Chapter 850

"That’s exactly what they’ll do."

Scott adjusted the plain glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. Elizabeth’s anonymous report to S.H.I.E.L.D. about the Gospel Company’s contact with a member of the Bloody Tongue had gone exactly as he expected.

"These people come from families that have survived for generations. You don’t simply walk into a room and win their loyalty. If they didn’t have thoughts like these, that would be the strange part."

"They’re testing our resources and our ability to handle pressure?" Evenson found an empty seat and dropped into it. This was his first time participating in a serious business negotiation, and he had to admit that the thought processes of extremely wealthy people sometimes escaped him completely.

"Honestly, why make everything so complicated? Can’t they just sign the papers, hand over their money, and swear loyalty? Why does nobody ever follow the script?"

Scott gave him a sideways look.

"The contents of today’s meeting were unprecedented. The amount of funding our plans require is unprecedented for their families. The obstacles and opposition we’ll face are also unprecedented."

He paused, then gave a cold smile.

"If they fail to recognize that—or recognize it and still blindly agree after hearing a few pretty words—then they’re idiots. And idiots have no place participating in what we’re building."

What we’re building?

Evenson raised an eyebrow.

Scott was remarkably good at making himself at home. A few sentences ago, he had been an outsider. Now he was already including himself in the project.

Apparently, the old art of persuasive rhetoric was alive and well.

Still, there was some truth to what he said.

Even buying groceries required comparing prices and checking the weight. Something as enormous as this deserved considerably more scrutiny.

If someone simply nodded and accepted everything without asking questions, they were either unbelievably stupid or had an ulterior motive.

And stupid people were dangerous.

They might obey orders for years, but give them one bad suggestion at the wrong moment and they could do something catastrophically reckless.

They didn’t consider practicality. They didn’t consider consequences. Sometimes you could spend ten days trying to figure out why they had made a particular decision and still come away with nothing.

Better to deal with intelligent people.

They might make the occasional move behind your back, but at least they understood limits. They could be reasoned with. They could be predicted.

"Who would’ve thought?" Evenson said with a helpless smile. "I thought we were dealing with a flock of sparrows. Turns out every one of them is a hawk."

The Eredar twins lifted their chins.

"Of course they are," Saloralis said proudly. "Why would we bother raising anything that wasn’t a bird of prey?"

So does that make me a bird of prey too?

Evenson straightened instinctively, his chest swelling with pride.

Then he paused.

Wait. Did I just compliment myself?

He shook his head.

"Whatever. We have a problem, so we need to solve it. We should figure out how to deal with S.H.I.E.L.D.’s investigation."

"That would be a mistake."

Scott immediately shook his head.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. has to investigate us."

Evenson frowned.

"They’re testing us. They want to see how we respond to S.H.I.E.L.D. If S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t investigate, then the test fails. They won’t get their answer, so they’ll try again. And again. It’s better to settle the matter now."

"They’ve certainly got nerve."

Evenson clicked his tongue.

"They aren’t even worried S.H.I.E.L.D. might actually tear this place apart."

"Why would they be?"

Scott smiled.

"To them, humanity’s future might have some value. But their families and their assets matter more. If their families and assets survive, does it really matter whether the world has a future?"

He spread his hands.

"They aren’t investing in us because they care about this company. Nor are they investing because they care about any particular individual. They want the technology."

"And technology is technology no matter who owns it. Turning our technology into reality requires capital. If they provide that capital, they receive a return. Once they have their profits, do you really think they’ll care whose hands the money came from?"

"If S.H.I.E.L.D. destroys us, they’ll consider themselves lucky. They might lose some of the profits they expected, but they’ll still walk away with something."

Scott’s expression hardened.

"But if we lack the ability to steer this ship and still take it out to sea, then those families are going down with us if they’re aboard."

"So..."

Evenson rubbed his chin.

"If we prove we can actually handle the ship, they’ll cooperate wholeheartedly and chase the profits. If we sink, they’ll simply stay on shore and count themselves lucky."

"Exactly."

"Either way, they make money." Evenson laughed. "Their wealth survives generation after generation because they’re good at calculating risks."

Scott nodded.

"As for the fact that a member of the Bloody Tongue contacted you, it’s neither particularly serious nor particularly harmless. It can be interpreted as a crime, or it can be interpreted as nothing at all."

He pushed his glasses higher.

"If you insist that I approached you independently and that you had no idea who I really was, S.H.I.E.L.D. can conduct a search and keep an eye on you for a while. If you handle it carefully, that shouldn’t be a problem."

Easy for you to say.

Evenson knew exactly what was hidden beneath the surface of the Gospel Company’s facilities.

S.H.I.E.L.D. could inspect every office above ground if they wanted.

The things underneath were another matter entirely.

There was the B Restaurant and its collection of monsters.

There were the Umbrella insignias Evenson had plastered all over his more extravagant equipment.

And then there was Moira’s laboratory—the place Evenson himself preferred not to enter unless absolutely necessary.

Scott seemed to read the hesitation on his face.

"I can help with that."

Evenson looked up.

"One of the Brahmin Order’s members is inside S.H.I.E.L.D. He can help us resolve the situation."

"You have someone inside S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

Evenson’s eyes immediately lit up.

"And someone with enough influence to affect major decisions?"

He suddenly laughed.

"When S.H.I.E.L.D. was founded, people called it an intelligence fortress. Now it’s practically a public utility. Anyone can reach inside and pull a lever!"

Then his expression turned curious.

"But you people usually love watching chaos unfold. If there isn’t any chaos, you create some. We’re about to get into a fight with S.H.I.E.L.D., and instead of standing on the sidelines throwing gasoline on the fire, you’re trying to stop it?"

Scott spread his hands.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. fights someone every other day. What’s interesting about that? Where’s the entertainment value?"

His smile became genuine.

"What you’re planning, on the other hand, is fascinating. I sincerely hope you succeed."

He leaned back.

"Besides, our organization has existed for four thousand years. Generation after generation has carried our beliefs forward."

Scott’s smile became bitter.

"And yet, it wasn’t until a few months ago that our leader even realized we existed."

Evenson blinked.

Scott sighed.

"That makes us rather pathetic when you think about it. For thousands of years, we’ve basically been performing for ourselves. Now we’ve finally got an audience."

His eyes sharpened.

"Of course we’re going to put on the best show we can."

The Eredar twins exchanged a glance before Saloralis nodded.

"If you’re genuinely willing to help us, perhaps we can put in a good word for you with our founder, Nyssa."

"F-Founder?"

Scott’s eyes widened.

"You mean... that Nyssa?"

Saloralis regarded him solemnly.

"Why are you surprised? Nyssa guided our awakening and passed her teachings to Sakir. Sakir then taught the two of us. Naturally, she is our founder."

Oh, that’s convenient.

Evenson silently rolled his eyes.

At this rate, if we ever tried to claim Nyarlathotep as our teacher, the Bloody Tongue’s entire theological history would probably look like a bargain-bin counterfeit.

"Come to think of it," Saloralis continued, "your organization really has been rather unfortunate."

She sounded almost sympathetic.

"When our founder first descended into this world, we were the ones who welcomed her. We even presented her with the first tribute she received."

Evenson’s expression darkened.

Please stop talking about that Hollywood mansion.

He still wasn’t over it.

"And in her delight, she even bestowed her mark upon one of our people."

Scott stared at them for several seconds.

That was an honor beyond comprehension.

Right.

Apparently I’m the only person in the room who thinks this conversation is completely insane.

At S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Alexander Pierce stood behind his desk.

The Level Ten director wasn’t working.

He wasn’t speaking with the World Security Council.

He wasn’t even sitting.

He simply stood there, one hand idly spinning the chair in front of him while his brow remained tightly furrowed.

Something had him worried.

It had started with an anonymous tip.

A member of the Bloody Tongue had been seen meeting with the Gospel Company.

Nick Fury had been unusually difficult to track lately, leaving much of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s administrative burden on Pierce’s shoulders. And ever since Pierce had learned that the Gospel Company was connected to Umbrella, he had taken an intense interest in the organization’s activities.

He’d already ordered his people to report anything unusual immediately.

He also knew about the Bloody Tongue.

The organization existed for one purpose as far as Pierce could tell:

Make trouble.

Preferably spectacular trouble.

And over the past few months, they’d become unusually active.

S.H.I.E.L.D. had noticed.

The problem was that no one had figured out what they were actually planning.

The world was relatively stable. There were certainly crises, but nothing that seemed important enough to explain the Bloody Tongue’s sudden activity.

There had to be something.

They couldn’t possibly have become restless simply because spring had arrived.

Then the anonymous report landed on his desk.

And suddenly Pierce thought he understood.

The Bloody Tongue had contacted the Gospel Company.

The Gospel Company was connected to Umbrella.

Umbrella had extensive connections to the ancient families surrounding Gideon Malick.

And recently, Pierce had noticed something changing within Malick’s faction.

The two groups had never been particularly close, but lately the distance between them had grown much wider.

That wasn’t accidental.

Pierce was certain Malick was deliberately creating that distance.

And the change had begun after Malick’s second meeting with Evenson—a man already confirmed to be affiliated with Umbrella.

The conclusion was obvious.

Umbrella was deliberately weakening Hydra.

Which meant Umbrella was potentially hostile to Hydra.

Then Pierce’s eyes narrowed.

There was something else.

The Bloody Tongue had become active around the same time Evenson had met Malick for the second time.

Almost exactly the same time.

If those two events were unrelated—

Pierce clenched his teeth.

Then I’ll eat my way out of this building.

He began connecting the pieces.

Umbrella was pulling Malick away from Hydra, isolating Pierce.

The Bloody Tongue only became this active when something enormous was about to happen.

And what could possibly be more important than Pierce’s own plans?

They had to be working against him.

They had to be targeting Project Insight.

But...

Did they actually know about Insight?

How had such a tightly guarded secret leaked?

Could Pierce’s old suspicions actually be correct?

Was most of S.H.I.E.L.D. Hydra?

And was most of Hydra secretly Umbrella?

His thoughts had tangled into an increasingly incoherent mess when someone knocked on the office door.

"Come in."

The door opened.

A flash of reflected light struck Pierce directly in the eyes.

He raised an arm to shield his face.

Agent Sitwell walked in.

The bald Indian-American agent was one of Pierce’s most trusted subordinates. He’d recently been promoted to Level Eight.

He had also apparently become a portable searchlight.

"Stand over there for a moment."

Pierce waved him toward the side of the room.

"Move out of the sunlight."

Sitwell obediently stepped aside.

Once the glare coming off his bald head had diminished, Pierce lowered his hand.

His expression became serious.

"You’ve heard about the anonymous report."

"Yes, sir."

Sitwell adjusted his plain glasses.

"What do you intend to do?"

"Umbrella’s hostility toward us is already obvious."

A cold glint appeared in Pierce’s eyes.

"And this report gives us the perfect excuse to make our move."

He leaned forward.

"Take a team. Bring everyone at that company into custody."

Sitwell didn’t move.

That alone was unusual enough to make Pierce pause.

The normally obedient agent took a step forward, his expression troubled.

"Sir... I don’t think that’s a good idea."

Pierce stared at him.

Then he slowly sat down.

He folded his hands across his chest, his expression becoming almost amused.

"Oh?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Why not?"

...