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Hawk pocketed his phone and turned his attention to the corpse burning beneath Phoenix Fire. His gaze flickered with contemplation.
The next second.
He shook his head and chuckled.
He'd caught Gwen's meaning in that phone call.
Essentially: Jean, Billy, and Tommy—these three children—I'm protecting them. Don't touch them.
Hawk had never intended to harm them anyway.
More accurately, he was indifferent to their existence.
If he'd truly harbored the dark thoughts Gwen feared, he wouldn't have merely brought Pietro back to S.H.I.E.L.D. New York.
One sentence summed it up.
Strucker had gifted him three children. Hawk didn't care.
But if Strucker thought he could use those three children as leverage? Hawk could only say the man was delusional.
Mephisto had once tried to use Hawk's beloved sister's soul as a bargaining chip. Even that hadn't made him yield.
What made Strucker think these three kids—products of science rather than love—would bring him to heel?
What was he thinking?
Hawk was genuinely curious about Strucker's mental state when he'd conceived this plan. What had convinced him this approach would work?
Did Strucker assume that because he himself could be threatened through his own son, Hawk would be equally vulnerable?
Speaking of which.
Strucker's son—
Hawk's thoughts churned. His eyebrow rose. A cold smile curved his lips. He turned and vanished from the world's largest shifting desert.
Natasha, standing nearby and about to speak, watched Hawk disappear before she could even open her mouth. Her jaw hung slack.
Meanwhile.
With Gwen's help, Pietro had been freed from his restraints. He'd taken Jean, returned to Paris, received Strucker's satellite call, then raced to the modified rendezvous point Strucker had specified.
After five such runarounds, he finally encountered a Hydra operative. The agent handed him and Jean each a bottle of sweetened water.
The moment they drank it, Pietro and Jean drifted into peaceful slumber.
Half an hour later, in an underground harbor, a submarine surfaced from the depths.
Far from this location—deep beneath the ocean—sat a massive underwater installation.
Six thick support columns radiated outward, anchoring the enormous base firmly to the seabed.
The entire structure was a muted silver-gray. Pressure-resistant composite armor plating covered its surface, embedded with countless explosion-proof portholes. Like an insect's compound eyes, they glowed with pale blue light in the ocean's depths.
Through one such window, a space identical to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s operations command center was visible.
A massive screen displayed a global satellite map. Countless red dots had once populated this map—but over the past year, they'd vanished at a visible rate.
Just then.
A Hydra operative received a message and turned toward the shadows behind him.
"Sir, Quicksilver and Jean have been retrieved. They're en route."
"Good."
A deep voice emerged from the shadows. A moment later, a man stepped into the light—gray-white hair slicked back impeccably, a monocle perched over one eye, his expression severe. An aura of gloom and cold radiated from him. This was Strucker. His voice matched his presence—equally frigid.
"Have we determined how Jean escaped?"
"Uh..."
The assistant who'd emerged from the shadows alongside Strucker hesitated, then looked at his superior.
"The damaged surveillance footage has been restored."
"Jean vanished suddenly. But before she disappeared, she said—and I quote—'Daddy hasn't visited in so long. He promised to come see me once a month.' Then she announced she was going to find Daddy. And then... she was gone."
"..."
Strucker listened to the report. The corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. "So she's already mastered the 'teleportation' ability the Demon King demonstrated?"
The assistant nodded.
"It appears so."
"What about Billy and Tommy?"
"They haven't displayed any anomalies. They seem to be... completely ordinary life forms."
"...That's fine."
Strucker was silent for a moment, then smiled. "Ordinary is good. With Billy and Tommy, we can control Wanda, Jean, and Pietro. And with those three, we can control the Demon King. By the way—now that the Demon King knows our plan, do you think he's furious enough to tear us apart with his bare hands?"
The assistant watched Strucker's face twist into a sickly smile as he spoke. He opened his mouth but said nothing.
Just then.
In the silent ocean depths, a submarine materialized without a sound, gliding slowly toward the cold seabed installation.
Half an hour later.
Pietro stirred awake. He'd apparently slept well—yawning as he opened his eyes, sitting up instinctively from the couch. That's when he noticed Strucker sitting on the adjacent sofa, sipping whiskey.
Strucker watched Pietro rise. He slid a pre-poured glass of whiskey toward him.
Pietro chuckled, grabbed the glass, took a sip, and looked at Strucker.
"Thanks."
"You met the Demon King."
"I did." Pietro nodded. Something occurred to him, and he looked at Strucker. "He's powerful. My speed meant nothing to him. But—he didn't seem as terrifying as you'd described."
Strucker's lips curved. He glanced at Pietro.
"That's because you weren't his enemy."
"So you're Hawk's enemy, then?"
"I wanted to work with him. He refused."
Strucker's tone remained level.
He said this—and he believed it. He'd made the same offer when Hawk had tracked him to Sokovia.
But Hawk had rejected his goodwill. Had told him to hide as far away as possible—or face a gruesome death.
Strucker understood perfectly that Hawk's threat wasn't bluster. It was absolute fact.
Best case: family annihilation.
Worst case: total extinction.
Since Hawk's debut, anyone who'd opposed him—or tried to provoke him—or even merely tested him—had ended up either with grass growing over their graves or their entire bloodline reduced to ash.
So—
Strucker would be lying if he claimed he wasn't afraid.
But!
Strucker was more afraid of Hawk remaining beyond their control.
One sentence summed it up.
Before Hydra takes over the world, we need you on our side.
After Hydra takes over the world, if we still need your cooperation—still have to please you, pamper you, watch your moods—then what was the point of all our efforts?
Bottom line.
They had to control Hawk.
What?
Alexander Pierce disagreed with this approach?
Please.
That rookie knew nothing about Hydra.
This was the unanimous view of Hydra's old guard. Power that couldn't be controlled was absolutely unacceptable.
So when the old-school Hydra leaders—himself, Dr. Zola, Whitehall, and Malick—had unanimously decided to find Hawk's weakness, they'd proceeded from one fundamental belief: everyone had a weakness.
And they'd found it.
Hawk's weakness was his family.
But—
The last person who'd disturbed his sister's eternal rest—Thaddeus Ross—had been wiped out, bloodline and all.
The last faction that had tried to use Gwen as leverage against Hawk—Wakanda—had been exterminated.
Hawk's sister was dead.
As for Gwen.
They hadn't dared touch Gwen. The risk was too high.
But that was fine. His sister was dead, his fiancée was untouchable—so they'd simply create new family members under their control to use as leverage.
According to their psychological profile, if they possessed Hawk's blood offspring, the probability of successfully using them as leverage approached ninety-nine percent.
So—
Strucker had done exactly that. And it had worked.
Using the blood Hawk had provided, they'd successfully extracted DNA, artificially synthesized gametes, and—after testing over twenty subjects—produced a baby carrying Hawk's bloodline.
Codename: Jean.
God's gift.
Meaning: This child was heaven's gift to help them control Hawk.
And it truly did seem like divine providence.
Out of all those experiments, only one had succeeded. Laboratory analysis had yielded a conclusion.
Hawk's life force was simply too powerful. Ordinary beings couldn't carry his offspring—couldn't even achieve conception.
Only Wanda—whose mental abilities had been expanded and enhanced by the Mind Scepter—possessed sufficient energy to bear Hawk's children.
The higher a being's life tier, the more exponentially difficult reproduction became.
Based on this laboratory conclusion, the probability of Gwen successfully bearing Hawk's children approached zero.
So—
This made Strucker even more confident that using their artificially created offspring as leverage would be essentially foolproof.
Back in Sokovia, he'd intended to tell Hawk exactly this.
The result? Hawk hadn't given him a chance to speak. Had simply told him to wash his neck and wait for death.
But no matter.
"Jean."
"Billy."
"Tommy."
"If you want offspring, then we can control you."
"Demon King."
"Our Hydra's Demon King."
Strucker maintained his calm expression, sipping his whiskey. In his mind, he was already envisioning Hawk—leveraged through the three children—working for them, helping them conquer the world.
Just then.
A ringtone chimed.
Not from Pietro. Not from Strucker. From the drawer of the office desk.
Strucker heard the phone and blinked in surprise. He looked at Pietro.
"You may go."
"..."
Pietro noticed Strucker's expression shift momentarily. He frowned but said nothing, rising and heading for the door.
Strucker also stood, walking toward the desk.
Just as Pietro opened the door and reached back to close it behind him, Strucker—checking the caller ID—let a smile crack his icy facade.
And in the instant Pietro pulled the door shut, Strucker's lowered voice seemed to reach his ears.
"Son."
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