Marvel: The Awakened One

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Apocalypse was dead. Dead in every corner of Hawk’s timeline.

That’s putting it politely.

To be blunt, Apocalypse was wiped out so completely that not even ash was left behind.

But although Apocalypse was gone, the damage he had caused remained. The nuclear arsenals of the five major powers had been wiped clean, and after Magneto reversed Earth’s magnetic field, geological disasters broke out across the planet.

Japan was just one example. Erik barely touched the magnetic field, but Mount Fuji and almost every other volcano in the country erupted at the same time, on a scale no one had ever seen. Fire shot into the sky, and ash filled the air, blocking out the sun.

Magneto stopped as soon as Pietro and the others showed up, but the eruptions kept going. When it was finally over, Japan was little more than a name on a map.

Then there was San Francisco.

The Golden Gate Bridge had been destroyed.

Again.

The Eiffel Tower in Paris had fallen.

All these disasters showed one thing: when a powerful mutant stopped holding back, ending the world wasn’t just talk. Maybe after today, the government would finally realize it needed to change how it treated mutants.

Or maybe it would just dig in even deeper.

”We have to find a way to control them.”

”They’re too dangerous.”

”We cannot gamble our lives on their mercy!”

In a makeshift conference room set up among the Pentagon’s ruins, a general slammed his fist on the table. His face turned red as he demanded a permanent way to control mutants, adding another casualty report with every point he made.

”Quantico has been wiped off the map. Soldiers, officers, equipment, everything inside was destroyed. The casualties are still being counted, and the losses are beyond calculation.”

”The Pentagon’s central structure collapsed. General Thaddeus Ross and nine other generals were killed. We have suffered a military blow unlike anything in its history.”

”And 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.”

”The President is dead.”

”Gunned down like a stray dog in the street.”

”The incident those mutants caused in Egypt has triggered disasters across the entire country.”

The general put both hands flat on the table. ”Gentlemen, they are mutants. They are no longer human. Those who are not of our kind will never share our loyalties. We do not need to strike first, but we must possess the technology to put them down when the time comes.”

”Mr. President!”

The general turned toward the largest screen in the room.

”...” The new President sat in a secure bunker far from Washington.

It was Baron Turner, the white-haired politician Hawk had spared earlier. He didn’t look like the tired old man from before. He sat up straighter, his eyes were sharper, and his face looked healthier than it had in years.

Nothing energized a person like power.

Baron Turner thought his chance to be President was long gone. Then the job landed in his lap. Still, he knew exactly where he stood.

The people hadn’t elected him. He got the presidency through the line of succession, and if he wanted to keep it, he needed votes.

How had the previous President won?

Easy... He had campaigned on the harshest anti-mutant platform in the country’s history.

If Baron Turner wanted to stay in the White House, using public fear of mutants was his best bet. That was even more true now, with the Pentagon’s surviving generals in front of him, all demanding action.

The proposal was tempting.

There was only one problem.

Hawk Phoenix.

Turner remembered Hawk tearing through the White House like an angry god. He also remembered the former President lying dead outside, tossed aside like roadside trash.

He cleared his throat.

”How much do we know about Hawk Phoenix?”

”He’s a mutant.”

”But the X-gene inhibitors had no effect on him.”

”That’s correct.”

The general met Turner’s gaze through the screen.

”He isn’t a conventional mutant. Our analysts believe he may be a physical Omega-level mutant whose mutation is integrated into his body. That would explain why the inhibitors failed. As for his claim that he came from another universe, we believe it was a fabrication intended to mislead us.”

People have a hard time understanding things outside their own experience. Generals were no different.

Turner frowned.

”If Hawk Phoenix returns, what do we have that can stop him?”

He knew exactly what he was asking. He also remembered the promise he had made Hawk.

But Turner was a politician, and an old one...

More importantly, even if Turner didn’t plan to provoke Hawk, he needed people to believe he’d never compromise with mutants. If Turner had to choose between angering Hawk and losing an election, he was more afraid of the voters...

”So,” he continued, ”do we have a countermeasure?”

”WE DO.”

”What?”

”Trask.”

”Who?” Turner frowned. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

A moment later, he remembered.

”Bolivar Trask?”

”Yes, Mr. President.” The general’s voice dropped and grew more serious.

”Sir, it is time to restart the Sentinel Program.”

Ten years ago, after Magneto attacked the White House, the Sentinel Program was officially shut down. But Bolivar Trask wasn’t killed. He spent the last decade locked up in a secret military facility.

The President back then announced a new era of peace between humans and mutants, but the military never really believed it. Some generals thought the Sentinel Program might be needed again, so they quietly kept Trask alive.

Today had proven them right.

Turner stared at the screen, surprised. Like almost everyone else, he thought Bolivar Trask had died ten years ago.

The general continued.

”Capture mutants.”

”Dissect mutants.”

”Study their abilities.”

”Eliminate them.”

Turner took a slow breath while the generals explained the heart of the program.

”Gentlemen, what we need is something capable of protecting us.”

The general answered without hesitation.

”This is what will protect us.”

Turner’s brow furrowed.

”We signed a memorandum of understanding with Professor X. That memorandum states that mutants will not attack humans without cause.”

The general struck the table again.

”They attacked us. They erased our nuclear arsenal, destroyed our military installations, and brought down the Pentagon. Mr. President—we cannot sit here and wait for them to finish the job.”

The memorandum also said humans couldn’t attack mutants without cause. But an agreement signed by politicians was worth less than the breath it took to make it.

”...” Turner adopted a troubled expression.

He knew right away how valuable the program was politically. If the Sentinels worked, he could claim to be the President who made the country safe from mutants. The next mutant attack could help him win the election by a landslide.

But thinking something and saying it out loud were two different things. Every politician needed to put on a show. Turner had to look reluctant. If the program failed or caused a disaster, he could blame the military and say the generals forced him into it.

He slowly looked across the faces displayed on the screen.

”Gentlemen, do all of you support this proposal?”

One after another, the generals voiced their agreement.

Turner let out a tired sigh.

Almost as if it had been planned, an aide set the authorization order for the Sentinel Program on the desk in front of him.

Turner picked up his pen and signed.

As soon as the pen left the paper, the program that had been buried for ten years came back to life.

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Somewhere in Texas, deep beneath a military base, Bolivar Trask sat inside a sealed underground cell.

He was a short man with huge ambition.

For ten years, Trask lived in that secret prison. He never shouted, protested, or made trouble. He spent his days alone with pencils and paper, always working on his Sentinel designs.

The government might have put his Sentinels on the shelf, but Trask always believed the project would come back. As long as he was alive, he knew humanity would need him again.

Today was that day.

Trask heard footsteps coming toward his cell. They sounded heavier and more determined than the usual patrols.

He climbed down from his bunk and faced the soldier who stopped outside the reinforced door. Their eyes met through the narrow window.

Trask spoke first.

”Are you here to kill me?”

”No.” The soldier’s voice was low.

”The general sent me to ask you a question.”

Trask waited.

”Can your Sentinel Program guarantee our victory in a war against mutants?”

A smile spread across Bolivar Trask’s face. He turned to the wall of his cell. Sheets of paper covered the concrete from end to end, each one filled with detailed pencil sketches of giant mechanical figures.

Trask looked back at the soldier.

”My Sentinels...” His smile widened.

”ARE INVINCIBLE!”

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