Awakening Kryptonian Bloodline In Marvel.

"What idea?" Natasha asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

Malrick began organizing materials on the workbench, preparing to synthesize a batch of chemical inhibitors.

"I'll help you destroy the Red Room," he said calmly. "In return, you and your companions come work for me. Simple enough?"

It was an unusual offer—but one with logic. A network of elite female agents, trained to fight, and infiltrate across the globe, was an asset few could afford to ignore.

"I get top-tier agents. You destroy the Red Room. And the widows—freed from control—get a new future. Everyone wins."

He didn't mention that, for him, it was a triple win. Not only would he eliminate a dangerous organization, but he'd also gain powerful allies.

"What do you think of my suggestion?"

While he spoke, Malrick's hands moved with mechanical precision. Measurements, mixtures, adjustments—each gesture executed flawlessly.

Natasha watched, momentarily captivated.

"How exactly are you going to destroy the Red Room?" she asked.

She didn't doubt him. Somehow, something in Malrick's demeanor made her believe he could do it—if he wanted to.

"So you agree?" he asked, still not looking up.

Natasha hesitated, then nodded. "I do. Once the Red Room falls, I'll help you convince the others. But I can't guarantee they'll all say yes. As for me… I'm already yours."

That made Malrick pause. He turned, brows raised. "Are you serious? You're not even going to ask what I want you to do?"

The level of trust was… unexpected.

Most people in her position would negotiate terms. Demand ethical boundaries. Clarify expectations. But she just… gave herself over.

Natasha leaned in, hands on the table, eyes locked onto his. "I said from the beginning—I owe you my life."

"I'll do whatever you ask. And if I can't… then I'll repay that debt another way."

Her voice softened, laced with layered meaning. It wasn't submission—more like a solemn vow wrapped in charm.

Malrick stared back, unmoved. "Ugh. That smell—you're way too close. I've been meaning to say it. There's a bathroom upstairs—go use it. Now."

He recoiled dramatically, pinching his nose.

Even with his enhanced senses dulled, the faint scent of sewer on her clothes was still noticeable. Being near her for too long was… unpleasant.

"Smell?" Natasha blinked, stunned as if struck by lightning.

Without further explanation, Malrick called out, "Hey, escort her upstairs. Don't let her back until she's cleaned up. She's no help standing around while I'm working anyway."

The AI assistant rolled over, its mechanical arm gently guiding Natasha out of the lab.

She remained in a daze until she stepped into the upstairs bathroom. The moment the door closed, she mumbled to herself, "Did I… really stink?"

She sniffed under her arm, confused. "But the chemical deodorant should've masked everything."

Still puzzled, she removed her combat suit and activated the smart shower on the wall. Hot water poured down.

"God, I haven't had a real shower in weeks… maybe he really does care," she murmured, letting the warmth wash over her.

Her lips curled into a faint smile.

"He's still just a proud little brother. Probably seventeen, eighteen tops."

---

An hour and a half later, Malrick stood in the living room as the sun dipped below the horizon. The orange glow of dusk bathed Stark's mansion in soft light. Long shadows stretched across the floor.

Natasha reappeared, freshly showered and back in her black combat suit, now clean and pressed.

Malrick finally looked at her with less irritation. Clean, sharp, and composed—she looked like herself again.

Despite her average height, her presence was striking. Curves, confidence, and intensity—her allure came not from appearance alone, but from the quiet power in her amber eyes.

Malrick caught himself staring. Her gaze was... unique.

That's why she never wears a mask, he thought. No disguise can hide those eyes.

"We ready?" she asked. "Because it really sounds like we're about to launch an all-out assault on the Red Room."

She narrowed her eyes, noting his outfit.

"Why are you wearing a trench coat? Is your armor underneath it? Wait… is that your plan? You're bringing the Iron Armor?"

She fired off questions, half-excited, half-concerned.

"As Tony Stark's younger brother, it wouldn't surprise me if you had your own suit."

Malrick chuckled and set the box of inhibitors on the ground. "You're half-right."

"I'm taking you to the Red Room," he said, "but I won't be wearing armor."

He pulled open the collar of his coat and tossed it onto the couch.

Natasha stepped forward, ready to object. "Not wearing armor? I mean, no offense, Malrick, but maybe you don't fully understand what we're walking into—wait, what the hell!?"

She froze mid-sentence, eyes wide. Her hand flew to her mouth.

On Malrick's chest, plain as day, was the unmistakable S-shaped symbol.

"You're… Superman!?"

The words burst out of her like an explosion. Joy, disbelief, awe—she looked like someone who just won the lottery.

"You're seriously Superman?!"

"Of course."

He opened his arms casually.

She immediately reached out and touched his chest, running her hand across his sculpted muscle.

"My God, it's like touching a marble statue! No wonder you're so powerful… and those abs…"

She laughed, delighted, like a girl meeting her favorite hero.

For Natasha Romanoff—spy, assassin, survivor—there weren't many surprises left in the world. But this? This was a revelation.

Superman. The viral name dominating every intelligence channel.

With him on her side, the Red Room wasn't just vulnerable—it was doomed.

"Ahem. That's enough touching for now," Malrick said, stepping back with a polite cough. "Are you ready? If so, we move now."

Natasha reluctantly withdrew her hand, then straightened her shoulders and nodded. "Let's go."

The last light of the setting sun poured in through the windows.

It bathed Malrick in gold, casting a long shadow across the floor.

Natasha stood in that shadow, her eyes on him.

And in that moment, to her, Malrick didn't just look like a man.

He looked like a legend.

---

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