Marvel: The Awakened One

The dinner took place in a newly constructed white building on the Quantico military base.

The chef wasn’t from the base mess hall. He had come straight from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, and he had brought his own ingredients and his own waitstaff. That alone made it clear President Turner had gone all out for this invitation. It was a show of respect for Hawk.

Actually, no.

This went beyond respect. It was deference bordering on reverence.

Because the moment Hawk brought Wanda and his daughter Jean up from the lounge, the President of the United States was already waiting for them at the door. When Hawk appeared, Turner’s wrinkled face lit up with an enthusiastic smile.

”Good evening, Mr. Phoenix.”

”Good evening.”

Hawk stayed gracious and shook the President’s eager hand.

”Right this way, Mr. Phoenix, please.”

”Lead the way.”

Hawk stepped into the oval dining room. After an afternoon of emergency redecorating, the place looked undeniably luxurious. A huge oval table dominated the room, ornate heavy chairs spaced at perfect intervals, expensive silverware gleaming at every setting. It was the antique candelabras that set the mood, though.

The rest of the guests were already waiting: Turner’s Chief of Staff, his aide Ada, and the base commander of Quantico.

Hawk looked at the flickering candelabras, then at the thick velvet curtains along the walls.

Turner followed his gaze, still smiling. ”Mr. Phoenix, are you looking for…”

”Just checking to see if you’ve got hitmen hiding behind the drapes.” Hawk looked back at him and gave him a pleasant smile. ”Waiting for you to drop your glass as a signal so they can burst in and shoot me to pieces.”

Heavy curtains. Flickering candelabras. It looked exactly like the setup for a mob hit.

Turner caught the half-joking look and laughed heartily, not missing a beat. ”Mr. Phoenix, you must be joking.”

As he spoke, he motioned for the staff to pull back the curtains covering the windows.

The view cleared. No assassins outside. Only heavily armed soldiers patrolling the perimeter, their faces set with silent duty.

Turner turned back. ”You see, Mr. Phoenix? Please believe me when I say we brought our utmost sincerity to this dinner. We simply hope that before you leave, you might view us in a slightly better light.”

His tone was incredibly genuine.

He even seemed to believe his own bullshit.

After all, the highest level of lying was convincing yourself first.

Hawk played along anyway. He listened to Turner’s speech with a faint smile, then met his gaze without a trace of tension.

”That’s for the best. I sincerely hope there won’t be any ’accidents’ tonight either.”

”I swear it on my life,” Turner said.

Promises only matter to the living. To the dead, they mean nothing.

Besides, it was a long dinner, and for a man his age, stepping out to use the restroom halfway through was perfectly normal.

Most importantly, Professor X was the one who had activated the Sentinel. Technically speaking, Charles was the one pulling the trigger on Hawk, and that technicality left Turner free of guilt. He didn’t hesitate at all as he swore on his life and kept warmly inviting Hawk to the table.

”Please, have a seat.”

”Sure.”

Hawk smiled and didn’t bother explaining the whole ’mess around and find out’ philosophy. He had offered them a way out, and they hadn’t wanted it.

So be it. You can’t talk someone off a ledge when they’re determined to jump, and if they wanted to dig their own graves, he’d let them. All he had to do was bury them afterward.

Hawk, Wanda, and Jean took their seats. President Turner sat down after them, followed by the rest of the political and military brass.

Notably, there were no mutants among the guests. Neither Professor X nor Magneto was at the table.

The former simply hadn’t been invited. As for the latter, Magneto had left Quantico that morning, shortly after Hawk and Wanda arrived. If he’d stayed, Hawk figured he absolutely would have received an invitation.

Politicians were predictable that way. They respected strength, not morality. They would never respect a pacifist like Charles who asked for peace, but they’d roll out the red carpet for someone like Erik, who demanded it through violence.

As for Professor X, he was currently down in the Sentinel lab.

Just as Hawk and the others sat down to dinner, the scientists monitoring the Sentinel noticed strange data. The readings were erratic, so they called the Professor in.

”No good.”

”The core temperature is still climbing.”

”What’s going on? It was stable this afternoon!”

”I don’t know.”

The scientists, already quietly labeled by the military as ’necessary sacrifices,’ crowded around the monitors, baffled.

Sitting in his wheelchair, Professor X looked up at the five-meter machine, and for some reason, a deep dread began to twist in his gut.

Hawk had stated plainly that this unknown machine had nothing to do with him, and that it would leave on its own when the time came. Charles had felt relieved that afternoon. Now, learning about the spike in the machine’s internal temperature, his anxiety climbed with it.

What went wrong?

Charles frowned, looking down in thought before meeting the blank, empty faceplate of the Sentinel.

Just then, one of the scientists turned to him. ”Professor, can you use your abilities to see what’s happening inside its head?”

Charles snapped out of it, looked at the man, and nodded. ”I’ll try.”

He focused, lifted his gaze, and reached out with his telepathy to probe the Sentinel again. A moment later his mind dove deep into the machine’s internal network.

And then he froze.

The last time he scanned it, the Sentinel had no mind at all. Only dead code and cold hardware. Now he found himself standing in a fully formed mindscape, and the world inside felt eerily familiar.

Charles stared at the sprawling structure in front of him. ”This… this is my Estate?”

It was. The building at the center of the machine’s mind was the mansion he knew better than anything else in the world.

How could his home exist inside the mind of a killer robot?

While the Professor stood frozen by the impossible discovery, the scientist who had suggested he look inside shared a dark smile with a colleague. As the rest of the team watched Charles, unaware, the two men slipped quietly out the door.

At the same time, dinner at the banquet was ending.

The food was never the main attraction. What mattered was the networking. In the lounge next door, a fire burned in the hearth while President Turner and Hawk sat together, each with a glass of bourbon.

Turner did all the talking. Hawk just listened.

Being able to talk for hours without saying anything was a basic skill for any politician, and even with Hawk silent, Turner kept the conversation going with ease.

Then Turner felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

He kept his expression pleasant, raised his glass, clinked it with Hawk’s, took a sip, and gave an apologetic smile. ”Excuse me, Mr. Phoenix. I need to use the restroom.”

Hawk finally spoke.

He raised an eyebrow, looked at the President, and set his glass on a waiter’s tray as the server passed. ”Perfect timing. I need to go too. Let’s walk.”

Turner’s face didn’t change at all.

”Sure.”

”Let’s go.”

Hawk gave him a bright smile.

Inside the restroom, Hawk finished quickly. Turner, on the other hand, struggled with the problems that come with age.

Turner gave him an awkward look. Hawk had already fixed his cuffs and was waiting by the sinks. ”My apologies. The bladder isn’t what it used to be. Please, don’t let me hold you up, Mr. Phoenix.”

Hawk leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. ”It’s fine. I can wait.”

Turner chuckled, nervous. ”Having you stand there puts a lot of pressure on a man.”

Hawk nodded calmly.

”You should feel pressured.”

”Excuse me?”

”After all, with me standing right here, how are you supposed to run?”

Hawk looked at him. His voice was steady, and his blue eyes got as cold and hard as splintered ice.

”That Sentinel down there you built to kill me is about to boot up, isn’t it? So you planned to excuse yourself to the toilet and slip away. Right, you bastard?”

Turner: ”…”

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