"Uncle…" Gil started, watching Bul-Kathos, but stopped at two words. Perhaps he was used to it.
…
"Sir, that guy just killed someone!" a black-suited agent stammered to another in the car.
Phil Coulson and his subordinate, sent by Nick Fury, had just witnessed Bul-Kathos crush a man's head. They were on edge.
"I saw," Coulson replied, his face grim. Fury's intel suggested this barbarian wasn't a reckless killer. "Check the purple guy's background."
Coulson adjusted his suit and stepped out. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s data was rarely wrong. If accurate, the purple man was trouble.
"Shouldn't we call for backup? He crushed a skull and knocked out a woman!" the subordinate urged, his NYPD-honed justice clashing with Bul-Kathos's actions.
"I'll go in. Monitor the comms," Coulson said, his gaze steady.
A school bus passed, heading for the forge. Coulson stopped his subordinate from intercepting it. He knew Gil, in his final elementary year, from the files. He'd also recently stopped Frank Castle from rushing here. The bus was expected.
"Uncle, I'm off!" Gil gulped his milk, leaving bacon untouched. Witnessing a man's head explode unsettled him, despite his growing tolerance. Eating meat now was too much.
"Go. Remember…" Bul-Kathos began.
"Keep the ring on, never take it off!" Gil finished, grabbing his bag, dodging the bloody mess, and boarding the bus cheerfully.
Bul-Kathos watched it leave, stuffing the leftover food in his mouth, ready to clean the blood. "Cover it with furnace ash first."
He moved to close the forge's door, avoiding trouble despite rare visitors.
"Sir, need help?" Coulson's high hairline caught Bul-Kathos's eye as he entered, smiling.
"Barbarian's Hammer? Not a great name," Coulson remarked, nodding a greeting.
"Another S.H.I.E.L.D. guy?" Bul-Kathos frowned, noting Coulson's casual step through the blood, leaving footprints. More cleaning.
Coulson's aura resembled Melinda May's but lacked the irritating edge of other agents. He was more upright.
"I need a janitor," Bul-Kathos said, eyeing Coulson's messy tracks.
"No problem. I'm Phil Coulson, S.H.I.E.L.D.—Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, to be exact." Coulson extended his hand.
Bul-Kathos, cautious after the purple man, shook it briefly.
"Can I sit?" Coulson gestured at the uncleared table, glancing at Killgrave's body in the furnace.
"Sure," Bul-Kathos said, unbothered. Killing a villain was trivial; he didn't even know the man's name.
They sat. Bul-Kathos spoke first. "What do you want?"
His tone was curt. S.H.I.E.L.D., especially after Melinda's arrogance, left a bad taste. Rumlow's actions on Harrogath, relayed via tech, showed their disregard for his power. They neither revered nor respected him or the mountain.
Sitting calmly with Coulson was his kingly generosity—or so he thought. Barbarian kings weren't about pomp. Unlike the Skeleton King, whose strength wasn't tied to his crown, barbarian kings were mighty first, rulers second. They bore all burdens, more warriors than monarchs—except Vorusk, the beauty-chaser.
"I want to know about barbarians and why that mountain's here," Coulson said, serious.
His directness slightly improved Bul-Kathos's view of S.H.I.E.L.D.
"If the last agent was this straightforward, you wouldn't need to ask."
(End of Chapter)
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