Fifty kilometers north of Quantico.
Hawk had studied the satellite maps, memorizing every road around Quantico. So the moment the cab driver veered off course, he knew something was wrong.
His memory had always been sharp—since awakening his Cosmo, it was flawless.
He stepped out of the car, glancing around.
Remote.
Muddy.
A perfect spot for a robbery, a killing, and a shallow grave. No wonder the kid had driven him here.
Behind him, the black kid wailed from the cab, bruised but alive.
For now.
Hawk yanked open the door, dragged him out with one hand, and tossed him into the mud.
The boy scrambled up, dropped to his knees, and begged through chattering teeth.
"Please, don't kill me. Please! I know I was wrong—don't kill me!"
Hawk looked down at him coldly.
"You don't regret. You're just afraid to die."
The boy froze, shivering harder.
"Give me one reason not to kill you."
Desperate, the kid stammered.
"My car—take it! My money too, I have money!"
"Not enough. If I kill you, your car and money are mine anyway. Think harder."
"You can't kill me! They'll hunt you down. If you let me live, I swear I won't say a word!"
Hawk narrowed his eyes. Considering. Testing the boy's words.
The boy's heart leapt—mistaking Hawk's silence for hesitation. His hand slid toward the knife at his waist.
Then he lunged.
"Die!"
Hawk's palm cracked across his skull.
Crunch. Crack. Twist.
The boy's head spun violently, faster and faster—until his neck tore apart with a wet rip.
Blood sprayed. The head thudded into the mud.
Hawk looked down at the lifeless, still-snaring face. His lips curled in a thin smile.
"I was really going to spare you. Too bad. Your kind never changes. Fear strength, never respect it. I gave you one chance. You thought I was afraid."
He turned from the corpse. The air smelled of iron.
It was his first true kill.
And he felt… nothing.
No guilt. No sickness.
It wasn't so different from crushing a Chitauri. They looked human, but inside, they were just insects. He hadn't flinched then. He didn't flinch now.
The valve was open.
Killing was no longer forbidden.
Never again could it be closed.
Still…
"Killing when necessary. Not killing for pleasure. A true strong man always keeps humility."
He slid into the cab, stepped on the gas, and drove toward Quantico.
The body, the head, the blood—none of it mattered anymore. One kill or a hundred—only numbers.
The slaughter valve had been opened.
…
Half an hour later, the mud road fell silent again.
Then—footsteps.
Three men in dark suits and sunglasses appeared, gazes settling on the severed head and the body sprawled in the dirt.
…
(End of Chapter)
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