Back at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, Hela still had no idea how things ended. The footage had just cut off—abrupt, jarring—as the spacecraft plummeted from the sky like a rock.
Maybe the government pulled the plug. Maybe it was censorship nonsense. Either way, she didn't really care. Things seemed to have played out the way they were meant to.
Her connection to Viper remained intact, even if that whole "contract" business was just decorative fluff. Honestly, she hadn't bound Viper to anything. She'd merely granted her access to a fragment of Hel's energy—like how Dormammu or the Vishanti lend their power to mortals. The difference? No deals, no bargains, no strings.
The issue was simple: the energy sat dormant in Viper's body, waiting. Viper couldn't harness it, not without knowledge of the spells, rituals, or metaphysical structure. It was like giving someone a loaded gun but not teaching them how to shoot. Still, if she ever faced death… it'd activate. It would protect her.
Hela wasn't worried. She trusted in her power. If she couldn't earn someone's loyalty without manipulation or mind games, then maybe she didn't deserve it. Better to fade into nothing than live as a pretender god clinging to fear.
Right now, her focus was back on Jean.
Over the past week, she'd basically been glued to the redhead's side—watching, observing, analyzing. Every expression, every whisper of emotion. And... yeah. She had to admit it—she'd been full of crap.
Jean wasn't the ticking time bomb she'd thought she was. She was just a lonely girl, broken in places no one could see, whose last real friend had probably been a decade ago. She wore cool detachment like armor, but underneath it all? She just wanted someone—anyone—to truly see her.
Seriously, who treats a literal ghost like a friend for a week unless they're desperate for connection?
Maybe if Charles hadn't tampered with her so early, things would've played out differently. That's what it looked like, anyway. Too bad the fool had no idea what kind of force he was meddling with. By the time he started building those mental walls and artificial restrictions, the damage had already been done.
Mind. Body. Soul. Scarred in all the wrong ways.
And because of that, Jean never got the chance to become what she was meant to be—the perfect host for the Phoenix Force.
Now? All Hela could do was try to help her embrace that power—embrace the dark, the light, the storm in-between. If not… well, say hello to Dark Phoenix.
And if it were up to her, she'd drag Jean down to Hel and be done with it. But that shiny-headed old woman would probably remind her real fast why Earth's gods tended to stay in their lanes.
Hela still wasn't sure why the Ancient One hadn't stepped in yet. Maybe she didn't know. Maybe she was just watching. Or maybe she wasn't even on Earth right now. That was the most troubling possibility.
Whatever the case, Hela wasn't about to poke that particular hornet's nest. She wasn't in the mood for beef with that woman—or man—or whatever she was. Not when she was still trying to move freely on this realm.
"Ugh, is it really too much to ask?" she muttered, lost in her own head. "I just want a body. Be free. Not bother anyone. But nope… this world's all about who's got the bigger stick."
"Did you say something?" Jean turned her head, raising a brow. Like she'd caught something on the edge of thought.
Hela smirked. "Just wondering how long your school's gonna last before the next attack. Wanna bet?"
Jean rolled her eyes, deadpan. Classic. Hela was the ultimate jinx. She had warned her—something weird happened practically every week. An attack, a mutant flipping out, or some ancient evil randomly unsealing itself. And now that she'd said it out loud... well, countdown started.
Still, Jean's voice was calm when she answered. "This time, I'll protect the people I care about. No matter what."
When she finished speaking, Hela blinked—surprised. She hadn't expected that kind of resolve. It wasn't bravado. It was belief. And in that moment, Jean realized something: Hela had underestimated her.
She always does, Jean thought. But for once, that didn't make her feel small.
She'd never wished harder for her powers to work—just so she could know what Hela was thinking right now.
Before she could ask, someone else interrupted.
"Hey, Jean, the Professor gave us permission. Want to catch a movie with me?" It was Scott, all hopeful charm and awkward confidence, standing there like a nervous prom date.
Even if her powers didn't work on Hela, they worked just fine on everyone else. Jean heard Scott's thoughts loud and clear: Please say yes. Please say yes. I practiced this in the mirror.
She almost sighed. He looked so pitiful she actually debated accepting, just so she wouldn't crush his enthusiasm.
Before she could answer, Hela cut in.
"Think before you say yes," she said evenly. "You know exactly what's in his mind."
Jean glanced at her, unsure, but Hela didn't waver.
"A man deserves clarity, not pity. If you don't love him, if you don't want to be his girlfriend, then don't accept just to keep him happy. That's not kindness—it's cruelty wrapped in politeness."
Harsh. But honest.
Jean flinched at the truth. Hela was right. She did know what Scott was thinking, and that was the issue. His thoughts were loud—hopeful, painfully earnest. But… was that enough?
She hadn't really let herself consider it before. Or rather, she'd avoided thinking about it. Too scary. Too much pressure. But now, looking at him again, she made her choice.
"Sorry, Scott," she said gently. "I've got something to do after today's ceremonies."
Scott's face fell for a fraction of a second, but he covered it quickly with a forced smile. "Oh, uh—no problem! Another time, then."
She's totally avoiding me. Did I do something wrong? Maybe I came on too strong—
Jean winced internally. Yeah, she definitely heard that.
Hela, on the other hand, watched him walk away with a thoughtful look.
She couldn't help but think of a certain someone—Mr. Sinister, that egomaniacal geneticist-turned-villain with the world's most dramatic obsession. The man wanted to overthrow Apocalypse. And his big master plan? Breed a mutant that could surpass him.
Reasonable… in theory.
But then he'd fixated on Scott and Jean. Obsessed over their "potential" like some sick fanboy scientist.
Honestly, it was one of Marvel's biggest cosmic jokes.
The theory went something like this: Cyclops comes from a carefully cultivated bloodline—engineered by Amanda Mueller, one of Sinister's early allies—to absorb ambient energy endlessly, discharging it through his optic blasts. Jean, on the other hand, channels psychic energy in great feats but is limited by the energy she possesses.
So Sinister's logic? Combine the two, and their child could absorb unlimited energy and wield it with psychic precision. A mutant who could theoretically accomplish anything—assuming they didn't burn out in the process.
And that was a neat theory… until the Phoenix Force came along. What's more infinite than that?
Yet Sinister never dropped his plan. Never pivoted. Still thought that a child of Scott and Jean could defeat Apocalypse.
Now, watching Scott shuffle off, Hela wondered: Had Sinister already tampered with him?
It wouldn't surprise her. Not at all.
After all, obsession makes people do the stupidest things.