Chapter 499
As one of Evenson’s closest friends, Melinda simply couldn’t bring herself to hide such a cruel piece of news from him.
The moment the meeting ended, she pulled out her phone and called him.
"Hey. About that raise you were supposed to get? Forget it."
She hung up before he could answer.
Then, apparently deciding that she’d done enough emotional damage for one day, she temporarily blocked his number.
Contrary to everyone’s expectations, Evenson took the news remarkably well.
He didn’t get angry.
He didn’t explode.
He didn’t even look particularly upset.
Claire and Taylor exchanged worried glances. They figured he’d simply been hit too hard by the news and hadn’t processed it yet.
The truth was much simpler.
Evenson genuinely didn’t care.
If Nick Fury had cut his salary or stopped his bonuses, Evenson might already have been outside SHIELD headquarters with a cardboard sign, staging a one-man protest.
But a raise?
Who cared?
There was a very practical reason for his indifference.
After Abomination had wrecked his car, Evenson had needed an absurd amount of money to get it repaired. SHIELD had advanced him an entire year’s salary to cover the expense.
Naturally, SHIELD wasn’t a charity.
He had to pay that money back.
Fortunately, SHIELD’s payroll department was surprisingly humane.
Or perhaps Nick Fury had simply decided that Evenson needed financial assistance.
Either way, they hadn’t charged him interest. They also hadn’t stopped his regular salary entirely.
Instead, Evenson received half his normal paycheck each month, with the remaining half going toward repayment.
The entire advance would take two years to clear.
Which meant that no matter how much SHIELD increased his salary now, the extra money wouldn’t actually reach his pockets until those two years were over.
So Evenson wasn’t worried.
There was absolutely no guarantee SHIELD would still be willing to give him a raise two years from now.
Yeah.
Right.
He’d believe that when he saw it.
"Why is everyone looking at me like that?"
Evenson finally noticed the strange expressions surrounding him.
Everyone was staring at him with the kind of sympathy usually reserved for someone who’d just lost a beloved pet.
It was getting irritating.
"If you’ve got something to say, say it. Otherwise, go home."
"Come on, let’s go..."
Everyone scattered.
They had apparently decided that Evenson was simply too proud to break down in front of so many people.
Once everyone left, they imagined, he’d crawl underneath the counter and finally let out the cry he’d been holding back.
Only Sarah stayed behind.
Someone had to comfort the boss during such a tragic moment.
She quietly approached Evenson and leaned down beside him. Her breath brushed across his face as she reached inside her clothes and pulled something from her neckline.
A bank card.
She held it out.
"This is a debit card," Sarah whispered. "From now on, your salary will be deposited here. Don’t worry. The card can’t be used for online transactions, and the identity information is registered under JARVIS. Nobody will be able to trace it back to you."
"Oh."
Evenson’s eyes lit up.
"That’s good. That’s very good."
At last!
After everything that had happened today, he’d finally received some good news.
His financial lifeline was back in his own hands.
He reached for the card.
A slender hand intercepted it first.
Evenson’s fingers froze.
Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head.
Claire stood there with one hand on her hip and the bank card dangling from the other.
"I think this card would be safer with me."
"...Oh."
It took Evenson several long seconds to fully understand what had just happened.
His financial lifeline had changed owners.
Again.
"Don’t worry."
Claire tucked the card against herself and crossed her arms.
"I’m not going to take advantage of you. I’ll deposit my monthly business revenue into this account too. So it’s our shared account. I’m just going to keep the card for now."
She smiled reassuringly.
"If you need money, just come to me."
"Mm."
Evenson nodded blankly.
Something about those words sounded painfully familiar.
Once Claire was satisfied and left, Evenson collapsed back into his chair.
He silently lit a cigarette.
Smoke curled toward the ceiling.
"Boss..."
Sarah wasn’t sure what to say anymore.
After a moment, she ventured, "I could ask JARVIS to make another one..."
"No."
Evenson shook his head weakly.
His voice carried the faintest hint of despair.
"Don’t bother."
He took another drag.
"I’ve accepted my fate."
Trying to fight the will of the universe by himself was simply too exhausting.
Some battles were not worth winning.
But then Evenson’s eyes narrowed.
Wait.
Why should he be the only one suffering?
If fate insisted on making his life difficult, there was no reason he couldn’t pass some of that misery along.
His expression changed.
He’d just remembered a business deal he’d been putting off for far too long.
Time to collect.
In a forest along the Russian-Belarusian border stood an enormous luxury villa.
It was the sort of place that made you wonder what kind of lunatic would build a mansion in such an isolated wilderness.
Anyone else living there would have to worry about armed thieves showing up, taking everything they owned, and leaving the entire family on a missing-persons list.
The villa’s owner had no such concerns.
Armed men in white winter combat gear surrounded the property. Each carried an AKM fitted with a red-dot sight and a four-power magnifier.
Watchtowers had been constructed around the grounds.
Men armed with fully equipped SKS rifles and eight-power scopes watched from above.
Four armored vehicles stood nearby.
Whatever else could be said about the place, ordinary burglars weren’t getting through that perimeter.
None of the guards wore military insignia or rank markings.
They weren’t soldiers.
They were private mercenaries.
And the owner of the villa was certainly no government official.
His name was Milhak Berikov, one of the biggest arms dealers in Eastern Europe.
The old man’s connections ran deep.
He maintained relationships with influential figures throughout Eastern Europe, including Russia’s political elite. For the sake of his business, he’d also cultivated close ties with border troops on both the Russian and Belarusian sides.
That was why he could afford to live in a place like this.
Normally, a man like Berikov could get almost anything he wanted.
Recently, however, his luck had taken a spectacular turn for the worse.
It had started when he’d completed a major arms deal and was returning home.
Along the way, he’d received another request.
The client was Calligan, a mercenary infamous throughout the trade as the "shame of mercenaries."
Berikov hadn’t wanted the job.
Given Calligan’s reputation, most sane businessmen would’ve turned him down.
Then Berikov remembered something.
Calligan was actually a distant relative, technically his nephew several generations removed.
Not exactly close family.
But family was family.
So Berikov had reluctantly agreed.
He hadn’t expected that single decision to expose him to some of the strangest horrors of his entire life.
The burning skulls were bad enough.
Then there had been a black mage.
A powerful, cold-blooded black mage.
And somehow, one of the Avengers had been there too.
The Lord of the Black Scythe.
Evenson Richter.
The man had not only appeared at the exchange, he’d cursed Berikov with a vicious spell.
At first, only one of Berikov’s arms had begun to wither.
Now, nearly a month later, half his body looked as though someone had stretched skin over a skeleton.
He stared down at the ruined flesh that continued to decay day by day.
Was there anything more terrifying than watching half your own body slowly die?
Berikov had long since stopped caring about the money.
He no longer cared about his business.
He didn’t even care about his connections.
All he wanted now was for the Lord of the Black Scythe to come.
Soon.
As soon as possible.
He wanted the man to finish what he’d started.
Because at this point, an ending sounded far kinder than another day of waiting.