Chapter 3 — The Interrogation
May 20th 2005
As soon as the crack in space was sealed and the demons stopped pouring out, S.H.I.E.L.D. moved in like ants over a dropped sandwich. Keller had his badge and gun confiscated on the spot. Same with Red Wolf — his weapons bagged and tagged by agents who didn't realize they were holding sacred artifacts.
Me? I went willingly. After all, I told Keller I'd help him prove to Fury that W.A.N.D. was needed. I never said what my payment method would be. We were loaded into separate armored SUVs. I got the luxury ride — if you could call it that — with Fury and Natasha Romanoff as my escorts.
Now that I wasn't busy sealing ancient gods and closing gates to Hell, I had time to properly appreciate my company.
"You truly are something, Red," I said, glancing at Natasha. "Wouldn't mind having your fangs in my neck."
"Oh? Even if the bite's full of venom?" she shot back, eyebrow raised.
"There are spells for that very reason, love."
"Who are you, kid?" Fury cut in, voice sharp. "I mean really."
"Oh, little old me?" I blew a smoke ring. "Just a consultant on the arcane and the occasional biblical apocalypse."
"That doesn't answer my question." Fury's glare could have cut steel.
"Well, that's unfortunate," I said, smirking. "Maybe if you glare hard enough, the answer will appear."
With a flick of my wrist, the handcuffs popped open. I lit another Silk Cut as the guards immediately raised their weapons. Natasha's wrist gauntlets clicked — her Widow's Bite charged, set to lethal.
"What the hell," Fury barked.
"Like Keller's been trying to tell you, magic's real, old man," I said, exhaling a lazy plume of smoke. "Maybe if you learned a little, you could regrow that grassless yard you call a head."
The guards didn't laugh. Neither did Fury. I flicked ash toward the floor — it glowed, faintly blue. Every gun in the car disassembled itself midair with a metallic clatter.
Fury's glare somehow got harder. "A true-to-life magician wasn't what I expected when trying to retrieve my rogue agent, Keller. But fine. When we get to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, I'm questioning you personally."
"Can't wait," I said, blowing another smoke ring.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters
We arrived at HQ in silence. The kind that hums. I was marched in alongside Keller and Red Wolf, each of us escorted by enough armed agents to invade a small country. They held us in a combined cell at first — enough tension in the air to start a lightning storm — before splitting us up for interrogation. The rooms were identical: sterile metal, bad lighting, mirrors that weren't mirrors.
Keller's Interrogation
Keller sat at a steel table, his confiscated sidearm — the sidearm — laid out like evidence of a crime. Scientists circled it behind glass, sensors and scanners humming.
"Object contains unknown energy signatures," one said.
"Readings inconsistent its not reading in my dionostics," another murmured.
"But the gun itself… it's glowing."
Indeed, faint sigils pulsed along the barrel — marks Eli had carved into it mid-battle. Keller just watched, stone-faced.
"You said you made contact with an 'entity,'" the lead scientist asked through an intercom. "Can you elaborate?"
"Yeah," Keller said. "It was a group of demons." We stopped it."
"That's not—scientifically—"
"I'm not here for your science," Keller snapped. "I'm here because it worked. That gun shouldn't exist, but it does. So either accept the new rules of reality, or get left behind when it bites you."
They had nothing to say to that.
Red Wolf's Interrogation
In another room, Red Wolf sat across from two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, hands resting calmly on the table. He looked every bit the spirit warrior — composed, centered, absolutely done with the nonsense.
"So," one agent began, flipping through a file. "You claim to draw your power from ancestral spirits and an animal god."
"I do not claim," Red Wolf said evenly. "I know."
The second agent leaned forward. "And this spirit spoke to you?"
"Yes. He warned me the veil was weakening. That is why I was there."
The agents exchanged a look, scribbled something, then dismissed him for "further evaluation."
Red Wolf smiled faintly. "You will find no lie in what I said. Only disbelief in your own ears."
Eli's Interrogation
When my turn came, I was already seated in the room, cuffs back on, cigarette burning despite the "no smoking" sign. Fury entered with his usual storm front energy.
"I really love the decorations," I said. "Feels very 'I looked up how to make a sigil on YouTube.' Especially those runes — real quality stuff."
Fury's one good eye narrowed. "Even though I only discovered magic today, I had my people dig up what remained of old W.A.N.D. records. Found a few tricks to dampen it. It's crude, but it'll have to do."
I chuckled. "Adorable. It's like watching someone use an ouija board for the first time."
He slammed a file down. Photos of the battlefield — the seal, Keller's gun glowing like a star. "You expect me to believe all this isn't a threat?"
"Oh, it's a threat," I said. "Just not to you. Not yet. The real threat's what's crawling under reality — the things we sealed. The outer gods are awake, Fury. They're dreaming. And if you don't start learning fast, they're going to dream you out of existence."
He didn't respond. Just stared for a long time, calculating.
"Why help us?" he finally asked.
I leaned back, smirking. "Because I like this world. The drinks are good, the music's decent, and I've already been to Hell. Didn't like the décor."
Decision
Hours later, Fury stood outside the holding cells with Natasha and Hill. He looked exhausted.
"Report?"
"Keller's clean," Hill said. "Gun's… not. But whatever it's made of, it's keyed to him. Red Wolf's story checks out. And Constantine—"
"Don't call him that," Fury muttered. "He'll like it too much."
Natasha crossed her arms. "You know he's right. About the crack, about the magic. You can't explain that away with science or spies."
Hawkeye was just stunned magic was real what's next gods?
Fury exhaled slowly. "Then we adapt."
He entered the room. I was leaning back, boots on the table, cigarette halfway done.
"Congratulations," he said. "You three just made my life a lot more complicated."
He tossed Keller his badge — and his gun, now sealed in a containment holster.
"Agent Keller, you're reinstated. Effective immediately, you're head of the newly reactivated W.A.N.D. division. You're the director now. Try not to blow up my base."
Keller blinked. "You're serious?"
"Unfortunately." Fury turned to me. "You're his consultant. You answer to him, not to me."
I smiled. "You'll regret that."
"And Red Wolf," Fury said, handing him a small carved emblem. "You're W.A.N.D.'s field liaison. You see something weird, you handle it."
Red Wolf inclined his head. "Then we are agreed."
Fury sighed. "God help me, I'm creating a supernatural task force."
"Correction," I said, flicking ash onto the floor. "You're creating the world's last line of defense against the unexplainable. And the unkillable."
He glared one more time, then walked out muttering something about retirement.
I took one last drag, crushed the cigarette under my heel, and grinned at Keller.
"Congrats, Director, Keller" I said. "Let's see how deep this rabbit hole goes."
Training
After the events of yesterday — you know, closing a hell gate, punching demons, and accidentally getting hired by S.H.I.E.L.D. — I decided it was time for a little professional development.
W.A.N.D. was official now. Keller had his shiny new title, Red Wolf was our resident spirit-whisperer, and I was, in Fury's words, "the magical pain in my ass who somehow gets results."
So, I figured: why not train the humans?
And by "train," I mean experiment.
Guinea Pigs and Faith Magic
Keller, Natasha, and Barton stood in a circle inside one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s underground training hangars — the same one usually used for testing alien weapons. It now looked like a church married a rave: runes etched into the floor, candles flickering, soft blue glyphs pulsing along the walls.
"Alright, class," I said, clapping my hands. "Today's lesson is Faith Magic 101. Don't worry — no hymns, no holy water, just a little belief and a lot of luck."
Natasha folded her arms. "You're enjoying this way too much."
"Of course I am. You're about to play magician, and I get paid in spiritual dividends."
Keller gave me a look. "Dividends?"
"Faith, Keller. Every time you perform, it strengthens the current — the belief — and that belief flows through the source."
"Which is you," Barton said.
"Which is technically the Spirit Pond in Texas," I corrected, drawing a glowing sigil in the air. "I'm just… the middleman. The pond's the battery. You're the test dummies. Everyone wins."
"Except the dummies," Barton muttered.
"Exactly," I said with a grin.
As they followed my guidance — focusing, channeling, speaking the small invocations — the air shimmered. The faint smell of ozone filled the hangar. Keller's eyes lit up with pale blue glow, Natasha's gauntlets hummed with energy, and Barton's arrows burned faintly gold. They learned fast. Too fast. The thing about S.H.I.E.L.D. agents — they're annoyingly adaptable.
"Remember," I said, walking behind them, "Faith Magic isn't about belief in a god — it's about belief in purpose. In the act. You believe the symbol has power, and it does."
"And what do you believe in?" Natasha asked, not missing a beat.
I smirked. "Coffee. Cigarettes. And the fact that hell's always one mistake away."
Barton lowered his bow. "Inspiring."
I chuckled. "I try."
Negotiations with the Devil (Eli)
When the training wrapped, I leaned against a crate, lighting a Silk Cut as Keller approached. The glow of the runes reflected off his badge — the one Fury had returned when naming him Director of W.A.N.D.
"So," I said, "now that you've got your fancy title, let's discuss payment."
Keller narrowed his eyes. "I didn't forget. Name it."
I smiled like the half-demon I am. "Not only did I give you a form of magic you can teach new W.A.N.D. agents — think of it as your own mystical version of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s combat training — but I also handed you the foundation of an entire division."
"You made your point," he said.
"Good. Then here's my price: 1.2 million yearly salary, vacation time, first dibs on any cool artifacts W.A.N.D. digs up, and I remain a consultant. Not an agent. I don't do uniforms."
Keller stared. "That's—"
"Reasonable," I interrupted. "Remember what you have now, and what you won't have if I walk."
He clenched his jaw, visibly annoyed. Then, slowly, he relaxed. "Fine."
I extended my hand, and he shook it. "Pleasure doing business, Director."
The Months That Followed
For the first few months, W.A.N.D. ran surprisingly well. We recruited 50 new agents to soften the load. Sadly though magic inclined individuals don't grow on trees. I could just build them up but that also takes more time from events that could literally tare the fabric of space. Agents trained. Red Wolf handled the spiritual stuff. Keller managed logistics. And me? I kept the seals stable, hunted the occasional demon, and pretended I didn't enjoy having an office with an espresso machine.
Fury even dropped by once — stormed in, glared at me, and said, "Don't burn my base down."
I told him, "No promises."
The Meeting
Three months later, Fury called me into a briefing room at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. Keller was already there, looking as tired as always. Natasha and Barton stood by the wall, and in the corner — sipping something suspiciously expensive — was a man I'd only ever seen on TV.
Tony Stark.
"Ah," I said. "So this is the famous tin man. I thought you'd be taller."
Tony turned, smirking. "And you must be the British guy who makes the lights flicker when he sneezes."
"Half right. I make the lights explode."
"Impressive. I make billion-dollar toys."
"Midlife crisis toys, sure."
Fury sighed loudly. "Gentlemen, can we not do this?"
Tony and I ignored him completely.
"So," Tony said, walking closer. "You're the guy who sealed a dimensional rift in Texas. Tell me — how does that work?
Wormhole physics? Quantum flux?"
"Faith and cigarette smoke."
He blinked. "You're kidding."
"Am I?"
He squinted, trying to analyze me the way engineers analyze circuits. "You run on ego or caffeine?"
"Bit of both. You?"
"Mostly narcissism."
"Ah. My kind of man."
Fury rubbed his temples. "This isn't a bar. This is a debrief."
Tony grinned. "Feels like a bar. Maybe you should loosen up, Nick."
"I'm about two minutes from throwing both of you in a containment cell," Fury snapped.
Keller, standing beside fury, muttered, "Please do."
The Avengers Initiative
Fury paced to the head of the table, tossing a folder down. "You're all here because I'm building something bigger than S.H.I.E.L.D. — a response team for global-level threats. People with unique abilities. The file's called the Avengers Initiative."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Catchy. Bit self-indulgent, but I like it."
I flicked ash into an empty coffee cup. "And what exactly do you need me for? I'm not much of a team player."
"You're on the shortlist," Fury said. "So is Stark. Both of you bring something no one else does — improvisation, unpredictability, and a tendency to survive things you shouldn't."
"Translation," I said, "we're his chaos factors."
"Exactly," Tony said. "Nice to meet a fellow liability."
"Likewise, Mr. PTSD-in-a-suit."
Natasha coughed. Barton grinned. Keller pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Moving on," Fury growled, "we've got a situation in New Mexico. A hammer fell from the sky — embedded itself in the desert. Unmovable. Radiation off the charts, but nothing we recognize."
Keller leaned forward. "And you think it's magical."
"I know it is," Fury said. "I want W.A.N.D. on standby. Stark's going to provide tech support and eyes in the sky."
Tony looked amused. "So you're sending the exorcist and the engineer to check out a meteorite?"
"Not a meteorite," I said quietly. "A weapon."
Fury frowned. "You know something?"
"Let's just say," I said, snuffing my cigarette, "I've seen divine craftsmanship before. And this smells like thunder."
Tony leaned back in his chair, smirking. "What, you think it's from norse myth or something?"
I met his eyes. "You're about to find out."
Fury gathered the files, glaring at both of us like a tired father dealing with two overgrown children.
"Stark, get your armor ready. Constantine, grab your tricks. We leave at dawn."
I grinned. "New Mexico, huh? I've always wanted to ruin a desert."
Tony stood, stretching. "I'll bring sunscreen. You bring the snark."
"Deal."
As he walked out, Keller whispered, "You two are going to kill each other."
"Maybe," I said, lighting another cigarette. "But at least it'll be entertaining."
Training
After the events of yesterday — you know, closing a hell gate, punching demons, and accidentally getting hired by S.H.I.E.L.D. — I decided it was time for a little professional development.
W.A.N.D. was official now. Keller had his shiny new title, Red Wolf was our resident spirit-whisperer, and I was, in Fury's words, "the magical pain in my ass who somehow gets results."
So, I figured: why not train the humans?
And by "train," I mean experiment.
Guinea Pigs and Faith Magic
Keller, Natasha, and Barton stood in a circle inside one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s underground training hangars — the same one usually used for testing alien weapons. It now looked like a church married a rave: runes etched into the floor, candles flickering, soft blue glyphs pulsing along the walls.
"Alright, class," I said, clapping my hands. "Today's lesson is Faith Magic 101. Don't worry — no hymns, no holy water, just a little belief and a lot of luck."
Natasha folded her arms. "You're enjoying this way too much."
"Of course I am. You're about to play magician, and I get paid in spiritual dividends."
Keller gave me a look. "Dividends?"
"Faith, Keller. Every time you perform, it strengthens the current — the belief — and that belief flows through the source."
"Which is you," Barton said.
"Which is technically the Spirit Pond in Texas," I corrected, drawing a glowing sigil in the air. "I'm just… the middleman. The pond's the battery. You're the test dummies. Everyone wins."
"Except the dummies," Barton muttered.
"Exactly," I said with a grin.
As they followed my guidance — focusing, channeling, speaking the small invocations — the air shimmered. The faint smell of ozone filled the hangar. Keller's eyes lit up with pale blue glow, Natasha's gauntlets hummed with energy, and Barton's arrows burned faintly gold. They learned fast. Too fast. The thing about S.H.I.E.L.D. agents — they're annoyingly adaptable.
"Remember," I said, walking behind them, "Faith Magic isn't about belief in a god — it's about belief in purpose. In the act. You believe the symbol has power, and it does."
"And what do you believe in?" Natasha asked, not missing a beat.
I smirked. "Coffee. Cigarettes. And the fact that hell's always one mistake away."
Barton lowered his bow. "Inspiring."
I chuckled. "I try."
Negotiations with the Devil (Eli)
When the training wrapped, I leaned against a crate, lighting a Silk Cut as Keller approached. The glow of the runes reflected off his badge — the one Fury had returned when naming him Director of W.A.N.D.
"So," I said, "now that you've got your fancy title, let's discuss payment."
Keller narrowed his eyes. "I didn't forget. Name it."
I smiled like the half-demon I am. "Not only did I give you a form of magic you can teach new W.A.N.D. agents — think of it as your own mystical version of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s combat training — but I also handed you the foundation of an entire division."
"You made your point," he said.
"Good. Then here's my price: 1.2 million yearly salary, vacation time, first dibs on any cool artifacts W.A.N.D. digs up, and I remain a consultant. Not an agent. I don't do uniforms."
Keller stared. "That's—"
"Reasonable," I interrupted. "Remember what you have now, and what you won't have if I walk."
He clenched his jaw, visibly annoyed. Then, slowly, he relaxed. "Fine."
I extended my hand, and he shook it. "Pleasure doing business, Director."
The Months That Followed
For the first few months, W.A.N.D. ran surprisingly well. We recruited 50 new agents to soften the load. Sadly though magic inclined individuals don't grow on trees. I could just build them up but that also takes more time from events that could literally tare the fabric of space. Agents trained. Red Wolf handled the spiritual stuff. Keller managed logistics. And me? I kept the seals stable, hunted the occasional demon, and pretended I didn't enjoy having an office with an espresso machine.
Fury even dropped by once — stormed in, glared at me, and said, "Don't burn my base down."
I told him, "No promises."
The Meeting
Three months later, Fury called me into a briefing room at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. Keller was already there, looking as tired as always. Natasha and Barton stood by the wall, and in the corner — sipping something suspiciously expensive — was a man I'd only ever seen on TV.
Tony Stark.
"Ah," I said. "So this is the famous tin man. I thought you'd be taller."
Tony turned, smirking. "And you must be the British guy who makes the lights flicker when he sneezes."
"Half right. I make the lights explode."
"Impressive. I make billion-dollar toys."
"Midlife crisis toys, sure."
Fury sighed loudly. "Gentlemen, can we not do this?"
Tony and I ignored him completely.
"So," Tony said, walking closer. "You're the guy who sealed a dimensional rift in Texas. Tell me — how does that work?
Wormhole physics? Quantum flux?"
"Faith and cigarette smoke."
He blinked. "You're kidding."
"Am I?"
He squinted, trying to analyze me the way engineers analyze circuits. "You run on ego or caffeine?"
"Bit of both. You?"
"Mostly narcissism."
"Ah. My kind of man."
Fury rubbed his temples. "This isn't a bar. This is a debrief."
Tony grinned. "Feels like a bar. Maybe you should loosen up, Nick."
"I'm about two minutes from throwing both of you in a containment cell," Fury snapped.
Keller, standing beside fury, muttered, "Please do."
The Avengers Initiative
Fury paced to the head of the table, tossing a folder down. "You're all here because I'm building something bigger than S.H.I.E.L.D. — a response team for global-level threats. People with unique abilities. The file's called the Avengers Initiative."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Catchy. Bit self-indulgent, but I like it."
I flicked ash into an empty coffee cup. "And what exactly do you need me for? I'm not much of a team player."
"You're on the shortlist," Fury said. "So is Stark. Both of you bring something no one else does — improvisation, unpredictability, and a tendency to survive things you shouldn't."
"Translation," I said, "we're his chaos factors."
"Exactly," Tony said. "Nice to meet a fellow liability."
"Likewise, Mr. PTSD-in-a-suit."
Natasha coughed. Barton grinned. Keller pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Moving on," Fury growled, "we've got a situation in New Mexico. A hammer fell from the sky — embedded itself in the desert. Unmovable. Radiation off the charts, but nothing we recognize."
Keller leaned forward. "And you think it's magical."
"I know it is," Fury said. "I want W.A.N.D. on standby. Stark's going to provide tech support and eyes in the sky."
Tony looked amused. "So you're sending the exorcist and the engineer to check out a meteorite?"
"Not a meteorite," I said quietly. "A weapon."
Fury frowned. "You know something?"
"Let's just say," I said, snuffing my cigarette, "I've seen divine craftsmanship before. And this smells like thunder."
Tony leaned back in his chair, smirking. "What, you think it's from norse myth or something?"
I met his eyes. "You're about to find out."
Fury gathered the files, glaring at both of us like a tired father dealing with two overgrown children.
"Stark, get your armor ready. Constantine, grab your tricks. We leave at dawn."
I grinned. "New Mexico, huh? I've always wanted to ruin a desert."
Tony stood, stretching. "I'll bring sunscreen. You bring the snark."
"Deal."
As he walked out, Keller whispered, "You two are going to kill each other."
"Maybe," I said, lighting another cigarette. "But at least it'll be entertaining."