S.H.I.E.L.D. agents moved through the debris of Puente Antiguo. The town looked like a war zone. Crushed cars, shattered glass, and scorched asphalt littered the main street. A siren wailed somewhere in the distance. Someone was shouting and crying.
I stood by my Rolls-Royce. The car was fine, just covered in a thin layer of desert dust.
I pulled out my phone and dialed my asset manager in New York.
"This is Adrian," I said when he answered. "Create a shell corporation. Register it in Delaware. Transfer fifty million into it. I want a blank check sent to the mayor of Puente Antiguo, New Mexico, by tomorrow morning. Earmark it for infrastructure repair and small business relief. Anonymous donor."
There was a pause on the line. "Fifty..... by tomorrow? That's tight."
"Make it work," I said.
"…Alright."
I hung up.
Money couldn't fix the trauma, but it would keep the town from collapsing after this.
I walked over to the diner.
The front window was completely gone Someone was sweeping glass into a corner with slow, uneven strokes.
Jane Foster was sitting in a booth, staring at her laptop screen, but not really seeing it. Selvig sat across from her, holding a cup of coffee with both hands. It had gone cold.
I sat down in the empty chair next to them.
They both looked up.
They looked exhausted. And a little lost.
"You're the guy from…," Jane said. Her voice was hoarse. "You were out there."
"Adrian," I said.
Selvig didn't respond immediately. He just watched me.
"Who are you working for?" he asked finally. "S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
"No. I work for myself."
"That's not reassuring," Selvig muttered.
I glanced at Jane's laptop. The screen showed a rough 3D rendering of the atmospheric anomaly. The model jittered slightly unstable.
"You're trying to calculate the trajectory," I said.
Jane nodded, then stopped, like she wasn't sure why she was even answering. She rubbed her eyes hard.
"The data doesn't make sense," she said. "It doesn't..." She let out a shaky breath. "It shouldn't behave like that."
Selvig leaned forward slightly. "Energy spike is completely off-scale. No known model holds that kind of structure."
"It's an Einstein-Rosen bridge," I said, then paused. "Or… close enough to one."
Selvig frowned immediately. "A wormhole? That's...no. That doesn't hold. You'd need..."
"Negative mass?" I said. "Or something else holding it open."
Jane looked at me sharply. "Like what?"
I hesitated for a fraction of a second.
"…I don't know what you'd call it," I said. "It doesn't behave like anything we model cleanly."
Selvig's eyes narrowed slightly. He noticed that.
I pointed at her screen.
"You're looking at it like it forced its way through," I said. "Like it punched a hole."
"That's what the data shows," Jane replied, a bit defensive.
"No, I get that," I said quickly. "I'm just saying… what if that's not the part you should be focusing on?"
Jane frowned.
I exhaled, searching for the right way to put it.
"Think of space as..." I stopped. "Okay, this is going to sound stupid, but just go with me."
Neither of them interrupted.
"Like fabric," I said. "If you punch through it, it tears. Collapses. That's what your model is expecting."
Jane nodded slowly.
"But what if it didn't tear?" I continued. "What if it slipped. Between… layers, I guess. Threads. I don't know."
Selvig shook his head slightly. "That's not how space works."
"Yeah," I said. "Normally."
A brief silence.
Jane looked back at the screen, then back at me. "So the energy we recorded… wasn't the creation of the bridge."
"Maybe not," I said. "Could be what it takes to keep it stable. Or what happens when it interacts with our side."
"Friction?" she asked.
"Something like that," I said. "Not… normal friction, but you got it."
Selvig leaned back, studying me again. "You're talking like you've seen this before."
"Something similar," I said.
"Where?"
I didn't answer.
Outside, a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent slowed near the broken window. Another one stopped a few steps behind him.
Watching.
I noticed. So did Selvig.
Jane didn't yet.
"Keep your research quiet," I said, lowering my voice slightly. "S.H.I.E.L.D. will try to take it."
Jane blinked. "What? Why would they..."
Selvig let out a dry breath. "Because that's what they do."
Jane looked between us. "This is my work."
"I know," I said. "Just make backups. Physical ones."
She hesitated. Then nodded slowly.
She stopped typing.
"Will he come back?" she asked.
The question came out softer this time.
I knew who she meant.
"He gave you his word," I said. "But wherever he is… it's not exactly close."
Jane looked down at the table.
I stood up.
Selvig spoke before I could leave. "You don't just walk in, drop something like that, and disappear. Not after today."
I paused.
"People do," I said.
"Not the ones who know things they shouldn't," Selvig replied.
Before I could respond.
"Actually," a calm voice cut in, "that's exactly who we're interested in."
We all turned.
Phil Coulson stood near the entrance, badge already visible.
Two agents behind him.
Coulson's eyes settled on me.
"We'd appreciate it if you stayed a moment," he said.
I held his gaze.
Then glanced at Jane's laptop.
Then back at him.
"…Another time," I said.
Coulson didn't move. "I'd prefer this time."
A beat.
Then he stepped aside, just enough to make it look like a choice.
Not enough to actually be one.
I walked past him anyway.
I could feel his eyes on me as I stepped out.
I got into my car.
The engine started.
In the mirror, I saw S.H.I.E.L.D. agents moving into the diner.
Too late.
New Mexico was done.
Now, I needed to get back to New York.
Things were about to start.