It was a measure of how off his game Daimon still was that he didn't notice someone coming. On a normal day he would have picked up the signs of someone coming before now, but he was drained physically and emotionally and was dealing with two sudden shocks, one from suddenly being free of Amora's control and the other, more obvious one being shunted into some alternate universe. So he could be excused this one time for not being quite as good a spy as SHIELD had trained him to be. He was too busy double-checking his phone to make sure he was headed in the right direction, because god knew he'd never been to Lawrence or even Kansas before now. The last thing he wanted to do was get lost in damn Kansas.
Idly he was aware of footsteps coming close, but he didn't think anything of it. This was a park, and it wasn't surprising that there would be people walking through it. In his mind it just didn't merit as much attention as figuring out what was going on and either getting back or sending up an SOS to the people of his dimension. A few more Google searches told him that this wasn't the Squadron Supreme's universe, which was damn good. After what Fury had done to them, they weren't exactly huge fans of anyone from universe designate-1610. A few more searches and it looked like there were no counterparts to Doctor Strange, SHIELD, or any of the big brains here. That meant finding a way back to his home was going to be much harder. SHIELD employed some of the finest minds in quantum mechanics, and the big brains - Richards and maybe Stark, primarily - were some of the brightest minds not under SHIELD's direct employ. Doctor Strange might have been able to help, because science wasn't the only way to skin this particular cat, but with none of those people around, there wasn't much-
"Christo."
Alright, that managed to pierce the veil of Daimon's thoughts. It wasn't every day somebody threw out the Latin for Christ at you, even when you did walk around with an inverted pentagram on your chest. Most people in America didn't even know the Latin for Christ, let alone how to use it like some kind of test. Daimon wasn't sure what this guy expected to find, but a second later as Daimon looked up, he decided it didn't matter anywhere near as much as two other factors: One, that this guy was pointing a gun at him, and two...
...two being that the guy looked like he could be an identical twin, minus the piercings. Daimon's mind split off in two directions, the first concerning the number of different ways he could disarm this guy if he needed to. The easiest two were superheating the metal of the gun with hellfire, or ripping it out of his doppelganger's hands with telekinesis. The problem with both of these things was that while they would both be effective, they were also both inherently hostile actions. Doing either of them would escalate things, and right now they didn't absolutely need to be escalated...even if Daimon was real fucking tired of having a gun pointed at him.
He ran over it in his head again and his brow creased. The guy hadn't asked who he was. A hunter, like that Blade guy? Admittedly, Blade was a psychopath and would have probably already tried to gut him, but all hunters weren't like that. He'd run into a few in his younger days, when he'd quietly been researching his father, back before he hit high school and started focusing on his own life. It was still concerning that they looked so alike, though. Could this have been his own dimensional duplicate? The quantum boys back at SHIELD had theorized that other universes might contain, among other things, duplicates of people. Maybe that's what this was. With a bit of bitter irony, Daimon thought that it wouldn't be the first time he'd pointed a gun at himself.