March 5, 2010
Philip Coulson PoV

Yesterday I was notified of the return of a man connected to a strange case that we weren't able to solve yet.

He and a girl disappeared from a motel room, leaving an empty room, witnesses said to have heard a terrific scream before a flash of light was emitted from the room.

When they entered the room to investigate, they found it devoid of people and furniture, without even the bed, with all the windows still closed.

As we were notified of this case, we started to investigate it, but we found nothing significant.

The girl was a teacher that had a break up several days before, and the man was a rich night-club owner, living in the middle of a small forest half an hour to Bristol, neither tied to the S.H.I.E.L.D or any known force.

We found his motorbike and searched his home, finding a good collection of vehicles, a pool, and other amenities for rich people, nothing I don't have already seen in one of Tony's houses.

It took our scientists a couple of days to identify the energy signature of what happened, something they said is tied to teleportation.

It took us several weeks to find the girl, or at least her body, a skeleton found in the middle of a Scottish forest, recognized mostly because it was near the missing furniture.

And now, nearly three months later, that man, Alex Montanari, has reappeared in his home as nothing happened.

We discovered it because he used his credit card for the first time in months to buy some groceries and have them shipped to his home.

That's very strange, I should go there to work on this case, we need to know how he did it.

If he is using some powers or an object we must speak to him, to record him inside the Index in the first case, or to seize the artifact in the second one.

The next day I arrive at Bristol where a team of agents is waiting for my arrival, ready to escort me to the target, where I will talk with him.

We decided to move with a small team and try to be diplomatic first, while teleporters are good at escaping they aren't more dangerous than trained men in a confrontation.

As we drive to his house we see him exiting from it, having noticed us before we expected.

I leave the car and, making way between the other agents I reach out with my hand,
"Hi, I am agent Philip Coulson, from S.H.I.E.L.D"

"Hi, I'm Alex, how can I help you, Mr. Coulson?" He asks, confusion apparent on his face.

"We are investigating a case you were involved in, and we decided to speak to you..." I start, watching every small change in his expression.

Strangely I don't see the fear of being exposed or something similar on his face, he seems focused, and that's strange, is he trying to use his powers or something?

"Sure, I will collaborate as I can, what do you say about having a drink, my bar is newly stocked," he says, while starting to guide us to his leaving room.

"Well thank you" we start following him, hoping to resolve the situation with diplomacy.

Before entering with him I signal the men to stay outside and control the perimeter.

"So what I can serve you? Scotch? Vodka? Brandy?" He asks with the smile of someone who loves his drinks.

"I'll let the host decide" I answer, wanting to see what he will give me, the knowledge of his habits will be useful in evaluating him.

"Ok, sweet or sour?" He inquires

"I prefer sweet things" I answer, 

"Than let's try this one," he thinks for a couple of seconds before pouring me a shot of sambuca.

"Well it's surely sweet," I say after drinking it.

"Mr. Coulson, you still haven't said how I could help you, nor in what I am involved" he finally asks, breaking the courtesy's stalemate.

"A girl, Mary Ballantine disappeared on the 25 of November, you were seen in her company that day.

To be truthful we believed you were lost too, as no one was able to find you for more than three months, so where did you go?"I ask the real question, moving the discussion topic toward the reason I am here.

"I don't fully remember the last three months, but I remember the girl, we went into a motel after a couple of drinks... And I remember waking up here a week ago" he takes its time before answering, my instinct tells me he is hiding something.

"You don't remember anything useful, like how she teleported more than 700 km away from Bristol?" I keep asking him about what happened that night, hoping to clear some of the major doubts.

"Magic? Or divine intervention? I am a historian, not an expert on teleportation..." He keeps avoiding to give a straight answer

"You may not be an expert on this, but you disappeared with her and while she ended up dead you reappeared. Something must have happened." Watching as I keep pressing him I finally see something strange, he is too focused, as if he was doing something straining.

"I can only say that you should stop investigating, that you have seen nothing strange here, that for you I am trustworthy, that when the S.H.I.E.L.D will need a historic consultant or an expert on mythos you will call me." His voice is strange, as he is stating something obvious, which he is, I mean I already know what he is saying, they are my thoughts after all...

"Oh, so you can't help us... Well, thanks for your time, we will call you if we need your consult on something. This is my business card if you remember something. We are leaving." Understanding that he is not responsible and that he can become a resource in the future, I give him my contacts and start calling back by men.

"Sure, call if you need help with something," he says goodbye while we return to the cars, watching our departure from his window.

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Alex Montanari Pov

Luckily my magic was strong enough that I was able to influence his thoughts, layering illusions on his mind, creating something similar to an unconscious trigger.

I find myself a bit guilty for influencing his mind, but this was the simplest way, one without bloodshed and me leaving my new life.
I am sorry for her death but... I don't want my life to end to atone for hers.

It seems that in the end, I have my answer, I may regard myself as a good man, but the truth is that I am a selfish bastard, and one day probably I won't even remember her death, as several others will be added to the list of my victims.

In the end, we are what we were meant to be, and I am a hunter, and a hunter will not cry for his prey.