Gwen had lied.
She hadn't come back early from Berkeley because of the yearbook or alumni directory.
The truth was simple—she wanted to see with her own eyes that Hawk was safe.
Yesterday, shaky footage had appeared online. Despite the Parkinson's-level camerawork, it clearly showed a massive black giant on an African plain—something like a darkened Hulk—facing a much smaller figure.
The uploader was said to be an East Asian backpacker who traded among tribal villages and happened to witness the clash near Wakanda.
The video lasted less than ten minutes before it was pulled. The blogger later apologized, claiming it was fake, a trick for clout.
But those who knew… knew.
Gwen was certain that blurry figure fighting the black Hulk was Hawk.
So, despite his casual tone over the phone, she couldn't rest until she confirmed it herself.
Now, walking beside him at JFK with his hand on her suitcase, she finally relaxed. Smiling, she naturally slipped her arm through his as they left for the parking lot.
…
On the road, Hawk asked, "So, how was Berkeley?"
"Honestly? Not great." Gwen shrugged. "I thought New York's crime was bad, but Berkeley was worse. I almost got robbed three times—in broad daylight."
She chuckled, then added, "Luckily, Kara was there."
Hawk blinked. "Kara?"
"Your bodyguard. Don't tell me you forgot her name."
"Oh, right." He remembered—Kara Paramakis, brown hair, delicate features, personally recommended by Anna. Hawk hadn't paid much attention. He only cared about results. If Gwen was safe, credit went to Anna. If not, blame would too.
"So, would you go back?" he asked.
"Sure. I'll just stay in the dorms. Berkeley's city crime isn't the university's problem."
Then she turned the question back on him. "What about Africa?"
Hawk smiled faintly. "Perfect."
Despite setbacks, despite half a month wasted, the trip had been fruitful. His cosmos had transformed into the Phoenix Cosmos, he had forged the Phoenix Cloth, and—most importantly—he had confirmation about Anya.
His sister lived, even in Hell, protected until he came for her.
He looked at Gwen and nodded. "Better than perfect."
She cut in quickly, her smile sharp. "And that black Hulk?"
"Hell's…" He stopped short, studying her expression. "You saw something?"
"Guess." She tilted her head playfully, then explained about the video she'd seen online.
Hawk understood. Of course it had been filmed by an East Asian wanderer—those drifters popped up in every corner of the world, even here in Marvel's Earth.
He shrugged. "Then you know what you saw."
"But I thought you killed him at Culver Lake?" Gwen frowned.
"Banner tried a trade. One life for another. But in truth, it was Mephisto who allowed it. He remade Hulk into the Demon Hulk and threw him back at me to test my strength."
Gwen's eyes widened. "Mephisto… the Hell Lord you told Anya about?"
"Exactly." Hawk recounted the encounter in detail. Gwen listened, stunned, then asked: "So you went to Africa knowing Banner wanted revenge—because the plains were empty enough for the fight to stay unseen?"
Hawk shook his head. "No. I went for vibranium."
The name hit her like a blow. "Vibranium? As in… Wakanda?"
"Yes." He laughed. "I went straight to Wakanda."
Gwen searched the net, scrolling through reports:
"Wakanda—resource-poor, economically fragile, plagued by tribal wars."
"U.N. approves new food aid shipment to famine-struck Wakanda."
"King T'Chaka appeals for more assistance."
She glanced at Hawk, her eyes saying, This is the place you claim holds vibranium?
Hawk explained as he had to Maria Hill: Wakanda's double life. A hidden technological empire thriving on vibranium, yet posing as a poor state to siphon aid and food from the world.
"Then why isn't it in the news?" Gwen asked.
"Too soon," Hawk replied. Parking outside her apartment, he lifted her suitcase. "It only broke yesterday. The Five Powers are probably still meeting. But one thing's certain."
"What?"
"Often, oil brings the U.S. Army. So what do you think vibranium summons?"
Gwen said nothing, but her silence was answer enough.
Oil drew armies. Vibranium drew the Five Great Powers themselves.
…
Ten days later, headlines shook the globe.
United Nations Statement: Due to escalating tribal conflict in Wakanda resulting in civilian casualties, the Security Council unanimously authorizes a joint peacekeeping force to restore order.
To the uninformed, it sounded noble.
To those who understood, it was simple: Wakanda had finally been caught.
The Five Powers would feast.
And so, armored columns rolled. Tanks thundered. Jet squadrons screamed overhead.
Scientists scanned Wakanda's sacred mountain, eyes wide at the readings.
"Commander," one stammered. "The reserves—"
"Report."
"Massive. Unimaginable!"
The commander burst into laughter, already sending numbers up the chain.
Maria Hill stood apart, gazing from the sacred mountain toward Wakanda's capital—a city of impossible technology, now trapped under the gaze of the world.
Outside the city, missiles struck, and with a roar, Wakanda's golden shield shimmered once more into view.
The mask was gone.
The feeding frenzy had begun.
…
(End of Chapter)
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