Marvel: The Awakened One

Mephisto did want to become a true god, but that ambition had never been about glory for its own sake.

In Hawk’s home universe, ruling a dimension was only the first rung on the ladder. Above dimensional lords stood beings who ruled planets, galaxies, and even entire universes. Compared to them, Mephisto had been small fry.

This universe was a different story.

Here, a dimensional lord was already at the top. As long as the five great cosmic entities didn’t turn their attention his way, Mephisto could do whatever he wanted and enjoy himself without anyone breathing down his neck.

Why exhaust himself climbing higher when he had already reached the local ceiling?

That sounded like a lot of work for no real benefit.

“Honestly, I don’t understand why you left me a way out after everything I did,” Mephisto admitted, meeting Hawk’s gaze. “But I know I’m damn lucky to still be alive. Staying here suits me just fine. Whenever you feel like dropping by for a drink, my door’s always open.”

Hawk studied him and found something almost impossible on Mephisto’s face.

Sincerity.

Hell really had frozen over. Mephisto was telling the truth.

Great terror waited between life and death, but so did great opportunity. Apparently, dying once had even managed to knock some sense into Mephisto.

“Then congratulations,” Hawk said with a smile.

“How about a drink?” Mephisto offered. “I doubt this place has the ’82 bourbon we usually drink, but I’ve found a few decent bottles we could try.”

“After I’m finished.” Hawk waved the suggestion aside. “Besides, you need time to put this place back in order, don’t you?”

Hawk had escaped the world of regret, but he still hadn’t taken the final step. He couldn’t afford to linger.

After agreeing to meet again once they had both handled their business, Hawk turned and stepped forward. When his foot came down, Hell was gone.

He had returned to the World of the Six Senses—a place he had visited once before but passed through in a hurry.

Nothing had changed.

Darkness surrounded him. There was no light, no sound, no smell, and no sensation against his skin. Even Hawk’s normally extraordinary sixth sense had vanished.

This time, however, he knew the drill.

Neither pleased nor troubled by the void, Hawk sat cross-legged and settled into the same meditative posture Shakyamuni had taken beneath the Bodhi tree.

“WHOOSH!”

Light immediately flooded his world.

——————————

Ever since Wanda brought Hawk back to 521A Palm Street, Jean had spent nearly every waking moment in the backyard watching over him. She left only when necessary, always returning as quickly as possible.

That morning was no different.

Jean had just finished cleaning the kitchen and was heading toward the backyard when the doorbell rang. Her perception passed through the front door, revealing two visitors outside—one standing and the other seated in a wheelchair.

She stopped in surprise, then opened the door and stared at the man in the chair.

“Professor X?”

“Jean.” Charles greeted her with the same calm smile she remembered. “It’s been a while.”

Jean’s lips parted, but it took her a moment to find her voice.

“Professor, I don’t understand. You died at Quantico two weeks ago.”

“I did,” Charles acknowledged. “My body died in that explosion, but my consciousness survived. I transferred it into my brother’s body.”

Charles Xavier had never been an only child. He had both a younger brother and an older sister.

His brother had suffered an accident at a very young age and fallen into a persistent vegetative state. In an ordinary family, his condition might eventually have led to his death. The Xaviers, however, were old money. They could afford the finest hospital, the best doctors, and lifelong care.

When Charles’s body was destroyed in the explosion at Quantico, his consciousness abandoned it at the last possible moment and entered his brother’s vacant body.

Adjusting to a new body had taken time. By the time Charles finally awakened, Hawk’s battle with the Sentinel and his subsequent fight with Ikaris had already ended.

At least, the physical fighting had.

The conflict itself was far from over.

That was why Charles had come to Palm Street.

Washington had sent him.

——————————

When Hawk left Washington two weeks earlier, he had granted the new President a twenty-four-hour reprieve because the man’s last name was Stacy.

The terms had been simple. Washington would turn over the bodies of everyone involved in the plan to kill the Demon King, along with everyone who had known about it and allowed it to proceed.

Otherwise, the entire country would pay the price.

President Reed Stacy had agreed to fulfill those terms. Unfortunately, he had been shoved into office overnight and inherited a government that didn’t truly answer to him.

Reed himself intended to keep his word. The problem was that some people could stand at the edge of their own graves and still convince themselves they had room to gamble.

Several powerful figures closed ranks around the remaining conspirators. They protected the very people whose actions had brought disaster down on the country in the first place.

The twenty-four-hour deadline passed with several targets still missing.

When Hawk failed to appear, those politicians grew bolder. They decided the satellite footage had been genuine and that Hawk Phoenix was truly dead.

That confidence lasted until the previous day.

Reed had spent most of the afternoon in a bitter argument with officials who wanted to abandon the agreement. He insisted that the federal government had given its word and had to honor it.

When he returned to the Oval Office afterward, he found a woman in a long scarlet dress sitting in the President’s chair.

The moment their eyes met, Reed knew who she was.

“Mrs. Phoenix.”

“Where is what my husband asked for?” Wanda questioned with a pleasant smile. “Have you decided not to give it to him?”

“I want to honor the agreement,” Reed answered bitterly.

Wanda’s smile remained.

“Then where are the bodies?”

“Some people still believe they can get away with protecting them. They’ve joined forces, and I don’t have the power to stop them.”

“What about you?”

Reed hesitated. “What about me?”

Wanda rose from the President’s chair and regarded him across the office.

“Are you counting on getting away with it too, Mr. Stacy?”

Reed met her eyes without flinching.

“I never stake anything on wishful thinking.”

“I understand.” Wanda nodded and moved to leave. “No one can refuse my husband what he wants, and no one can prevent him from taking it. I suggest you prepare to clean up the mess, Mr. Stacy.”

“Wait,” Reed called as she turned away.

Wanda looked back. “What is it?”

“You’re not going to kill me?”

“Why would I?”

“Because I failed to keep my promise.”

Wanda chuckled.

“Did my husband tell you why he gave you that chance?”

Reed remembered Hawk’s final words before leaving Washington. As their meaning became clear, his eyes widened.

“The name Stacy means more than most to Hawk,” Wanda explained. “It means just as much to me. I once lived under the name Gwen Stacy. That was the name I carried when Hawk and I met, when we came to understand each other, when we fell in love, and through all the years we spent together.”

She gave Reed one last smile.

“Goodbye, Mr. Stacy.”

Wanda turned into a cloud of scarlet mist and vanished.

Reed remained in the Oval Office, trying to make sense of what she had said.

What did she mean by living under the name Gwen Stacy?

More importantly—which Gwen Stacy?

The thought hit him hard enough to send him rushing from the office. He hurried back to the recently repaired building serving as the First Family’s temporary residence and found his ten-year-old daughter asleep in bed.

Only then did he breathe again.

Unfortunately, while Reed was breathing easier, several other people had stopped breathing altogether.

The following morning, Reed stepped outside after receiving an urgent message and found rows of bodies arranged across the lawn.

Every missing conspirator was there. Not one was absent.

Their families had been laid out beside them.

Wanda had given them a final family reunion.

“I’m not my husband,” Wanda announced from above the lawn, her Scarlet Witch armor glowing in the morning light. “But when my husband makes a promise, I make sure it is kept.”

Reed looked up at her as scarlet energy curled around her body.

“If you don’t want your world destroyed, listen carefully,” Wanda continued. “Because your name is Stacy, I’m giving you one final chance. Consider this your last ultimatum.”

Her voice turned cold.

“You have twenty-four hours to deliver the bodies of everyone who defended these people or helped conceal them. And don’t try to deceive a witch who knows exactly what she’s doing.”

Wanda’s crimson gaze swept across the people gathering outside the temporary residence.

“I know their names. I know where they are. They can run to the farthest corner of the planet, and I will still find them.”

She looked back at Reed.

“If you want your world to survive, give me their bodies. If I don’t see them within twenty-four hours, the next person who comes to speak with you will not be Mrs. Phoenix.”

Scarlet power flared around her.

“It will be Wanda—the Scarlet Witch.”

With that, she turned and vanished.

Word of the ultimatum spread through Washington within hours. Before long, it reached everyone who needed to hear it.

And that was why Professor X had appeared at the door of 521A Palm Street.