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A written contract?
Mephisto's words were the last thing Johnny wanted to hear.
The moment he said them.
Johnny, who'd been thrilled at the prospect of bringing his father back, felt like someone had dumped ice water over his head. His mind shot back to the last time Mephisto had made him an offer—the twisted wording, the sneaky loopholes that had trapped him completely.
Instantly, The desperate hope that had clouded his judgment vanished. He stared at Mephisto.
"You're trying to trick me again."
"No."
Mephisto shook his head, his gentlemanly smile never wavering as he looked at Johnny. "This time, I give you my word. I will not deceive you."
And in that moment, he meant it.
As for the future?
Well, the Mephisto of the future breaking a promise had nothing to do with the Mephisto making one right now.
It was the same kind of promise he'd made to Hawk—that he would release Hawk's sister's soul as soon as a new body was found.
It was all just a ploy to lure Hawk to this demonic patch of land in Texas.
The part about his wayward son, Blackheart, escaping Hell to find the four Elementals and build a new Hell with his command of death? That was true.
And his desire for Hawk to help him stop Blackheart? Also true.
But—
His desire to claim Hawk's soul for himself was just as real.
No one could refuse the soul of a god, especially a god who wasn't quite a god yet.
In a word:
His place could be usurped.
Being the Dimension Lord of a death dimension wasn't so bad, but Mephisto felt that becoming a True God would open up so many more opportunities for him.
Besides, the divine power over life and death was unlike any other. Even if Mephisto managed to drag every living soul in the universe into his Hell dimension, he could never become a true god.
Because the mantle of Life and Death already had an owner.
And that owner was a Cosmic Entity.
Death.
One of the five primordial beings of the universe.
Death was the abstract embodiment of the concept of death, its very personification. She was the master of souls—the source, creator, and controller of every soul in the multiverse.
In short, As long as Death existed, Mephisto would forever be a mere Dimension Lord, never a true god.
But, That time Hawk had achieved his rebirth, when he had touched the border between life and death, Mephisto had seen an opportunity. An idea had begun to form.
If he could obtain Hawk's soul, he could extract the divine powers of Immortality and Rebirth. With those, he could finally become a true god.
So, from the moment he first met Hawk on that metaphysical plane, he had been laying his trap.
For example, the drinks he had offered Hawk.
There was nothing special about the wine itself. It was perfectly safe. In fact, drinking it would even strengthen one's soul.
That was because the wine was made from souls.
And because of that, until Hawk fully processed it, his own soul would not be purely his own. It would be tainted.
From there, Mephisto's plan was simple: find an opportunity to reap Hawk's soul. If Hawk's soul fell into Hell for even a single second, Mephisto would have the means to keep it there forever.
And now, an opportunity had presented itself.
His son, Blackheart, had escaped Hell through the same momentary opening the Hell Witch had used to summon Anya's spirit. At first, Mephisto had been furious. But then he had realized this was his chance.
So, he appeared once more and successfully tricked Hawk into coming to Texas, ostensibly to capture his rebellious son, but in reality, to give him the chance to steal his soul.
And the key to that plan was standing right in front of him: Johnny Blaze, bound to him by a Soul Contract.
Of course, Johnny, as a mere mortal, could never reap the soul of a god. But the Spirit of Vengeance he had bonded Johnny to certainly could—
—Years ago, during his own battle with the Spirit of Vengeance, Mephisto himself had nearly had his soul torn out by the Penance Stare.
As for Hawk, a little fledgling god whose divine power was already suppressed by that tainted wine—all it would take was one look from the Penance Stare.
Reaping his soul would be over in an instant.
But all of this depended on one thing.
Johnny had to cooperate.
If Johnny resisted, the entire plan could backfire spectacularly.
But that was no problem. If Mephisto could fool Johnny once, he could certainly fool him a second time!
...
And just as he'd predicted.
Hearing Mephisto's earnest, heartfelt guarantee, the hope in Johnny's heart, which had just been extinguished, began to beat wildly again.
He swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on Mephisto.
"For real?"
"I swear it."
Mephisto smiled and held out his right hand. A scroll of parchment materialized and flew toward Johnny. "I swear on my name as the Lord of Hell, this contract contains no hidden clauses, no fine print you cannot see. Read it for yourself."
Johnny took the parchment. He took a deep breath, the painful memory of the first time he was deceived fresh in his mind, and began to read the contract, word by agonizing word.
It was exactly as Mephisto had said.
The contract stated that if he could bring Mephisto the specified soul, his father's soul would be released.
There were no tricks in the wording, no microscopic text hidden between the lines.
Johnny took another deep breath and looked up.
"This specific soul… who is it?"
"Hawk."
Mephisto smiled, using hellfire to project an image of Hawk. "Bring his soul to Hell, and your father's soul will be released."
He said "released," not "resurrected."
Johnny's father's soul was currently locked in a soul cage in Hell. Releasing him from that cage was still a release. Just like he had promised Hawk.
The only difference was one was house arrest, the other was solitary confinement.
So—
He, Mephisto, had not lied!
Johnny stared at the image of Hawk. "Who is this Hawk, and why do you want his soul?"
Mephisto seemed to know what he was thinking. "He is a very bad man. I can assure you of that."
To prove his point, Mephisto opened his hand again.
An image appeared in the hellfire—showing Hawk's rampage at the Quantico facility, leaving the entire base in ruins.
Then another, showing Hawk in Wakanda.
The souls of countless slain Wakandans seemed to rise from the flames, crying out to Johnny, accusing Hawk of his crimes.
...
Johnny watched the projections. One of his questions was answered, but seeing Hawk's explosive power made him suck in a sharp breath.
"I can bring you his soul. But… look at him. Do you really think I'm strong enough to even get close to him?"
"You are."
Mephisto's gentlemanly smile didn't change, but the hellfire on his palm suddenly shifted, turning from orange to a spectral blue. "With the Hellfire I have given you, you will have the power."
This was another reason he'd lured Hawk to Texas.
Texas was the closest point on Earth to his dimension of Hell. Only here could the Spirit of Vengeance unleash its full power.
And at the same time…
The ambient energy of his dimension could suppress any non-Hellish powers in the area.
It was just a matter of degree.
But that didn't matter. With one power rising and the other falling, Mephisto could already see it—the moment he would finally become a true god.
...
"Achoo!"
Just as the S.H.I.E.L.D Chevrolet SUV he was riding in with Sharon entered the town of Fort Stockton, population nine thousand, Hawk felt a familiar yet alien energy wash over him, and he couldn't help but sneeze.
Sharon, sitting beside him, offered a blessing. "God bless you."
"Thanks."
Hawk replied automatically. He then opened all six of his senses and immediately noticed something strange.
Back in New York, he could effortlessly blanket the entire city in his consciousness.
But here, in this tiny Texas town of less than nine thousand people, covering an area of barely five square miles, his senses were struggling to expand.
It felt as if… His power was being suppressed.
Hell.
Hawk analyzed the source of the strange aura and came to a quiet conclusion.
He also confirmed something he already suspected: you couldn't trust a single word that came out of Mephisto's mouth—not even the punctuation.
At that same moment, he felt another presence rapidly approaching.
Hawk opened his eyes and turned to Sharon. "Right, what was the name of the hotel you're staying at?"
Sharon, slightly taken aback, told him the name.
Hawk nodded. "Another Elemental is on its way. I'll take care of it and meet you at the hotel. Don't follow me. You'll get killed."
With that, he vanished from the car.
The S.H.I.E.L.D agent driving reflexively jerked the wheel but, thanks to his training, quickly regained control of the SUV.
Sharon just sighed after a brief moment of shock. "Let's just go back to the hotel."
For some reason, she had a feeling that her plans to see Johnny Blaze's motorcycle stunt show tomorrow night were probably not going to happen.
And… A vacation?
Some vacation this was.
Time to get back to the hotel and file a report with the Director.
...
When Hawk reappeared, he was already outside the town. He shot into the air, becoming an invisible blur as he streaked toward the desert badlands.
His sister had died in the crossfire of a battle between two monsters in the middle of a city. Whenever a fight was about to happen, he instinctively moved it away from populated areas.
Soon, Hawk landed in a desolate valley in the middle of the desert.
At the same time, the presence that had been chasing him finally revealed itself. But it didn't come from the sky. It came from the ground.
RUMBLE-RUMBLE-RUMBLE!
The ground shook, and the sand began to rise, and in the blink of an eye, coalescing into the form of a man made of earth.
The Earth Elemental.
The demon known as—
Gressil.
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