Marvel: Vulkanicus

Monticello NY | Volcano

The sound of vehicles drove through just after sunrise rose.

The kind of morning where the air's too warm, the trees too quiet, and even the birds seem to stay clear. Agent Callahan stepped out of the VTOL, boots crunching against gravel and half-melted ash. The heat hit immediately—dry, constant, but not unbearable. Just enough to make your shirt cling after a few minutes.

"Smells like sulfur and burnt rock," one of the younger agents muttered.

"Try not to breathe too deep," Callahan said, adjusting his collar as he looked up the slope.

The volcano sat about a mile out—still active, still smoking. Nothing explosive. Just… steady. Like it had no interest in erupting, just pulsing with heat. But it wasn't the lava they were here for.

Dr. Tanaka showed up a few minutes later, brushing dust off her tablet with a practiced hand. No small talk. She went straight to her readings.

"Still getting magnetic disturbances?" Callahan asked.

"Same pattern as last week. Just stronger," she said, flipping the display toward him. "Localized to the caldera. Like something's moving under there, but not following tectonic logic."

"You ever see something like this?"

"No. And I don't think I want to."

They moved up the path with a small escort team—two SHIELD agents, one field tech, and a drone operator. It was quiet. Not calm—just quiet in the way that made people keep their hands close to their weapons without realizing it.

At the observation post, half their equipment was already acting up. Drones jittered in midair. Compass needles shook. The sensors that were supposed to pick up tremors had started recording low, rhythmic pulses, too regular to be natural but too faint to map properly.

It had been like this for weeks.

They'd chalked it up to geothermal anomalies at first, but now the data was stacking weird. Real weird.

A low tremor rolled through the rock under their boots. The kind that didn't make people panic, but made everyone stop walking for half a second. Look around. Say nothing.

The drone went down into the crater again. Standard procedure. Nothing special. Just recon.

But this time the feed lasted longer than usual—fifteen seconds of clean visual, tracking the molten flow down the side.

Then it caught something.

Far side of the crater. In the haze.

A figure. Tall. Still. Just… standing there. Barely visible in the heat shimmer. You could miss it if you blinked.

But it was there.

"Pause that," Tanaka said, frowning. The drone operator froze the frame. Everyone leaned in.

"Could be a shadow from a rock outcrop," one agent offered.

Callahan just stared. "It's shaped like a man."

The drone feed scrambled. Static filled the monitor. Then it died completely.

Ten seconds later, the second drone crashed midair. The third wouldn't even start.

The team stood still, heat prickling at the back of their necks.

"I want everyone back at the ridge in ten," Callahan said finally, voice low. "We're pulling data, nothing else."

"But what if it's—"

"We're not equipped for anything standing upright in molten rock."

Back at the ridge, Callahan stayed behind a minute longer. Just long enough to take one last look at the smoke curling from the crater. He didn't see anything. No movement. No figure.

But he felt it.

Not fear. Not quite.

Just a sense that someone… no, *something*, was watching.

Down below, buried deep within the volcano's throat, Vulkan moved without sound.

He didn't hide. But he didn't show himself either.

The forge was awake now. The stone floor was littered with finished works—some half-finished. Statues lined the walls, shaped with care, not haste. Some wore ancient armor. Some held hammers. One bore resemblance to a man in a coat holding something flat, head tilted like he was always studying.

Vulkan turned the half-formed statue in his hands, brushing dust from the face. It wasn't perfect. The jaw was too sharp. The stance too rigid.

Still, he kept it.

They'd come again.

He knew it.

People always did.

He'd wait.

And while he did, he would build.

Because that's what he was. A builder.

Even if the world didn't know it yet.

---

Shield Headquarters | Unknown

Three days later, the briefing room at SHIELD's northeast command was quiet except for the hum of overhead lights and the low whir of projectors starting up.

Fury stood by the window, arms crossed, eye focused on nothing in particular. He didn't bother with formalities when Agent Callahan stepped in—just gave a small nod toward the screen and said, "Show me."

Callahan plugged the drive in, cleared his throat once. "We've got seismic anomalies isolated to a three-mile radius around the caldera. All natural explanations have been ruled out."

"Go on."

Callahan tapped the next slide. "Initial observation teams recorded magnetic fluctuations, low-frequency pulses, and repeat equipment failure. Visual recon confirms… a humanoid figure. Possibly armored. Possibly something else."

Fury turned, brow raised. "Standing. Inside the crater?"

"Yes, sir. Upright. Not affected by heat signatures or terrain instability. Only visible for a few seconds before interference shut down our feeds."

"You get any other footage?"

"No. After that, drones dropped like flies. Interference hasn't stopped since."

Fury narrowed his eye. "You think it's some kind of subterranean entity?"

Callahan hesitated. "I think… whatever it is, it's intelligent. It knew we were watching."

There was a short pause before Fury leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose.

"And you're requesting what? Full task force?"

"Ground team with reinforced seismic gear, deeper probes, and someone who can handle high-temp scouting. Maybe someone with… fireproof armor."

"Cute."

Callahan gave a tight nod, but said nothing.

Fury turned back to the window. The light outside cast a soft orange glow over the far buildings of the compound—sunset burning over steel. He stayed silent for a beat before finally nodding.

"Fine. Pull a team. Quiet. I don't want this leaking up the food chain until we know what the hell we're actually looking at."

"Yes, Director."

Callahan turned to leave.

"And Callahan?"

He paused.

"If that thing down there looks back at you again… don't stare too long. Things that live in fire don't usually like to be watched."

---

When Callahan was gone, Fury moved back to his desk, reaching for the next file in the stack. Different kind of fire.

Stark.

The man had resurfaced with a bang—literally. A terrorist cell in Gulmira had been torn apart. Locals said it looked like a one-man army landed in the middle of their operation and didn't leave until every truck, gun, and tent was scrap metal.

And the kicker?

Survivors said the man flew.

Fury tapped the screen. Grainy footage from someone's phone showed a red-and-gold blur crashing into a missile battery, fireball flaring into the sky.

"Guy builds himself a suit of armor in a cave," Fury muttered. "Comes back and starts kicking over ant hills like it's a game."

He leaned back in his chair, one brow raised, voice dropping to himself.

"…I like him."

But that didn't mean he wasn't a problem. Or that SHIELD could afford to ignore him.

Especially not now—with one man in a flying tin can lighting up warzones overseas, and something ancient standing quiet in the mouth of a volcano stateside.

Too many fires.

Too many sparks.

And Fury knew better than anyone what happened when you let sparks go unchecked.

They turned into wildfires.

---