Two weeks have passed since the incident at the museum. Officially, it was a "gas leak" that caused part of the Egyptian wing to collapse. No mention of gods, magicians, or portals to another world.
S.H.I.E.L.D. took care of that. Fury personally called Anubis the next day, his voice even but slightly irritated.
— Gas leak? Seriously?
"I didn't come up with a cover story," Anubis replied, wiping down the bar. "These are your people."
"My people found a destroyed hall, a missing body, and enough residual magical energy to keep our sensors off-scale for three days. What happened?"
Anubis sighed and told about Stone, about Apophis, about the mysterious figure in the magician's dreams.
Fury was silent for a long time after he finished.
- So, somewhere there is someone who is trying to free the ancient monsters.
- It looks like it.
- And you don't know who it is.
- Not yet.
Another pause.
"I'll send you files on unusual incidents around the world. If anything seems related, let me know."
— Are you really recruiting me?
"I'm using resources," Fury replied dryly. "You are a resource. Ancient, powerful, knowing things we don't. It would be foolish not to use that."
And from then on, every morning, Anubis received encrypted files on a special phone sent to him by S.H.I.E.L.D. Most of them were mundane—unexplained phenomena that turned out to be weather anomalies or fraud.
But sometimes I came across something interesting.
It was a typical Thursday afternoon, and the bar was nearly empty. Only Mike, a regular, sat in the corner reading the latest comic, and a young couple by the window chatted quietly over lattes.
Anubis was preparing his inventory, checking his whiskey supplies, when the door opened.
A girl walked in—about twenty-five years old, with short pink hair, ripped jeans, and a leather jacket covered in rock band patches. She carried a battered messenger bag over her shoulder.
She walked up to the counter, sat down, and stared at Anubis with her unusually green eyes.
"You are Anubis," she said. She didn't ask. She stated.
Anubis raised an eyebrow.
— Most people call me Andy. Who are you?
"Kate," she said, taking a notebook out of her bag and placing it on the counter. "Kate Bishop. And I have a problem."
— What kind?
— Of a ghostly kind.
Anubis put down the inventory table.
- Explain.
Kate opened her notebook, revealing a page of sketches. Anubis recognized the location—an old Brooklyn apartment building, built in the early 1900s.
"I rent an apartment here," Kate began. "It's cheap because the neighbors say it's haunted. I didn't believe it, I thought it was just an old building with pipes and creaky floors. But then I started seeing them."
— Ghosts?
"Souls," she corrected. "At least, I think they're souls. They glow, they pass through walls, they look... lost. I've tried to ignore them, but there are more of them. And they've started trying to communicate with me."
Anubis frowned. After the incident with Ammut, the flow of souls had returned to normal. But if they were accumulating in one place again...
"Why did you come to me?" he asked. "How did you even know who I was?"
Kate pulled out her phone and showed him the blurry video. Anubis recognized the footage from the battle against the Destroyer—his figure surrounded by sand, his golden eyes glowing in the darkness.
"This video has been circulating on certain forums," she explained. "The ones where people discuss the paranormal. Someone identified you as Anubis from Egyptian mythology. Another person said you work as a bartender here. I figured—the god of the dead, a problem with ghosts, it would be logical to consult an expert."
"Clever," Anubis admitted. "And brave. Most people would be afraid to approach a god."
"I'm not most people," Kate smiled. "So will you help?"
Anubis looked at Sarah, who was watching the conversation from the other end of the counter.
— Can you handle it for a couple of hours?
- Of course, boss. Go save the ghosts or whatever you need to do.
Anubis took off his apron and took his jacket.
— Come on, Kate Bishop. Show me your phantom problem.
The building was indeed old. A brick facade, peeling paint, a fire escape that had seen better days. A typical Brooklyn apartment building that had survived decades but was barely hanging on.
"Fourth floor," Kate said, leading him up the narrow stairs. There was no elevator, of course.
Already on the second floor, Anubis felt it—a cold that wasn't just a temperature. A spiritual chill, the presence of trapped souls.
"How many are there?" he asked.
"I don't know exactly. I see three or four at a time, but I feel like there are more."
Kate's apartment was small—a studio with a kitchenette, a tiny bathroom, and one room that served as both a bedroom and a living room. The windows overlooked the brick wall of the neighboring building.
But what struck Anubis most was the number of protective symbols. On the doors, windows, even the bathroom mirror, runes, seals, and symbols from various cultures were drawn in chalk or marker.
"You were trying to defend yourself," he noted.
"I studied the occult in college," Kate shrugged. "I thought it was just an interesting topic. Turned out to be useful."
"These symbols..." Anubis paced the apartment, studying them. "They're not bad. Some are even correct. But you've mixed Scandinavian, Celtic, and Chinese protection. They conflict with each other."
— Oops.
Anubis waved his hand through the air, and sand began to seep from his fingers, forming glowing patterns in the air.
"Show yourself," he said quietly in ancient Egyptian. "I am the guardian. I am here to help."
The air trembled. And they appeared.
First, there was one—an elderly man in a 1950s suit, looking confused. Then a woman in a 1920s dress, her eyes full of sadness. A child, no older than ten, wearing even older clothing—perhaps from the early 1900s.
Only five souls materialized, glowing with a ghostly light.
Kate retreated against the wall.
- Wow. I usually only see two at a time.
"I allowed them to manifest more fully," Anubis explained. "To understand what was holding them back."
He approached the first soul, an elderly man.
"What is your name?" he asked softly.
The man looked at him, his mouth moving, but no sound came out. Frustration contorted his face.
"Hmm," Anubis raised his hand, and golden light flowed from his fingers, enveloping his soul. "Try again."
"H-Harold," came the voice at last. The voice was an echo, distant. "My name is Harold Thompson."
- Harold, do you know that you are dead?
The soul froze, then slowly nodded.
— I... I think so. Heart attack. In my apartment. I just... I didn't know where to go. Everything was so confusing.
— Have you been here long?
— I don't know. Time... it's strange here. Days? Years?
Anubis turned to Kate.
— When did you move in?
- Three months ago.
"And before that the apartment was empty?"
- Yes, about a year, according to the homeowner.
Anubis nodded, understanding. Souls accumulated here because there was no living being to serve as an anchor or guide. Without the presence of life, they simply... drifted.
He addressed all souls:
"You're all stuck here because you couldn't see the way. But the way was always there. You just need a guide."
He thrust the staff (which he had materialized from the sand) into the floor, and golden light flooded the room. The outline of a door appeared—not a physical one, but a spiritual one. A gateway to the afterlife.
"This is your path," Anubis said. "Behind this door is peace. Those you loved and those who went before you. Home."
The souls looked at the gates with longing and hope.
The child stepped forward first, his ghostly hand reaching towards the light.
"Mom?" he whispered. "I feel Mom."
"Yes," Anubis confirmed. "She's waiting for you."
The child passed through the gate and disappeared. One by one, the remaining souls followed—at first hesitantly, then with confidence.
Harold was the last one. He stopped in front of the gate and turned to Anubis.
"Thank you," he said simply. "I was so scared. So lost."
"No more," Anubis promised. "Go in peace, Harold Thompson."
The soul smiled - for the first time since its appearance - and stepped into the light.
The gate closed, disappearing. The staff crumbled into sand. The room became warmer, lighter.
Anubis turned to Kate, who stood with her hand over her mouth.
"It was..." she began.
— Beautiful? Sad? Both options are correct.
"Yes," she wiped her eyes. "They were so lost. So alone."
"Death is frightening," Anubis said, sitting down on her tattered sofa. "Especially when you're alone. That's why I have a job. I'm a guide. I help them find their way."
Kate sat down next to him, still processing what she had seen.
— Do you do this often?
"Before, all the time. The last few centuries, less often. Souls usually find their way on their own. But sometimes..." he shrugged. "Sometimes they need help."
They sat in silence for a minute, then Kate asked:
— Why are you a bartender? If you're a god, why work in a bar?
Anubis smiled.
"Because bars are a place where people come to forget pain, share stories, find solace. In a way, it's not that different from my real job. I still help souls—just the souls of the living, not the dead."
- It's... really deep.
— I had five thousand years to come up with a good answer.
Kate laughed, genuinely and loudly.
"I like your sense of humor. I didn't expect the god of the dead to do so."
"Most don't expect that," Anubis stood up. "Your ghost problem is solved. The apartment is clear. Although, if you'd like, I can apply the proper protective seals. In case other souls are drawn here."
- Yes, please!
Anubis spent the next hour correcting her protective symbols, explaining which ones worked, which ones didn't, and why you couldn't mix Norse and Egyptian magic ("They literally fought each other a thousand years ago, the conflict encoded in the runes themselves").
Kate listened intently, taking notes in her tattered notebook.
"You learn quickly," Anubis noted.
"I've always been interested in this," she admitted. "Magic, the occult, the paranormal. But I thought it was all theory. And now..."
- Now you know that it is real.
— Yes. And honestly? It's both terrifying and exciting.
When Anubis finished, the apartment was surrounded by the correct protective seals - barely visible to the eye, but powerful.
"Thank you," Kate said, walking him to the door. "Seriously. I didn't know what to do. And you just... fixed everything."
"Please," Anubis pulled out the bar's business card. "If you have any more paranormal problems, call. Or just come in for a drink. The first cocktail is on the house."
"I'll definitely use this," she took the card, then hesitated. "Andy... Anubis... can I ask you something?"
- Certainly.
— Are you lonely? Having lived so long, having seen so much death... don't you feel lonely?
Anubis froze, not expecting this question.
"Sometimes," he answered honestly. "But then I meet people like you. Brave, kind, curious about the world. And I remember why I'm here. Why I stayed when the other gods left. Because people are worth protecting. Even if it means watching them die again and again."
Kate nodded, understanding.
- You are a good god, Anubis.
"I'm trying," he smiled and left.
Returning to the bar that evening, Anubis found it full of his usual clientele. Sarah was doing well, but she looked tired.
"How did it go?" she asked when he returned to the counter.
— Five trapped souls were sent to the afterlife, one girl learned about proper protective magic, and I felt useful again.
- So, it's an ordinary Thursday for God.
- Exactly.
The evening passed quietly. Mike talked about the new comic book crossover, a couple of young professionals discussed work issues, and the old lady next door ordered her usual sherry.
Normality. Everyday life. Life.
Around midnight, as the bar was beginning to empty, Erik Selvig walked in. He looked better than he had two weeks ago—rested, clear-eyed.
"Andy," he greeted, sitting down at the counter. "How are you?"
— The usual. Sent a few ghosts home today. Yours?
"Jane is obsessed with new calculations. She thinks she can predict when the next Einstein-Rosen bridge will open. Darcy helps, though she mostly just drinks coffee and makes sarcastic comments."
Anubis laughed as he poured Eric some whiskey.
- Sounds like a normal laboratory.
"As normal as a lab studying interdimensional bridges can be," Eric took a sip. "By the way, I've started studying those files you showed me from S.H.I.E.L.D. Interesting patterns."
- Which?
"Anomalies are concentrated in certain places. Places of ancient power—Stonehenge, the pyramids, Machu Picchu. It's as if something awakens in these places of power."
Anubis frowned.
- It's... disturbing.
"Yes. And one more thing," Eric pulled out a notebook. "I analyzed the symbols I saw before the Stone incident. They're similar to those appearing in other reports. Someone is using the same magical signature all over the world."
- So it's coordinated.
- It looks like it.
They sat lost in thought while Sarah cleared the last tables.
"Something big is afoot," Anubis said quietly. "I can feel it."
"We'll be ready," Eric replied. "We have you, S.H.I.E.L.D., maybe Thor if Jane can get through to him. We're not helpless."
"No," Anubis agreed. "Not helpless."
Eric finished his whiskey and stood up.
- Good night, Andy. Thanks for the drink.
- You're welcome.
When the last customer had left and Sarah had finished cleaning up, Anubis was left alone in the bar. He sat at the counter in the darkness, illuminated only by the neon sign outside the window.
His phone vibrated. A message from Fury:
"New anomaly. London. British Museum. Egyptian section. Interested?"
Anubis sighed. Of course, the Egyptian section again.
He typed back: "Flying out tomorrow."
He put the phone down and looked at his reflection in the mirror behind the counter. Dark hair, golden eyes, a face that hadn't aged in centuries.
Bartender. God. Protector.
It was all him.
And for the first time in a long time, Anubis wasn't afraid to be all of these things at once.
The storm was approaching. But he was ready to meet it.
With a glass of good whiskey in one hand and the power of millennia in the other.