Chapter 193: [297] - Hawk: "Turnabout Is Fair Play!" - Marvel: The Awakened One

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Hawk's voice was soft.

But—

The phantom of the Black Phoenix projected behind him, overlapping with his silhouette as if they'd merged into one. The phoenix's obsidian talons seemed to fuse with his right arm—five fingers clamped onto Shuri's face like curved claws of death.

Between those tightening fingers, accompanied by Shuri's screams, blood had already begun to seep.

"MY LADY!"

"PRINCESS!"

"Shuri..."

Namor gripped his trident, staring at his wife whose life now hung on Hawk's whim. His eyes bulged with barely contained fury—twin infernos blazing at the man before him.

Hawk's golden pupils remained utterly devoid of emotion.

The logic was simple.

They'd thrown the first punch. They couldn't complain when he hit back harder.

Strucker had tried to use his children as leverage—so Hawk had struck first and killed Strucker's son.

Sure, Werner von Strucker had been completely ignorant of his father's schemes.

But—

The kid had enjoyed all the benefits of being Strucker's son. If he could accept the good, he could accept the consequences too.

So Hawk felt zero guilt about killing him.

The same applied to Namor now.

Since Namor had just tried to attack the S.H.I.E.L.D. aircraft carrying his three children, it was only fair that Hawk return the favor—two lives for three.

An eye for an eye.

That's right.

Two lives.

Shuri was pregnant.

Hawk had sensed it from the start—the moment he'd engaged Strucker, he'd detected Namor's presence lurking nearby, along with another aura. Unfamiliar, yet somehow recognizable.

That second presence had been too far away. If Hawk had moved to intercept immediately, there was a strong chance she would have escaped.

So instead—

Hawk had played along. He'd baited the trap, let himself appear wounded and cornered. And the moment the Wakandan remnant hiding in the distance saw her opportunity and showed herself?

He'd reeled her in.

An unexpected bonus, really.

Shuri's pregnancy was precisely why Namor hadn't dared attack.

After Shuri had saved Namor with the Heart-Shaped Herb, one thing had led to another—and now she carried his child.

Namor had been overjoyed.

Because just as Strucker had said earlier—the higher one's life tier, the harder it became to produce offspring.

Higher life forms required more energy to sustain themselves.

A banker's son becomes a banker.

A politician's son becomes a politician.

By the same logic—

A god's child would also be a god.

So if deities bred like rabbits, the Marvel universe would be crawling with gods by now.

Just look at Odin.

How long had the All-Father ruled the Nine Realms? Millions of years might be an exaggeration, but ten thousand was a conservative estimate.

And how many children did he have?

Thor?

Loki?

Hela?

Setting aside that Loki was adopted and Hela had been imprisoned—that was three kids in ten thousand years.

That alone demonstrated how difficult divine reproduction truly was.

In short—

Namor hadn't hesitated because of Shuri. He'd hesitated because of the child in her womb.

He hadn't wanted her anywhere near this fight.

He'd agreed to let Shuri bring her Vibranium aircraft to observe—but he'd never authorized her to join the battle.

It was only when Shuri had seen Hawk apparently overwhelmed by Namor and Strucker's combined assault that memories of her slaughtered family had flooded back. In that moment of blind rage, she'd charged in.

And now—

There was no "and now."

Their eyes met.

Namor stared into the absolute, frigid indifference of Hawk's golden pupils. His mind raced through every option.

The next second.

He drew a deep breath. His knees began to bend.

At that moment—

"Don't fall for it!"

"Namor!"

Just as Namor was about to kneel—to barter for his child's survival—Strucker's furious roar cut through the air.

"This bastard has no humanity! Even if you kneel, he won't spare your wife!"

Namor might not understand Hawk.

But Strucker did.

More importantly, Hawk had just crushed Wanda, Pietro, and his own three children right in front of them.

All to avoid being threatened. All to free his hands to deal with them.

So!

A monster willing to murder his own children without blinking—would he really show mercy just because someone knelt?

Impossible.

At this point, Strucker's moral compass actually felt superior to Hawk's. Compared to this demon, Strucker considered himself a saint.

Namor—already halfway to kneeling—heard Strucker's warning. His eyes snapped back to Hawk, burning with renewed intensity.

"Promise me you'll release my wife—and I'll kneel!"

"You don't get to negotiate with me."

Hawk's tone was ice. His fingers dug deeper into Shuri's face, drawing another agonized scream. Those golden eyes regarded Namor with absolute contempt.

"Kneel—or die."

"..."

Namor's left fist clenched. His right hand strangled the trident's shaft. He stared at the demon before him—killing intent so thick it was nearly tangible—then looked at Shuri, her screams growing weaker by the second.

He drew a shuddering breath.

Ignoring Strucker's continued protests—

THUD!

Namor dropped to his knees in mid-air, prostrating himself before Hawk. For the sake of his unborn child, he bowed his head.

"I'm sorry. I was wrong."

"You're not sorry for what you did..." Hawk's voice was distant, detached. "You're only sorry because your wife and child are about to die."

Namor's head snapped up, eyes blazing.

"I knelt! Now let Shuri go!"

"Sure."

Hawk's response was flat.

His right hand—still gripping Shuri's face like a talon—contracted.

After all—he'd never said kneeling would save her life.

The next second.

Shuri's head burst like a watermelon.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

"NOOOOOOO—!"

The moment Shuri's skull exploded, a grief-stricken howl tore from Namor's throat.

But his scream didn't last long.

Because the next instant, the kneeling Namor was sent flying by a savage kick.

"Catch!"

WHAM!

The moment Hawk crushed Shuri's skull, he flung the headless corpse toward Namor. In the same motion, his right leg drove forward like a thunderbolt—slamming into Namor just as he instinctively caught his wife's body.

In that instant.

Shuri's headless corpse shattered into fragments. And Namor—still clutching those remains—was launched like a meteor toward the ocean below.

SPLASH!

Namor hit the water like a falling comet.

The next second.

Hawk's eyes blazed with black light. His gaze swept across the Vibranium aircraft still hovering nearby—their pilots frozen in shock at their princess's gruesome death.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

As Hawk's dark radiance swept past, aircraft after aircraft detonated into fireballs. The souls of every Wakandan remnant plunged directly into the depths of his Underworld.

"SHIT—!"

The chain of explosions thundered through the sky—finally snapping Strucker out of his stupor. He'd been paralyzed by Hawk's ruthlessness and sheer brutality.

The instant Strucker regained his senses, he found himself staring directly into a pair of golden eyes—cold beyond measure—fixed upon him.

His heart seized.

The next second.

He turned and fled. No hesitation whatsoever.

There was no other choice.

Faced with someone who didn't flinch at threats—who would crush his own children to avoid being leveraged, who could pop Shuri's head without batting an eye—Strucker finally understood why other Hydra cells called Hawk a Demon King.

Moments ago, he'd wanted to avenge his son.

Now—

He just wanted to get as far away as possible.

But!

"Running now?"

"Too late!"

Hawk watched Strucker's fleeing form and let out a cold laugh. His body flickered—and in an instant, he'd closed the distance. He watched Strucker desperately trying to escape, and his right fist shot forward.

"BLACK—"

"PHOENIX WING RISE!"

SCREEEECH!!!

As Hawk's fist thrust outward, a colossal Black Phoenix erupted from its tip, blotting out the sky. In a heartbeat, obsidian talons seized Strucker—and dragged him downward like a falling meteor toward a small, uninhabited island in the Atlantic below.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

The Black Phoenix clutched Strucker as it streaked across the heavens like a lance of dark fire—then slammed into the island's central rock formation with cataclysmic force.

In that instant.

A terrifying, overwhelming shockwave exploded outward from the impact point, spreading in all directions like an expanding ring of destruction.

Sand. Palm trees. Ancient reef formations.

Everything on the island was ground to powder beneath that apocalyptic blast wave—swept up and hurled outward in a screaming wall of debris.

Black flames rolled across the island like liquid fire, consuming everything in their path.

When the phantom of the Black Phoenix finally faded—

When the devastating explosion finally subsided—

Where the island's central peak had once stood, there was now only a massive crater. A chasm that seemed to have no bottom.

Seawater from beneath the island was already rushing in, cascading downward in roaring waterfalls.

And Strucker—

He lay at the very bottom of that abyss, his body shattered and broken. His eyes stared upward, wide and helpless, as seawater gradually filled the crater—rising to engulf him—drowning him.

Hawk hovered above the ruined island. The phantom of the Black Phoenix loomed behind him. Golden eyes, cold as death, gazed down upon the pit below like a god passing judgment.

The next second.

His right hand opened. Fingers curled into a grasping claw.

WHOOSH!

Strucker—lying broken at the bottom of the crater, the Mind Stone still embedded in his chest—was yanked upward as if pulled by invisible strings. The instant Hawk's hand formed that claw, Strucker's battered form shot into his grip.

And now—

Strucker's condition—

Could only be described as utterly, completely pathetic.

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