Unknownfate
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Chapter 40
🕑 Added 2025-03-29 00:30:24 +0000 UTCInside a dimly lit, opulent office, Dreykov sat at his desk, the hum of machinery from the sprawling facility beneath his feet a constant reminder of his power. The quiet was broken by the sharp buzz of an intercom.
A voice, trembling with fear, crackled through. “General Dreykov, sir. We have an emergency.”
Dreykov leaned back in his chair, his gaze icy as he pressed the button. “Speak.”
The voice faltered for a moment, then rushed out the words. “The Siberian facility… it’s been destroyed. Completely annihilated.”
Dreykov froze, his steely demeanor cracking slightly. “Destroyed? By whom?”
“There were… intruders, sir. Two men, dressed in ancient armor. They overpowered everything—guards, defenses, the Black Widows.”
Dreykov’s jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the edge of his desk. “And the widows? What about my widows?”
The voice hesitated, a deathly pause filling the room. “Sir, they… they escaped. The intruders freed them. All of them.”
Dreykov shot to his feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. “What?!” His voice was a dangerous growl, the fury radiating off him palpable.
“All communications from the site are down. Surveillance feeds went dark after the intruders breached the command center. The facility is a total loss,” the voice stammered.
Dreykov slammed his fist on the desk, sending papers and a glass tumbler scattering. “Two men? Two men did this? And you expect me to believe that?!”
The voice on the intercom quivered but pressed on. “Sir, the reports from surviving personnel… they’re consistent. The intruders were unlike anything we’ve ever encountered. They wielded swords and shields, deflected bullets, and tore through our forces as if they were nothing.”
Dreykov’s fury simmered beneath his cold exterior, his mind racing. “Swords and shields,” he repeated, his tone dripping with disdain. “Do you think I’m a fool? This sounds like a fairy tale.”
“I… I understand, sir,” the voice stammered. “But the survivors swear it. They said it was like something out of legend. One of them even destroyed the walls with what looked like a massive glowing shield.”
Dreykov began pacing, his fists clenched tightly. He couldn’t believe it, another failure, so soon after Natasha, after his finest widow escaped. She was the first, and he had intended for her to be the last.
He was getting close to coming up with a way to better control the widows, yet now he had none left to use it on! “Damn them! curse them to hell! Once I find out who they are they will rue the day the dared cross me!”
“Sir,” the voice interjected hesitantly, “what are your orders?”
Dreykov stopped pacing, his expression sharp and deadly. “Activate every asset. Track the widows. If they escaped, they can’t have gone far. Find them, and bring them back. Kill the ones who resist.”
The voice on the other end hesitated. “And… the intruders, sir?”
Dreykov’s lips curled into a dangerous sneer. “They’ve made themselves enemies of the Red Room. I don’t care who they are or what they claim to be—find them. Use every resource. And when you do, I want their heads.”
“Yes, General!” The intercom went dead.
Dreykov turned to the large map of the globe projected on the wall, the faint red dots marking his network of facilities and assets. His hand hovered over the controls, zooming into the Siberian region where the facility once stood.
“Two men,” he muttered to himself, his mind seething with possibilities. “Whoever you are, you’ve made a grave mistake.”
-----
The entire would was unaware of what had happened to a secret facility in Russia, or the daring escape a few dozen people were making in the following days. No, instead the world was buzzing at the news that had come out of Camelot.
For the first time since its appearance, Camelot had spoken to the outside world, and the message had been shocking.
Everyone was still talking about it when the next big news hit: the fact that the King of Knights, Arthur Pendragon himself, was willing to do an interview!
What really had everyone excited was the fact that the king of knights wouldn’t be talking with a journalist or something. No, instead, ten people were invited to come and ask the legendary king questions.
Of those ten spots, one was reserved for the government, and one for the royal family, the rest, was to be given to the people. Meaning everyone had a chance to get one of those eight spots.
People all over England were going crazy about the chance; everyone talked about it, and every media featured nothing but this story. Even the fact that Tony Stark was still missing was completely forgotten.
In a dimly lit office at SHIELD headquarters, Nick Fury sat behind his desk, the glow of multiple screens casting shadows across his face. The headlines blared from every monitor: "King Arthur's Interview," "Camelot Speaks," and "Arthur Pendragon Opens Up." Fury's one good eye scanned the reports, his expression unreadable.
"Sir, you wanted to see me?" Maria Hill's voice broke the silence as she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her.
"Yes, Hill," Fury replied, his voice low and measured. "What do you make of this Camelot situation?"
Hill crossed her arms, her gaze fixed on one of the screens. "It's unprecedented, sir. The reappearance of Camelot was already causing enough of a stir, but now King Arthur is offering interviews... It's bound to change the global landscape."
Fury nodded, tapping his fingers on the desk thoughtfully. "Precisely. And with Stark still missing, we have enough on our plate. We need to keep an eye on this. Camelot's sudden openness could mean a lot of things, and none of them might be good for us."
Hill frowned. "Does this change the threat level, sir?”
Fury leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Camelot has been a potential threat since the beginning, and that hasn’t changed. We knew they would act at some point, and all that has happened is that that point has been reached.”
Fury sighed and turned his attention back to Hill. "What's the status on the Stark investigation? Any progress?"
Hill shook her head slightly. "Not much, sir. We've been following every lead, but so far, nothing concrete. It's like he vanished into thin air."
Fury's expression hardened. "Keep pushing. We need Stark back, and we need him back yesterday."
"Understood," Hill replied, her tone resolute.
"And what about the analysis of the fight between Mordred and Nathan Garrett?" Fury continued, shifting the focus of the conversation.
"Our analysts are still working on deciphering the energy signatures and combat techniques used. It's clear that Mordred poses a significant threat, one that likely requires significant resources to take down.”
Fury nodded, his mind working through the implications. The strength shown by the knight of rebellion was highly alarming. He could think of no other means of dealing with him but a weapon of mass destruction, an unacceptable outcome.
“What about the people attending this… interview?” Fury asked, breaking the silence. “Any chance we can get one of ours in?”
Hill pulled up a report on her tablet, glancing through it quickly. “The process is being overseen by Camelot directly, sir. Every applicant is thoroughly vetted, and the final decision rests with them. From what we’ve seen, they’re choosing people who represent different walks of life.”
Fury nodded; he knew it was unlikely; the ability to detect lies made it difficult and far too risky. “Get me that list as soon as it's known, if we could persuade those people to ask certain questions, the better.”
Hill nodded, tapping a note into her tablet. “I’ll have the team ready to brief them as soon as the list is public. Subtle persuasion, nothing overt.”
“Good.” Fury knew that he likely couldn’t outright stop what was happening, but maybe he could slow it down, and hopefully find a way to stop it or deal with the fallout if he had more time.
-----
The beginning of trouble that was.
I hadn’t taken a few things into account, like how Camelot was made without a single flaw, except it was made using my sensibility, which meant it lacked many things humans might consider normal.
This wasn’t a problem since it mostly involved a lack of bad things or things that might not be bad themselves, but led to foulness of some kind.
One big and pretty glaring problem that came about was the lack of electricity and wall sockets.
While it was by no means a problem to broadcast without such things, the guys over at BBC, who would handle that part of my plan really was struggling with the lack of power.
This was the event of the century, an audience and interview with none other than the legendary King of Knights.
They wanted the best possible shot, the lightning had to be right, and the sound too should be perfect.
It hadn’t been half an hour since I already regretted letting them in and planning things out. They really were overexcited about it.
A BBC technician hesitated near me, his face pale as if he feared approaching royalty. “Um, Your Majesty,” he stammered, clutching a clipboard, “is there… any chance we could get, er… some sort of… power?”
I raised an eyebrow, my tone dry. “Power, you say? Camelot has no need for such trivialities.”
I had lost count of how many times I had been asked that. I knew by now that it was mostly just different people all wanting to speak with me, and so they used it as a chance. I couldn’t blame them, but it got old quick.
“Agravain! Deal with this, and if you need something, Send Mordred.” I said, and quickly left the mess for him to deal with.
I would take myself a nice and relaxing bath, after dealing with everything, I felt I deserved it.
-----
“Agravain!” I called out, and the man was quick to enter the room. I honestly wished he wouldn’t waste his time waiting for me to call him all day, but I also respected that it was his wish.
“Sir Kay and Sir Ector will be arriving tonight, before they do, I want you to clear the path for them. those girls are coming home for the first time, they shouldn’t have to meet such a thing.” That barricade wasn’t a welcoming sight, hardly fit for kids like them.
Agravain bowed deeply, his eyes showing a flicker of understanding. "Consider it done, my lord," he replied, his voice bearing the weight of unwavering loyalty. With a swift turn, he was gone.
The two were returning sooner than I had expected. Getting back from Russia was by no means easy. Thankfully, it seemed that the Widows were far better at such things than most people and were able to smuggle them all back safely.
I glanced toward the large window overlooking the castle grounds. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over Camelot. Tonight would mark the start of a new chapter—not just for the rescued widows but for Camelot itself.
For the first time since the end of the Age of Gods, there would be people living in Camelot once more, and the streets would soon be filled with children playing. Just as it should be.
-----
The journey to Camelot had been nothing short of grueling. Escorting nearly a hundred children across borders wasn’t easy, especially while fleeing the Red Room. Yet, with Kay and Ector guarding them, fear of pursuit was kept at bay.
The two knights, invaluable as they were, had their challenges. They were clueless about the modern world, slowing the group down more than once. Thankfully, their magic to conceal their armor and swords saved them from disaster.
The widows, using skills drilled into them by the Red Room, planned their route meticulously. They forged documents, paid bribes, and stuck to lesser-traveled paths. The size of the group, however, made every step risky.
Crossing borders was the hardest part. The widows disguised the children as a school group, a story backed by the knights’ imposing yet oddly convincing presence as “chaperones.” Tension ran high, but they avoided detection.
After weeks of travel, they finally reached England. The widows pooled resources to rent two large buses for the final leg of the journey. For the first time, there was a glimmer of relief among the group.
The children were tired but resilient. They whispered among themselves about Camelot, imagining it as a magical place from the stories the knights had told them. Their excitement brought a rare warmth to the widows.
Kay and Ector, confident in their king’s reach, argued that secrecy was no longer necessary. Yelena disagreed. “We’re not safe until we’re inside those walls,” she muttered, her eyes constantly scanning their surroundings.
As the buses rumbled down the road, the tension in the air was palpable. When the first glimpse of Camelot’s towering spires appeared, a hush fell over the group. It was like something out of legend, shimmering on the horizon.
Yelena tightened her grip on the wheel, her voice barely above a whisper. “Almost there,” she said, more to herself than anyone else. The children pressed against the windows, their faces alight with wonder.
As night was falling, they got close, and would arrive under the cover of darkness, something the Knights said was pointless, but Yelena and the other older Widows all felt was the right approach.
