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After leaving the old gymnasium, Hawk headed for the parking lot.
He had no idea what happened behind him.
Then again, even if he did, he wouldn't have cared.
Spider-Man might be the most famous comic book character in the world, but honestly, Hawk didn't know Peter at all.
Even if they were in the same grade.
By the time Hawk arrived at the parking lot with his bag slung over his shoulder, the doors of the last orange school bus were already open.
A burly, bearded driver in a school staff uniform was slumped over the steering wheel, fiddling with a portable radio.
"Afternoon, Mr. Hall," Hawk said politely as he stepped onto the bus. "Anything interesting on the news today?"
The bearded Mr. Hall looked intimidating as hell.
But he wasn't.
Quite the opposite, in fact.
He was a good guy.
"Still talking about that federal building collapse in Quantico. They're saying it was a terrorist attack." Mr. Hall looked up from his radio as Hawk boarded, then glanced at his watch. "You're two minutes later than yesterday, Hawk."
Hawk shrugged.
"Sorry, the shower took a little longer today."
"Good thing I know you catch my bus home every day, otherwise I'd have already pulled up to the main gate. Go on, take a seat. We're heading out."
"You got it."
Hawk kept his tone respectful, heading toward the back of the bus with his backpack.
Mr. Hall started the engine, ready to close the doors and drive to the main student pickup area.
Just then.
Peter came sprinting out of nowhere, squeezing onto the bus just as the doors were about to shut.
Mr. Hall jumped in his seat.
"Holy—"
He caught himself, swallowing the curse word before it could escape. He looked at the gasping, out-of-breath Peter, then past him to Flash Thompson and his crew, who had just run up to the bus.
Flash and his friends didn't get on. They just stood outside, glaring at Peter.
Mr. Hall's gaze flickered between Peter on the bus and Flash outside. He frowned at Flash and called out, "Hey, you getting on or not?"
Flash shot a look at Mr. Hall, said nothing, then turned and walked away with his cronies in tow.
Bullying a classmate was one thing. Doing it right in front of a staff member was something else entirely.
He was a jock, not an idiot.
Peter wasn't an idiot either. As soon as Mr. Hall closed the doors, he mumbled a "thank you" to the driver.
Mr. Hall glanced at him but didn't reply.
He knew what was going on, but as long as it didn't happen on his bus, it wasn't his problem.
Anywhere else?
He was just a bus driver. It wasn't his business, and it wasn't his job to get involved.
Peter didn't say anything else. He turned to find a seat and saw Hawk sitting in the very back, by the window. After a moment's hesitation, he walked over.
"Thanks."
"..."
Hawk, who had been staring out the window, lost in thought about what the next day would bring, turned his head. He looked at Peter standing in the aisle with a completely neutral expression. "I didn't do anything for you. You don't have to thank me."
With that, he turned his gaze back to the window, dismissing Peter completely.
He had no idea if this version of Peter had his powers yet.
Most likely, he hadn't become the Spider-Man from his memories.
But...
Even if he had, Hawk wanted nothing to do with him.
To be more precise, he wanted nothing to do with any superhero.
"Superhero" sounded great in theory, but in reality, the title was inextricably linked to one disaster after another.
Before he had his power, he never had any intention of chasing after them. He just wanted to live a long life. Having been given a second chance, the least he could do was live to a ripe old age.
The plan had been to study hard, do well, and maybe build a comfortable life for himself.
Now that his power was here, Hawk's core mission hadn't changed.
It had just... evolved.
The goal of living a "comfortable life" had become living a "longer and even more comfortable life."
But the prerequisite for achieving either goal was the same.
In a word:
Stay the hell out of the superheroes' messes.
So, even after he'd started school and learned who Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy were, he never had any desire to get to know them.
Gwen was a different story, though.
He couldn't avoid her.
She was the student aide for the entire eleventh grade. But dating Gwen Stacy, the girl known as the number one love interest in all of comics?
Hawk had no interest. At least, not right now.
He wasn't in a position to even think about things like love.
Peter watched Hawk turn back to the window. He opened his mouth as if to say more, but after a moment, he thought better of it, closed it, and took a seat on the opposite side of the aisle.
Soon.
The bus reached the main gate. Mr. Hall opened the doors, and the rest of the students waiting for the last free bus of the day piled on.
The quiet atmosphere was instantly replaced by a cacophony of chatter.
An hour later.
The bus arrived in Jackson Heights.
Mr. Hall opened the doors and smiled as Hawk stood by the exit.
"See you tomorrow, Hawk."
"See you, Mr. Hall."
Hawk returned the farewell politely and stepped off the bus. He walked toward a nearby five-story, old-fashioned apartment building with a faded, orange-brick facade.
The pre-war building was owned by the New York City Housing Authority.
Hawk's apartment was on the fifth floor. It wasn't large, but it had one major perk: he could easily access the building's rooftop via the fire escape outside his window.
Soon.
Back home, Hawk dropped his backpack on a table. He took out the plastic bag with his clean clothes, grabbed a couple of hangers, opened the window, and climbed up the fire escape to the roof.
After hanging his clothes on a makeshift line, Hawk walked to the edge of the roof. He leaned his hands on the low parapet and looked up, watching the planes that occasionally streaked across the sky as they prepared to land at or take off from nearby LaGuardia Airport.
Feeling the wind and counting planes.
It was one of the few hobbies he had that helped him relax.
Lately, though, he'd added a new one.
Stargazing.
Night fell.
Hawk sat on the ground, leaning his back against the building's ventilation shaft. He enjoyed the cool summer breeze as he gazed up at the stars that had begun to emerge in the twilight sky.
The cosmos was vast.
The stars, countless.
Maybe it was just his imagination.
But for the past six months, as he continued his daily regimen of ten thousand punches, Hawk had felt a growing connection to the vast expanse above.
Tonight, that feeling was stronger than ever.
Constellations that had been blurry to the naked eye just last night were now stunningly, impossibly clear.
Pegasus!
Draco!
Cygnus!
Andromeda!
Phoenix!
Lacerta!
...
The forty-eight constellations, each symbolizing one of the forty-eight Bronze Saints, were laid out before his eyes.
It was as if—
Tonight.
The entire universe would shine for him!
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