Christmas of 2013 was unlike any other.
In years past, Hawk had always spent the holiday at a gravestone, keeping his sister Anya company. She had been his only family in this world.
But this year was different.
This year, he had Gwen. His fiancée.
At their home on Palm Street, the fat snowman on the lawn still stood proudly, barely melted. Glowing reindeer decorations dotted the yard, and nutcracker soldiers flanked the porch, dressed in bright uniforms, rifles at the ready. Gwen had put it all together herself.
Inside was even more festive.
A small Christmas tree stood at the entryway. A full-sized tree from Jersey City decorated the living room, draped with ornaments, clay angels, beaded garlands, stars, and snowflakes. Miniature photos of Hawk and Gwen hung from the branches, including one picture Gwen had edited—a family of three, Hawk, Gwen, and Anya together.
At the top, the Star of Bethlehem shone proudly. Beneath the tree, colorful wrapped gifts piled high, waiting to be opened.
But the house was empty.
Hawk and Gwen had joined Thor and Jane Foster in Manhattan for a Christmas gathering. Tony Stark and Pepper Potts were there too.
In the kitchen, three women—one the world's most powerful CEO, one a renowned astrophysicist, and one a bright college student—chatted and laughed as they cooked together. Titles and status meant nothing; they fit easily side by side.
In the living room, the men relaxed.
Thor and Tony drank. Hawk did not—nineteen years old, still two years shy of the legal drinking age. The Hell's Tavern didn't count; that was another world's law entirely.
Instead, Hawk tried lifting Mjolnir from the coffee table. Thor sipped his beer, unbothered. No matter how powerful Hawk was, he couldn't move it. Not yet.
Because Mjolnir only yielded in three ways: through the hammer's recognition, through purity of heart and worthiness, or through sheer absolute strength—enough to lift a star itself.
And Hawk wasn't there yet.
Later, driving back home, Gwen glanced at him curiously. "You can fight Thor to a standstill so often… doesn't that make you his equal?"
"Pretty much," Hawk admitted. Ten bouts, evenly split when he didn't push beyond his small cosmos.
"Then… are you a god too?"
"No." He smiled. "If Thor fully commanded his divine power, I'd be lucky to win even once. I have Phoenix's rebirth and immortality, yes. But that doesn't make me a god."
Sixth sense had changed his life force, but true divinity required the ninth sense—the domain of gods. He wasn't close.
"Call it what you like," Hawk thought. "Even a false god is still a god."
Gwen pressed softly, recounting what she'd discussed with Jane: the gulf between mortals and gods. Mortals had a century at best. Gods endured forever. Jane feared what that meant for her and Thor.
"So that's what you're worried about?" Hawk asked.
But Gwen only smiled gently. "No. I'm glad I'll walk ahead of you. At least I won't have to grieve. You will."
Hawk froze. Then, through the car window, his eyes caught a familiar sight: a tavern that shouldn't exist here.
"Stop the car."
Gwen braked, confused. Hawk just smiled. "Wait here."
He stepped out, crossed the street, and opened the door to the Hell's Tavern. In Gwen's eyes, he vanished. She raised a brow, unsurprised. Her threshold for shock was already impossibly high.
Inside, Hawk breathed in the familiar aura of life and death. At a table, Mephisto raised a glass with a mocking smile.
"Merry Christmas, Hawk."
"Merry Christmas." Hawk clinked his glass. Then he asked, "Projecting Hell's Tavern right into New York, into Kamar-Taj's backyard—aren't you afraid the Sorcerer Supreme will thrash you again?"
Mephisto scoffed. "All she can do is loop me with the Time Stone. I was just too lazy to bother with her."
Hawk thought of Dormammu, broken by endless time loops. So Mephisto had been a victim too.
He cut to the point. "So. You changed your mind? You'll help me bring my sister back?"
Mephisto poured him more wine before answering, his tone calm but weary.
"Hawk, I thought you were smarter than this."
Hawk raised a brow. "Meaning?"
Mephisto leaned back, fingers laced, smiling thinly. "Freeing your sister's soul is easy. I won't risk angering a future god over one mortal girl."
Hawk stayed silent. He could feel the "but" coming.
And there it was.
"But—" Mephisto sighed, shaking his head helplessly. "If you want me to release her soul, you need a body to hold it first."
Hawk: "…"
(End of Chapter)
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