7:45 p.m.
Evan closed the restaurant and set off for his landlord’s home.
Williams had originally lived at 176 Bleecker Street, the very building Evan was renting.
After reaching an agreement with Evan, however, Williams had rented the property to him and moved somewhere else.
The two places were fairly far apart.
Driving there would take around twenty minutes.
Of course, distance meant absolutely nothing to Evan now that he knew portal magic.
Whether it was twenty minutes away or twenty hours away, it was all just one step to him.
Evan opened the Dimensional Door and emerged in front of the building where Williams now lived.
He stopped and looked up.
Aside from the color, this building was almost identical to the one Evan had rented.
Looks like Williams really likes this architectural style…
Though, if Evan was being fair, there wasn’t much “style” to speak of.
Buildings like these were basically boxes.
Still silently criticizing his landlord’s taste, Evan walked to the front door and rang the bell.
He didn’t have to wait long.
Almost the instant the bell rang, the door opened.
But the person inside wasn’t Williams, whom Evan had only met once.
Instead, sitting in the room was Phil Coulson, the man who practically qualified as the tutorial NPC of every Marvel fanfic ever written, accompanied by two burly men in black suits.
The moment Evan saw Coulson, his eyelid twitched.
S.H.I.E.L.D., the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, was a special organization under the World Security Council tasked with dealing with all manner of unusual incidents.
Its predecessor was the Strategic Scientific Reserve, a wartime organization associated with figures such as Chester Phillips, Howard Stark, and Peggy Carter.
During World War II, its primary strategic objective had been opposing HYDRA under the Red Skull.
In short, S.H.I.E.L.D. possessed enormous authority.
And getting involved with them usually meant getting involved with an equally enormous amount of trouble.
Evan wasn’t particularly good at telling Western faces apart.
Quite a few of them looked more or less the same to him.
Coulson, however, had a distinctive enough face to be one of the few he could reliably remember.
So Evan was certain.
He hadn’t mistaken him for someone else.
The man in front of him really was senior S.H.I.E.L.D. agent Phil Coulson.
“Hello, sir. I don’t believe we’ve met.” Evan remained standing outside the door.
“Unless I’m mistaken, this should be Mr. Williams’s home?”
He didn’t expose Coulson’s identity immediately.
After all, Evan still didn’t know who S.H.I.E.L.D. was interested in.
Williams?
Or him?
If they were after Williams, Evan would pretend to be an ordinary civilian and enjoy the show.
If they were after him, then he’d drop the act and deal with them openly.
So for now, Evan was exceptionally polite in both speech and manner.
He didn’t cross the threshold, behaving exactly like an ordinary young man worried he’d knocked on the wrong door.
“Yes, this is Mr. Williams’s residence.”
Coulson gave him the mild, friendly smile that made it difficult to dislike him.
He rose from the couch.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Mr. Whitaker.”
Well, crap.
They’re here for me.
Guess I don’t get to pretend I’m an innocent bystander and enjoy the show.
Evan couldn’t help feeling disappointed.
At the same time, his mind quickly went to work.
He had no idea how much S.H.I.E.L.D. already knew about him.
That meant volunteering information would be stupid.
Better to let them ask the questions and decide for himself what he wanted to answer.
So Evan decided to keep pretending they were strangers.
Then he reconsidered.
Wait.
We are strangers.
With that realization, everything suddenly became much easier.
Evan’s acting skills immediately kicked in.
“Do we know each other, sir?”
He put on a troubled expression, his handsome features scrunching together as though he were genuinely searching his memories.
“Sorry. I’m drawing a complete blank.”
“That’s all right. This is our first time meeting, Mr. Whitaker.” Coulson smiled and stepped aside, gesturing toward the couch.
“Why don’t we sit down and talk?”
“Sure.” Evan walked inside without the slightest hesitation.
When you had enough ability to back yourself up, there wasn’t much reason to be afraid.
He took a seat on the couch to the right.
One of the men in black, the one who had opened the door, remained standing behind him.
Coulson sat opposite Evan, while the other man positioned himself along the only direct path toward the front door.
Evan’s mouth twitched.
You do realize I don’t need the door to leave, right?
Blocking it isn’t exactly helping.
Once everyone was settled, Coulson wasted no time.
“Mr. Whitaker, let me formally introduce myself. My name is Phil Coulson. I’m a senior agent with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.”
His expression grew serious.
“The reason we’re here is simple. According to our investigation, every record we can find of your activities begins seven days ago.”
“Before that, we can’t find anything.” Coulson stared directly at him.
“So I’d like to ask you a question.”
“Who exactly are you?”
There was no trace of humor on his face now.
Anyone living in modern society inevitably left a trail behind.
Employment records.
School records.
Financial transactions.
Medical records.
Something.
If absolutely nothing existed, then there were generally only two possibilities.
Either the person had abandoned their old identity and started over under a new one…
Or they’d appeared out of thin air.
Of course, that alone wouldn’t have been enough for Coulson to personally investigate Evan.
S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn’t so bored that it chased down every person who decided to reinvent themselves.
As long as someone wasn’t causing trouble, the organization generally had more important things to deal with.
But Evan was different.
Not only was his identity completely unknown, he also had ties to Tony Stark.
There was even a possibility that Evan had somehow been involved in Stark escaping captivity alive.
After all, ever since Tony returned, he’d been visiting the same location almost every day.
And that location just happened to be the property rented by the man sitting in front of Coulson.
“Me?” Evan gave a strained little smile.
“I’m just an ordinary guy. I came here tonight to talk to my landlord about buying the building I’m renting. I’m planning to open a restaurant there and make a little money.”
“Mr. Whitaker,” Coulson said evenly, “if we believed you were an ordinary person, we wouldn’t be here.”
His tone remained calm rather than threatening.
“You don’t need to be nervous. This is simply a routine inquiry. We’d appreciate it if you were candid with us.”
Evan nearly rolled his eyes.
Candid, my ass.
I tell you everything today, HYDRA comes knocking tomorrow.
No. Absolutely not.
Time to pass the buck.
“All right.” Evan’s expression suddenly became solemn.
“If you’re acting in an official capacity, then I suppose I can tell you.”
The abrupt seriousness in his voice made all three men instinctively grow more attentive.
Evan looked directly at Coulson.
“I’m a sorcerer.” He paused.
“A real, spell casting sorcerer.”
Sorry, Ancient One!
Dinner’s on me next time!
Just take the heat for me this once!
With that, Evan raised a hand and traced a circle through the air.
Sparks immediately burst into existence.
The glowing ring rapidly completed itself, revealing a clear view of Stark Tower on the other side.
Coulson and the two agents stared.
None of them spoke.
Their expressions were priceless.
Evan was extremely satisfied.
He’d been planning to open an ordinary restaurant in the real world, but there had always been a problem.
Identity documents.
Registration.
Permits.
And a whole pile of other irritating little complications.
Now?
Suddenly, none of that seemed like a problem anymore.
The moment Coulson had asked him to be candid, inspiration had struck.
Why not simply invent, or rather, borrow, a hidden supernatural faction to explain his identity?
That would conveniently patch the massive hole created by his complete lack of records before seven days ago.
Where had he been all these years?
Easy.
Ask him, and the answer was simple:
I grew up in a secluded mystical sanctuary cut off from the outside world.
Problem solved.
Then he could establish contact with S.H.I.E.L.D. and use that connection to straighten out his legal identity.
While he was at it, they could help smooth over the paperwork for his restaurant too.
Yes.
Exactly.
The main reason Evan had decided to make the sorcerers take the blame was the restaurant paperwork.
Originally, he’d planned to have Banner hack his way through the relevant systems and solve the problem that way.
But now that a better option had presented itself, why wouldn’t he take it?
Really, this was all the System’s fault.
What kind of transmigration package dumped someone into another world without even providing a legal identity or background?
Now Evan had to clean up the mess himself.