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Strucker's Vibranium frame was utterly demolished.
His right arm had simply ceased to exist—vaporized entirely by Hawk's attack.
His left shin had split wide open.
Even his skull was only half-intact—cleaved at an angle as if someone had taken an axe and hacked away one side of his head.
As for those nanobots that were supposed to repair his Vibranium body instantaneously?
Please... Against a Saint—especially a Silver Saint standing half a step into Gold territory—such tricks were laughable. It was like claiming the same technique could work twice on a Saint.
However—
Strucker wasn't dead yet. The Mind Stone embedded in his chest remained intact, radiating its power, anchoring his soul to this ruined shell.
Hawk gripped Strucker by the throat.
"This pile of scrap metal—and your delusion that you could use my children as leverage—equally pathetic."
"Heh... heh... heh..."
Strucker's voice came out distorted and broken—half his head was missing, after all. Air whistled through gaps that shouldn't exist.
But he was laughing.
"You think you've won?"
"If I remember correctly—S.H.I.E.L.D.'s satellite is watching this very spot."
"Your fiancée must be watching too."
"I wonder—did she see the moment you murdered your own three children?"
Strucker's remaining half-lip twitched. The single blue pinprick of light still functioning in his faceplate fixed on Hawk. His broken voice carried an unmistakable edge.
"What do you think she's feeling right now—after watching you kill your own children with your own hands?"
Hawk's golden pupils regarded Strucker with cold indifference.
"So that's your final play?"
"Heh... heh... heh!"
Strucker's laughter had a strange electronic distortion to it now.
"I can't wait. Can't wait to see the look on your fiancée's face when you come home."
Inside S.H.I.E.L.D.'s central command hub in New York.
Sharon watched the main screen—Hawk standing there like the lord of the underworld descended to earth. Hearing Strucker's words, she glanced instinctively toward Gwen.
Gwen seemed to sense the look and turned to meet Sharon's gaze.
"Gwen..."
"I believe in Hawk."
"Hm?"
Gwen turned back to the main screen, her expression soft.
"He's never let me down."
Hawk heard Strucker's taunt. His eyes narrowed slightly.
Strucker wheezed out another broken laugh.
But the next second!
The corner of Hawk's mouth curved upward into a mocking smile. The gold faded from his pupils, revealing his natural deep blue—now glinting with unmistakable amusement as he regarded the man in his grip.
"Care to guess whether I actually killed those three children?"
Strucker stared into Hawk's amused eyes.
His laughter died instantly.
At that very moment.
An invisible streak of light shot through the air with a soft whoosh—phasing through S.H.I.E.L.D.'s surface building as if it didn't exist—before materializing inside the central command hub in a burst of white light.
What followed were two distinct sounds of bodies hitting the floor.
THUD!
"Ow! My back!"
"Hssss!"
"Wanda..."
The instant they'd begun falling, Pietro had already slipped into the Speed Force. With Jean secure in his arms, he caught Wanda—who was holding Billy and Tommy—before she could hit the ground.
Only the S.H.I.E.L.D. pilot Mark and his fellow operative actually ate the full impact, sprawling across the floor in an undignified heap.
Every operative in the command center turned to stare at the new arrivals. The air went silent for a heartbeat.
Then—
Every gaze flickered to the main screen, where Hawk still held Strucker by the throat. Then back to the pilot climbing to his feet. Then to Pietro holding Jean. Then to Wanda cradling Billy and Tommy.
Understanding dawned.
The room erupted in thunderous applause.
Sharon and Gwen had already pushed through the crowd the instant they'd heard the commotion, arriving before the group that had materialized out of nowhere.
"Commander!"
The two operatives who'd just face-planted scrambled upright and snapped to attention the moment they saw Sharon.
Sharon's eyes went wide. She stared at the living, breathing people in front of her—scarcely able to believe what she was seeing.
After all—
Just moments ago, she'd watched Hawk detonate the S.H.I.E.L.D. aircraft with her own eyes. She'd seen the pilot still in his seat when it happened.
And yet—
Sharon suddenly remembered what Gwen had said. Her gaze drifted toward her.
And she saw—
Gwen had extended her right hand.
As her palm opened, countless microscopic particles—too small to see with the naked eye—began flowing from Wanda, Pietro, the two operatives, and from the spot where the white light had faded. Like tiny streams converging into a river, they gathered into her palm.
In the blink of an eye.
The Andromeda Cloth necklace had reformed in Gwen's hand.
Only—
The Cloth was now covered in a dense web of fractures. Its luster had vanished entirely, leaving it dull and lifeless. The sense of vitality it had once possessed—that feeling of a living thing—was gone. It had become nothing more than a dead object.
Gwen gazed at the reassembled necklace in her palm—looking as though it might shatter completely at the slightest touch. Her mind drifted to a memory.
A conversation with Hawk.
It had happened after she'd learned that Hydra was using fragments of Hawk's Cloth to try replicating Saint technology.
Just as she'd told him—very seriously—that he wasn't allowed to sell his blood anymore.
She'd also told him—equally seriously—that if his Cloth ever shattered again, he wasn't to leave the pieces lying around like he had in London.
Bring them back. Give them to her. She would handle it.
Hawk had remembered.
Gwen's fingers tightened around the Andromeda Cloth. Then she turned toward the main screen—toward Hawk.
At that moment, Hawk had already received the Andromeda Nebula Chain's returning signal.
Admittedly—
His current power shouldn't have been enough to teleport several people from the Atlantic all the way to New York.
But, The Andromeda Cloth's inherent power, combined with his own Cosmo at the moment of eruption, had made it theoretically possible.
The key word being theoretically.
In theory, Hawk could channel the power of his Cosmo explosion through the disintegrating Andromeda Cloth, using it as a medium to envelop everyone aboard the aircraft. In that split second, he'd pushed his Sixth Sense to its absolute limit, guiding the Cloth-wrapped group through space to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters in New York.
Hawk admitted there'd been an element of gambling involved.
But the situation had already been terrible. And he would never—under any circumstances—allow anyone to think he could be threatened.
Worst case scenario? Wanda, Pietro, and the three kids would all end up reunited in the Underworld.
It was his Underworld, after all.
So—
Why not roll the dice?
The result had been favorable.
He'd won.
Strucker stared into Hawk's amused eyes. A flicker of panic shot through his consciousness—quickly suppressed—as he glared back.
"You're bluffing."
"Heh."
Hawk heard this and retracted his faceplate, revealing his face. He regarded the half-skulled Strucker, then reached beneath his Surplice with his left hand and pulled out his phone. He dialed Gwen.
The call connected almost instantly.
"Hawk..."
"Gwen—did they make it?"
"They did. Seven people. All safe and sound."
Gwen's voice came through the speaker.
Strucker's composure shattered completely.
"Impossible! They're dead! Your fiancée killed them herself—"
"Yo."
Pietro's voice cut through the phone.
"Sorry to disappoint, Strucker. We're not dead."
Strucker heard Pietro's voice.
His mind went blank.
Hawk ended the call, pocketed his phone, and turned his attention back to the thing in his grip.
"I told you. The idea that you could threaten me with children—laughable."
"Heh... heh... heh..."
Strucker stared blankly at Hawk. His broken laughter gradually twisted into something venomous.
"Hawk Phoenix."
"You win. But I will curse you from Hell."
"Hell?"
"Heh."
Hawk regarded the wreck before him.
"You won't be going to Hell. And believe me—death isn't the end for you. It's where my torment begins. You'll spend eternity in my Underworld, suffering whatever I see fit to inflict."
With that.
Hawk was done talking. His right hand thrust forward—five fingers plunging directly into Strucker's chest.
The agony of having fingers driven through his torso ripped a shrill scream from Strucker.
The next second.
CRUNCH!
Hawk's fingers closed around the Mind Stone. With a single, brutal yank, he tore it free from Strucker's chest.
Then his right hand released.
Strucker—his countdown to oblivion now started the instant the Mind Stone had been extracted—plummeted toward the island below in freefall.
CRASH!
The moment Strucker's shattered frame struck the island's surface, a plume of dust exploded skyward. In that same instant, his soul was wrenched from his body and dragged into Hawk's Underworld.
Just as Hawk had promised.
Death wasn't the end of Strucker's suffering. It was the beginning.
Once things settled here, Hawk would have all the time in the world for a nice, long chat with his new guest.
But for now—
The Mind Stone took priority.
Hawk raised his right hand, examining the gem he'd ripped from Strucker's chest.
The rhombus-shaped Mind Stone pulsed with self-generated blue radiance.
Brilliant.
Mesmerizing.
And—
Intoxicating.
Hawk realized that simply holding the Mind Stone had caused the gateway to the Seventh Sense to tremble—as if something had stirred it from its slumber.
'Just as I thought.'
The path to the Seventh Sense—and the Infinity Stones are the key.
Hawk felt the Stone's power coursing through him. The thought crystallized in his mind.
Just then.
The ocean surrounding the island began to churn—boiling and frothing without warning.
The next second.
A voice erupted from the depths—dripping with hatred, as though rising from the abyss itself—thundering across the entire Atlantic.
"HAWK PHOENIX—"
"I WANT YOU DEAD!!!"
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~# 70 Advanced Chapters Available on my Patreon!
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