Lock's voice came low and deliberate through the comms.
"Why do you care about him so much, Natasha? And more importantly… why haven't you told him you already have a husband? What exactly is your relationship?"
Black Widow's breath quickened on the other end.
"Lock—please, show some mercy. He's a good friend of mine."
"A good friend?" Lock's tone sharpened. "Or is he your other husband?"
"No… no, he's just a colleague. We had a cover marriage once, but it was for a mission—nothing ever happened."
Lock gave a dry laugh. "Funny. We started with a fake marriage too… and everything that was supposed to happen, did."
"This… this is different…" Natasha faltered, her normally steady voice trembling.
She could slip into lies with ease when it came to assassinations or infiltrations. But this—explaining her tangled history to her actual husband—left her mind blank.
Because deep down, even she didn't believe what she was saying. If she and Barton had lived under the same roof as husband and wife during an op… how could anyone believe nothing had happened?
And Lock was never one to let things slide.
"Don't," she begged softly. "Clint has a wife and children."
"Oh?" Lock said casually. "Do you want me to wipe them out, too? I only kill the man—never women or children."
"No!" Natasha's voice rose, unsteady. "That's not what I meant—just… don't do anything rash. Let me explain—"
Across from Lock, Hawkeye was listening, stunned. This wasn't the Natasha Romanoff he knew. On missions, she was unshakable—colder, calmer than even himself in life-or-death situations. He had seen her walk through fire and outthink impossible odds without so much as a tremor.
Yet now she was panicked, pleading, her voice breaking—terrified of losing control of this situation.
Could it be true? Could this man be her husband?
Barton narrowed his eyes, studying Lock's amused smile. And then it clicked.
He was toying with her.
Barton seized the moment and raised his voice theatrically, shouting into the comms:
"Natasha! If you don't explain this right now, my wife and kids are doomed!"
"Don't—Lock, stop!" Natasha's voice broke again. "Clint's daughter calls me godmother. That makes you the godfather. Don't hurt her father!"
Hawkeye clutched his chest and let out an exaggerated scream.
"Ahhh—it hurts, Nat, it hurts!"
Natasha froze. The cry sounded absurdly fake. Her eyes narrowed, realization dawning.
"You're… you're both messing with me?"
"Barton," she hissed through the comms, "I swear, I'll tell your kids about this."
"Hahahahahaha!" Lock and Hawkeye laughed in unison, the sound echoing across the tent.
On the other end, Natasha grit her teeth in fury. Yet as the anger rose, so did relief. At least Clint wasn't in danger.
Still, she stood there holding her phone, caught between laughter and tears. To see her closest friend and her husband getting along should have been comforting. But not when it was at her expense.
Lock extended his hand to Barton with a crooked grin.
"Lock. Natasha's husband."
Clint clasped it firmly. "Clint Barton. Hawkeye. Natasha's friend."
Behind his calm tone, Barton's mind raced with questions. But before he could speak, a roar cut through the night from the far side of the camp.
"NO… Father! Why?!"
Thor's bellow shook the rain-soaked air.
He had pushed through SHIELD's barricades, braved the gauntlet of armed men, and finally wrapped his hands around Mjolnir. But the hammer hadn't budged. Not even an inch.
The weight of failure crushed him. The storm broke overhead, rain pelting his broad shoulders as he collapsed to his knees in the mud, grief twisting his face.
Inside the monitoring tent, Coulson adjusted his tie nervously.
Normally, SHIELD would have dragged the intruder straight into an interrogation cell. But Lock had advised otherwise. So instead, Thor sat in a chair with a towel over his shoulders, a mug of coffee untouched in front of him.
"Hey," Coulson said carefully. "Where are you from, exactly?"
Thor didn't answer.
"Are you the one who owns the hammer out there?"
Thor's head dipped. His voice came out hollow, broken.
"I am not worthy to wield it. Not anymore. I don't even know what sin I've committed."
Coulson could get nothing else out of him and finally withdrew, leaving Thor to his silence.
In the surveillance room, Coulson stood with Lock and Barton, watching the feeds.
"Mr. Lock, is that the man you mentioned? The hammer's owner?"
Lock nodded once.
"That's him."
"Who is he?" Coulson pressed.
"A hammer is who he is."
Coulson blinked. "…Right." He didn't dare push further.
But as they watched the screen, something changed. Thor suddenly lifted his head and began speaking to thin air.
Coulson frowned. "Is he… hallucinating?"
Lock didn't answer. He could feel it: the faint, icy presence of a trickster's magic. Loki had arrived.
Thor's grief spilled out, voice trembling. "No… Father? Dead? That cannot be!"
The illusion's words cut like knives. Odin gone. His mother forbade his return. His brother was crowned king.
Thor's mighty frame curled in on itself, broken and childlike.
Lock's eyes narrowed. He knew the truth. Odin wasn't dead. This was Loki's lie—one more step in his long game.
When Loki slipped away and attempted to lift Mjolnir himself, Lock nearly laughed aloud at the futility of it. But he caught himself, shuttering his mind before the trickster could sense him watching.
Even so, Loki's gaze flicked briefly in his direction, suspicion sharp as a blade. Lock closed his eyes. By the time he opened them again, Loki was gone.
Coulson, pale, tightened his grip on his sidearm. "Who was that?"
Lock looked at him, voice low and steady.
"The one you'll die by, someday."
---
A/N: Advanced Chapters Have Been Uploaded On My Patreon
Support: patreon.com/Narrator_San