Hawk?
Anya?
What the hell was this about??
Bruce Banner and Natasha Romanoff exchanged a look of pure confusion.
...
Hawk's gaze on Bruce Banner grew calmer, his tone becoming completely devoid of emotion.
"September 10th, 2009."
"Manhattan."
"That day, my sister and I were leaving Times Square after a day out. The Abomination appeared, and then the Hulk showed up."
"The two monsters started fighting, and the entire block descended into chaos. In the fallout from their battle, countless innocent people were killed."
"Including my sister."
"When the Hulk smashed the Abomination into the side of a skyscraper, the falling debris... it struck my sister."
"..."
As Hawk spoke, his voice calm and almost hollow, the initial confusion on Bruce and Natasha's faces slowly gave way to a dawning, grim understanding.
Right.
A victim's family had come to collect...
Natasha thought to herself, her eyes instinctively flicking toward Bruce Banner.
A look of profound guilt washed over Bruce's face.
He looked at Hawk, who was watching him with that same unnervingly calm expression, and opened his mouth. "I am so sorry for the loss of your sister."
Hawk just snorted.
Just as he was about to speak, Natasha cut in, her brow furrowed. "Hawk... we sympathize with what happened to your sister, but that wasn't Bruce Banner's fault. It was the Abomination's. Dr. Banner was the one who stopped him."
Hawk's gaze shifted to Natasha.
His voice was hauntingly quiet.
"Are you saying my sister's death was just... collateral damage?"
"What??"
Natasha was taken aback for a second before shaking her head. "It was a terrible tragedy. No one wanted to see that happen. Your sister's death was a horrible accident..."
"..." Hawk's face was completely expressionless.
"I will deal with the Abomination... But my sister died because of the Hulk. If the Hulk hadn't thrown the Abomination, the debris wouldn't have fallen, and my sister wouldn't have been killed on the spot."
Listening to his tone shift from calm to ice-cold, Natasha felt a prickle of unease.
Bruce, however, was overcome with guilt and spoke to Hawk again. "I am so sorry for your sister's death. Truly. If there was any way I could make it up to you, I would."
He wasn't a bad person. He never had been.
If he were, his first reaction after becoming the Hulk wouldn't have been to run.
Just look at the Abomination—the moment he transformed, he went full Homelander.
So, His guilt was real. And his desire to make amends was genuine.
Hearing Bruce Banner's words, Hawk laughed.
He looked at Bruce, a brilliant, chilling smile spreading across his face.
"Make it up to me? You'll get your chance. Hand over the Hulk—"
"What?"
"A life for a life. The Hulk killed my sister. So I'll take the Hulk's life in return."
"..."
Bruce Banner froze.
Natasha was floored. Her expression shifted as she stared at Hawk, a sense of dread creeping in.
Is this kid a lunatic?
Natasha thought, shaking her head with a weary sigh. She took Bruce by the arm and started pulling him toward their sports car.
"We're leaving—"
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
The car, parked a short distance away, suddenly imploded. An invisible palm print appeared, pressing down on the frame from above.
Instantly.
The sports car crumpled under the immense pressure.
CRACK!
Natasha instinctively drew the weapon holstered at the small of her back, chambering a round as she aimed it at Hawk—the man she had just dismissed as a lunatic.
Hawk narrowed his eyes, watching her level the gun at him.
"My score is with the one responsible. The Hulk killed my sister. Are you planning on harboring a criminal, Agent Natasha Romanoff of S.H.I.E.L.D?"
"..."
Natasha's eyes widened, her pupils contracting as she stared at the man who had just stated her name and affiliation with perfect accuracy.
"Who are you?"
Hawk ignored her, his gaze shifting to Bruce Banner, whom Natasha had instinctively shielded behind her.
Natasha's voice was low and steady. "And for the record, Dr. Bruce Banner is not a criminal. He was granted a full presidential pardon."
A pardon?
From the president??
A derisive smile touched Hawk's lips as he looked at Natasha. "A presidential pardon? What the hell does that have to do with me? I'm the victim's family. Did you ever hear me say I was dropping the charges?"
Hearing his words, Natasha's expression became intensely wary.
Just then.
"Natasha."
Bruce Banner, who had been shielded behind her, stepped forward. He gently pushed down the barrel of her gun and looked at Hawk, who had come for justice, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"Listen, kid. I'm truly sorry for your sister's death. But the Hulk did that, not me. I'm a victim of the Hulk, too. Believe me, if there's anyone in this world who wants the Hulk dead, no one wants it more than I do."
And that was the truth.
At least, for now, that's exactly how he felt.
He was the Hulk's first victim.
Because of the Hulk, he'd lost his job with the military... Because of the Hulk, he'd lost his mansion in Quantico and his girlfriend whose father was a general...
And because of the Hulk, he'd been forced to flee the land of the free and hide out in India.
Standing before Natasha, Bruce Banner looked at the young man who had come to hold him accountable, his voice sincere and filled with emotion.
Hawk just laughed.
"Dr. Banner, I know you are you, and the Hulk is the Hulk. That's why I haven't laid a hand on you. As I said, I'm here to settle a score with the one responsible. So, I'll say it one last time. Let the Hulk out. This is between me and him."
"I can't."
Bruce Banner shook his head, his expression grim. "Kid, I can't do that. If the Hulk comes out, I can't control him."
Hearing this, Hawk looked down and sighed.
When he looked back up at Bruce Banner, the calm in his eyes had been completely replaced by a coldness as deep and unforgiving as a glacier.
The next second.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
Hawk's figure vanished. In the same instant, Bruce Banner was sent flying backward, crashing like a meteor into the vacation cabin behind him.
Natasha stared in shock at Hawk, who now stood where Bruce had been just a moment ago.
"Sh—"
BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!
Hawk drove his boot straight into her stomach, sending her flying five meters back. His voice was ice-cold. "This is between me and the Hulk. If S.H.I.E.L.D gets involved, I have no problem turning the entire organization into collateral damage."
Natasha, who had crashed hard to the ground, stared back at him in utter disbelief.
Just then.
A low growl echoed from the cabin, which now had a massive, man-sized hole in its wall.
Peering through the hole, a vague silhouette could be seen struggling in the wreckage, its guttural roars sounding as if it were desperately trying to cage something within itself.
Anya.
I'll have your revenge soon!
Hawk stood outside, stone-faced. He took a deep breath, bringing his body and mind to their absolute peak in an instant.
At the same time.
The figure in the ruins of the cabin let out a final, agonized roar that grew louder and louder.
It was clear.
Bruce Banner could no longer contain the Hulk. With the sound of tearing fabric, the once-struggling cabin fell completely silent.
The next second.
A massive green silhouette filled Hawk's vision.
...
"HUUUUUUUUUUUUUULK!!!!!!!!!"
The colossal, green-skinned Hulk, sporting his signature bowl cut, leaped from the hole in the cabin. With a roar announcing his arrival, he brought his fists together into a massive hammer and swung down at Hawk, who looked like nothing more than an ant in comparison.
Hawk looked up. The moment his right hand clenched into a fist, the ground beneath his feet fractured. He met the Hulk's mountain-sized fists, driving his own right fist upward to meet the blow.
The Hulk's massive fist and Hawk's small one collided.
Instantly. The world went silent, as if it had entered a realm of absolute quiet.
And then—
The sound barrier shattered.
A shockwave of pure, kinetic energy exploded from the point of impact, a ring of destruction that tore through the landscape.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
The ground beneath Hawk's feet shattered, spiderwebbing cracks spreading out in all directions.
CRASH!
The Hulk, who had used the momentum of his jump to try and smash Hawk into a pulp, was sent flying backward. His massive, hill-like body once again crashed through the vacation cabin, disappearing into the wreckage.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
The shockwave from their collision tore outwards like a hurricane, ripping through everything in its path.
The vacation cabin, being the closest, took the full force of the blast.
The wooden structure offered no resistance. In the blink of an eye, the front porch was ripped from its foundation, followed by the door, the beds, and even the walls.
Natasha met the same fate.
The hurricane blast reached her five meters away. Just as she managed to get to her feet, the force of the shockwave slammed into her. Her face visibly distorted under the pressure, and then her entire body was lifted off the ground once more.
BAAAAAAAM!
She was thrown through the air in a perfect arc before crashing onto the roof of a yellow Corolla.
The moment she slammed onto the roof, the car's four side windows and both the front and rear windshields shattered simultaneously.
The roof caved in like a tin can.
Gwen, who had been hiding under her car on Hawk's instruction, stared wide-eyed at the crumpled remains of the Corolla her father, George, had given her for her sixteenth birthday.
And at the unconscious woman who was now sleeping on top of it.
--
The once-beautiful, exquisitely crafted cabin on the shore of Culver Lake had, in the blink of an eye, been utterly obliterated by the shockwave, reduced to nothing more than a pile of splintered wood.
The ground beneath Hawk's feet was a web of deep fissures.
A low growl echoed from the ruins, growing louder, closer.
Until—
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
A massive, pure green form erupted from the wreckage like a cannonball, blasting aside the debris that buried it and stomping back into view.
The next second, The Hulk roared, the ground shattering with every step as he charged like a colossal, raging bull.
Hawk didn't hesitate. He dug his heels in, the cracked earth beneath him turning to dust as he launched himself forward, becoming a streak of light in the afternoon sun, rocketing to meet the Hulk's charge.
"HUUUUUUUUUUULK!"
"ROAR!"
CRACK!
BAM, BAM!
Within his Cosmo, the flames of battle burned brighter.
Hawk, now a living cannonball, slammed into the Hulk's massive chest. His momentum didn't slow; he drove the green behemoth backward, sending him crashing through the treeline at the edge of the lake.
One after another, thick, ancient trees snapped like twigs under the Hulk's immense weight.
As he was driven back, the Hulk roared in fury, hammering his fists against Hawk's back again and again.
A flush of red colored Hawk's cheeks, but the light of his Cosmo only grew more brilliant.
There was no technique here.
No fancy martial arts.
As Hawk drove the Hulk toward the waters of Culver Lake, he simply endured the bone-shattering blows to his back while his own right fist became a blur, slamming repeatedly into the Hulk's side.
The Hulk's eyes burned with rage.
Hawk's eyes grew colder than ice.
CRASH!
Hawk drove them both into Culver Lake. Their bodies shattered the frozen surface, sending twin geysers of water into the air. The moment they hit the water, Hawk used his smaller frame to his advantage, planting his feet firmly on the Hulk's massive chest. Even as they plunged into the icy depths, his eyes remained cold, his fists relentlessly pounding the green giant beneath him.
He had chosen his battlefield during his reconnaissance trips.
Culver Lake.
Or more specifically, the bottom of Culver Lake.
After awakening his Cosmo, Hawk had gained complete mastery over his senses. He could fight underwater as easily as he could on land, his Cosmo sustaining him without the need for air.
The Hulk, however, could not.
As strong as he was, he still needed to breathe. He had been knocked unconscious by a lack of oxygen at high altitudes before, and even during his final battle with Thanos, he'd had to surface for air.
And so, Culver Lake was the grave Hawk had chosen for him.
But the Hulk clearly wasn't ready to be buried.
With a single, massive swat, the Hulk sent Hawk flying, then immediately began clawing his way toward the surface. But Hawk was just as agile in the water as he was on land. He righted himself, and with a surge of power that sent a shockwave through the water, he instantly reappeared beneath the Hulk, grabbing his massive leg and dragging him back down into the depths.
The entire lake began to boil.
Geyser after geyser erupted from the surface as the layer of ice continued to shatter.
Gwen, who had witnessed the entire spectacle, was completely stunned. When she finally snapped out of it, she ran to the edge of the lake, peering into the churning water.
The Hulk, with his massive size and green skin, was easy to spot.
Hawk was not.
Gwen strained her eyes, watching the Hulk thrashing below the surface, his limbs flailing as if fighting something unseen. A wave of relief washed over her.
If Hawk were losing, the Hulk would have already surfaced.
The fact that he hadn't—that he was still on the defensive—could only mean that Hawk had the upper hand.
Just as she was processing this, she heard footsteps behind her.
Gwen snapped back to reality, an idea striking her as she spun around.
She saw her.
The woman in the black jumpsuit, the one who had been sleeping on the roof of her car, was now awake, walking toward her with a pale, unsteady gait.
Natasha's gaze was fixed on the lake, where geysers were still erupting from the epic battle below. As she tried to locate the Hulk in the murky depths, she reached into her pocket, pulling out a communicator to contact her headquarters.
As for Gwen?
Since she hadn't appeared with Hawk, Natasha simply assumed she was an innocent bystander.
And then...
THWACK!
Just as she was about to dial, Natasha froze. She subconsciously reached for the back of her head, then turned around.
She saw her.
Gwen, holding a thick tree branch she must have picked up from somewhere, stared back at her. Her eyes were a complex mix—thirty percent nervousness, thirty percent apology, thirty percent determination, and ten percent worry.
What's with the weird look?
The thought flashed through Natasha's mind. Then, her eyes rolled back in her head, the communicator slipped from her grasp, and she collapsed.
And just like that.
The Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, a top agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., was taken down by a single blow from a high school girl who wouldn't even be eighteen for a few more days.
No one would ever believe it.
Gwen gasped as Natasha crumpled, quickly dropping the branch and catching the unconscious agent before she hit the ground.
She looked at Natasha's limp form, her lips pressed together. After a moment's thought, she wrapped her arms around the agent's waist and began to slowly, painstakingly drag her away from the battle.
Gwen's actions had been pure instinct.
She'd seen Natasha with Bruce Banner; they were obviously on the same side. And it was clear Natasha had been about to call for backup.
She couldn't let that happen.
Hawk was here for his sister's revenge. It was his right.
So, Gwen had acted. But she hadn't wanted to hurt Natasha. And if she left her here, the fight between Hawk and the Hulk could easily harm her while she was unconscious. So, Gwen decided to pull her from the battlefield.
This was a war between Hawk and the Hulk.
Hawk wasn't using any dirty tricks, and he hadn't hurt any innocents.
So the Hulk couldn't either.
One-on-one.
That was the only way it would be fair.
...
Beneath the surface.
With a final, massive splash, the Hulk's body hit the bottom of the lake, carving two deep trenches in the mud as he slid to a halt.
Never let a wounded enemy escape. Press the advantage.
BAAAAAAAAM!!!!
Hawk, who had come for the Hulk's life, shot forward, a powerful surge of water blasting behind him. He appeared before the Hulk in an instant, his right fist driving forward.
In an instant, the Hulk's body arched in agony, the very lakebed beneath him cracking and collapsing. A cloud of mud and silt erupted, momentarily obscuring Hawk's vision.
The next second, the lakebed began to churn, as if a giant earthworm were burrowing through it. In the blink of an eye, the disturbance had moved thirty feet away.
"Trying to run?"
"You think you can escape?"
Hawk sneered. He watched the rapidly moving disturbance in the lakebed and shot after it, his right fist ready to strike again.
The Hulk burst from the mud, his eyes wide with rage. He roared, taking the full force of Hawk's punch with his chest. He was sent flying backward again, but as he flew, he threw something he had dragged from the lakebed at Hawk.
It was a small motorboat, covered in moss, that had clearly been sleeping at the bottom of the lake for years.
Hawk saw the boat hurtling toward him but didn't dodge. He met it head-on.
CRASH!
Hawk's momentum was broken for a split second.
The motorboat shattered, the two halves flying past him and continuing on their trajectory.
But that single moment was all the Hulk needed.
BAAAAAAAAAAAAM!
The surface of Culver Lake erupted in a spray of boiling water. A green head burst through, and the Hulk began to greedily suck in fresh air.
Gwen, who had just dragged Natasha to a safe distance, was panting with exertion. She looked back at the lake just in time to see the green head emerge and let out a startled gasp.
Just then...
The Hulk, now halfway out of the water, seemed to remember something. He froze in mid-air and looked down, roaring at the surface below.
Hawk, who had caught the Hulk's right leg at the last possible second, smiled coldly. With a massive burst from his Cosmo, he put all his strength into it, dragging the Hulk—who had been so close to freedom—back down into the icy depths of Culver Lake.
Dragged back into the water, the Hulk saw the surface just out of his reach. He spread his arms and legs, trying to claw his way back up.
But it was too late.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
The Hulk's back slammed into the lakebed once more. He was about to try the same escape maneuver again, but Hawk was already on him, driving a fist into his chest and sending him sprawling before he could even start to burrow.
"Don't you know? The same move never works on a Saint twice!"
"Die!"
"HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUULK!!"
"ROAR!!!!!"
"Sonic Fist!!"
BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM!
Beneath the surface, the water churned violently.
Above the surface, geysers shot into the sky.
One after another, massive pillars of water erupted from the lake, accompanied by thunderous booms from below. Gwen, who had run back to the shore, could only stare, completely dumbfounded by the sight.
But soon...
With a final, deep thud from below, the last geyser fell, and the roiling lake became calm, its surface returning to a glassy stillness as if nothing had ever happened.
By the time Gwen realized what had occurred, Culver Lake was as peaceful as it had ever been.
This is...
The fight is over?
Who won?
Gwen's eyes were wide, unblinking as she stared at the surface of the lake, her heart pounding with anticipation, terrified that the next thing she saw wouldn't be the outcome she was hoping for.
--
The surface of Culver Lake was once again calm and still.
It was the same below the surface.
The murky water washed over Hawk's body.
His gaze was fixed on the massive green form lying motionless in the silt of the lakebed, his expression unreadable.
The Hulk.
Yes.
He was dead.
The cause of death was simple, exactly as Hawk had planned. He had been trapped underwater and drowned.
But "simple" was a relative term.
Hawk glanced inward at the state of his Cosmo.
It was in chaos. Even the star chart of the Phoenix, which illuminated his inner universe, was now dim and lifeless.
It couldn't be helped.
The Hulk was incredibly strong. A normal person drowning will fight with unimaginable strength, to say nothing of a creature who gets stronger the angrier he gets.
The Hulk's final, desperate struggle had almost been enough to force Hawk into his own Phoenix state—to be reborn from the ashes.
But—
He had won!!
Hawk thought to himself, his eyes still on the Hulk's corpse resting silently on the lakebed.
Just then. Wisps of green light began to rise from the Hulk's massive body. In a flash, they shot forward, merging with Hawk.
VMMMM.
Hawk felt his Cosmo begin to spin on its own, drawing the green light into his inner universe.
As the light flowed into him, his shattered Cosmo was revitalized, bursting with a new, vibrant life.
"Is this..."
"Gamma energy??"
Hawk's brow furrowed as he looked down at the Hulk.
As the last of its power was absorbed by his Cosmo, the massive body began to shrink. The green glow of its skin faded until, with the final wisp of energy gone, the colossal form of the Hulk vanished completely. In its place lay the still, lifeless body of Bruce Banner.
Hawk stared at the man who had appeared, his eyes glinting.
...
On the shore of Culver Lake.
Gwen was still staring at the calm surface of the water, her eyes wide, her breath held.
Just then.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!
The lake's surface exploded.
Gwen's pupils contracted.
The next second, She saw Hawk burst from the water, and a wave of pure relief washed over her. The tension in her face melted away, replaced by a radiant smile.
Gwen ran toward him as he landed on the shore, still carrying the body of Bruce Banner.
"HAWK!!!"
Thump.
The t-shirt he'd been wearing was long since shredded, and his pants were in tatters. Hawk tossed Bruce Banner's body aside and turned to Gwen, who was running toward him, her tear-streaked face now beaming. A faint smile touched his own lips.
Suddenly, Hawk collapsed.
"Holy shit!"
"Hawk!"
Gwen froze for a split second, then sprinted forward, catching him just before he hit the ground. Her voice trembled. "What's wrong?"
Hawk's head rested on her shoulder.
"I'm fine."
"Liar."
Gwen was on the verge of tears, looking at his deathly pale face.
Hawk shook his head.
"It's nothing. Just... exhausted."
"...Really?"
"Yeah."
Hawk nodded.
His battle with the Hulk, burning his Cosmo to its limits, had left him utterly drained.
He'd been fine in the lake, still running on adrenaline, but the moment he'd hit the shore, the fight was over. An endless wave of weakness and exhaustion washed over him.
But his Cosmo, now infused with gamma energy, was already beginning to recover.
The dim Phoenix star chart was slowly brightening, and its powerful healing ability was already working to dispel the feeling of weakness. It wasn't fast enough to restore him to his peak in the blink of an eye—
—In the span of a single breath, color began to return to his pale face.
Seeing the life return to his cheeks, Gwen finally believed him. She let out a sigh of relief, then seemed to remember something. Still supporting him, she looked over at the man lying on the ground.
Probably because of the Hulk transformation, Banner was wearing a pair of ridiculously oversized shorts, sparing him the embarrassment of his usual post-Hulk nudity.
Gwen looked at the half-naked man, clad only in his giant shorts, then glanced back at Hawk, who was still leaning on her shoulder.
"He's not dead?"
"No."
"Then the Hulk..."
"The Hulk is dead."
Hawk's voice was firm. He looked at the unmoving body of Bruce Banner on the ground. "But he's not."
After all, the Hulk was the Hulk, and Bruce Banner was Bruce Banner. Hawk had been just as surprised when Banner had reappeared after the Hulk died.
Hawk let out a soft chuckle, inhaling the scent of Gwen's hair. His voice was weak. "The one who killed my sister was the Hulk, not Bruce Banner."
It was the same principle he had started with.
If Bruce Banner had been the one responsible for his sister's death, he wouldn't have wasted time with words. He would have turned him into paste with a single punch.
Every injustice has a perpetrator, every debt has a creditor.
The Hulk was dead. His feud with Bruce Banner was over. That was why he had brought him back to the surface.
"So he..."
"He just passed out from choking on water. He'll probably wake up in a little while."
"...Okay."
"Let's go home."
Hawk said, looking up at the sky. "If we leave now, we should be able to get you home before your curfew."
Gwen raised an eyebrow, then seemed to remember something and shook her head.
"I don't think that's going to happen."
"Why not?"
"Our car got smashed."
"..."
Supported by Gwen, Hawk looked over and saw it. Her yellow Corolla, which had been parked a safe distance away, was now a complete wreck. He also saw Natasha Romanoff, lying on the grass nearby, sleeping as peacefully as a baby.
Gwen followed his gaze and, with an innocent tone, quickly explained.
"I didn't want to knock her out. But I saw her pull out her phone, and I thought she was calling for backup, so I hit her with a stick."
"Uh..."
Hawk looked at Gwen's innocent face and her even more innocent tone. He thought for a moment, decided against telling her who Natasha was, and said instead, "Do you have your phone?"
Gwen pulled it from her pocket.
"Yeah."
"1-646..."
With one hand supporting a weakened Hawk, Gwen took out her phone and dialed the number he gave her.
The call connected quickly.
Anna's voice came through the line.
"This is An—"
"Get a car over here."
"..."
There was a moment of silence on the other end, then Anna's voice returned, sharp and efficient. "One moment, Hawk."
...
Three minutes later.
A black Chevy SUV appeared at the end of the small access road, pulling up in front of Hawk and Gwen.
A man in a black suit got out.
"Mr. Hawk—"
"Keys."
Hawk cut him off.
The man paused, then took a set of car keys from his pocket and handed them over.
Hawk took the keys and gave them directly to Gwen. With her supporting him, they slowly made their way to the SUV.
As Gwen helped him open the passenger door, just before he got in, Hawk seemed to remember something. He looked back at the man in the black suit, who now stood with his hands crossed in front of him, his posture perfectly professional. "By the way."
The man in black looked up.
"Sir?"
"Natasha and Bruce can die, but not today."
"...Understood, sir."
The man paused for a second, then nodded, his voice a low rumble.
Hawk said nothing more. With Gwen's help, he sat down in the passenger seat, leaning back against the headrest.
Gwen closed the door, then walked around to the driver's side. As she passed the man in the black suit, she paused. "Thanks for the car."
The man in black replied quickly, "You're welcome. It is our pleasure to be of service."
Gwen blinked at his almost panicked expression, then just smiled, thanked him again, and got into the driver's seat.
"Hawk, you could have been a little nicer. The man brought us a car."
"Alright."
Hawk, leaning back and feeling the unprecedented soreness that came with his body's accelerated healing, turned to Gwen with a smirk. "You want me to get out and kiss his feet?"
Gwen just rolled her eyes at him. She started the engine, turned the SUV around, and headed back toward New York City.
"By the way, my car is still back there. When they wake up, are they going to be able to find us?"
"My business with the Hulk is finished. If they want to start something new, I don't mind."
"That woman in the jumpsuit, I think she's that..."
"Gwen?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you let me rest for a bit? I'm really tired."
"...Okay."
...
The man in black stood with his hands crossed, watching the SUV drive away. He then pulled out his phone, made a call, and reported that Hawk and Gwen had left, repeating Gwen's final words of thanks.
The voice on the other end was silent for a moment.
A few seconds later. "Return. Our relationship with him is very good right now. Maintain it."
"Yes, sir. And the car they left behind...?"
"Don't touch it. Since he gave no instructions, it means he either doesn't care, or he has other plans. Do not interfere."
"Understood."
"..."
--
The sun began to set.
Culver Lake was quiet. A gentle breeze rippled across the water and swept over the shore, waking the unconscious Natasha from her slumber on the grass.
Natasha's eyes fluttered open, and she stared absently at the orange sun hanging low in the sky.
The next second, Her pupils focused, and she leaped to her feet, instantly dropping into her classic combat stance.
But the shore was empty. There was no one around, save for the yellow Corolla with its caved-in roof, and Bruce Banner, who was lying motionless in front of the ruined cabin, his condition unknown.
Wait.
Bruce??
Natasha snapped back to reality. She ran to Bruce's side—he was soaking wet, wearing only a pair of remarkably durable shorts, lying on the fractured ground. She checked his vitals and found a faint pulse. Without hesitation, she pulled a syringe from her pocket and plunged it directly into his chest.
The effect was instantaneous. The moment Natasha pulled the needle out, Bruce's eyes shot open.
The next second—
"Ah!"
Bruce Banner shot upright, terror written all over his face as he gasped for air.
Watching him come back to life, Natasha let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
After a few moments, Bruce's breathing steadied, and the look of terror on his face began to subside.
Natasha helped him to the shore and sat him down against the trunk of a large tree that had been snapped in two. Once he was settled, she finally asked her question.
"What happened?"
"..."
Bruce didn't answer. His brow was furrowed in concentration, as if he were trying to piece together a fragmented memory.
Natasha didn't press him. While she waited, she subconsciously reached up and touched the back of her head, her own memory returning.
She could still see the eyes of the girl who had knocked her out. After all, It wasn't every day you saw a perfectly screwed up expression.
Who was she?
Natasha wondered.
Just then, Bruce looked down at his own arms. He squeezed his biceps, a look of dawning realization on his face. He looked up at Natasha, his voice low and heavy. "The Hulk is dead."
Natasha snapped out of her thoughts, her eyes widening as she stared at Bruce, as if she hadn't heard him correctly, or couldn't bring herself to believe it.
After all, This was the Hulk they were talking about.
"The Hulk is dead—" Bruce Banner repeated, the fragmented memories replaying in his mind. "—he dragged the Hulk to the bottom of the lake. The Hulk couldn't get away from him, he was completely overpowered. It was like he didn't even need to breathe... he just killed the Hulk down there. But... he didn't kill me."
His tone was strange, his feelings toward the Hulk's killer were impossible to pin down.
Was it hatred?
Not really...
No one on earth hated the Hulk more than he did. Though they had reached a sort of truce after the Battle of New York, allowing him to control his transformations, it didn't mean he had ever truly accepted the Hulk.
If given the choice, he would still have chosen a life without the Hulk.
The Hulk had destroyed everything he'd ever had. It had cost him the woman he loved, forced him into hiding in the most desolate corners of the world.
And now, his greatest wish had been granted. Someone had finally killed the monster for him.
From that perspective, how could he feel hatred? He should be grateful.
And yet...
Gratitude? Bruce Banner frowned. That wasn't quite right either. He couldn't put a name to what he was feeling.
But one thing was certain—
...
"The Hulk is dead."
"The kid named Hawk killed him."
"I'm sure of it."
Bruce took a deep breath, clenching his fists under Natasha's watchful gaze. He no longer felt that familiar surge of power that always preceded a transformation.
He felt... a sense of loss. As if a part of him was missing.
Natasha listened to his confirmation, falling into a thoughtful silence.
Just then, the sharp ring of a phone cut through the quiet.
Natasha blinked, then realized it was hers. She quickly followed the sound and found it lying in the grass.
It was her phone. Natasha picked it from the ground, saw the caller ID, took a steadying breath, and answered.
"Director."
"Natasha."
...
At the S.H.I.E.L.D.
Triskelion headquarters, Nick Fury—instantly recognizable in his black trench coat and eyepatch—stood in the command center, his hands on his hips. He spoke the moment he heard her voice.
"What's your ETA for Tennessee?"
"My ETA..."
Natasha's voice trailed off. She looked at Bruce—at the strange, conflicting emotions warring on his face: relief, loss, even a flicker of anger—and the words caught in her throat.
"Director... the Hulk has been killed."
"..."
Nick Fury's expression froze.
His single eye narrowed.
Standing next to him, Commander Maria Hill, dressed in her S.H.I.E.L.D. tactical uniform, was equally stunned.
"What do you mean, the Hulk is dead? Is Bruce Banner dead?"
"No. Dr. Banner is alive. But the Hulk is dead."
"..."
The Hulk is dead, but Bruce Banner isn't?
The words hung in the air, a paradox that left the Director and the Commander of S.H.I.E.L.D. utterly baffled.
Nick Fury recovered first, his dark face now etched with a grave seriousness. "Report. In detail."
Natasha complied, starting from the moment she had picked up Dr. Banner at the airport.
She recounted their arrival at the cabin, how they were just about to leave for Tennessee when Hawk had appeared, seeking revenge for his sister.
She then detailed the fight... how Hawk, who couldn't have been more than twenty, had gone toe-to-toe with the Hulk, dragged him into the lake, and killed him in the depths.
She left nothing out, including the part where Gwen had knocked her unconscious.
...
In the command center, Nick Fury and Maria Hill listened to her report, utterly speechless.
When Natasha mentioned being taken out by another girl, also under twenty-one, the corner of Maria Hill's mouth twitched.
Nick Fury's breath hitched.
Unbelievable.
A top S.H.I.E.L.D. operative, the super-spy known as the Black Widow, was taken out by a girl who wasn't even old enough to drink?
This had to be a joke...
Natasha sensed the stunned silence on the other end. "I apologize, Director. It all happened too fast. I didn't have time to properly assess the situation."
Thinking back on it now, she realized how careless she had been.
Why would a random teenage girl just happen to be there, at that exact moment?
But at the time, she had just regained consciousness after the shockwave, her head was still fuzzy, and Gwen had been unarmed. She hadn't seemed like a threat.
And the result was a story she'd never live down. The thought of this embarrassing mark on her permanent record sent a wave of melancholy through Natasha.
Just then, Maria Hill's voice came over the line.
"This girl who knocked you out—do you think she was with him? With Hawk?"
"Without a doubt."
Natasha's confirmation was instant. Then she frowned, another thought occurring to her.
"However..."
"Go on," Nick Fury said, his voice low.
Natasha relayed what Bruce had told her—that after the Hulk was dead, Hawk could have just left him at the bottom of the lake to drown, but had chosen to save him instead.
And her, as well.
Natasha then remembered something Hawk had said.
"My score is with the one responsible."
Natasha clarified, "From the very beginning, Hawk said he was only there for the Hulk. He was there for revenge."
So... That's why he didn't kill Natasha or Bruce Banner?
'He has principles.'
Maria Hill thought to herself.
But Nick Fury clearly saw it differently.
"Heh."
Standing with his hands on his hips, Nick Fury let out a cold laugh. "Natasha, you said he knew your name from the start? And that he knew you were from S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
Natasha was pulled back to the moment.
"Yes."
"He's afraid. He doesn't want to make an enemy of us."
"..."
Natasha fell silent.
Maria Hill looked at Nick Fury, a slight frown on her face.
She didn't agree with his assessment.
They all knew how powerful the Hulk was. They had dropped him from thirty thousand feet in a glass cage, and it hadn't killed him.
But this Hawk had.
Maria was about to voice her objection, but Nick Fury was already speaking again.
"This name, 'Hawk.' Is that all you have? Any other details?"
"...One moment."
Natasha blinked, then scanned her surroundings. Her eyes landed on the wrecked Corolla. "Director, there's a car here. It looks like it belongs to them."
Fury's eye lit up.
"GW521!"
"Trace it. Now."
Fury barked the order at a nearby agent.
The agent nodded and began typing furiously at his keyboard.
--
As an agency operating under the direct authority of the World Security Council—formed by the five global superpowers—S.H.I.E.L.D. possessed immense power.
Especially when dealing with nations outside of the big five, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s authority often superseded that of local law enforcement.
As for its authority within the five superpowers??
That was a more complicated story!
...
The moment the agent entered the license plate into the system, a flood of information appeared on the main screen.
The plate's registered owner, their driving history.
In a matter of seconds, Gwen Stacy's photograph was displayed in perfect clarity for the entire command center to see.
"Send that to Natasha."
"Yes, sir."
Ping.
Natasha's phone chimed. She glanced at the photo that had just come through.
It was a picture of Gwen, smiling sweetly.
"Director, that's her."
"Hmph."
Nick Fury nodded, his expression grim. "Run a search on her network. Find anyone by the name of Hawk."
The agent began the search before Fury had even finished his sentence.
But—
Hawk social media accounts: none.
Hawk photos online: none.
Hawk driver's license: non-existent.
Aside from a few text-based records, there was nothing else.
Nick Fury's brow furrowed. "Wrong person?"
"I don't think so, sir."
The agent turned to face Fury. "We ran the search through Gwen Stacy's network. There's only one possible connection. Hawk. Male, seventeen years old. Like Gwen Stacy, he's a senior at Midtown School of Science and Technology. Based on the social media of other Midtown students, it's suspected that he and Gwen Stacy are dating."
Fury's voice was a low growl. "And there are no photos of him?"
"...No, sir."
The agent, fearing he had been careless, ran the search again before confirming. "Director, this Hawk has no online presence. No social media accounts of his own. Logically, at seventeen, he should have a driver's license, but there are no records for him in the New York DMV system."
Well, now.
What kind of atypical high school student is this?
A slow, cold smile spread across Fury's face. "What do we have on Gwen Stacy?"
"Confirmed. Gwen Stacy, born May 21st, 1995. Father, George Stacy, Captain, NYPD..." The agent began rattling off the details from her file.
But he was cut off.
"Contact the S.H.I.E.L.D. command center in New York," Fury ordered. "Tell them to—"
"WAIT!"
Just as Fury was about to deploy a team, Maria Hill, who had been standing beside him, finally reacted. She cut him off, turning to face him with a deep frown. "Director, what are you doing?"
Nick Fury looked at her. "He needs to be contained!"
"We don't even know who he is."
"Which is why we're sending a team..."
"No."
"What?"
"I disagree." Maria Hill met Nick Fury's one good eye, her voice firm. "Until we have a clear intelligence profile on this Hawk, I will not authorize such a reckless operation."
Is he insane?
This was the person who had killed the Hulk. To just go in blind, without any proper intelligence... what was he trying to do? Make an enemy of someone with that kind of power?
Hawk may have killed the Hulk, but from Hill's perspective, the situation was still manageable. If Natasha's report was accurate, he had done it for revenge.
The fact that he hadn't killed Natasha or Bruce Banner meant he was a man of principle.
And principles were a good thing.
Principles meant he had lines he wouldn't cross. It meant that even if he wasn't an ally, he was, at the very least, neutral.
To charge in now, as Fury was suggesting, was just needlessly looking for trouble. It was practically manufacturing a powerful new enemy.
And so—
Maria Hill stood firmly against him. "We need to investigate first. Then we send an agent to make contact."
"CONTACT???"
Nick Fury's eye glinted. "Hill, he killed the Hulk. OUR HULK. That was a direct provocation. On that basis alone, he must be brought under strict control."
With that, Nick Fury turned back to the agent. "Notify..."
"I said no!"
Maria Hill's expression was stone-cold as she addressed the agents who had stood up and turned to face them. "I am the Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and its acting Commander of Operations. Without my direct order, all actions targeting this individual, Hawk, are forbidden."
The agents exchanged glances, then, as if remembering something, they all responded in unison.
"Yes, Commander."
Maria Hill then turned back to Nick Fury, her expression severe. "Don't forget, Director. Your operational authority is still suspended by the Council. Until they lift that suspension, all S.H.I.E.L.D. decisions are mine to make."
It was true.
Nick Fury had been grounded by the World Security Council.
The reason was simple: during the Battle of New York, he had defied a direct order. Did he really think he could ignore the will of the five great powers and face no consequences?
The decision to launch a nuclear strike on Manhattan during the Battle of New York earlier that year had been a unanimous resolution by the WSC, and the order to execute it had initially been given to S.H.I.E.L.D.
And the result?
The Director himself had led the charge in violating their resolution. He had even personally flown out and shot down one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s own jets.
Unbelievable.
It was blatant insubordination. A treason.
So, even though the outcome had been favorable, from the WSC's perspective, Nick Fury was clearly insubordinate to his core.
There was a saying.
Loyalty that isn't absolute is no loyalty at all.
The Council's initial decision had been to fire Nick Fury, to make an example of him and show everyone that S.H.I.E.L.D answered to the Council, not the other way around.
But someone had pleaded his case.
Nick Fury's old friend—Alexander Pierce—was one of the five heads of the Council.
After much persuasion, Pierce had managed to convince the other four members to change their minds. In the end, they had decided to suspend all of Nick Fury's operational authority, with Deputy Director and Commander Maria Hill acting in his stead.
As for when Fury's suspension would be lifted?
That depended on his behavior.
And so far, the Council had shown no inclination to reinstate him. So while he was still, technically, the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., he was a figurehead, a mascot. He could observe, he could advise, but he had no authority to make a decision.
Hearing Maria Hill's words, Nick Fury remembered his place.
His voice was a low growl. "This will make us look weak to our enemies."
Maria Hill frowned. Just as she was about to respond, a surveillance photo flashed onto the main screen.
The agent who had been running the search blinked, then glanced at the source of the information. His eyes lit up, and he turned to Maria Hill.
"Commander."
"Go ahead..." Maria Hill turned, her eyes drawn to the new photo. "Where did you find this?"
"It was just uploaded. New York University published its list of incoming scholarship students for next year. Hawk is one of them. I ran the photo from the announcement through our system."
"And the location?"
"Quantico."
As the agent spoke, his hands flew across the keyboard. With this first photo as a lead, more began to appear.
One by one, surveillance images of Hawk from Quantico Town were projected onto the main screen.
At the same time, Natasha, who had remained silent on the open line during the dispute between her superiors, finally spoke up. "Commander, I can confirm his identity."
Maria Hill stared at the photo of Hawk wearing a baseball cap, a slight frown on her face.
"When was this taken?"
"July fifth."
"..."
Hearing the date, Maria Hill's frown deepened. She remembered something.
If she wasn't mistaken, something major had happened in Quantico on that day.
A major security breach.
And sure enough, the data confirmed it.
The surveillance footage showed Hawk in Quantico Town on the day of the lockdown. But after the lockdown began, he had vanished from all cameras. The next time any record of him appeared, he was in Maryland.
It was almost certain that the chaos at the Quantico military base was connected to him.
...
Nick Fury, having received this new intelligence, turned to Maria Hill. "A man who brazenly attacks a military base, a murderer who has killed dozens of soldiers... and you still want to 'make contact'?"
Maria Hill met his gaze, her expression unreadable. "If you disagree with my decision, Director, you can file an appeal with the Council."
With that, she turned away from him and addressed the agent. "Continue."
"Yes, Commander."
"..."
Nick Fury's eye glinted. Without another word, he turned and walked out of the command center.
The moment he was back in his office, Nick Fury pulled out his phone, found the number of the old friend he had called to check on during the Quantico incident, and dialed.
Attacking the Quantico military base.
Brazenly murdering a member of the Avengers Initiative.
This was no longer a simple crime. This required a heavy hand.
Hawk had to be controlled.
Under his supervision!!
--
Nick Fury didn't believe he had done anything wrong.
If he hadn't stopped that jet from taking off, if he hadn't warned Tony Stark, a nuclear bomb would have detonated over New York City.
What would have become of the city then?
A wasteland?
A ghost town??
The Council didn't care about any of that.
For them, it was black and white: I gave an order, and you didn't just disobey it—you led a full-scale mutiny. The fact that everything worked out didn't matter.
As far as the Council was concerned, merely suspending his operational authority instead of kicking him to the curb was an act of extraordinary mercy.
But Nick Fury didn't see it that way. He had been looking for a way to get his authority back ever since.
And now, he saw his chance.
The Hulk was a member of the Avengers Initiative. Hawk brazenly killing him was a slap in the face to S.H.I.E.L.D, and by extension, a slap in the face to the Council.
The Council might not care about it now.
But that was only because the situation hadn't escalated. If it did, who would they back? The pragmatic Commander Hill, who advocated for peaceful contact, or him, the man who insisted on strict control?
The answer was obvious.
As for who could escalate the situation for him, Fury already had the perfect candidate in mind, now that he knew Hawk was likely the same man who had caused the lockdown at Quantico.
Thaddeus Ross.
He was a dangerous man with powerful connections. Any other general would have been sidelined for good after the fiasco in New York with the Hulk and the Abomination.
But General Ross? He'd not only been unaffected, he'd arguably come out of it with a promotion.
It was basic political reality. The military-industrial complex had its champions, and Ross was one of their top generals. He was a complete hawk in the Republican party—a man who believed every problem could be solved by throwing enough firepower at it.
There was a quote from an old war anime that fit him perfectly:
Gentlemen, I love war!!
That line could have been tailor-made for General Ross. Others might be afraid to escalate a situation, but General Ross would relish the opportunity.
...
Soon, the call connected.
"Fury, I'm in the middle of—"
"The man who attacked your military base. Interested in making a deal?"
"..."
General Ross, who had been standing guard at home to prevent his daughter from sneaking out, froze. His expression turned grim. "YOU FOUND HIM?"
"We did. Interested?"
"...Your terms."
Ross was no fool. He wasn't about to agree to anything blindly.
Nick Fury leaned back in his office chair, his one good eye glinting with a deceptively simple cunning. "My operational authority has been suspended."
General Ross laughed. Of course he knew—it didn't surprise him one bit. If this had been one of his soldiers, any subordinate who not only ignored orders but actively fought against them would've been dragged out and executed.
"Sorry, Fury—"
"He also killed the Hulk. Just this morning."
"...Wait."
General Ross, who had been about to mock Fury for his weak bargaining chip, froze.
The smile vanished from his face. "WHAT?"
"You heard me. The Hulk is dead. He killed the Hulk."
"..."
Fury could hear the change in Ross's breathing over the line. The General was hooked. "Help me get my authority reinstated, and I'll give you the killer's identity. We'll run a joint operation. When we catch him, he'll be under our combined supervision, just like the Abomination. How does that sound?"
General Ross alone wasn't enough to get his authority back. But the people backing Ross were. For them, it was a simple matter of making a phone call.
And it was a good deal for him, too.
Joint supervision. After the capture, Ross could run his studies, and S.H.I.E.L.D. could run theirs.
General Ross's mind was racing as he processed the terms.
Absorbs gamma radiation.
Kills the Hulk.
If this information was true, it meant only one thing.
The attacker from Quantico was stronger than the Hulk, and far more in control of his power. He wasn't some mindless beast like Bruce Banner became.
And if they could capture him, study him...
Then...
The more Ross thought about it, the more excited he became. But with that excitement came a cold, calculated caution.
"His name."
"No, no, no." Nick Fury laughed. "That's not how a deal works. Reinstate my authority, and then we can have our joint operation."
General Ross snorted.
"Does Maria Hill know about this?"
"She does."
"Then why don't I just work with her?"
"Because you won't."
Nick Fury wasn't worried in the slightest. "You and Maria Hill don't see eye to eye."
Ross was silent. He knew Fury was right.
After a long moment, he said, "I need to think about it."
"Be my guest. But I'd make it quick. We don't have much time before Maria Hill decides to make contact."
"Give me thirty minutes."
With that, General Ross hung up. He closed his eyes, his mind working at lightning speed.
Nick Fury listened to the dial tone, then hung up with a smile.
Ross would agree. He had no doubt.
But—
Never put all your hopes on one horse...
Nick Fury's eye once again gleamed with that strange, cunning light. His mind raced, and then an idea struck him. He opened his computer and pulled up Gwen Stacy's file.
He stared at the photograph of Gwen on the screen, and the glint in his eye became darker... and far more reckless.
...
Meanwhile, Gwen had just helped Hawk back to his apartment in Queensbridge Park.
Thump.
After settling the weakened Hawk onto the sofa, Gwen straightened up, grimacing as she pressed her fist against her lower back.
Leaning back on the sofa, Hawk saw this and couldn't help but chuckle.
Gwen, who had been stretching, her back still to him, froze.
"..." The laugh had been a little too strong, a little too full of energy...
She slowly turned around, her back still to him, and her suspicious gaze fell on Hawk—who, despite his supposedly weakened state, now had a healthy color back in his cheeks.
Gwen's expression became strange, and a little dangerous. "Hawk?"
Hawk cleared his throat, his voice suddenly becoming weak again. "Cough... cough, cough, what's wrong?"
Gwen's eyebrow shot up. Her voice rose several octaves. "HAWK!"
It was the tone she used when she was serious. The one that meant she was about to call him out on his bullshit.
"You're fine now, aren't you? You're just pretending!"
"No, it wasn't me, I didn't do it, don't talk nonsense."
Hawk's denials were immediate and reflexive.
Gwen smiled.
The next second, she spun around and marched toward the door. Without a moment's hesitation.
Shit. I overplayed it.
Leaning on the sofa, Hawk cursed internally. His figure blurred, vanishing from the sofa and reappearing in front of the apartment door, blocking her path.
Gwen stopped, stunned, then looked up at him. "Move."
"No."
He might not be a master of emotional intelligence, but he knew when to stand his ground. If he let her walk out that door now, he'd be in the doghouse for weeks.
Gwen's face tightened with cold fury. "Do you think it's funny to lie to me, Hawk?"
"No, it's not. I'm sorry. I was wrong."
Hawk admitted his mistake without hesitation, then added, "But I wasn't really lying. I really was weak when we were driving back."
It was the truth. When he'd first gotten out of the lake, another Chitauri soldier probably could have been enough to knock him into his rebirth cycle.
Hawk looked at Gwen. "But I fell asleep in the car and recovered a bit. I was going to tell you, but... seeing you so worried about me, helping me upstairs... I was happy. So..."
Listening to his explanation, the frost on Gwen's face slowly began to thaw. She glanced at him. "So what??"
"I didn't want you to let go of me," Hawk said it with a dead-serious expression.
Hearing his reason, the last of the anger on Gwen's face melted away, replaced by a faint blush.
Then, as if remembering something, she rolled her eyes at him.
"Idiot..."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lied to you."
"So, are you still weak now?"
"Not wea—"
"Hm?"
"Weak? Yes, weak!"
Hawk watched her expression, found the correct answer, and nodded emphatically, his voice becoming frail once more.
Gwen had to fight back a smile. She kept her face straight, rolled her eyes again at the "weakened" man before her, and stepped forward, taking his arm as if he were about to collapse.
"If you're so weak, you should be in bed. Come on, I'll help you."
"Okay."
"Careful. Take your shoes off."
"Gwen."
"Yeah?"
"Can you lie down with me for a bit?"
"What?"
"Just for a bit. You know... I'm really weak right now."
"Just for a bit?"
"Yeah."
"...Alright."
"Wait, what are you do—"
"Aah!"
"..."
--
The Christmas of 2012 didn't look much different from any other year.
Holiday jingles played softly in the storefronts.
Snowflakes drifted down from the sky.
In the neighborhoods, children gathered in joyful packs, celebrating the special holiday.
The entirety of New York City was immersed in the joy of Christmas. Families were out celebrating in restaurants or gathered at home around warm fires, celebrating the arrival of the holiday.
Hawk, too, was reuniting with his family.
Just as he did every year, he boarded a bus as dusk began to fall and made his way to Calvary Cemetery. He walked through the fresh snow to spend the holiday with his sister.
Helen Stacy had invited him to spend the holiday with their family on Long Island.
But he had politely declined.
He knew that, barring any unforeseen circumstances, he and Gwen would eventually get married. They would become a family.
But that was still in the future.
And more importantly, he already had a family of his own.
So, Hawk had declined Helen's invitation.
Growing up, he had spent every Christmas with his sister, Anya. Even after she had passed away in 2009, he had come here every year to spend the holiday with her.
Hawk knew how much his sister had loved the holidays, how much she had longed to be a part of the noisy, cheerful crowds, but her congenital heart condition had always forced her to watch from a distance.
The memory of it still twisted his heart. The thought of her spending the holiday alone, even now?
He couldn't bear it.
...
In the cemetery, Hawk placed the food his sister Anya had always loved in front of her headstone. Then he leaned back against the cool marble and sat on the ground, gazing out at the distant scenery.
The snow fell in thick, heavy flakes.
It was strange.
The snow had been falling for nearly two hours, covering the surrounding grounds in a pristine white blanket. But the ground around Hawk, and around Anya's headstone, was as dry as a summer's day.
Like a tiger resting in a snow-covered field, the ground around him remained untouched, as if it were still summer.
Hawk leaned against the headstone, his eyes gently closed as his consciousness sank into his Cosmo.
After three days of rest, his Cosmo had completely absorbed the gamma energy he had taken from the Hulk. It felt entirely new.
It had, without a doubt, ascended.
Gamma energy was a very real power in the Marvel Universe. And by absorbing that real power, his Cosmo had, in turn, become a little more real.
It was still a long way from a true, complete universe—worlds apart, in fact.
But even with just that tiny fraction of newfound reality, the difference between his old Cosmo and his new one was like night and day.
To put it another way: Before, Hawk had needed to use the lake to drown the Hulk. Now, that was no longer necessary.
If he were to face the Hulk now, even on land, assuming the Hulk was at the same power level, he could beat him to death with his bare hands.
That was not an exaggeration.
Most importantly, Sinking his consciousness deep into his Cosmo, Hawk looked up at the constellation blazing in his inner sky. The Phoenix—brilliant, scorching, radiating an incomparable light. And among the stars, dozens of new ones had appeared.
Yes.
Dozens of new stars.
This was another unexpected reward from his successful revenge against the Hulk.
Though perhaps it wasn't so unexpected.
The way of the Saint was the way of holy war. Every battle Hawk fought would add new stars to his Cosmo—strengthening him—creating a feedback loop where he grew stronger with every fight.
He planned to use these new stars to ignite the constellation of Draco, the Dragon.
The Phoenix had given him the power of Immortality and Rebirth. Draco would grant him the Might of the Dragon and the Dragon's Guard.
The unbridled power of a dragon and a defense that was second to none.
That was the essence of Draco.
Among all the Saints, the Dragon was the only one whose power grew even stronger when he cast off his armor.
And besides...
This was a Dragon!!
The Phoenix's call ignites the dawn.
The Dragon's roar shatters the horizon.
Hawk slowly opened his eyes. He glanced at the photograph of his sister on the headstone, who seemed to be smiling at him. A soft expression touched his own face.
"The Hulk should be in Hell by now."
"You probably saw it."
"Don't worry, the Abomination is next. It won't be long."
"And be sure to tell Mephisto, if he isn't taking good care of you, when I get to Hell, I'm going to twist his head off and use it as a urinal."
Just as Mephisto had once done to Zarathos.
Who's Zarathos?
The Ghost Rider. Mephisto had defeated the ancient spirit, ripped his essence from his body, and shattered it into a million pieces. The power of the Ghost Rider was just a sliver of that original, immense power.
Hawk's voice was gentle, as if speaking this way would allow his sister to hear him in Hell.
With his back against the headstone, Hawk closed his eyes and began to recount all the things from the past year that he thought might have amused his sister.
In these moments, Hawk was no longer the quiet, reserved young man he usually was. He was very talkative.
He even told her about today's top headline.
Tony Stark's battle with the Extremis-powered Aldrich Killian at the Port of Rose Hill in Tennessee, and the spectacular fireworks display he had made with his Iron Legion.
"...Last night, at the Port of Rose Hill, Tennessee, a battle of unprecedented scale culminated in a hero's dramatic farewell and a startling public confession."
"After successfully thwarting the deadly threat posed by the terrorist Aldrich Killian and his Extremis soldiers, Tony Stark made a stunning move—"
"He ordered his remaining Iron Legion suits to fly into the sky and self-destruct in a priceless fireworks display that lit up the night."
"And just this morning, at seven a.m, Tony Stark reappeared and gave an interview, stating..."
...
Leaning against the headstone, Hawk recited the morning paper from memory.
The cemetery was silent, save for his voice.
If a timid person had been passing by and heard that low, demonic whisper in the darkness, they would have thought they had just seen a ghost.
After a while, Hawk's voice faded. He leaned against his sister Anya's headstone, as if he had fallen asleep.
Just like last year, and the year before, Hawk planned to stay here and spend Christmas with his sister.
After all, this would probably be the last time.
Because next year, by Christmas at the latest, he would find a way to Hell, and he would bring her back.
Mephisto could either give him his sister, or he could die.
There was no other choice.
...
Time passed.
The distant noises from outside the cemetery faded as the hours went by. In that moment, it felt as if all of New York City had fallen silent.
But then, he heard it. A faint, rhythmic sound, carried on the wind, accompanied by a low, almost imperceptible tremor in the ground.
Footsteps...
The grinding of tank treads.
The sounds grew louder, closer.
At the same time, his phone began to vibrate in his pocket.
He had silenced the ringer in case Gwen called, but he hadn't turned it off. Feeling the vibration, Hawk opened his eyes and pulled out his phone.
He looked at the caller ID.
It wasn't Gwen.
It was Anna.
Hawk thought for a moment, then answered the call.
"Hello..."
"Hawk, I just got word. The military knows you're the one who broke into the Quantico base. They've locked onto your position and they've already sent a team after you."
The moment he answered, Anna's urgent voice came through the phone.
The message was clear: They're here to collect you...
Hawk's brow furrowed. He released the tight control he normally kept on his five senses.
Instantly. He heard the rumble of armored vehicles rolling across the ground.
The clatter of weapons and gear as soldiers moved into position.
Hawk didn't speak. He simply hung up the phone. His face was stone-cold as he stood up and looked toward the sky, watching the armed helicopter in the distance—searchlight blazing, rotors thundering as it closed in fast.
A moment later, the lead helicopter was directly overhead. Its searchlight slammed down, pinning him in a brilliant, blinding cone of white light.
THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP!
The helicopter stabilized its position over the cemetery. The cabin door slid open, and a soldier took his seat behind a minigun, aiming the weapon—capable of firing hundreds of rounds a second—directly at the figure in the searchlight.
At the same time—
CRASH!
Two armored vehicles, each mounted with some kind of sonic cannon, smashed through the cemetery gates. They drove straight through the rows of headstones, crushing them under their treads as they rumbled to a stop in front of Hawk.
Click-clack.
Click-clack.
Federal soldiers poured in behind them. With the searchlights and sonic cannons in position, the soldiers all chambered their weapons. Some standing, some kneeling, they all aimed their rifles at the lone figure standing before them.
War.
WAS ABOUT TO BEGIN.
--
The helicopter thundered overhead.
Searchlights flooded Calvary Cemetery, turning night into day.
On the ground, the two armored vehicles with their sonic cannons and the helicopter with its minigun formed a deadly crossfire, trapping Hawk in the center. The federal soldiers' weapons gleamed under the harsh lights.
And in the center of it all, Hawk just smiled. It was a wide, genuine, and utterly terrifying smile.
Just then, a piercing screech came from the helicopter's loudspeakers, followed by the booming voice of General Ross, echoing across the cemetery.
"HAWK, YOU ARE SURROUNDED!!"
General Thaddeus Ross, who had mobilized his forces the instant he got Hawk's location, was watching from the command center at the Quantico military base.
He stared at the image of Hawk on the main screen, caught in the spotlight with nowhere to run, and his voice was a low growl. "You are under arrest for crimes against national security and the unauthorized breach of a military installation—"
Ross felt a sense of relief.
His initial plan had been to send a special forces team, but learning Hawk's location was a public cemetery had changed his calculus.
This wasn't Manhattan.
This wasn't some city street. It was a cemetery. He'd faced no consequences for the destruction in Manhattan; what did he care about a cemetery?
Ross was determined to capture Hawk.
So, There was no more talk.
From his command center in Quantico, Ross broadcast his voice across New York City to Calvary Cemetery.
"You have ten seconds to surrender!"
"Prepare to fire!"
WHIRRRRR!
As Ross's words fell, the minigun on the helicopter began to spin up, its barrels locking onto Hawk, ready to turn him into a bloody mess in less than a second.
BEEEEEP!
The two sonic cannons on the armored vehicles began to charge, their operators' hands steady on the controls.
CLICK-CLACK!
The federal soldiers surrounding Hawk chambered their rounds, and rocket launchers were shouldered, all aimed at their single target.
Hawk followed the sound of Ross's voice, his gaze lifting past the blinding searchlights to the camera mounted beneath the helicopter.
His eyes locked onto the lens, and it felt as if he were staring right through the void, making direct eye contact with General Ross in his command center.
A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. His voice was quiet, but it carried perfectly through the microphone, clear as a bell in the Quantico war room.
"Thaddeus Ross."
"I just remembered."
"I almost forgot about you. Thank you for reminding me."
"..."
General Ross's expression faltered. Before he could even process the words, he realized what had happened.
The man who had been standing in the searchlight was gone.
"Wha—"
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
"Aaargh!"
By the time the searchlights found Hawk again, one of the armored vehicles was already airborne.
The screams of the sonic cannon's operator were cut short as the overturned vehicle slammed back down to earth, crushing him instantly.
Before Ross could even react, the second vehicle was also sent flying through the air.
Ross's eyes narrowed.
"OPEN FIRE!"
WHIRRRRR!
The helicopter, which had been hovering in place, began to move. The operator in the cabin gripped the controls of the minigun.
In that instant, The minigun unleashed its fury, spitting a torrent of fire at the ground below.
Pew-pew-pew-pew-pew!
A relentless storm of bullets rained down.
It tore through the earth, sending dirt and shrapnel flying. It pulverized tombstones, turning sacred ground into a cratered wasteland. It ripped through the bodies of federal soldiers caught in the crossfire...
Collateral damage...
"Fire!"
"Fire!"
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
One of the soldiers, seeing Hawk send a comrade flying with a casual backhand, overcame his panic and fired the rocket launcher on his shoulder.
The rocket, trailing a long plume of smoke, shot directly at Hawk.
Hawk turned to face it.
CRASH!
The rocket slammed into Hawk's chest, a direct hit that blossomed into a massive fireball, the shockwave engulfing two nearby soldiers and setting them ablaze.
...
"Did we get him?"
Not only was the soldier who fired the rocket overjoyed, but even General Ross, watching from his command center, felt a surge of triumph.
But—
It was impossible.
Before the look of joy could even fade from the soldier's face, Hawk strode out of the flames, the upper half of his shirt now burning away.
Thump.
The soldier felt a searing pain in his chest and instinctively looked down.
He saw it.
A fist-sized hole...
"SHIT!"
"Shoot him!"
WHIRRRRR!
The soldier in the helicopter, watching the bloody scene unfold in the stark light of the searchlamp, cried out in shock and immediately swung the minigun back onto Hawk, who was now tearing away the burning remnants of his shirt.
Hawk looked up.
PING-PING-PING!
TANG-TANG-TANG!
A hailstorm of bullets from the minigun slammed into Hawk. He didn't even try to dodge.
The bullets struck his head, his face, and his bare torso, revealing a physique carved from pure steel.
Bullets like these couldn't even scratch the Hulk. What chance did they have against Hawk, who had now absorbed the Hulk's gamma energy?
Hawk took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the helicopter above. The ground beneath his feet cracked as he launched himself into the air like a cannonball.
The helicopter pilot screamed, yanking at his controls, trying to evade.
Alas...
It was too late.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
Like a human missile, Hawk shot straight through the helicopter. A split second later, a massive fireball erupted from the gaping hole in its hull, followed by a thunderous explosion. The flaming wreckage plummeted earthward, smashing through dozens of headstones before slamming into the ground in a cloud of dirt and fire.
...
"..." Far away in his command center, General Ross stared in disbelief at the static-filled main screen.
The soldiers on the ground, who had just witnessed this inhuman feat, were completely frozen in shock.
The surviving soldiers saw a streak of light land on the ground and shoot toward them.
Their training kicked in, and they turned to run.
But it was too late for them, too.
Killing one is still killing. Killing two is the same. So killing fifty more... It was just a matter of numbers.
In the blink of an eye, the tables had turned completely.
The once-aggressive federal soldiers were now like dogs with their tails between their legs, their screams and cries filling the night as they ran for their lives, wishing they had been born with more legs.
They scrambled for the cemetery gates.
One of the soldiers, hearing the screams of his comrades fade behind him, saw the cemetery gates just ahead. A flicker of hope ignited in his chest.
The next second, That joy was frozen in place. Not just his expression, but his entire body.
The soldier looked down and saw it. A bloody hand was holding a small, still-beating thing in front of his face.
Instinct told him it was his heart.
That was the last thought the soldier ever had. His eyes went dark, his body went limp, and he crumpled to the ground.
...
By the time Spider-Man arrived at the cemetery, all he could do was stare in disbelief. Peter, crouched on top of the cemetery wall, couldn't believe what he was seeing.
The ground was churned up, as if it had been plowed by a tractor.
Shattered tombstones lay scattered like broken teeth.
The dismembered bodies of soldiers were strewn everywhere.
In the distance, the bisected wreck of the helicopter was still burning.
And then he saw it.
The two overturned armored vehicles. The door of one of them had been kicked open from the inside, and a soldier, his head covered in blood, was struggling to crawl out.
The next moment, The soldier, halfway out, seemed to sense something. He struggled to lift his head—
—And saw Hawk, bare-chested, standing before him, his face devoid of all emotion.
The soldier opened his mouth.
"I only..."
SPLAT!
"..."
Peter flinched as he watched the soldier's head explode like a watermelon.
By the time he recovered, Hawk was gone.
Where did he go?
Peter shot a web and swung down into the carnage.
He landed softly and saw him, standing a short distance away, his hand gently tracing the photograph on a small, simple headstone.
Hawk's right hand traced the picture of his sister, a fire now burning in his heart.
Peter walked cautiously toward him.
"Haw—"
"Peter."
Hawk pulled his hand back and turned to face him, cutting him off. "If someone tried to destroy Uncle Ben's grave, what would you do?"
What?
Uncle Ben.
Peter didn't even have to think about it. "I'd kill them."
This was not the Amazing Spider-Man, nor the tech-savvy one. This was the original, a young man who, after his Uncle Ben was killed, had hunted down the robber and killed him, never once thinking of letting the law handle it.
That was why Hawk liked this version of Peter Parker.
He was shy and reserved, just like him.
And just like him, he repaid every kindness and avenged every wrong.
Hawk wasn't surprised by his answer. He gestured to Anya's headstone. "This is my sister, Anya. Are you going to try and stop me from getting my revenge?"
Peter's eyes twitched. He looked at Hawk—at his emotionless face, and the inferno of rage burning deep within his eyes—and said nothing. He just silently stepped aside.
Hawk smiled faintly.
"Thanks."
"Do you need hel—"
Peter started to ask, but before he could finish, Hawk vanished from sight.
He was left standing alone in the silent, ruined cemetery, the wail of distant police sirens finally reaching him.
"Shit."
"This is bad. This is really, really bad."
Peter snapped back to reality.
--
Something big had just happened in New York City.
Media outlets with their ears to the ground had reporters scrambling back to their newsrooms from the moment the story broke.
By the time the sun rose, the new headlines were ready—
The New York Times: "MILITARY'S CHRISTMAS EVE CEMETERY RAID LEADS TO MASSACRE, CALVARY CEMETERY TURNED INTO A SLAUGHTERHOUSE!"
The Wall Street Journal: "ANOTHER DISASTER FOR GENERAL ROSS, CALVARY CEMETERY CARNAGE LIKELY A BOTCHED HULK OPERATION?"
Global Observer: "SEVENTY-SEVEN DEAD, HELICOPTER ENGULFED IN FLAMES, COUNTLESS GRAVES DESTROYED. WHAT DID THE U.S. MILITARY DO?"
There was no way to cover up what had happened at Calvary Cemetery.
And so. Countless New Yorkers woke up, saw the headlines, and for those who had loved ones buried in Calvary, their world came crashing down.
They all rushed to the cemetery as fast as they could.
But it was too late.
The military had already locked it down.
Faced with a growing crowd of people screaming that their family members were inside, demanding to be let in, the soldiers on guard duty were unmoved. Following their orders, they chambered their rounds and stared down the police barricade.
If anyone crossed the line, they would not hesitate to open fire!!
Are you kidding me?
We couldn't handle last night's monster, but you think we can't handle you worthless civilians?
The concept of the military serving the people was a foreign one here. When disaster struck, the military didn't show up to save you... they showed up to control you.
The crowd was furious. They immediately unfurled banners, facing off against the soldiers from across the barricade in protest.
The Mayor of New York was at his wit's end.
When Manhattan's taxpayers saw the news, they were reminded of the last time the military had acted on its own and the damages it had caused. Those with connections were on the phone directly to the Pentagon.
Those with money but no connections were calling the mayor's office.
The message was simple: Get this under control, or we'll find a mayor who can.
The mayor himself was cursing the military with every breath he took. The military had always been reckless.
But no one could have imagined they would be 'this' reckless.
Turning a cemetery into a battlefield, pulverizing countless headstones, and shattering countless more?
What the hell were they thinking? Were they on a mission, or were they there to dance on people's graves?
The mayor, his face ashen, immediately called a press conference. He didn't mince words, directly calling out the Pentagon and demanding a full explanation for the incident.
The Pentagon pretended it couldn't hear him, offering no response whatsoever.
Washington was silent.
Quantico was silent.
At least...
On the surface.
But for Gwen, who was still on vacation with her family on Long Island, the news was anything but silent.
Calvary Cemetery? Last night?
HAWK!
Gwen frantically pulled out her phone and dialed his number.
It was off.
A jolt of fear went through her. Just then, on the television in her bedroom, a news anchor was reporting on the events at Calvary Cemetery.
In the world of 24-hour news, there was no time for restraint. You either reported the story, or you lost your ratings to the channel that did.
So, for the sake of ratings and ad revenue, the television stations ignored the calls from Washington telling them to play dead. They raced against each other, desperate not to be scooped, broadcasting exclusive photos and information their resourceful reporters had managed to acquire.
When the anchor held up a photo of Spider-Man at the scene—an image they had just purchased for five hundred dollars—a name flashed in Gwen's mind.
Peter Parker!
Gwen's eyes lit up. She grabbed her phone again, found Peter's number, and called him immediately.
This time, the phone wasn't off. It connected quickly.
"Gwen."
"Peter, was it Hawk last night?"
Gwen got straight to the point. "Did you see where he went?"
Peter was silent for a moment on the other end, then he scratched his head. "I just saw the news about Calvary Cemetery myself. Last night, Hawk was—"
A spike of pain shot through Gwen's temple.
"PETER!"
"Sigh..." Peter hesitated. "Hawk's okay. The fight was already over by the time I got there."
After instinctively answering her question, Peter couldn't help but ask, "Did Hawk tell you who I am?"
Hearing that Hawk was safe, Gwen let out a sigh of relief. She heard the confusion in Peter's voice and replied quietly, "I'm not an idiot, Peter. You changed so much, and you suddenly became friends with Hawk. It wasn't hard to guess you were Spider-Man."
Peter nodded on the other end, accepting her explanation.
"Where is he now? I can't reach him."
"I don't know."
"Peter!"
"I really don't know..." Peter said quickly. "Hawk left too fast. He just asked if I was going to stop him. I said no, so I stepped aside, and then he was just... gone."
As he spoke, a thought occurred to him. "By the way, Gwen, I thought Hawk went to Long Island with you. What was he doing at Calvary Cemetery last night?"
Gwen paused, then pressed her lips together.
"Hawk has a sister, Anya. She passed away in an accident back in 2009. She's buried in Calvary Cemetery. Every Christmas, Hawk goes there to spend the day with her."
"So it really was his sister," Peter said, surprised.
Gwen raised an eyebrow.
"What do you mean?"
"Before he left, Hawk asked me what I would do if someone desecrated Uncle Ben's grave."
"..."
"Anya's grave was damaged???" Gwen's heart sank, and her voice rose with alarm.
Peter quickly clarified, "No, no, the headstone looked fine, it wasn't damaged. It's just..."
"Just what?"
"Uh..."
Peter thought back to the scene, to what he'd seen behind the headstone as Hawk was leaving. "A grave next to hers was blown up, and it... kicked up some dirt onto hers."
It's over...
Hearing Peter's answer, only one thought remained in Gwen's mind.
No one understood what his sister meant to Hawk better than she did. She had no doubt that even if they were married, on Christmas Eve, he would still choose to be with Anya.
Just then, Gwen heard Helen's voice from outside her room. "Gwen!"
"Coming!"
Gwen called back. She quickly told Peter, "Let me know if you hear from Hawk," then hung up. She took a moment to compose herself, then opened her door and headed downstairs. "Mom, what's wrong?"
Before she even finished the sentence, as she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw a familiar face.
A very familiar face!
...
Natasha, the woman she had knocked out with a tree branch, was standing in the doorway, smiling and talking with her mother.
A chill ran through Gwen.
Helen saw Gwen and smiled. "Natasha said you let her borrow the car. She's here to return it."
Natasha turned, smiling at Gwen as she approached.
"Morning, Gwen."
"...Morning."
Gwen was silent for a moment before replying. After a few words with her mother, she followed Natasha outside.
Her yellow Corolla, now fully repaired and looking brand new, was parked quietly by the curb.
"Go on, check it out. I didn't break anything."
"..."
Gwen listened to Natasha's words but said nothing. She opened the driver's side door and got in.
Natasha slid into the passenger seat beside her and closed the door.
Gwen took a deep breath and looked at her. "Are you here to kill me?"
"What?" Natasha was taken aback, then she smiled and shook her head. "No, no, of course not. You didn't kill me, why would I kill you?"
Gwen stared at her. "But you sent people to kill Hawk."
Natasha shook her head again. "Last night's attack wasn't us. In fact, if it hadn't happened, I wouldn't be here talking to you right now."
The events at Calvary Cemetery had caught the entire city off guard.
Including S.H.I.E.L.D.
Maria Hill couldn't believe it. One minute, she was gathering intelligence, trying to figure out how to make a peaceful first contact.
And then the military had just gone in, guns blazing.
Unbelievable.
Did you even do a threat assessment?
By the time Maria Hill had found out, it was too late to wonder why the military had been so reckless, or even how they had found Hawk in the first place.
Her first act was to contact Natasha—who had only just returned from Tennessee and hadn't even had time to rest—and order her to take the newly repaired yellow Corolla and find the only lead they had.
Gwen.
Natasha's face became serious as she looked at Gwen. "Gwen, we need to find Hawk. If this situation gets any bigger, it's not going to end well."