A South American rebel officer and her accompanying army were hardly worth the cost of an interstellar extraction mission.
"I don't know why you're looking for Camila Reyes," said Agent Coulson, "but all I can tell you is that after some negotiations with the Peruvian government, Camila was released. She returned to Peru, and the last intel S.H.I.E.L.D. received indicated she went off the grid after escaping custody. I don't know her current whereabouts—what I do know is that the rebel group Adelante is growing more powerful, and the death of their leader, Alejandro Torres, hasn't slowed them down." Coulson spread his one remaining hand. "I'm not trying to lie to you, Solomon. But I really need your help. I'm willing to pay whatever it takes."
"Give me Camila Reyes's contact info, and I'll help you." The sorcerer considered several outcomes. Coulson had already revealed more than enough. Maybe it was trust, maybe desperation—but he'd thrown in his chips without worrying about the negotiation playbook or maintaining leverage. Then again, showing weakness could be a form of leverage, especially when the other party's dominance was unquestionable. Coulson believed he understood Solomon well enough. Though Solomon's actions in recent years had outpaced his expectations, it was still a gamble he was willing to take.
"Because we've known each other for so many years, I'll accept the deal."
Coulson's face brightened at once. Of everyone he knew, only Solomon had a chance of solving this problem. He'd thought of reaching out from the beginning, but both Melinda May and Skye had resisted. To them, Solomon was practically a supervillain at this point. Especially May—restricted by confidentiality, she couldn't speak of the Demonspawn War, but that didn't stop her from making her disgust for Solomon crystal clear.
"Send me the intel you've got and a location. We'll meet there—in two hours. Somewhere discreet."
"It's almost Christmas break, Solomon!"
"I know, I know—it's about school. Besides, Whitehall's hiring, and I'm thinking of entering politics!"
After a few minutes of banter, Solomon ended the call and left the meeting room, leaving Coulson reeling at the absurd idea of Solomon entering politics. But it wasn't a joke. Sir Arnold had been urging him not to waste time on postgraduate studies—or if he had to finish them, to at least join Whitehall right after, reclaiming the civil service appointment powers from shameless politicians and becoming a glorious bureaucrat of the British Empire.
Security officers from the Sisterhood followed quietly behind, their steel heels making no sound on the thick wool carpet—ghosts in black armor. One of them, without a helmet, let her sour expression be seen. Solomon read it easily.
"I knew the soundproofing on the meeting room doors was subpar," he muttered. "Catherine, this is a small matter—not something to warrant a chainsaw sword. Honestly, it's because Tita keeps assigning you all to shadow me that I can't even use my real body to attend class."
"Don't blame Lady Tita, my lord. That's not why I'm upset."
"Then do tell."
"You spoil Zero too much!" Catherine rushed forward and ducked her head just below Solomon's shoulder. Her personality matched her sword: sharp and impulsive. Solomon couldn't tell if this was an inherent trait from her cloning vat or something she developed later. If it was the former, he might need to inspect the vat systems. "He hasn't even completed the trial! He's not yet a usable tool."
"I don't see Zero as a tool, Catherine. And neither are you. You're my daughter."
"I suppose that makes me a little happy." Despite her words, Catherine couldn't suppress a grin. She shook her slightly messy white hair and followed Solomon with springy steps like a duckling behind a mother hen. Unlike the ever-serious Tita, she was all passion and warmth, eager to serve. Solomon had used aether particles to create her and her artificial sisters. Though his connection with Catherine wasn't as tight as with Daina, they were still fiercely loyal. Solomon suspected it was a case of imprinting.
"I want to join the sword training. That boy needs to learn the gap between where he is and where he must be." Her voice danced with joy, like a white bird taking off from a sparkling brook. Solomon couldn't help but ruffle her hair. The atmosphere between them was warm—like a Christmas family dinner.
He planned to host a Christmas banquet at his Oxfordshire estate, inviting Sisterhood security personnel (mostly battle-capable girls and clones assigned by Tita) and key department heads. Catherine, being a squad captain, was definitely on the guest list. Coulson's team, however, was not—they wouldn't even be getting presents this year.
Solomon had anticipated their distaste for his off-color, caustic banquet jokes and preemptively scrubbed their names from the list.
"What? I'm not getting a Christmas present this year?"
"Of course not. You wouldn't believe the one about the guy who 'accidentally slipped and got an anti-tank shell stuck up his ass.' It's true, ridiculous as it sounds. And as an intelligence agency, how has S.H.I.E.L.D. not picked up this story?" If Stephanie hadn't stepped in, Solomon would have kept going until the conversation drifted into the Andromeda Galaxy.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't handle who blew whose ass out," said Daisy Johnson with open hostility, clad in a tactical outfit. Though the Eternal City hadn't inflicted suffering on Jiaying to the extent Whitehall once had, the psychological trauma caused by their methods still left deep scars. Solomon didn't mind being hated by the Inhuman girl, but for safety, he cast protective magic—Sonic Ward—on both himself and Stephanie. After all, he couldn't afford to lose his Minister of Internal Affairs.
"Easy, girl." Coulson patted her shoulder. "Come with us, Solomon. We'll transport you and your people to the base."
"We have our own aircraft," Stephanie interjected. "There's no need to trouble you."
"You'd better not argue," Daisy said smugly, pointing skyward. "The Zephyr One isn't some dinky little transport."
"Disengage the lower stealth deck," Stephanie said through her headset. A moment later, Daisy's smug look vanished as she saw the underbelly of a sky carrier descend, bristling with bombing bays and anti-air cannons all aimed at their port.
"I'm sorry," Solomon shrugged at Coulson. "But it had to be done."
Stephanie had insisted on bringing a sky carrier. She wasn't about to lose face to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s ragtag bunch. Especially not when Solomon asked her to accompany him to see what remained of Hydra's ancient gods—something that sent the devout convert Stephanie into a fervor.
(End of Chapter)
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