Solomon had a general idea of this base's location, as he had been driven here by Agent Coulson. It was unlikely this was any sort of top-secret base; otherwise, given Nick Fury's penchant for secrecy, Solomon would never have known this place even existed.
"I don't have time, Agent Coulson," the mage said impatiently. He glanced at the thick gray concrete ceiling and the agents hurrying up and down the narrow corridor. The harsh white glow of the fluorescent lights stung his eyes, and the confined space made him uncomfortable.
Suppressing his irritation, Solomon leaned toward Coulson and lowered his voice. "I have higher-level math and Latin classes tomorrow morning. You know how strict Eton's rules are. I need to retrieve the remaining pages of the Book of Eibon as soon as possible—it's extremely dangerous. You know the bizarre events we've faced. If any ordinary person were to see that book, scenes like those might very well spill into reality."
"How do you know…" Coulson looked stunned, unable to believe that Solomon was aware of the book's whereabouts.
The truth was that as soon as Coulson had taken the book, Randolph Carter had sensed it. But he had said nothing—he was no longer human and couldn't be bound by human ideas of right and wrong. Besides, Randolph believed the local magical authorities, namely Kamar-Taj, could handle it better. Local issues were best left to locals.
"Cold Storage 5-1-084-A1," Solomon said, looking directly at the surprised SHIELD agent, choosing to get straight to the point. "I know where you've put the book. Nick Fury told me. Not in so many words, of course; he didn't speak or write it down. I read it from his memory. The only reason I haven't taken it myself is that I didn't know the base's location."
"You know it's dangerous…" Coulson replied, fully convinced that Solomon had indeed used magic to extract the information. He'd seen enough to be sure of it.
"Exactly, which is why I have to retrieve it. To me, you're all just ordinary people, vulnerable to the book's madness. Any ordinary person who reads it will end up insane." Solomon glanced at the agents passing by. "People without mental defenses are extraordinarily fragile. Humans are hardly strong creatures, let alone when faced with contagious madness. If you lose your mind, I will kill you. If I go insane, my mentor will kill me. You should know by now I have the ability to kill every agent in this base, right?"
"Alright, I'll get the book for you, but not right now. I'll have time tomorrow to go to the cold storage. I assume you wouldn't want anyone else handling it, correct?" Coulson shrugged, putting on a well-practiced performance. Fury had already informed him that Solomon might inquire about the book. SHIELD's director had made arrangements; to avoid souring relations, he had decided to hand over the original book to Solomon while keeping a scanned copy stored in SHIELD's electronic archives.
"You didn't keep any copies, did you?" Solomon found SHIELD's quick agreement unusual. Even if his threats to the agents' lives were merely bluffs, Coulson had agreed far too readily, without resorting to the usual diplomatic talk of "oversight" or "collaboration."
This made Solomon suspect that Nick Fury and Coulson had been prepared for this.
"No, we didn't," Coulson replied with a slight smile, though Solomon didn't believe a word. After all, lying was a spy's forte, and Natasha Romanoff herself had once told him that a skilled agent could fool any polygraph. Solomon couldn't tell if Coulson was lying—he wasn't even sure if Romanoff's statement was the truth or just another lie.
"Should I remind you that I'm willing to do whatever it takes to prevent the contents of that book from spreading?" Solomon narrowed his eyes, speaking with a playful tone. He was certain Fury had kept a copy, and he intended his warning to reach him. To Solomon, SHIELD was constantly overstepping in matters they didn't understand, causing trouble that Kamar-Taj had to clean up.
"Triskelion Headquarters," he continued. "I know there are innocent people inside. But if sacrificing everyone at Triskelion ensures that ordinary people remain safe from those horrors, I would do it. As long as you hold on to a copy, I'll find it. The Book of Eibon is only one of many terrible tomes. I've already told Nick Fury to hand any such books directly to me as soon as he finds them. Our discussion is over, Coulson. Let Fury know that your jets won't be able to stop me."
Summoning Azathoth, a ritual even an idiot could pull off, was something Solomon wanted to avoid at all costs. He had no intention of letting some clueless fool bring about the end of the world. If wiping out SHIELD was what it took to prevent that, so be it.
"I understand. Though I've lost part of my memory—a side effect of temporarily lowering my sanity—I remember the look on your face when you left Agent Romanoff behind. At that moment, you looked like… well, like an agent."
"Just not a SHIELD agent. You're a shield; your approach is different from mine. Killing isn't the only way to solve problems."
"That's why you're different, Coulson. You're a good person. Everyone enjoys working with you, myself included." Solomon licked his dry lips. "As for me… I'm learning how to be a villain. And in this matter, I think bloodshed is the only satisfactory outcome."
"Let's move on to the next topic," Coulson suggested, after a pause.
"You mean Captain Steve Rogers?" Solomon pointed at a monitor showing the man. The American soldier seemed slightly annoyed by the multiple cameras trained on him, yet he was obediently waiting for further instructions. Coulson nodded, then shook his head. "Partly. We've also identified the 'flaming skull.'"
"Flaming skull?" Solomon scoffed. "That's your best naming attempt? I should've realized this after seeing SHIELD's name. That's the Ghost Rider, not some 'flaming skull.'"
"Fine, Ghost Rider. We've identified his true identity. Honestly, he hardly tries to hide it. Even the local police figured out who he was." Coulson sounded exasperated, though this wasn't the first time someone had mocked SHIELD's naming conventions. It was, however, the first time he'd encountered a supernatural being who didn't bother to conceal his identity. Even Solomon had gone by another name when he was in the small town of Colin.
"The local police even requested armed support, but we intercepted the request. Agent Hand wants the tactical team to go in disguised as SWAT to capture Ghost Rider. She believes that as long as they're armed with heavy weapons, they won't repeat past mistakes. Still, I can't believe the world's greatest stunt motorcyclist has supernatural powers. I even saw one of his shows once! Who would've guessed he was connected to magic? Is he human, or some kind of demon?"
"He's human, but the thing attached to him isn't," Solomon replied, flipping through Johnny Blaze's file on the tablet Coulson handed him, skimming over the man's family relationships. The spirit of vengeance inhabiting Blaze was technically from Heaven, but after so many years in Mephisto's hands, who knew if Mephisto hadn't modified it—he probably had. Solomon figured that if he had a spirit of vengeance at his disposal, he'd alter it before setting it loose. It was no surprise that the cunning Mephisto would do the same.
"Do you have any advice for us?" Coulson asked, taking back the tablet and glancing at the file Solomon had reviewed, wondering what had caught his interest. He planned to go over it later to ensure he hadn't overlooked anything critical.
"No advice, except to have the tactical team write their wills in advance and prepare an empty ceramic urn."
"Every member of the tactical team writes a will. But what's the urn for?" Coulson asked. "We don't even know Ghost Rider's motives. We just know he's burned some people to ash."
"The urn is for the team's ashes. As for his motives…" Solomon pointed at himself.
"What do you mean?" Coulson asked.
"I know."
"Well, that's a rather cute way of putting it," Coulson replied, taking a moment to get the joke. "I didn't know you had a sense of humor. But seriously, aren't you planning to go after Ghost Rider?"
"I'm busy. Ghost Rider's target aligns with mine. We share the same goal," Solomon replied, making a face. "The only reason I'm not stopping your mission is because Ghost Rider doesn't discriminate between friend and foe."
"What's his target?"
"A damned illegal immigrant from Hell, the son of the Lord of Hell."
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