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The Christmas of 2013 was different.
In past years, Hawk spent the holiday at the cetery with his sister.
But this year... Hawk had a new family mber.
Gwen. His fiancée.
...
At their ho, the plump snowman on the lawn had yet to lt, standing its ground with stoic determination.
A glowing reindeer stood guard nearby.
The string lights along the porch were already twinkling, and two nutcracker soldiers in bright, festive uniforms stood at attention on either side of the front door, looking surprisingly cute.
Gwen had decorated everything herself over the past few days.
And if the outside was festive, the inside was a complete holiday transformation.
A small, decorative Christmas tree sat in the entryway.
In the living room, near the fireplace, stood a much larger tree they had just hauled back from Jersey City the day before. Its branches were already laden with a kaleidoscope of ornants.
There were clay angels and beaded garlands Gwen had made by hand.
Little angels, nutcrackers, snowflakes, and stars nestled among the branches.
Most importantly, Dozens of miniature frad photos of Hawk and Gwen were scattered throughout the tree. Tucked in the most prominent spot was a photoshopped picture Gwen had made, combining a photo of Hawk and his sister, with one of herself to create a portrait of the three of them—a family.
At the very top, the shining Star of Bethlehem stood sentinel.
Beneath it, a fluffy tree skirt was piled high with a mountain of brightly wrapped gifts of all shapes and sizes, just waiting to be torn open.
But the house was empty.
Hawk and Gwen weren't there.
They had accepted an invitation from Thor—who, like them, was on his own on Earth—to celebrate Christmas at the new district apartnt he shared with Jane in Manhattan.
Tony Stark and Ms. Pepper Potts were there, too.
...
In the small kitchen, three won were gathered: a CEO of the world's most valuable company, a world-renowned astrophysicist, and a college freshman.
There was no tension, no sense of hierarchy.
The atmosphere was warm and cheerful as they worked together, laughing and talking while preparing the holiday feast.
Pepper Potts needed no introduction—she was the brilliant woman who had quietly and patiently won the heart of the world's most infamous playboy.
Nor did Jane Foster—a woman who had captured the heart of a god.
And Gwen, well, Gwen was Gwen.
In the span of a single week, she had managed to befriend every single one of their new neighbors, to the point where they now made sure to invite her to every community event. There was nothing more to say.
Besides, this wasn't the first ti the three won had t.
When Thor and Jane had first returned to New York, they had imdiately organized a get-together. It was that very night, in fact, that a slightly drunk Thor, rembering his challenge with Hawk, had dragged him up into the atmosphere for their first sparring session.
In short—
The won were getting along splendidly in the kitchen.
The n, anwhile, were in the living room, drinking and swapping stories.
Well, mostly Thor and Tony were drinking.
Hawk wasn't.
Even after this Christmas, he was still only nineteen. He had two more years until he was of legal drinking age.
(PS: The legal drinking age in the United States is 21 years old for purchasing and consuming alcohol.)
The bar on the edge of life and death didn't count.
When in Hell, do as the devils do. There were no underage drinking laws there.
Right now, Hawk had his hand wrapped around Mjølnir, which was resting on the coffee table. He was trying to lift it.
Beside him, Thor casually sipped his beer, watching with a completely unconcerned expression. He didn't seem the least bit worried that Hawk might actually succeed.
And he was right not to be.
Even with his current strength—enough to lift a small mountain without breaking a sweat—Hawk couldn't move the hamr an inch.
After all, The hamr's head was forged from the heart of a dying star. Simply put, there were only two ways to lift Mjølnir.
The first was to be deed worthy by the hamr itself, like Thor or, in the future, Jane.
The second was to be pure of heart and righteous of spirit, eting the criteria for worthiness, like Captain Arica.
But there was a third way...
Absolute, overwhelming power.
If you could lift a star with one hand, you could lift Mjølnir.
But Hawk wasn't there yet.
...
On the drive ho later that night.
Gwen glanced at Hawk in the passenger seat. "Hawk, you've sparred with Thor so many tis. Does that an you're on the sa level as him?"
Hawk nodded. "I am."
In their ten sparring sessions, as long as he only burned his Cosmo and didn't unleash its full power, their record was an even five-and-five.
Gwen blinked.
"So, are you a God now?"
"No."
"Then you and Thor…"
"He hasn't fully mastered his Divine authority."
Hawk knew what she was getting at and smiled, explaining, "If Thor had complete control over his power as the God of Thunder, I'd be lucky to win one out of ten fights."
Even though he now possessed the twin authorities of the Phoenix—Immortality and Rebirth.
He was still not a God.
After awakening his Sixth Sense, the very nature of his existence had changed, but he was still a long way from Godhood. After all, even mastering the Eighth Sense was rely touching the edge of Divinity. Only by grasping the Ninth Sense could one truly be called a god.
Right now, Hawk was still a long way from even the Seventh Sense, let alone the Ninth.
Thor was in a similar position. They both held divine authority, but neither could bestow it upon others. Hawk's power of Rebirth couldn't be granted to anyone else, and Thor couldn't give his power of thunder away, either.
Hawk thought to himself with a small laugh, then looked at Gwen, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. "Why the sudden interest?"
Gwen's mouth opened, and she started to tell him about the conversation she, Jane, and Pepper had had in the kitchen.
It had been mostly Jane talking, describing the wonders she had seen during her day and night in Asgard. Sohow, the topic had shifted to the chasm between mortals and gods.
A mortal's life was fleeting, barely a century long.
But a god's was practically eternal. As long as they weren't killed, their lifespan was infinite.
"Jane seed… worried."
"She has every right to be."
Hawk chuckled. "King Odin, and all of Asgard, have always wanted Thor to marry one of their own—Sif. And Jane's right. A mortal life is barely a hundred years. Thor might spend a lifeti with her, but she can't spend an eternity with him."
As he said it, sothing clicked.
Hawk turned to look at Gwen. "Is that what you're worried about?"
Gwen t his gaze, a gentle smile on her face. "No. I'm just happy that I'll get to go before you. At least I won't have to grieve for you. You'll have to grieve for ."
Hawk was taken aback by her answer.
Suddenly—
He caught a glimpse of a familiar-looking bar out of the corner of his eye.
"Stop the car!"
Screech.
Gwen slamd on the brakes. She watched as Hawk stared out the window at an empty, demolished lot across the street, a confused look on her face. "What's wrong?"
Hawk snapped back to reality. He smiled at her. "Wait here for ."
With that, he unbuckled his seatbelt, pushed the door open, got out, and walked toward the Hell Bar that only he could see.
As Hawk pushed open the door to the bar, his physical form vanished from Gwen's sight.
Gwen saw it happen and just raised an eyebrow.
She wasn't surprised.
As she'd said before, her threshold for surprise had been raised to an impossibly high level.
...
As he expected, this place was a projection from phisto.
The mont he stepped inside, Hawk felt the familiar sensation of being on the edge of life and death. He saw phisto, already sitting at a table, raising a glass to him with a smile.
"rry Christmas, Hawk."
"rry Christmas."
Hawk sat down, picked up the glass waiting for him, and clinked it against phisto's. He then asked, a curious glint in his eye, "Aren't you afraid the Sorcerer Supre will co and beat you up again for projecting your bar into the sa city as Kamar-Taj?"
phisto scoffed. "What can she do, besides trap in a ti loop with the Ti Stone? I just got tired of dealing with her."
Hawk thought of Dormammu—the future victim of the Ti Stone.
So phisto was another one.
Hawk pushed the thought aside and got straight to the point. "Are you here because you've changed your mind? Can you resurrect my sister?"
phisto didn't answer right away. He refilled Hawk's glass, set the bottle aside, and then raised his own.
"Hawk, I always thought you were a smart man."
"Oh?"
Hawk raised an eyebrow, lifting his own glass to et phisto's. "What do you an?"
phisto downed his drink, leaned back against the sofa, and steepled his fingers, a smile playing on his lips. "Releasing your sister's soul is easy for . I have no reason to make an enemy of a future god over a single soul..."
Hawk said nothing. He knew there was a 'but' coming.
"But—"
phisto's tone shifted. A look of genuine frustration crossed his face as he shook his head. "If you want to release your sister's soul, you must first provide a vessel to place it in."
Hawk: "…"
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