Back in the Triskelion, Li Feng had once tossed off a few casual lines about souls, and that was enough to set off every tripwire inside Director Fury's suspicious mind. Ghost Rider folklore. Possession. Summoned entities. Fury had decided Li Feng must've walked into S.H.I.E.L.D. to invite demons in and park them in human bodies like rental cars.
Coulson hadn't just heard that theory—he'd been told to act on it. Surveillance on Bob and the others doubled overnight.
Now, by the lakeshore, he tapped a photo with two fingers. In the image, Bob stood wrapped head to toe in a cyclone of black wind.
"Mr. Austin," Coulson said, voice mild but eyes carrying the question, "care to explain?"
"Explain what?" Li Feng gave him the big innocent. "You don't think I taught Bob magic, do you? I've been a little busy not tutoring."
"No." Coulson shook his head. "We know your black mist looks like a cloud that surrounds you. This…" He indicated the photo again. "This is wind—wind enclosing him. Different phenomenon. We also ran the image past a few 'mediums.' Most of them are con artists with libraries. Still, theory has its uses. The consensus was possession."
He watched Li Feng's face for a tell, got nothing but calm.
"Abigor," Coulson went on when Li Feng gestured for him to continue. "That's the name that kept coming up. They say the entity on Bob is likely—"
"The Wind Demon," Li Feng finished, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yeah. I know him. Among the Masters of the Mystic Arts, he's a wanted name."
The moment Coulson had spoken the name, Li Feng had known exactly what he'd pulled through that day at the Triskelion. Kamar-Taj kept records—sketches, incidents, capabilities. Abigor wasn't cannon fodder; he was a mid-tier hellbreed who'd slipped to Earth more than once. His file included the alias.
What he hadn't counted on was his own rotten luck. First time summoning in the Marvel world, he'd pulled that one.
Demons were outsiders. Earth's rules throttled their power by default. But a good host, a lot of time, and compatibility changed the math. Abigor bonded to a living corpse? That meant free rein. All those old Kamar-Taj numbers were wrong now. Anyone using the book values would die stupid.
Worse—Li Feng had hand-delivered a perfect vessel and watched the demon ease into it.
If Abigor slipped back to Hell, he'd talk. Mephisto would hear that someone topside knew how to make bodies that let a demon run at full strength. Best case? Mephisto showed up with a contract and a smile and offered Li Feng a seat at the table. Worst case? He came without the smile.
And if the Ancient One noticed a demon at full burn in the world? There wasn't a story Li Feng could weave that would make that okay. Not when the resurrection tech had flowed through his hands. Not when the summoner was him.
Two unkillable bosses on opposite sides and Li Feng in the middle. Fantastic.
He swallowed the taste of brass and said, quietly, "Before Kamar-Taj steps in, I find Abigor and end him. Cleanly. Permanently. Or this gets worse than I can handle."
He lifted his eyes. "Where exactly did you last see Bob in Mexico?"
Coulson, who had clocked the dodge, didn't answer. He studied Li Feng for a beat, then said, "You seem familiar with Abigor. What is he—" a wince, as he edited himself "—what kind of demon is he? Powers. Weak points."
Coulson rubbed his forehead and half-laughed at himself. "When I joined S.H.I.E.L.D., I thought gifted people were plenty weird. Now we've got demons. At this rate, if aliens land tomorrow, I'll show up with flowers and a welcome basket."
Li Feng gave him a look that said: save that line for when Thor drops a hammer on your lawn.
"Baseline demonic package, he's got it," Li Feng said. "They call him Wind for a reason. He becomes air. Good luck punching a breeze. If S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't have gear that can catch the wind, stay home and wait for my call."
Coulson heard what he needed to hear. A live demo of sorcery was rare. A demon hunt rarer. And he still had a standing brief to document how many tricks "Mr. Austin" had up his sleeve.
"S.H.I.E.L.D.'s mandate—"
"—doesn't include banishing devils," Li Feng cut in.
"No," Coulson said evenly, "but it includes learning. Imagine next time a demon shows up, and you're off-grid. Or the Masters are busy with a bigger fire. You want us standing there with our hands in our pockets? If we go now, we might figure out a technological kill chain—something we can deploy without you."
He held Li Feng's gaze. "And we can get you eyes. Satellites. We can find Abigor before he makes a mess."
Mexico was big. Desert bigger. Without the Sanctums' warding net, finding a wind that didn't want to be found could take forever.
Li Feng exhaled. "Fine. You tag along. But once things go loud, your safety is on you. Do not get close. Do not believe a word he says. Demons are more cunning than you think."
"Noted." Coulson headed for the car, phone already rising. "Director, requesting the Bus and a—"
Li Feng pointed at his RV. "We take my ride. I'm not getting into one of your flying bricks with a safety rating of ten percent."
Coulson paused, then grinned like a man who'd just been handed an upgrade. "Change of plan, sir," he said into the phone. "Send long-range shooters to my location. We'll roll by ground—Mr. Austin's vehicle. And send me people with nerves. Their target is a demon."
On the other end, Fury sat behind his desk with his best poker face. "A demon," he said flatly. "So Austin confirmed possession? Did you learn why Bob was chosen?"
There was nothing useful Coulson could say to that. What was he supposed to do—ask Li Feng if he'd ordered a demon to go? Sorcerers weren't idiots, even if they played one on TV.
Silence did the answering. Fury sighed. "Understood. I'm dispatching a team to you now."
He thumbed the internal line. "I want my best long-gun operators. They're covering civilians and assets. Put May on it too. This isn't one of those mercy missions."
Minutes later, the lake winked with heat haze—and a cloaked Quinjet bled out of the air above the water. A five-man tac unit fast-roped down in matte armor, bracketing three researchers in white coats as they hustled toward the cabin.
Coulson ended his call and shot Li Feng a look that said: ready when you are.
Li Feng picked up his mask and his bag. "Let's go hunt a storm."
Li Feng eyed the three researchers ringed by S.H.I.E.L.D. tac agents and nudged Coulson with a grin. "Why do your scientists look like convicts on a perp walk? Slap some shackles on them and swap those face shields for black hoods and the look's complete."
Coulson managed a patient smile. "Their brains are S.H.I.E.L.D.'s crown jewels. We don't joke with the merchandise."
The subtext wasn't subtle. Respect the civilians. Also: don't let anything happen to them.
Li Feng rolled his eyes. "Your tac team won't keep demons off their backs."
"Do you have anything to keep a demon off them?" Coulson asked. "Talismans. Charms."
"So I'm the security detail now?" Li Feng snapped his fingers. "Kreacher," he murmured to the unseen servant, "put together protective amulets for our three VIP nerve centers."
Then, lower, to Coulson: "When we're done, they go back to me. And mark down that you owe me a favor."
Coulson was studying the faint footprints that appeared and faded in the grass—Kreacher's invisible path—and wondering if this was optics or something else entirely. He answered on autopilot. "Name a price. We'll pay."
"What would I do with cash?" Li Feng snorted. "Can't buy magic reagents with dollars."
Coulson spread his hands. "I don't have that kind of authority. Take it up with the Director. He'll… likely see it your way."
"Hard pass," Li Feng muttered. "Every time I see the one-eyed bastard my IQ drops ten points."
A woman's voice cut across the lawn. "Heard you needed hitters."
Coulson blinked. "May? I thought you were off the roster."
Melinda May shrugged, doffed her helmet, and peeled back her mask—deadpan face, coiled energy. "The Director says this op touches something classified enough that he wants fewer witnesses. I'm one of the people who already knows." She cracked her knuckles, eyes brightening. "Also, target's non-human. No need to leave anything breathing. I've got… stress to unload."
Li Feng picked up on the undertone—these people know you—and frowned. He raised two fingers, swept them across his eyes, and opened his sorcerer sight. Under the armor and masks, he caught life-lights he recognized only vaguely. The sniper out on the ridge had once put him in a Triskelion scope—Li Feng remembered that much.
So, no old friends. They knew of him. That was different.
He turned back to May. "You want to pound Abigor? I can kit you out so every punch lands—even if he turns into wind."
May didn't bite; she didn't even know the "turns into wind" part yet. She gave him a cool look. "Do I call you Mr. Austin," she asked in flawless Mandarin, "or Li Feng?"
Something in her gaze felt like a ledger with his name in red. Li Feng rubbed his nose and shrugged: call him whatever; call him "Hey You." It was just a label.
He shot Coulson a sideways Did I tick her off?
Coulson waited until May pivoted to direct her team, then murmured, "First time in S.H.I.E.L.D., May never logged a failure. Then she met you. That was the first red stamp on her file."
Petty, Li Feng thought, grimacing. Terrific. Today's cursed. I should burn sage and a grapefruit leaf while I'm at it.
Coulson hadn't forgotten the "demon-punching" line. "About that gear—can I try it? I wouldn't mind feeling my knuckles connect with something infernal."
Li Feng squinted at him. "You really want to know?"
Coulson nodded.
"Then I'll show you my collection," Li Feng said, smiling. "But you sign first. Magical NDA. Everything you see or hear in there stays buried."
"I'm a professional," Coulson said. "Keeping secrets is the job." He glanced at May. "Can she come?"
"Don't get cute and sprint straight to Fury afterward," Li Feng warned. "This is a magic contract." He spread his hands. "If she signs, she sees it."
On the lake, a cloaked Quinjet shimmered into full view. Agents ferried crates down the ramp in practiced relays. Coulson checked his watch, then looked back at the RV—and did a double take once he stepped inside.
"Okay," he said, staring around the cavernous interior. Outside, the vehicle looked like a classic motorhome; inside, it was a loft the size of a townhouse. "If I'd known it was this big, I'd have brought a platoon."
Li Feng smirked. "Beats your Lola, doesn't it?"
Coulson arched an eyebrow, ready with a retort, but Li Feng was already calling over his shoulder: "Amulets are on the dining table. They don't match, but they work the same."
Then, to Coulson, sotto voce: "Come on. Time to broaden your horizons."
Coulson turned. "Grant Ward—hand out the amulets." He jerked his chin at May. "You're with me."
Ward—still mentally reassembling his worldview—snapped a crisp salute. "Yes, sir."
Li Feng watched the younger agent a beat, weighing him. Promising. Later, he decided. First we reel in Coulson and May.
He led them to a steel-faced locker, withdrew a roll of parchment and a dark quill, and set both on a counter. "Magical contract," he said lightly. "Breaking it gets… messy. Last chance to bail."
May accepted the parchment, brows knitting. "A nondisclosure?" She skimmed the lines. "What, exactly, are we not disclosing?"
Coulson took the quill, read every word, and signed cleanly. "Mr. Austin's letting us tour his collection. This says we keep our mouths shut about what we see." He offered May the quill. "Also, it's magic."
"If you want a peek behind the curtain, you sign," he added.
May flicked her eyes to Li Feng, then bent and wrote her name in a steady hand. As she set down the quill she couldn't help thinking, Why does this feel like signing an indenture?
Li Feng hid a smile. Woman's intuition, he thought. Because it is.
Blame Coulson. I only wanted him. He dragged you in.