Chapter 24
The heat of the forge still lingered in the air as Natasha and Clint finally stood face to face with Vulkan. Neither spoke at first—both of them trained, hardened operatives who had looked death in the eye more than once. Yet, before they could even process why, their knees buckled beneath them.
The two fell into a kneel, heads lowered, their bodies acting without command.
Natasha's breath caught. Her instincts screamed to rise, but her limbs refused. Clint clenched his jaw, glaring at the ground as if trying to fight his own muscles into submission. Neither understood why they were bowing, only that it felt right.
Beside them, Tony tilted his helmeted head. "...Okay, is this a new S.H.I.E.L.D. thing? Because if it is, I missed the memo."
Vulkan, however, only sighed, the sound heavy like stone shifting. His deep voice rolled through the chamber.
"Stand. You are not my sons, nor my enemies. Only they may kneel—out of respect, or in defeat. You are protectors of man, as I am. That makes you my equals."
At his words, the unseen weight pressing on Natasha and Clint vanished. The two agents staggered as sensation returned to their limbs. Both stood, exhaling in quiet relief.
"Thank you," Natasha said softly, her voice steady though her eyes lingered on the giant in fascination.
Clint grumbled something under his breath, brushing dust from his knee. "Yeah, sure. Thanks for the… pep talk."
Tony leaned toward them, voice low through the comm. "So, wanna tell me why you both just reenacted the opening scene of Every Knight Movie Ever?"
Clint scoffed. "Ask Romanoff. She's the one who'll actually answer you."
Natasha's gaze didn't waver from Vulkan. "It wasn't us. It was… him. Not in the sense that he forced it, but—it was like standing in front of a force of nature. My body just… submitted. And the strangest part?" Her lips curved slightly. "It felt right."
Tony blinked behind his mask, speechless for once. "...Okay, that's both terrifying and impressive. Great combo."
Vulkan turned, beginning to walk deeper into the volcanic halls. "Come. We will speak where the air is calmer."
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They followed him through winding paths carved of obsidian and basalt, the heat shimmering faintly along the walls. All around were relics—statues and weapons of impossible craftsmanship, armors that looked like they belonged to titans of myth.
Clint slowed briefly, eyes darting across the sculptures. "Okay, so either he's got the biggest man-cave collection ever, or we just stumbled into a museum nobody should know exists."
Tony smirked as he walked between them. "Funny enough, you're not that far off. That—" he pointed at a statue of a towering warrior, blade raised high—"is a Primarch. Vulkan's brother. And that one there? Another brother. They weren't just soldiers. They were… something more. Built to lead. Built to save."
Clint raised a brow. "And some of them betrayed him, right?"
Tony's voice dropped slightly. "Yeah. Not exactly the family reunion you'd want to RSVP to."
Natasha remained silent, her eyes drawn to every line and curve of the stonework. She could feel the care in each sculpture, the memory carved into them, as though Vulkan had been trying to hold onto fragments of something long gone.
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At last, they reached a vast chamber, quieter than the rest of the forge. A round stone table sat at its center, freshly crafted. Around it stood sculptures—seats filled with the likenesses of men who radiated strength and purpose, some familiar through Tony's explanations, others foreign.
There was the Emperor at the head, radiating silent authority. The Primarchs seated around him, frozen in their past glory—even those who had once betrayed humanity, sculpted not as traitors but as they had been before.
For a moment, Natasha, Clint, and Tony simply stood there, taking it all in. The weight of history hung over the room, mingling with the sorrow in its silence.
Vulkan lowered himself into his seat at the table, the stone creaking faintly under his massive frame. He gestured for the three mortals to sit as well. The seats were large, but clearly meant for beings greater than men.
They sat nonetheless.
Natasha reached into her suit, pulling out a small device. She set it on the table, pressed a button, and a faint hum filled the chamber. A holographic image shimmered to life—Nick Fury's face appearing above the stone.
For a moment, Fury only exhaled, relief etched into his features. "Good. For a second there, I thought I just lost two of my best agents."
Natasha allowed the faintest smile. "We're fine, Director."
Fury's eye shifted, scanning the chamber. His expression hardened, but there was no hiding the awe in his gaze. The relics, the statues, the craftsmanship—it was unlike anything he had ever seen.
And then he saw Vulkan.
The giant sat waiting patiently, his massive hands folded over the table, molten light still glowing faintly from the cracks of his skin. His presence filled the room, commanding yet calm.
Fury straightened instinctively, clearing his throat. "Vulkan, I assume?"
The Forgefather inclined his head slowly. "Yes. And you are Fury, protector of man."
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