Constantine's Jet Motorcycle was parked on a rooftop helipad one kilometer from the target. Through his helmet's heads-up display, he looked down at S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Quinjet parked outside Dr. Radcliffe's home. Perhaps because of the noise from the Quinjet, the drone had gone unnoticed even during close-range reconnaissance. Through its camera, Constantine saw the freshly trimmed lawn and blooming roses. The scent of cut grass and flowers seemed to travel the distance and enter his nostrils. The residence stood in an affluent suburban neighborhood. Back when S.H.I.E.L.D. still existed, at least two agents had monitored Dr. Holden Radcliffe's movements there every day.
The cabin ramp opened, and Melinda May, tightly strapped to a hospital bed, was wheeled out. The woman was a victim of spirit possession. Her face was twisted as she screamed herself hoarse, struggled, and cursed, yet Phil Coulson and Jemma Simmons still watched her with worried eyes. Dr. Holden Radcliffe swiftly took over the patient. He told them to wheel Melinda May into his workspace—the living room—and administer a sedative. Through the drone's view, Constantine saw Jemma Simmons press a needleless high-pressure injector loaded with an entire bottle of sedative against Melinda May's arm. Only after injecting several times the standard dose in succession did Agent May finally quiet down.
"What the hell is Coulson doing? Isn't he afraid Melinda May will die?" A highly distinctive accent sounded through the Praetorian Guard helmet's earpiece. "And where did this Dr. Radcliffe come from? I thought that bastard was still serving time in prison!" the voice said. "You should charge in there and bring Melinda May back to the City of Immortals, not leave her to some mad scientist and Artificial Intelligence! I didn't leave him all those connections so he could lead S.H.I.E.L.D. around licking Congressmen's toes! And now