Marvel: The Awakened One

Hawk would rather die fighting the Celestials than let humanity claim his life. At least the Celestials were worthy opponents.

Even if it was only part of an act—dying was still dying.

What bothered him most was the complete lack of gratitude in this universe. He spared these people, and the moment they felt safe again, they turned around and tried to kill him.

Now they were betraying him again.

They were placing all their hopes on the Sentinels, convinced those machines could finally get rid of him. Why? Because every time humanity had provoked mutants in the past, someone had always appeared at the last moment to clean up the mess?

They expected the same thing to happen again.

This time, however, things had changed.

”Change of plans. Prepare the assault.”

Wanda blinked. ”An assault?”

Hawk rose from the couch, straightened his back, and drew a slow breath before spreading his arms.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Wanda’s eyebrows shot up as the scarlet restraints formed from her Chaos Magic shattered around him. Power surged through the room, and golden Phoenix fire flared across Hawk’s body.

There was no deafening thunder or blinding spectacle. A golden Phoenix wreathed in divine flame appeared behind him and slowly unfurled its wings.

Hawk’s aura continued to rise until it returned to the same level it had possessed when he first entered this universe.

”You restored your Physique?” Wanda stared at him.

”Yeah.”

”Will that be enough?”

”More than enough.” Hawk lowered his arms and rolled his neck. When he opened his eyes, they shone gold. ”A tin-plated Sentinel isn’t going to be a problem.”

As for the Celestial lurking behind the scenes, once Hawk destroyed the Sentinel and proved that humanity had no weapon capable of stopping him, it would have no choice but to reveal itself.

That Celestial would become the final step toward perfecting his Seventh Sense.

In return, Hawk would grant it a quick death.

”So what’s the plan now?” Wanda asked.

”We wait.”

The golden light faded from Hawk’s eyes as he looked at her. ”The plan changed, but I still want to see what Washington does next.”

Wanda gave him a knowing look. ”Careful you don’t trip over your own feet.”

”I’m not worried.” A faint smile crossed Hawk’s face. ”With you here, I have nothing to fear.”

Wanda held his gaze for several seconds, then sighed and rose from the couch.

”Let’s go.”

Hawk paused. ”Go where?”

”If you aren’t launching the assault today, we still need groceries. It’s family grocery day. Don’t tell me you forgot.”

”Nope!”

Wanda headed toward the garage, and Hawk hurried after her.

”I’ll drive.”

——————————

Half an hour later, footage of a pale and visibly uncomfortable Hawk following Wanda through a Manhattan supermarket reached the Pentagon.

The same pattern continued throughout the weekend.

Friday was family grocery day. Saturday was family shopping day. Sunday was family cleaning day.

On Sunday afternoon, the cleaner assigned to the Palm Street house finished his work and returned to his van. The moment the doors closed behind him, he removed a micro-camera from his shirt, uploaded the footage to a secure server in Washington, and drove away from the neighborhood.

Shortly afterward, President Turner convened another classified video conference with the members of the Demon Hunter Task Force.

The generals watched in silence as covert footage from inside 521A Palm Street played across their screens. The cleaner had successfully captured both video and audio of Hawk.

When he heard coughing from the master bedroom, he did not approach immediately. He finished cleaning the rest of the house to avoid raising suspicion, then returned and knocked on the bedroom door under the excuse that he still had work to complete.

Wanda answered but refused to let him inside. Just before she closed the door, however, the hidden camera caught a brief glimpse of Hawk sitting cross-legged on the bed, his face pale and drained of color.

The microphone also picked up fragments of their conversation.

”Why is the power tide affecting you so badly this time?”

”My power still hasn’t fully entered this universe.”

”When will it stabilize? Jean went to Washington. I’m worried about her.”

”Soon. Give me ten days, and I’ll be fully recovered. Until then, I’m only human. I’ll have to rely on you to pro...”

The footage abruptly cut to black.

Wanda appeared to sense that someone was listening, but the cleaner reacted quickly. By the time she opened the bedroom door, he was already halfway down the hall, noisily sorting through several garbage bags.

The recording ended.

——————————

”Gentlemen...” President Turner said, breaking the silence. ”Based on what we’ve just seen, can we conclude that the Demon King is currently vulnerable?”

The generals turned away from their cameras and began speaking quietly with their chiefs of staff.

Several minutes later, they reached a consensus.

Taking Professor Xavier’s information, Hawk’s condition over the past three days, and the hidden footage from the bedroom into account, they estimated an 80% chance that Hawk had lost most of his power.

Why only 80%?

Two generals remained suspicious. If Hawk were truly defenseless, why would he risk appearing in public? His behavior might be bait designed to lure them into a trap.

The others dismissed those concerns.

They believed the answer was simple.

Arrogance.

”Ever since he destroyed our military bases, the Pentagon, and the White House two years ago, the Demon King has operated under the assumption that we are completely broken,” one general said.

”And we have given him every reason to believe it,” another added. ”For two years, we sat back and did nothing while an alien entity lived on American soil, ignored our laws, and acted however he pleased.”

”We let him become complacent.”

”He believes he owns us. He thinks he could walk into Washington stripped of every power he possesses, and we still wouldn’t have the courage to touch him.”

”It fits the psychological profile of an antisocial narcissist.”

”And that arrogance is precisely what gives us our opportunity.”

Another general leaned toward his camera, his voice carrying the confidence of someone already imagining the victory parade.

”Every Demon King in myth and legend shares the same fatal flaw. He underestimates his enemies, and the warriors brave enough to confront him are the ones who stand victorious in the end.”

The brave warriors in question were, of course, themselves.

Confident smiles spread across the screens. Even President Turner allowed a rare expression of genuine satisfaction to appear on his face.

”Then, gentlemen, is it time to advance the operation to its next phase?”

Turner brought the meeting back to its purpose and turned toward the general they had selected as their scapegoat. He was the administration’s only direct connection to Bolivar Trask and the revived Sentinel Program.

”General, give me a timeline.”

The general no longer carried the confidence he had displayed during their earlier meetings. He had remained silent throughout the discussion, and when the President addressed him, he looked up with a guarded expression.

”Five days. The mimicry-gene integration will be fully operational in five days.”

He had been the first to suggest restoring the Sentinel Program, but at the time, he had not understood what the administration was planning.

He only realized the truth during their previous meeting.

They were preparing to place the entire operation on his shoulders.

Every message, order, and transfer involving Trask’s team had passed through his office. If the operation failed or became public, the evidence would lead directly to him.

Still, he had accepted his role.

Both the President and the Pentagon had promised him a fortune if the operation succeeded.

That did not mean he intended to remain in Washington.

While the others discussed their coming victory, the general was already planning his escape. The Sentinels would be ready in five days, which gave him enough time to invent a reason to leave the capital before the fighting began.

If the government won, he would return and collect his reward.

If it lost, remaining in Washington would condemn both him and his family.

President Turner had spent enough years in politics to notice the general’s unease, but he felt no concern for him.

Nothing came without a price.

We give you the opportunity. You carry the blame. If you find someone else to pass it to afterward, that is your concern.

As long as the consequences never reached the White House, Turner did not care who paid for them.

”Excellent.” The President leaned back in his chair.

”Five days from now, Operation Demon Hunter officially begins.”

With the timeline settled, Turner looked toward another monitor. His aide, Ada, was calling from a fortified bunker beneath the Quantico base.

”You heard the timeline, Mr. Ada. Whether we can politely invite the Demon King into the graveyard we prepared for him now rests entirely in your hands.”

Ada met the President’s gaze through the screen.

After a moment, he nodded with grim resolve.

”Mr. President, rest assured.”

”The Sentinel is an alien artifact.”

”The Demon King is also an alien.”

”I am confident Professor Xavier will be more than willing to bring the Demon King here and let the two of them settle the question for us.”

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