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Mephisto—his face a portrait of suffering and desperate hope—heard those words and instantly lit up with joy.
"Fantastic! Hawk, I knew you'd—"
"The Western Hemisphere's deaths belong to me from now on."
"..."
The joy that had just blossomed on Mephisto's face froze solid. After processing this, he glared at Hawk with gritted teeth.
"You're kicking me while I'm down."
"No. I'm saving your life."
"We already had an agreement."
"I know."
Compared to the teeth-gnashing Mephisto, Hawk remained noticeably calmer. He looked at Mephisto. "But back then, I said I'd help you. This time, I'm saying I'll help you."
Mephisto blinked.
"What's the difference?"
"Before, I was playing support while you hunted down that Hell Angel. Now I'm carrying the whole operation solo. You can't expect me to do it for free."
"Tch!"
Mephisto listened to Hawk's perfectly reasonable argument. After his brain finished processing, he sucked in a sharp breath and stared at Hawk with an indescribable expression.
"You're more demon than I am."
"Thanks."
Hawk accepted Mephisto's compliment and looked at him honestly. "Actually, I was hoping you really had been colluding with Heaven. That would've been ideal—I could've swallowed both Heaven and Hell without any moral qualms."
Mephisto couldn't help but laugh and shake his head.
"But I wasn't colluding with Heaven. So you're disappointed?"
"Not exactly."
"..."
Mephisto stared silently at Hawk.
Hawk didn't look away.
Their eyes met.
The next second, Mephisto looked at Hawk's calm face and completely lost it.
"You're planning to double-cross me??"
"Relax."
Hawk glanced at Mephisto—who had vaulted over the bar and now stood with his back pressed against the liquor shelf—and chuckled. "Don't tell me you've never thought about double-crossing me."
Mephisto shook his head decisively. "I haven't."
Hawk said nothing. He just watched Mephisto quietly.
A moment passed.
Mephisto opened his mouth, then closed it without speaking. He walked back to the bar, filled both their glasses with Angel Whiskey, and picked up his own.
Hawk raised his glass as well.
The two clinked glasses in the air.
Mephisto drained his in one gulp, then sighed and looked at Hawk.
"At this point, I think we should both be honest with each other."
"I've always been honest."
Hawk smiled at Mephisto. "You're the one who shattered the foundation of trust."
The first time around, he'd genuinely believed in Mephisto.
And what happened?
This bastard had been eyeing his Phoenix divinity, even using his own son as bait to lure him in.
Mephisto heard this and laughed bitterly. Then he looked at Hawk.
"Trust me one more time. Please?"
"Sure."
"Really?"
Mephisto watched Hawk nod without hesitation, his eyes brightening. "You're really willing to help a brother out?"
Hawk chuckled. "If I wasn't planning to help, I wouldn't have come here to drink with you."
He had considered winner-takes-all.
Truly.
Right up until he'd arrived at the Hell dimension for drinks, Hawk had been weighing this question. Then he'd thought about Hydra.
Why had Hydra failed twice in its ambitions?
Two-front wars were suicide.
The Celestials backing Heaven's dimension.
Death backing Mephisto.
Hawk could afford to offend one of them. But not both at once.
Most importantly.
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
Death was too distant. The Celestials were too near.
Mephisto could die—but not now. Right now, Heaven lurked in the shadows while he and Mephisto stood in the open. If they started fighting each other, they'd only create more opportunities for Heaven.
Gwen had said it well.
As long as he maintained even a shred of goodwill and stayed level-headed, no matter how many schemes Heaven concocted, they'd all be useless against him.
So—
Hawk thought it through and ultimately decided to help Mephisto.
But!
"My goodwill only comes once."
Hawk drained the glass Mephisto had refilled, turned it upside down on the bar, and looked at Mephisto. "Don't disappoint me, Old Meph."
Mephisto's expression turned grateful. Watching Hawk rise, he thumped his fist against his chest, then pointed at Hawk.
The message was clear: Watch me, bro!
"By the way—how do you plan to find this developing Hell Angel?"
"Simple."
"Call in backup."
Hawk turned and walked toward the tavern's exit, waving over his shoulder without looking back. Then he pushed through the door and was gone.
The next day.
Hawk woke up early. First, he drove Gwen to Oscorp Biologics Tower.
Felicia was already waiting in the parking garage.
"Felicia."
"Hawk."
Felicia hugged Hawk as he stepped out of the car, then looked at him. "Want to come up and tour Dr. Stacy's lab?"
Hawk waved her off. "Can't. Got things to do."
Felicia said okay, then turned to Gwen beside her. "Dr. Stacy—ready to see your lab?"
Gwen smiled. "Absolutely. Can't wait."
Felicia nodded, then looked at Hawk. "We'll head up first. See you at lunch."
Today was the day after Little Ben's baptism. Tradition dictated that Peter and Felicia treat Hawk to a meal.
After all, he'd footed the bill for the entire ceremony.
Hawk said see you at lunch, then got back in the car. He drove the Audi A8 out of Oscorp Biologics Tower and headed toward Times Square.
Half an hour later.
"A woman who looks Italian."
"She should have a young boy with her."
"Oh, right."
"A priest."
"There should be a priest with these two. Black guy. And he carries a silver flask."
Having secured jurisdiction over the Western Hemisphere's deaths—with souls now flowing into his Underworld practically every second—Hawk didn't waste time. He sat in S.H.I.E.L.D. New York's top agent Sharon Carter's office, requesting support.
The Hell Angel Mephisto mentioned? Hawk had already formed some theories.
It was the kid from Ghost Rider 2.
But—
He'd forgotten the plot details. What he did remember vividly was that alcoholic priest.
Sharon looked down, jotting down the characteristics of the people Hawk was searching for. Then she looked up at him.
"Anything else?"
"Nope. That's everything."
"..."
A possibly Italian woman.
A kid.
A Black priest who drinks.
Sharon studied her notes. Her lips moved slightly, then she nodded. "Alright. I'll send these three characteristics to headquarters and have agents worldwide keep an eye out."
Hawk nodded.
"Thanks. Let me know the moment you find them."
"No problem."
Sharon didn't hesitate.
Ever since learning on the Atlantic—from Hawk himself—that Heaven was gearing up for a divine war against Hell and Hawk...
The Big Five had been even more proactive than Hawk.
Put it this way.
For the Big Five, God could exist. God could even be real. But God absolutely could not show up on Earth.
One sentence summed it up.
The Big Five weren't having it.
After all, the old bastard had been gone for ages. The Big Five ran things now. Why was he suddenly trying to come back?
Setting everything else aside—if God actually returned to Earth, who would call the shots? God? Or the Big Five?
So—
More than Hawk and Mephisto combined, the ones who least wanted God's return were the Big Five.
That was why they'd immediately deployed their intelligence networks to search for anyone who might be a "Hell Angel."
Unfortunately, Hawk hadn't provided much detail at the time, so their search had been like blind men feeling an elephant.
But now?
Hawk's description was still sparse, but at least there were leads. A needle in a haystack beat groping in the dark.
Sharon figured the Big Five would be thrilled when this intel reached them.
Soon.
Having secured his backup, Hawk didn't linger in Sharon's office.
But as he walked with Sharon toward the parking garage, he suddenly spotted a familiar face.
"Hawk!"
"Jane!"
It was Thor's girlfriend—Jane Foster.
Hawk hugged Jane briefly, then looked at her curiously. "What brings you here today?"
Jane closed the folder in her hands and shrugged.
"Director Hill said they declassified some astronomy files. Asked if I wanted to take a look. So here I am."
"Where's Thor?"
Seeing Jane made Hawk think of Thor. Thinking of Thor reminded him of the Gold Cloth materials he'd already gathered—all he needed now was a divine blacksmith to forge them.
But since he hadn't broken through to the Seventh Sense yet, Hawk wasn't in a rush to have Thor introduce him to the Dwarf King.
Still, he valued his friendship with Thor. Whether the Dwarf King would help depended entirely on the God of Thunder.
Jane smiled.
"You'd have to ask Sharon about that."
"Ask Sharon?"
Hawk turned to Sharon standing beside them.
Sharon smiled. "Thor's an Avenger. The team's been busy mopping up Hydra remnants worldwide. Thor's loving it—especially the part where they all get together for drinks after missions. He says it reminds him of post-battle celebrations in Asgard."
Hawk blinked.
"Why wasn't I invited?"
"Uh..."
Sharon hesitated.
Jane beside her smiled. "You want the truth or the polite version?"
Hawk raised an eyebrow at Jane.
"The polite version is..."
"You're too high-level. Thor said they'd only call you in when they hit something they can't handle."
"And the truth?"
"Thor said you're not twenty-one yet on Earth. You can't legally drink. No point inviting you if you can't join the party."
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