Marvel: The Awakened One

”SHIT!”

”How the hell did he find us??”

”And wasn’t he just over the Pacific? How’d he get to the Atlantic this fast?”

”Oh, God!”

”He stopped.”

”Right above us.”

Hydra’s command center had devolved into absolute chaos.

The operatives had abandoned all pretense of composure—that careful, breath-holding silence meant to avoid provoking Strucker. Self-preservation had taken over.

Understandable.

Angering Strucker meant they might die.

But with Hawk here, death was guaranteed.

And now—

Hawk had arrived.

On the main screen, the freshly redirected Atlantic satellite showed Hawk—who’d been hovering over the Pacific moments ago—now standing directly above their position.

His arrival had triggered Hydra’s satellite alert system.

Strucker—who seconds earlier had been consumed by blind fury, ready to murder those three children—saw Hawk standing above them on the main screen. The sight hit him like ice water. The bloodlust drained from his eyes, replaced by sudden clarity.

Strucker stared at the screen in disbelief. Hawk floated above them, hands in his pockets, casual as could be.

When it rains, it pours.

”Sir!”

The assistant had just received word of the capture team’s failure. He rushed to report. ”The apprehension squad was neutralized. B-Team and C-Team are en route.”

Strucker glanced at his assistant. He took a deep breath, turned back to the screen showing Hawk, and began issuing commands.

”All combat operatives to battle stations.”

”Combat protocol already initiated.”

”Order all four submarines into attack mode.”

”Submarines entering attack mode.”

HUMMM!

The four matte-black submarines guarding the massive underwater installation received their orders and began ascent procedures.

Strucker finished issuing commands, then turned to his assistant. His expression was ice. ”Inform B-Team and C-Team. Shoot to kill.”

The assistant hesitated briefly, read Strucker’s face, nodded quickly, and pressed his earpiece—relaying the updated orders to the two teams already rushing to intercept Wanda and Pietro’s family.

The teams had just reached the far end of the corridor, approaching Wanda’s quarters. Upon receiving the new directive, they ejected their current magazines and slammed in specialized rounds.

CLICK-CLACK.

Once reloaded, the two squad leaders exchanged glances across the hallway, nodded in unison, then advanced in tactical formation toward Wanda’s room.

Strucker brushed past his assistant, shoved open the command center doors, and strode rapidly toward the laboratory in the deepest section of the base.

That was where his ultimate weapon against Hawk waited.

Originally, Strucker had planned to let others deal with Hawk. Let others kill him.

But now—

He’d changed his mind.

Hawk had murdered his son.

Blood debts required blood payment.

He would kill Hawk personally. With his own hands.

Meanwhile.

Above the Atlantic.

Hawk gazed downward. His vision pierced the dark waters, reaching the Hydra installation anchored to the seabed seven thousand seven hundred meters below—sitting on the floor of the Romanche Trench. His lips curved slightly.

”Found you.”

”Game over.”

”You lose, Strucker.”

He’d said he wanted to play a game.

The game was called:

Don’t Move. Move and Die.

Unfortunately for Strucker, he’d taken the bait. The instant he’d tried to kill Jean and those two children Hawk had never met, the automatically activated Andromeda Cloth had transmitted coordinates to Hawk—who’d been resting above the Pacific.

So—

Here he was.

Strucker was about to die. More importantly, Hawk would finally obtain the Mind Stone he’d been waiting for.

Double celebration.

Absolutely perfect.

Just then.

Under Hawk’s penetrating gaze, the four submarines ascending from the depths broke through the surface. Seawater cascaded off their hulls. Launch hatches opened immediately.

The commanders aboard all four vessels saw Hawk floating there—exposed, unguarded, hands still in his pockets. Fury and anticipation surged through them as they simultaneously slammed the launch buttons.

After all, if not for Hawk, Hydra’s second uprising would have succeeded. They’d be ruling the new world by now.

Because of Hawk, they’d been forced to hide beneath these freezing waters.

So—

Every Hydra operative in this underwater base shared one dream: kill Hawk, and world domination was theirs.

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM—!!

Four submarines. Twenty-four Trident submarine-launched missiles. Carrying the hopes of four commanders and countless Hydra operatives in the command center. Wrapped in destructive intent. They streaked skyward in succession.

They had only one target.

The man suspended miles above—hands in pockets, expression indifferent, watching them like they were ants.

Hawk observed the first wave of missiles screaming toward him. His cold lips twitched slightly.

He didn’t dodge.

He didn’t even blink.

The first wave arrived screaming.

But—

No fire. No explosions.

Because the instant the first wave entered the thousand-meter perimeter around Hawk, every missile seemed to slam into an invisible wall. In a heartbeat, all of them were forcibly compressed and twisted.

Sixth Sense—Telekinesis.

Hawk hadn’t moved. But his telekinesis had. With his now overwhelmingly powerful psychic force, nothing short of Vibranium could withstand his will.

Let alone a few missiles made of scrap metal.

So!

Metal became dust.

Detonations were snuffed out.

Then came the second wave. The third.

Missiles rushed in like moths to flame. Within a thousand meters of Hawk, they silently disintegrated, transforming into clouds of metallic dust that high-altitude winds scattered instantly.

When the smoke and debris cleared, Hawk still stood in the upper atmosphere. He looked down—expression cold, imperious—at the four submarines exposed on the ocean surface.

”Done?”

”Then—”

”My turn.”

Hawk chuckled softly. His right hand emerged from his pocket. No charge-up. No wind-up. He simply pointed at the four submarines below.

”Supersonic Fist.”

Yes.

Supersonic. Not even maximum output.

After all—

For four toys cobbled together from scrap metal, supersonic was already overkill.

As his words fell, a sliver of white light appeared at his fingertip.

In the span of a blink, that light engulfed the entire ocean surface below.

Then—

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

CRASH!

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM—

”Holy shit.”

”Jesus Christ!”

”We’re finished.”

”...”

The Hydra operatives in the command center watched the satellite feed. The four submarines had exploded into fragments the instant Hawk had pointed at them. Eyes went wide with disbelief.

One operative’s gaze turned hollow. He slumped to the floor, reached for his weapon, ready to give himself a quick end.

But just then.

”What are you afraid of?”

”Don’t forget—we’re seven thousand meters beneath the ocean surface.”

”He can fly. But can he physically descend to where we are?”

A veteran Hydra operative saw his comrades spiraling into despair. His face contorted with fury as he roared.

The shout snapped several operatives out of their hopelessness.

Right.

They were stationed seven thousand meters below sea level.

No flesh-and-blood human could reach this depth.

With that thought, hope reignited in countless eyes.

Even the operative who’d been about to shoot himself lowered his pistol.

After all—

If survival was possible, why not try?

Every gaze locked onto the main screen.

The explosions above had gone silent.

Once the towering geysers subsided back into the ocean, the surface became visible again—a scene of utter devastation.

Submarine wreckage scattered everywhere.

Severed limbs and body parts.

The sea had turned crimson with blood.

BOOM!

Hawk plummeted from the upper atmosphere. Under countless wide-eyed Hydra stares, he didn’t enter the water. Instead, he simply stood upon the ocean surface.

”God!”

”Thank god—he can’t come down!”

”Hail Hydra!”

”HAIL HYDRA!”

The command center erupted in cheers the moment they saw Hawk halt at the water’s surface.

Hawk saw the celebrating Hydra operatives too.

But his gaze passed over these dead men walking. It settled on Wanda—who had retreated to a second-floor room—and Pietro, whose leg had taken a bullet.

Just then.

CLATTER!

The Andromeda Cloth’s Nebula Chain suddenly moved. It yanked Wanda—who’d been standing at the doorway holding off advancing Hydra operatives—back into the room.

Wanda instinctively prepared to counterattack. A cool voice sounded beside her ear.

”Relax.”

”You’ll be fine.”

”...”

The scarlet energy around Wanda’s hands vanished instantly. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she sensed no malice in that voice.

The next second.

The Nebula Chain—previously wrapped around the Cloth—began spinning like a protective ring. It encircled Wanda, Pietro, Jean, and the Billy and Tommy still sheltered within the Cloth.

Hawk finished establishing this protection, then withdrew his gaze to the ocean below.

A phoenix phantom began to manifest behind him—rising from the churning waters at his feet as his Cosmo blazed.

”Part.”

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

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