Marvel: The Awakened One

The Sentinel’s core looked like a heart, but it wasn’t alive. It was a shell made of adamantium, shaped like a metal heart and filled with deep-blue liquid that moved inside.

That liquid was the true core of the Sentinel.

Mimetic fluid.

Extracted from the blood of Raven Darkhölme—Mystique—it was the key component that had transformed the Sentinels into every mutant’s worst nightmare. Mystique’s mutation alone wasn’t enough, however. Her natural ability allowed her to change her appearance, but it didn’t let her copy the powers of whoever she became.

That part had been Trask’s contribution.

In this way, the Sentinel was a mix of the supernatural and science. Mutant biology was the base, but Trask’s genius made it much more dangerous.

None of that mattered anymore.

As soon as Hawk ripped the metal heart from the Sentinel’s chest, all the machine’s systems failed. The deep-blue light in its eyes faded until its face was completely dark.

The Sentinel fell to its knees, shaking the ground. Its adamantium joints made another crater in the street, and its head dropped forward, leaving the dead machine kneeling in front of Hawk.

Hawk floated above the ruined town, holding the blue metal heart in one hand and staring calmly at Trask’s deactivated creation.

A streak of fire suddenly tore across the night sky.

The missile came closer with a sharp, rising howl, almost like Death calling out. Hawk looked up just as a Tomahawk cruise missile from a far-off base hit him head-on.

Fire exploded above the ruins of Quantico, spreading out like a huge red flower.

”Did we get him?” one of the generals demanded.

”Run a scan,” another ordered.

”The satellite is analyzing the blast now,” an officer reported. ”No visual contact with the Demon King—”

”Holy shit!”

”Look at the screen!”

”Jesus Christ.”

The generals didn’t need the satellite’s report. On the live feed, Hawk walked out of the flames, shirtless and looking just as calm as before.

He looked up at the military satellite, as if he could see through the camera and stare back at every general who ordered the attack. As they watched, he gave a small, knowing smile.

”You can survive an act of God,” Hawk said. ”You can’t survive your own stupidity. Since you’ve all decided you don’t want to live—fine. Die.”

A sonic boom shook the air around him. Hawk shot toward Washington, moving so fast he looked like a human missile and disappeared from the satellite’s view.

”Where’s the lip-reader?” a general asked.

”Analyzing the footage now.”

”What did he say?”

”He said...” The analyst paused, unsure what would happen next. He glanced at the monitors showing over a dozen generals, each watching safely from a bunker. ”He said, ’Since you’ve all decided you don’t want to live—fine. Die.’”

Silence settled over the conference.

Then the first general disconnected.

A second screen went black almost immediately, followed by a third. Within seconds, nearly every general involved in planning and authorizing Operation Demon King had abandoned the meeting.

The soldiers and staff in the Pentagon command center stared at the dark screens, confused by how quickly everyone left. They soon understood why—not because someone explained it, but because Hawk showed up.

”BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMM!!”

He dropped from the sky like the Tomahawk missile fired at him and crashed through the Pentagon’s newly repaired wall. The impact shook the building and sent a shock wave through the command center.

Computers, conference tables, and giant screens worth millions were destroyed in the blast. Soldiers and staff were thrown off their feet and tossed across the room. Anyone who hit the walls at full speed was killed instantly, leaving only bloody marks behind.

Dust filled the wrecked command center. In the middle of the destruction, Hawk stood up from a crouch, his eyes as cold as his voice.

”Who wants to die first?” Hawk asked, looking around the room. After a moment, he dismissed the question with a shake of his head.

”Forget it... You can all go together.”

——————————

Back at Quantico, Wanda watched Hawk fly toward Washington, then turned to face the others. She spread her hands, and a wave of scarlet chaos magic burst from her.

The foreign recruits who had joined for green cards and thrown themselves into service suddenly snapped back to awareness. Before they could react, their bodies rose off the ground against their will.

Wanda turned her palms downward and floated into the air with them. Scarlet light covered her as her clothes changed into a perfect Scarlet Witch battle suit.

Hawk wasn’t the only one taking revenge.

The soldiers floating around Wanda screamed as chaos magic squeezed them from all sides. Their cries didn’t sound human, and they kept screaming until their bodies burst, one after another.

Blood rained across Quantico.

Wanda floated in the red mist, her scarlet eyes glowing under her crown. Next to her, Hawk seemed less like a Demon King and more like someone in a costume. Wanda looked like the real thing—an apocalyptic witch who could end the world whenever she wanted.

Once the last soldier fell, only Jean and the X-Men remained unharmed inside the base.

They watched the blood rain around them, then looked up at Wanda as she turned her scarlet gaze in their direction. Almost everyone flinched. Only Beast—the resident blue-furred Smurf—managed to suppress his fear and hold her gaze. The other mutants instinctively looked away.

Jean didn’t.

Wanda was her mother, after all.

Her biological mother.

Even so, Jean stared in shock as Wanda descended toward her.

”Mom?” Jean managed.

”You think that was cruel?” Wanda asked.

”No.” Jean shook her head. ”It’s just that I can’t see you as the perfect wife and loving mother anymore.”

”Good.” Wanda smiled. ”When we get home, tell your two younger brothers what happened. Maybe they’ll finally behave.”

”Yes, Mom,” Jean answered with flawless obedience.

Wanda’s smile grew wider. She was about to say something when a huge explosion resounded from the direction of Washington.

”BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMM!!”

Everyone turned toward the sound.

A mushroom cloud lit up the sky above 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Flames rose over Washington as emergency sirens wailed across the city.

”Holy shit,” Storm whispered, her mouth falling open. ”Is that—”

”The White House,” Wanda confirmed.

”NO...” Nightcrawler swallowed, his voice rough with disbelief. ”HE REALLY DID IT. HOW COULD HE DO THAT?”

”...” Beast closed his eyes.

At that moment, everything Charles Xavier had worked for fell apart. Professor X had spent his life trying to find peace and believed mutants and humans could live together. After tonight, that hope was gone.

The bad news was that no one knew if mutants would survive what came next, but the United States government as they knew it was almost certainly over.

The good news, if Beast could call it that, was that Charles was already gone. At least he hadn’t lived to see this.

Wanda suddenly looked away from Washington and turned toward New York. Jean noticed the movement and glanced at her questioningly.

”Your uncle’s here,” Wanda said.

”My—”

Before Jean could finish, Pietro Maximoff—the streetwear-clad, hip-hop edition of Quicksilver native to this universe—raced into the base and skidded to a stop in front of them.

”A sixteen-foot robot just appeared in New York,” Pietro reported without pausing for breath. ”It’s hunting mutants, but it’s attacking humans too. The thing looks alien. If it came here looking for you... you need to run. Where’s Hawk?”

Wanda pointed toward Washington.

Pietro followed her finger, but before he could ask why the White House was on fire, something else caught his eye. The dead Sentinel remained kneeling among the ruins of Quantico, its chest torn open and its head hanging lifelessly.

”Wait a second.” Pietro stared at it. ”That robot’s in New York. Why is there another one here?”

He studied the corpse more carefully and immediately noticed the differences.

”No, this isn’t the same one.”

The Sentinel attacking New York wasn’t as shiny as the one in front of him, and it looked more roughly built. If the dead Sentinel was a hand-made prototype, the New York one looked like it came from a factory.

That guess was close to the truth. Trask used Washington’s resources to carefully build the prototype Hawk destroyed. He made the other two units in secret, taking money from the project and using whatever materials he could get without being noticed.

The metal quality was different, but their systems and abilities were mostly the same.

Jean quickly told Pietro what happened, from Trask’s dead-man switch to Hawk destroying the prototype and heading to Washington.

Pietro’s expression grew progressively blank as Jean spoke. When she finished, he turned toward the flames rising above Pennsylvania Avenue.

”Like father-in-law, like son-in-law,” Pietro muttered.

In this universe, Erik Lehnsherr—Magneto—was the biological father of Wanda and Pietro. That made Hawk his son-in-law.

Magneto had once dropped an entire stadium around it.

Now Hawk had taken his turn.

When it came to fathers-in-law and sons-in-law, it seemed the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

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