then he turned toward Fitz.

"Anyway! Fitz, get that thing off her immediately!"

The exoskeleton having a backdoor that allowed someone else to take control of it was bad enough.

But now it seemed to be causing psychological damage to its wearer as well.

There was absolutely no way Coulson was allowing Skye to keep using it.