"The scent of the San Venganza Contract—I won't miss my mark this time," Witches' Heart, dressed like a street thug, swaggered toward Constantine's position with a bowlegged gait. His form flickered, reappearing far ahead in an instant.
As Mephisto's son, Witches' Heart wielded formidable power. His pursuit of the San Venganza Contract was driven by its thousand pure souls—a prize that could grant him independence from Hell's lords, just as Mephisto's avatar sought freedom through it. In Hell, all souls were under the dominion of its rulers, stunting his growth for ages.
As Witches' Heart tapped his power, Hellboy sensed a familiar aura within his range. His mission was to eliminate this demon, so he urged the driver to follow the signal, loading his oversized custom revolver with bullets as his cigar trailed smoke.
Back at Constantine's side, Hawkeye's words had thoroughly ignited his temper. The relentless questioning eroded what little patience he had left. Kindness never strayed far from Constantine, but every costly deal with demons and angels brought him pain. He had no choice—merely a human caught between celestial and infernal forces.
Maintaining his usual smirk, Constantine decided to let these distrustful agents fend for themselves. If they managed to wipe out those vampires, fine—good riddance. Their lives meant little to him if they couldn't trust him. Beyond summoning demons, he wasn't powerless. If push came to shove, he could pay a steep "price" to force a demon's intervention—perhaps using their souls to bargain for Mephisto's avatar. He had more than one Ghost Rider up his sleeve, after all. But he loathed that path, especially with angels still prowling the mortal realm.
"Tony," Pepper said, perched on a rough chair, gazing at Tony Stark. She'd finally remembered they weren't in Stark Industries' pristine offices. Her phone buzzed incessantly—security teams were scrambling to reach her. The earlier chaos had thrown them into disarray. Tony preferred minimal escorts, leaving the security detail frantic over their safety.
As Pepper reached for her phone, the world fell silent. The ringing stopped abruptly, and an eerie stillness gripped the room. The sudden shift sent a wave of unease through her.
"You don't seem to be doing well," a voice said. The Ancient One appeared, standing calmly at the doorway.
Tony Stark, a genius scientist, possessed the potential to inherit the mantle of Sorcerer Supreme. Though the Ancient One favored Doctor Strange, the current uncertainty demanded flexibility, prompting her to approach Tony.
"Who are you?" Pepper asked, standing protectively in front of the still-drunk Tony. Her body trembled with fear of the unknown, but her resolve was ironclad.
"I'm the Ancient One. You may also call me the Sorcerer Supreme," she replied, stepping slowly toward Tony. She admired Pepper's courage but had little to do with her today.
"Stay there!" Pepper's fear peaked. She'd heard rumors of superhumans but never faced one. Despite the Ancient One's calm demeanor, Pepper couldn't trust her intentions.
"Do I seem like a villain?" the Ancient One said with a faint smile. "I only want to sober him up." She pointed at Tony, then appeared beside him in a blink, bypassing Pepper.
The moment Pepper lost sight of her, she spun around instinctively. Her trembling ceased, and she lunged forward.
"Calm down. I mean no harm," the Ancient One said, a deep, shadowy light flaring from her, holding Pepper in place. Tony lifted his head, the glow washing away his inebriation, restoring his clarity.
"What's going on?" Tony asked, spotting the Ancient One back at the doorway and Pepper frozen in place. Something was wrong. He stood, adopting an amateurish fighting stance.
"What did you do to her?" His heart pounded. Tony, unaccustomed to supernatural forces, felt a gnawing unease. No amount of wealth could protect him one-on-one against a desperate foe. Pride kept him from begging, but faced with death, he'd maintain his dignity.
"I just wanted you clear-headed. And to ask if you'd like to learn magic," the Ancient One said, her tone casual, as if discussing the weather.
She was weary of her role as Sorcerer Supreme, constantly guarding Earth against cosmic threats for centuries. Bul-Kathos's invitation had deepened her fatigue, but Earth needed a protector. Tony Stark, Strange, and even Loki of Asgard were potential successors. Long ago, peering into time, she'd seen Tony as Sorcerer Supreme—a promising outcome.
"Magic? You're saying you're a wizard? Where's your little wand?" Tony quipped, relaxing slightly when he saw no immediate threat, reverting to his sardonic charm.
The Ancient One waved her hand, and the room's reality flipped. The space twisted, though no dangers emerged. Tony and Pepper tumbled to the floor, disheveled but unharmed. Tony's resolve didn't waver.
"Magic isn't always what you imagine," she said. She knew her sudden appearance was jarring—Tony, not yet the Iron Man, lacked the openness he'd later gain. The world was on the cusp of a perilous era, but he wasn't ready.
"Tech could do that too," Tony said, staggering to his feet on what had been the ceiling, steadying himself against a wall as he scanned the altered space.
"Perhaps. But my purpose here is done," the Ancient One replied, waving again to restore the room to normal.
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