Gwen's face went completely blank as she stared at Natasha.
"I don't know."
"..."
Natasha stared back, her own voice low and steady. "Last night's incident really wasn't us. If we were coming for you, we would have been here long ago. Why wait until now?"
Gwen ignored her.
"Are you here to arrest me?"
"No."
The moment the word left Natasha's lips, Gwen pushed open her car door and got out.
Natasha opened the passenger door and followed, watching as Gwen shut the driver's side door.
Gwen's voice was calm. "Thank you for bringing my car back."
"..."
Natasha frowned as Gwen turned and walked back toward the house without another glance. She watched her go, then, after a moment of silence, turned and opened the door of a black van parked nearby.
The moment she was inside and the door was shut, Natasha contacted Maria Hill, who was running the show back at the S.H.I.E.L.D. Triskelion.
"Commander."
"What's the situation?"
"She's not talking." Natasha reported the facts.
She could have grabbed Gwen, tortured her for information, and forced her to give up Hawk's location.
But the memory of waking up after the attack, alive and unharmed, flashed through her mind. The thought of harming Gwen was dismissed before it could even fully form.
Maria Hill didn't sound surprised by her answer. "Don't bother. We've found him."
Natasha paused. "You found Hawk?"
"Yes."
"Quantico?"
"No. New Mexico."
"New..." Natasha was stunned. "What the hell is he doing in New Mexico?"
Maria Hill looked at the video an agent in New Mexico had just sent her. After a moment of silence, she said, "The Ross family cemetery has been destroyed."
As she spoke, Natasha pulled out her phone, which had just received the same file.
She opened the video.
The scene was one of utter devastation. As far as the eye could see, headstones were shattered, graves had been blasted open, and splintered coffins and skeletal remains littered the entire cemetery.
And that wasn't even mentioning the Ross family estate in front of it.
As the camera panned, the once-magnificent mansion was now a smoldering ruin.
Natasha was stunned.
"This..."
"Our agents in New York just confirmed it. The damage to Hawk's sister's grave was minor, likely from last night's battle. It seems clear that the destruction of the Ross estate and their family cemetery was Hawk's retaliation."
"Hiss."
Natasha drew in a sharp breath. A thought occurred to her.
"Does General Ross know?"
"He does."
"He must be losing his mind." Natasha said, her eyes still glued to the video on her phone. If someone had done this to her family's resting place, she would have gone on a warpath.
But—
Serves him right.
Natasha thought with a grim satisfaction in her eyes.
S.H.I.E.L.D. was still in the middle of running threat assessments and planning a first contact, and the military had just charged in with no plan and no intel.
Did they really think that just because Hawk's name sounded a little like Hulk's, he was another Bruce Banner?
Just because Banner ran when you chased him, did you really think everyone would?
Well, now they knew. The more arrogant they were at the start, the more painful the payback.
...
Natasha marveled at the sheer audacity of it, then she froze.
"Commander, that's not right. New York is a long way from New Mexico. It's only been six hours since the incident. How could he have gotten there so fast?"
"To be precise, it took him less than three hours to get to New Mexico."
"What?"
Natasha was shocked. "That's impossible."
"But it's a fact," Maria Hill said, her voice grim. "And right now, his speed isn't the issue. If I'm right, his next stop is Quantico."
Hawk killing the Hulk for revenge was one thing.
But leveling the Ross family cemetery sent a much clearer message.
Hawk repaid every wrong.
So, If he would go so far as to destroy their family cemetery, what were the odds he would spare Thaddeus Ross, the man who had ordered last night's attack?
Though S.H.I.E.L.D. had once again lost track of Hawk...
Maria Hill was certain of his next destination.
Quantico.
Natasha frowned as she processed Hill's prediction. "So, what are my orders?"
"Stay put."
"What?"
Maria Hill's voice was firm. "Find a way to stay close to Gwen. Until this is over."
Natasha raised an eyebrow.
"Commander, are you saying...?"
"It's not confirmed. But we need to be prepared for the worst. And Natasha... this conversation stays between us. Understood?"
"Understood. Then what about...?"
Natasha nodded, then glanced at the three other S.H.I.E.L.D agents in the van, who were all busy with their own tasks.
Maria Hill seemed to know what she was thinking. "The team with you was handpicked by me and Victoria Hand. They'll be responsible for external security until this is over."
Natasha understood.
"Yes, Commander."
"Hill out."
...
In her office at the Triskelion, Maria Hill ended the call and tossed her phone aside. She leaned back in her chair, subconsciously massaging her temples.
Her initial plan had been to recall Natasha.
But, Just as she was about to give the order, an instinct, a sudden jolt of intuition, had made her change her mind and order Natasha to stay and protect Gwen.
Because she had a feeling that the military, unable to defeat Hawk head-on, might try to use Gwen as bait.
It wasn't just a feeling. It was an assessment based on her years of service in military intelligence!!
To win a war, the military would stop at nothing.
The only reason Ross hadn't used the Hulk's girlfriend, Betty, as bait was because she was his own daughter. If it had been anyone else, Ross would have had her kidnapped and set a trap for the Hulk to walk right into.
And now, Hawk had just desecrated his family's graves.
It was a precaution she had to take.
And after thinking about General Ross, another name came to mind. Maria Hill looked up, her gaze drifting toward Nick Fury's office—
Her gut was telling her that Nick Fury's fingerprints were all over the military's sudden attack on Hawk.
Of the seventy-seven dead federal soldiers found at the scene, one of them had been identified by S.H.I.E.L.D's New York office as a fake.
It was one of theirs...
And very few people within S.H.I.E.L.D even knew Hawk existed. Of those who did, she had given a direct order forbidding any contact or investigation without her command.
Maria Hill had a strong suspicion that the agent who had died in New York had been sent there by Nick Fury.
The timing was too perfect. Yesterday afternoon, the World Security Council had abruptly reinstated Fury's operational authority.
The military attacked that night.
Was it really possible there was no connection between the two events??
...
As Maria Hill was lost in thought, the phone on her desk rang.
"Hello."
"Commander, we have a possible sighting of Hawk."
"..." Maria Hill was on her feet in an instant, heading for the door.
By coincidence, the door to the office opposite hers opened at the same time.
Nick Fury, his operational authority fully restored, stepped out.
Maria Hill didn't wait. She strode directly to the commander's private elevator and descended to the command center.
A few moments later, she and Nick Fury entered the room, one after the other.
"Haw—"
"Where is the damn criminal now?"
Before Maria Hill could even speak, Nick Fury strode past her, his voice booming with its old authority. He glanced at her as he passed and smirked. "Sorry, Commander. We're not in a state of war."
Maria Hill gave a stiff, professional smile and said nothing.
She was the Deputy Director and the acting commander in a time of crisis. Only then did her authority supersede his. But now, with his powers restored, Fury was in charge.
"Director."
"We had a possible sighting of Hawk in Maryland—"
"Put it on the screen."
An agent complied. An image from what looked like an ATM camera filled the screen. It was blurry, a figure moving so fast he was practically a ghost.
Fury stared at it, then let out his signature catchphrase.
"Motherfucker... You have any other pictures?"
"No, sir."
"Analyze his desti—"
"Sir!"
An agent at the main console, having just received a new piece of intel, turned to face them, his voice urgent.
"There was an explosion at the Quantico military base. Five seconds ago."
"..."
--
The moment Hawk left the cemetery, he unleashed his Cosmo and became a blur of pure, unadulterated vengeance.
His destination was clear.
New Mexico. General Ross's ancestral home, the Ross estate, and the Ross family cemetery behind it.
Every wrong must be avenged.
Since Thaddeus Ross had the balls to spit on his sister's memory, Hawk would grant him his wish and send his entire family's graves up in smoke.
Success depends on preparation, without it, failure is certain.
Hawk was the type to think things through, and he had already gathered all the publicly available information on Thaddeus Ross online.
Family estates, cemeteries... that was all public record.
And so—
With his Cosmo burning at full power, Hawk had crossed the country on foot to New Mexico, leveled the Ross family cemetery, and then immediately turned around, racing back toward Quantico.
It had taken him less than three hours to get from the East Coast to New Mexico in the west. It took him another three hours to get from the west back to Quantico.
But simply destroying the Ross family cemetery had not been enough to quell his rage.
In fact, it had only fanned the flames.
On one hand, Thaddeus Ross had sent his men to desecrate his sister's grave. For that, Hawk had already sentenced him to death.
Ross was a dead man. Not even God could save him now.
On the other hand, Hawk wanted to solve this problem once and for all—to make an example of them and cut off any future trouble at the root.
He might be a good person, but he refused to let others mistake his kindness for weakness. He would not stand for them thinking they could give him an inch and take a mile.
Hawk didn't have the time to play their pointless games.
He was busy.
Vibranium.
Finding a gate to Hell.
And the Reality Stone!
Just a moment ago, while spending Christmas with Anya, Hawk had been seriously contemplating whether he even needed to go back to school after the break.
He already had the acceptance letter from NYU Law, and he had more than enough credits to graduate from Midtown.
Theoretically, he could just show up for the graduation ceremony and be done with it. He was thinking of heading straight to Africa in the new year.
Therefore—
Hit them so hard the first time, they'll never come back for a second. He would beat them so badly, they'd never even think about crossing him again.
And most importantly, On Christmas Day, Anna had sent him a gift: the location of the Abomination.
He was still being held in the Quantico military base—in an underground cell, to be precise.
Hawk had been debating whether he should deal with the Abomination first or go after the Vibranium after the new year.
Well, now he knew.
Quantico had made the decision for him. They had even given him the perfect excuse.
And so!
From New York to New Mexico, and from New Mexico back to Quantico, Hawk had run. As he arrived in Maryland, he slowed his pace, taking a moment to center himself before once again pushing his Cosmo to its absolute limit.
...
Fueled by six hours of simmering fury, Hawk had leaped from a hill overlooking the Quantico military base. He soared through the air, and with a roar that echoed across the entire installation, he unleashed the single most powerful punch of his life—
"THADDEUS ROSS!"
"COME OUT AND DIE!"
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
Hawk's right fist shot forward.
In that instant, time seemed to freeze. Space itself warped around him. A ghostly afterimage of his fist shot forward, and as it descended toward the five-story building below, reality buckled and cracked like fragile glass.
When the phantom strike connected, the entire building exploded into fragments.
CRASH!
CRASH!
CRASH!
Only after the building had completely imploded did the sound catch up. A series of massive explosions rocked the entire Quantico military base.
For the first time in months, the enemy attack sirens shrieked to life across the installation that sat adjacent to the FBI Academy and the CIA's Langley headquarters.
Buildings shattered.
The ground trembled.
The five-story building collapsed in on itself, and the very earth around it seemed to have been struck by an invisible hammer from the sky, sinking inward.
From above, one could see a massive, fist-shaped crater with the collapsing building at its center.
VMMMM!
Quantico's fighter jets scrambled, and one immediately banked toward Hawk, who was now arcing through the air, descending into the base.
"Target acquired! Request permission to engage!"
"WEAPONS FREE!"
"Roger that!"
The pilot rolled the jet onto its side, released a missile, and watched as it streaked toward the falling figure.
Hawk, still in freefall, simply reached out his right hand.
CLANG!
"WHAT?"
The pilot's eyes went wide with disbelief as he watched Hawk catch the missile in his bare hand.
Their eyes met across the distance.
Hawk gave the pilot a slow, predatory smile. The moment his feet touched the ground, he squeezed.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
The missile detonated, and a brilliant fireball engulfed Hawk.
A look of triumph flashed across the pilot's face.
"Target destroyed?"
WHOOSH!
A streak of light shot out of the flames on the ground. In the blink of an eye, it had reached the jet. With a sickening thud, the pilot, the triumphant look still on his face, stared in horror at what he was seeing.
Hawk, his clothes burned away but his body completely unscathed, gave the pilot a final, vicious smirk.
The pilot instinctively reached for the emergency eject.
But Hawk's fist was faster...
CRACK!
The pilot's head exploded along with the cockpit's reinforced glass. The now-uncontrolled fighter jet spun like a falling leaf, spiraling down toward the base's fuel depot.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
A secondary explosion, even larger than the first, ripped through the base. A pillar of fire shot into the sky, and the ground shook once more. A river of fire erupted from the fuel depot, instantly engulfing a dozen federal soldiers who were screaming like their mothers had just died as they ran for safety.
...
Hawk, who had leaped from the jet the moment it lost control, landed gracefully on the ground.
RUMBLE!
The ground rumbled as a desert-yellow tank rolled into view, its turret swiveling to lock onto him. The massive cannon fired, and the shell screamed through the air, impacting directly in front of him.
A cloud of fire and smoke obscured him from view.
Just as the soldiers inside the tank were reloading, Hawk, now bare-chested, strode out of the smoke. In the blink of an eye, he was standing in front of the tank.
With his left hand, he crushed the tank's cannon.
With his right, he drove his fist into the tank's armor.
The tank didn't fly backward.
Hawk's fist plunged into the thick metal as if it were tofu. His entire arm disappeared inside. He opened his hand and grabbed the stunned driver.
The next second, he yanked the driver back out through the hole. A sickening, wet tearing sound—like meat being forced through a grinder—filled the air. What emerged was a mangled, unrecognizable mess where a head used to be.
It turned out that while the tank's armor was like tofu to him...
It wasn't for anyone else.
...
The other soldiers inside the tank stared, their eyes wide with terror, at the inhuman scene unfolding before them, their minds replaying the image of a man being squeezed through a fist-sized hole.
Just then—
HIIISSSS!
An air-to-ground missile screamed down from the sky and slammed into the tank. The armored vehicle exploded, launching into the air in a massive fireball.
Hawk looked up.
Another jet. This one was smarter. It had fired its missiles and was already breaking away.
More tanks rolled out from the base's depot, all painted the same dull yellow as they spread into formation.
But every single cannon focused on one target.
The roar of jet engines filled the air as three more fighters swooped in and immediately opened fire. Three more air-to-ground missiles came screaming down.
BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!
...
Hawk moved. A blur of motion, weaving through the explosions, the fire, the shrapnel.
WHOOSH!
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
Explosions. Flames. Deep craters.
And—
CRASH!
A tank was lifted from the ground and thrown into a nearby barracks, which erupted in a massive explosion.
Then, a second tank, a third, a fourth...
Hawk moved between them like a phantom.
You think he was just going to stand there and take it??
That was just a warm-up—a demonstration of how tough he really was. Proof that their weapons couldn't even scratch him. Now that he'd made his point, it was time to show them what real power looked like.
No...
This wasn't just about power. This was a statement. A demonstration of absolute dominance. Hawk was going to use this war to teach them one simple, brutal lesson—he wasn't the Hulk.
--
Buildings were coming down everywhere.
Across the entire Quantico base—black streaks of energy carved through structure after structure, sending concrete and steel crashing to the ground.
In the family housing district, screams echoed as men and women scattered in panic. The sky itself seemed to weep, the fires from below painting the clouds a hellish red.
The earth was trembling, the collapsing buildings slammed into the ground with a deafening roar.
In the half an hour since Hawk had arrived, this heartland of federal power had been transformed into a warzone more brutal than any battlefield in Afghanistan.
Armored vehicles, worth millions of dollars, lay scattered across the ground, burning wrecks of twisted metal.
Tanks, worth tens of millions, had their cannons ripped off, smoldering where they stood.
Even the fighter jets, each a marvel of engineering worth hundreds of millions.
Well, there were no more fighter jets. Every last one of them had been turned into an exploding pile of scrap, no different from the tanks and armored cars.
When violence begins to speak, money falls silent.
"Oh, God!"
"Fire! Fi—"
CRACK!!!
With an emotionless backhand, Hawk sent a soldier, who had been screaming in terror while firing at him—flying.
Hawk glanced down at the white marks the bullets had left on his skin, then looked up at the other soldiers before him. Or rather, at the soldiers who were dropping their weapons and turning to run.
Hawk watched them for a second, then felt the sting of bullets on his back. He turned, and his figure vanished.
"Aaargh!"
Hawk's right hand shot out.
With a slight squeeze, he crushed a soldier's head, ignoring the blood that splattered across his body. His eyes were devoid of emotion as he watched another group of soldiers throw down their weapons and flee.
He didn't chase them.
Though he was on a rampage, in the last thirty minutes, he had inflicted billions of dollars in economic damage. But Hawk could, with a clear conscience, say that he was holding to his principles.
He only killed those who tried to kill him.
After half an hour of carnage, the soldiers on the base had clearly figured this out. After the armored vehicles were torched, the tanks exploded, and the jets fell from the sky, it was their turn.
Aside from a few who hadn't gotten the memo and opened fire on Hawk, most of them just stood there with their rifles, some without even taking the safety off.
So when Hawk appeared before them, they saw their out. They dropped their weapons, screamed, and ran.
Surrender, and you live.
And it was true. Hawk didn't bother with the soldiers who dropped their weapons and fled. He had no desire to cause a needless massacre.
This arrangement suited him just fine.
He had come to Quantico for three things.
Thaddeus Ross.
The Abomination.
And to make a statement.
Now, After killing another dozen or so soldiers who had fired on him, the sound of gunfire on the base had completely ceased.
The statement had been made. That left two things on his list.
Hawk ripped the uniform from a dead soldier's body and used it to wipe the blood from his face as he walked toward the base's command center—his steps as calm and unhurried as a leisurely stroll through the burning, ruined landscape.
Nearly every building on the base was a wreck.
Only the command center remained untouched.
In fact, a fighter jet had spiraled out of the sky, on a collision course with the building. Just as it was about to impact, Hawk had appeared, kicking the multi-ton aircraft aside as if it were a toy.
It wasn't an act of mercy.
It was a simple matter of culinary preference. The main course is always served last.
The people inside the command center weren't idiots. They'd seen what he was capable of. They knew he was saving them for last.
So they tried to run.
But they couldn't.
With his senses fully open, Hawk gave the VIPs in the command center no chance to flee. The wrecked tanks and armored vehicles littering the ground less than fifty meters from the building were a testament to that.
Even so, the command center was not an isolated island.
Quite the opposite.
...
In front of the building, dozens of soldiers had formed a human wall, aiming their rifles at Hawk.
Thump.
Thump.
In the chaotic silence of the military base, Hawk's footsteps were perfectly clear as he walked toward them, wiping the blood from his face, leaving a trail of bloody footprints with every step.
The footprints drew closer, and then the footsteps stopped.
Hawk stood before the military command center.
He finished wiping the blood from his arms, then casually tossed the blood-soaked uniform to the ground.
The sound of the uniform hitting the ground made the soldiers at the door flinch.
They raised their rifles at the man standing before them—unarmed, shirtless, hands casually in his pockets, his build radiating pure strength.
But they couldn't bring themselves to pull the trigger, even as panicked VIP voices screamed desperately through their earpieces, ordering them to shoot.
They had brains... If they weren't the unlucky bastards told to stick around and guard the bigshots, they would've been long gone with everyone else.
They hadn't fired a shot. And they had seen it with their own eyes—as long as they dropped their guns, the man before them would leave them alone.
So... fire?
For what? The shitty paycheck they got every month? It wasn't worth dying over. They were soldiers, not martyrs. They just needed an excuse to get the hell out of here—
Hawk looked at the wall of soldiers blocking his path, their weapons all mysteriously still on safety by some unspoken agreement. He let out a quiet chuckle. "Heh."
"Aaargh!"
"Oh, God!"
"Help me!"
The moment Hawk's laugh escaped his lips, it was like a dam burst. The soldiers dropped their weapons as one, screaming and shouting as they scattered in every direction, disappearing in seconds.
A gentle breeze drifted through the now-empty courtyard. The path to the command center lay wide open.
Hawk just smiled. It was a genuine, unrestrained smile. "Hahaha!"
...
"..."
Inside, the VIPs watched the main screen, their faces pale as they stared at the image of Hawk, standing before their building with a backdrop of burning tanks and dead bodies, laughing. They began to tremble.
It wasn't from anger. It was from fear.
Because in that moment, they understood one thing. Their lives were no more valuable than the lives of the soldiers outside. They were no more valuable than the multi-million-dollar armored cars, the tens-of-millions-of-dollars tanks, or the hundreds-of-millions-of-dollars jets.
At least, not to Hawk.
As Hawk's laughter subsided, he looked up, his eyes cold as he stared directly into the command center's security camera—as if making eye contact with the men inside.
The next second, his voice, devoid of all emotion, reached their ears. "Either you give me Thaddeus Ross..."
"Or I'm coming in to kill all of you!!"
"You have one minute."
"Sixty."
"Fifty-nine."
"..." He didn't give them a chance to react. He immediately began the countdown.
Killing was one thing.
But killing them wasn't enough—he had to break their spirit. More importantly, he needed to justify this to himself.
Once the minute was up, if they hadn't turned over Ross, he could convince himself they were protecting him.
Then their blood would be on their own hands.
...
Soon, as he stood before the command center, his hands in his pockets, he began the final twenty seconds of his countdown. From inside the building, he could hear screaming, crying, and the sounds of a struggle.
Hawk raised an eyebrow. A small, cruel smile touched his lips.
He didn't stop his countdown, but he paused at the eight-second mark.
Not because he had made a choice, but because the men inside had made one for him.
THUMP!
Thaddeus Ross—the once-mighty general who had turned Manhattan into a battlefield chasing the Hulk—was thrown out of the command center by the very VIPs who used to kiss his ass.
Ross, his gray hair disheveled, tripped and went sprawling down the front steps. He cried out in pain as he rolled to a stop right at Hawk's feet.
Ross struggled to get up.
Just then.
STOMP.
"Aaargh!"
Hawk lifted his foot from the tattered uniform and brought it down on Ross's head. With a slight pressure, Ross was pinned to the ground once more.
He leaned down, his eyes narrowed as he looked at the gray-haired man beneath his foot.
"Thaddeus Ross..."
"Aargh!"
Ross's face turned bright red with rage as he roared and pushed against the ground, struggling to get out from under Hawk's boot.
But it was useless.
--
"You know, I almost forgot about you."
Hawk's voice was a low, contemplative murmur, yet it cut through the tense silence. He stared down at the man thrashing uselessly beneath the sole of his shoe.
"If you hadn't been so obsessed with hunting the Hulk, the Abomination never would have come to New York City."
"If the Abomination hadn't come to New York City, then the battle between him and the Hulk never would have happened..."
"And if that battle hadn't happened..."
"My sister wouldn't have died."
His words built methodically toward an inevitable conclusion—cold, calculated, and absolutely damning.
A slow, chilling smile spread across Hawk's face.
"Thank you for reminding me that you were a part of this, too."
General Ross, who had been struggling beneath his foot, suddenly went still, as if he finally understood.
Hawk's eyes were like ice.
"Wait—"
SQUELCH!
Hawk brought his right foot down. A spray of red, like crushed watermelon, spread out from under his blue sneaker—a shoe that had cost less than thirty dollars, but one he had worn and cherished for years.
General Thaddeus Ross.
Dead.
No more words. Hawk had no intention of listening to Ross's bullshit, nor did he feel the need to give him the chance to speak.
He just needed to be dead.
...
Behind him, Maria Hill, who had just arrived on the scene after rushing from the Triskelion, froze—her gaze fixed on the blue sneaker that had just crushed General Ross's skull.
Hawk lifted his foot and wiped the sole on the tattered uniform on the ground. He then turned from the headless corpse and faced the newcomer.
A face with sharp, clean lines. Ice-blue eyes. A perfectly tailored S.H.I.E.L.D. combat uniform.
A name came to Hawk's mind—
"Maria Hill."
"..." Maria Hill snapped back to the present, meeting his gaze. She took a deep breath.
"That's me..."
Hawk slipped his hands into his pockets and gave a slight smile to the woman who had the balls to approach him alone after that display. "Can I help you?"
"You've killed General Ross. What—"
"He got what he deserved." Hawk's eyes narrowed, cutting her off. "Tell me, Ms. Hill, if it was your sister who had died, what would you do?"
Maria Hill paused, not answering the question. She simply looked at him. "Ross is dead. What are your plans now?"
"My plans?"
"Yes." Maria Hill nodded, holding his gaze.
Internally, she was cursing Nick Fury.
She and everyone else at S.H.I.E.L.D had a clear view of Hawk destroying tanks with his bare hands and kicking fighter jets out of the sky.
Logically, Nick Fury should have been the one to come here, not her.
But the moment the situation had escalated, Fury had gone dark.
No calls, no texts, no satellite tracking. He had simply vanished.
Which left her, the Deputy Director, to clean up the mess.
And she was now almost certain of one thing:
Fury's sudden reinstatement and Ross's uncanny ability to track Hawk down were connected. Fury must have traded Hawk's location for Ross's political support.
Unfortunately... Ross was now dead.
Maria Hill's eyes flicked for a split second to the headless corpse at Hawk's feet before quickly looking away.
Hawk listened to her question and just shook his head with a small smile. "Ms. Hill, what happens next isn't up to me. It's up to you."
Maria Hill processed his words.
"Ross is dead. You can leave." It was an offer. An unofficial truce. S.H.I.E.L.D. would look the other way.
"Not enough."
"What?"
"The Abomination. Hand him over." Hawk's expression was flat, his voice leaving no room for negotiation.
He understood what she was offering.
Ross was dead, so he could walk away and everyone would pretend this never happened. But the Abomination was still breathing...
Hawk's eyes shifted to the command center, where the VIPs were frozen at the doorway—afraid to step outside. "You know the drill. One minute. Either you give me the Abomination, or you're all dead."
...
The moment he spoke, the VIPs erupted into a panic. "Dammit, where's the Abomination?"
"He's in the underground cell!"
"Let him out! Let him out now!"
"Hurry! We've only got thirty seconds!"
Hawk listened to the tearful, panicked screaming and snorted in disgust. He turned back to Maria Hill and shook his head with something like pity.
"I guarantee you those are the same guys who backed Ross when he came after me. Probably thought I was just some nobody they could squash. Now that I'm standing here, they're shitting themselves because they know I could crush them like the insects they are."
Maria Hill watched him. "Are you going to kill them?"
"Depends."
"On...?"
"I don't start fights, but I finish them."
Hawk looked at Maria Hill and smiled. "See, Ms. Hill? You're standing right here, perfectly fine."
As he spoke...
THUD!
The ground shook violently. A section of the earth shattered, and a monstrous creature, even uglier than the Hulk, clawed its way to the surface.
It was the Abomination.
But...
The second his cell's electronic locks failed, he'd smashed his way out without hesitation. Breaking through to the surface, he was ready to roar and announce his return to the world—but the sight in front of him stopped him cold.
Burning vehicles, exploded tanks, downed fighter jets, and nothing but destruction and bodies as far as he could see.
What the hell happened?
Is it the end of the world??
The Abomination was completely baffled. After a moment, his gaze was drawn to the small ant of a man standing with his back to him.
A cruel smile spread across the Abomination's face.
If the Hulk was a creature of reluctant self-defense, the Abomination was a creature of wanton destruction. The man he had been was a soldier, obsessed with power. The monster was no different.
And so, the Abomination attacked.
...
"ROARRRRRRRRRRR!"
With a roar of pure fury, the Abomination charged forward. After a few thundering steps, it launched itself skyward, its massive frame blocking out the sun, a twisted grin spreading across its face as it plummeted down to crush the tiny figure into paste.
Hawk didn't move. His gaze was still locked on Maria Hill.
Hill, out of the corner of her eye, saw the monster descending like a living meteor. The sheer pressure of its descent sent a shockwave across the ground, cracking the already shattered concrete.
She stood her ground, refusing to back down or look away from the man in front of her. Her eyes stayed locked on Hawk's.
Hawk looked at Maria Hill, felt the storm about to break, and smiled. Then he turned and threw a punch.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
The Abomination's chest caved in.
A thunderous crack split the air as it was launched backward like a cannonball of flesh and bone. It crashed into a burning tank.
CRASH!
The Abomination's massive body finally came to rest in a pile of rubble, and the three burning tanks that had been dragged along with him crashed down on top.
Fire doesn't discriminate.
The Abomination's hulking frame was instantly swallowed by flames, and the sickening sound of burning flesh filled the air.
The Abomination.
Dead.
He had appeared and died in the same instant. Just one punch, and the fight was over.
He'd already taken down the Hulk. If some creature that couldn't even beat the Hulk had actually given him trouble, what would that say about him?
Would it be an insult to the Hulk? Or an insult to his Cosmo?
Unlike the Hulk, the Abomination's body didn't change back to human form as the flames devoured it. After all, Bruce Banner had been transformed by gamma radiation exposure.
Emil Blonsky had injected the gamma serum straight into his bloodstream. Simply put, the Abomination and Emil Blonsky were permanently fused—there was no going back.
...
After throwing the punch, Hawk didn't give the Abomination another glance. He turned back to Maria Hill.
To him, she was the far more interesting creature here.
Maria Hill's mind was replaying the image of Hawk killing the Abomination with one casual punch, but she kept her expression perfectly calm.
"What now?"
"What do you think?" Hawk stuffed his hands back in his pockets, his gaze level with hers.
Maria Hill met his gaze, her mind spinning as she recalculated everything she thought she knew. "The Hulk is dead, the Abomination is dead, and Ross is dead. The three people responsible for your sister's death are all gone now."
"They are..."
"Go home."
"HAHAHAHAHAHA." Hawk burst out laughing at her words. It was a laugh filled with derision.
Maria Hill's heart skipped a beat.
Nearby, the VIPs, still frozen in the doorway began to tremble at the sound of his laughter.
--
"Heh."
"Go home??"
"I just ran from New York to New Mexico to level the Ross family cemetery, and then ran all the way back here from New Mexico."
"What do you think I came here for?"
"Do I look like I have nothing better to do?"
"They started this war, not me!"
"They may have decided when it started, but they don't get to decide when it ends. I do."
Hawk's laugh died in his throat. His ice-cold gaze swept over the crowd of uniformed, well-dressed men huddled in the doorway—the so-called 'great men' of the nation.
Normally, these men would have exuded an aura of power and authority.
But now, They were terrified. Anxious. Pathetic.
Heh.
You only learn when it's too late. You only change course after you've already crashed. You only feel regret when death is staring you in the face.
But you don't feel regret... You just feel fear!!
Hawk took in the pathetic sight, then turned his gaze back to Maria Hill. "There are only two ways this ends."
"...May I hear them?"
"Of course."
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Hawk's lips. Compared to the sniveling cowards in the doorway, his opinion of the woman who had stood firm in the face of the Abomination was relatively high.
Hawk looked at her, his voice quiet and hollow, completely devoid of emotion.
"Since I'm already here, what's the difference between killing one or killing two? Five hundred, five thousand, fifty thousand—they're all just numbers to me."
"..."
Hearing his words, a chill went down Maria Hill's spine.
Hawk continued. "After I kill everyone here, I'll go to the Pentagon. After I'm done with the Pentagon, I'll go to the White House. In short, they started this war, and a war can only have one victor. Either they kill me, or I kill them."
"Ms. Hill."
Hawk paused, a small smile returning to his face. "What do you think of that ending?"
His gaze once again swept over the men huddled in the doorway, trapped between coming and going.
Hawk hadn't spoken loudly, but it was more than loud enough for them to hear every single word.
And so—
They broke.
They collapsed.
They begged.
In the face of death, all men are equal. The powerful men, now slumped on the floor, saw Hawk's gaze fall upon them and began to plead for their lives.
Their message was simple: The attack was Ross's idea. It had nothing to do with them. They begged Hawk to let them go, swearing he would never see them again.
Hawk said nothing. He just watched their pathetic, tear-streaked performance with cold amusement. He had no doubt that right now, these men would pimp out their trophy wives if it meant saving their own skins.
Beneath the polished veneer, a cesspool of corruption and depravity.
As Hawk was enjoying the show, Maria Hill, having recovered from her shock, finally spoke. "And the second ending?"
"What second ending?"
Hawk turned back to her, a look of mock surprise on his face. "You know, I'm not sure I like the second ending anymore. I think the first one is pretty good."
Maria Hill met his teasing gaze. "May I hear it anyway?"
"...Fine."
Hawk thought for a moment, then shrugged. "After a war, the victor is entitled to demand reparations from the loser."
The moment he finished, before Maria Hill could even respond, the eyes of the VIPs lit up.
"WE'LL PAY!"
"WE'LL PAY!"
"WE'LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING!"
"Shut up." Hawk's ice-cold gaze once again swept over the noisy, pathetic men.
They immediately fell silent, trembling like quail.
Hawk sneered, then turned back to Maria Hill. "I don't think I want that ending anymore."
Maria Hill frowned slightly.
"Why not?"
"I don't feel like it."
Hawk shrugged. "After what happened today, I won't be staying in the country much longer anyway. And if I'm leaving, why let them live? Better to end it once and for all—wipe them out, then clean out the Pentagon. I don't like the guy in the White House right now, either. Might as well take him out too."
He said it so casually.
But Maria Hill's blood ran cold.
Because she didn't hear a trace of humor in his voice, and she didn't see a hint of a joke on his face.
He was serious.
He would really do it!!
Hawk saw the look of horror on Maria Hill's face and smiled to himself. He turned and started walking toward the group of VIPs.
Just then, Maria Hill, seeing him move, drew in a sharp breath. She snapped out of her shock and ran, placing herself directly in his path.
"WAIT, HAWK!"
"..."
Hawk raised an eyebrow, looking at her as she stood before the VIPs, protecting them like a mother hen protecting her chicks.
Maria Hill's voice was urgent. "This incident will not be made public."
"Is that so?"
"Yes!"
Maria Hill nodded emphatically.
And she was right.
Quantico might have been turned into a raging battlefield, but very few people knew what had actually happened.
S.H.I.E.L.D had intervened from the very beginning, cutting off all communications and signals from the base.
So, Aside from the people in Quantico, the Pentagon, the White House, and S.H.I.E.L.D, no one else knew.
The people of Washington D.C. still thought this was just another quiet holiday.
Hawk listened to her words, a thoughtful expression on his face.
But—
He finished his consideration and shook his head. "Not enough."
"Reparations..." Maria Hill said quickly. "You said it yourself. This was a war. Since they lost, they have to pay reparations."
Hawk's gaze drifted past her shoulder, to the men behind her who were now as silent as the grave, wanting to speak but not daring to.
The moment his eyes met theirs, they all flinched and looked away. They were scared shitless.
Hawk considered it, then turned back to Maria Hill with a small smile. "I want a trillion dollars. You think they can pay that?"
Maria Hill's eye twitched.
Hawk shook his head, his tone calm. "One million."
"?"
"Each."
"..." Maria Hill instinctively turned and looked at the thirty-plus powerful men trembling like quail behind her.
....
Ten minutes later, Hawk looked at the tablet Maria Hill had handed him, saw the new balance in his Stark Bank account, and then looked up.
He met the pleading, desperate eyes of the men who had just transferred their fortunes to him.
"Get out."
"Yes, sir!"
"We're going, we're going now!"
"Let's go!"
"Thank you."
"..."
In the blink of an eye, the thirty-three powerful men scrambled over each other, cheering and thanking him as they disappeared from sight.
Soon, the massive military base was empty, save for two people.
Hawk handed the tablet back to Maria Hill.
As she took it, she looked at him.
"You never intended to kill them, did you?"
"..."
Hawk, stuffing his right hand back into his pocket, just glanced at her and chuckled, not answering the question. "You should go."
"And you?"
"I'll be here for one hour—" Hawk's voice was calm. His gaze went past her, to the security camera over the command center's main entrance.
"—For the next hour, you can use any weapon in your arsenal to try to take me down. But remember... every action comes with a price... If, after one hour, you've accomplished nothing, don't say I didn't warn you. From this day forward, stay out of my way. If there's a next time, I'll level Washington, D.C!!"
With that, he glanced at Maria Hill. "You can go too, Ms. Hill. Or maybe S.H.I.E.L.D wants to take a shot in the next hour. Since you're already here."
Maria Hill immediately replied, "This is a domestic federal matter. S.H.I.E.L.D. is only responsible for global peace."
Hawk just laughed and said nothing, closing his eyes.
Seeing this, Maria Hill didn't say another word. She turned and ran toward the S.H.I.E.L.D. jet parked a short distance away.
As she boarded, she was already on the phone with the Pentagon.
As the S.H.I.E.L.D jet lifted off, the massive Quantico base was well and truly deserted.
The sun set, the fires burned, and the ruins of the base were spread out under the dying light.
Hawk stood in a clearing of twisted metal and debris, hands in his pockets, eyes closed in peaceful rest. The only sound across the entire base was the crackling of dying fires. Beyond the perimeter, the surviving soldiers held their breath, all eyes fixed on the destruction.
...
Time ticked by.
Soon, an hour, which can feel like an eternity or a fleeting moment, passed in the blink of an eye.
Ring-ring-ring!
A phone, lying on the ground in front of Hawk, began to ring.
Hawk opened his eyes, looked at the ringing phone, bent down, and picked it up. "Hello."
"Hawk." Gwen's voice came from the other end. "Are you done?"
"...Almost."
"Then come home soon. Don't forget, we have our driving lesson tomorrow."
"Okay."
"Alright. I'm in New York, waiting for you to come home."
"...Okay."
"..."
--
Their call was short.
A simple question, a simple answer, and then it was over.
After hanging up, Hawk stared at the phone in his hand, lost in thought. Then, an idea struck him. He looked up at the sky.
His gaze seemed to pierce the crimson clouds, to tear through the atmosphere, and lock onto a high-definition communications satellite in orbit.
...
In the S.H.I.E.L.D. command center, Maria Hill, now back at the Triskelion, stood with her arms crossed. Her face was calm, but her heart was pounding as she watched Hawk on the main screen, who seemed to be staring right back at them.
She was worried he would interpret the call from Gwen as a threat.
In reality, it wasn't a threat.
It was a concession.
Just go. Go back to New York. We'll pretend today never happened.
She was out of options. A few warmongers at the Pentagon had been pushing hard for a nuclear strike against him.
But what if it didn't work?
Who'd take the blame when it all went to shit?
The second they realized they'd be thrown under the bus, those same warmongers went quiet real fast. They were all for aggression—as long as someone else's ass was on the line.
After all, If they made a move, Hawk would actually kill them.
It was a gamble they weren't willing to take.
And more importantly, they couldn't take it. The image of General Ross lying on the ground like a dead dog, his head completely gone, was still fresh in their minds.
None of the generals at the Pentagon wanted to be next.
And so, playing dead had become their only option—
But playing dead was one thing. Hawk was still sitting in the middle of the Quantico military base.
So, the Pentagon had thought of Maria Hill.
Hill looked at the screen, at the man who seemed to be staring at her through the satellite's lens. She took out her own phone and dialed his number.
...
Hawk, still looking at the sky, saw his phone ring again. He put it to his ear.
"Hello."
"Hawk..."
"The reason," Hawk said, his tone flat. "You get one chance to explain, Ms. Hill."
Hill spoke quickly. "The car."
Hawk raised an eyebrow.
Through the satellite feed, his expression was perfectly clear.
Hill composed herself and quickly explained how Natasha Romanoff had gone to New York to return the repaired car to Gwen.
Of course, she also explained that after Hawk had left New York, she had ordered Natasha to stay behind as a precaution, in case the military tried to use Gwen as leverage against him.
She told him everything, except for her suspicion that Nick Fury had orchestrated the whole thing with General Ross.
She had no proof of that yet—
Hawk listened to her explanation and was silent for a moment. Then, his gaze fell from the sky. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Hearing his thanks, Hill let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Then, a thought occurred to her.
"I can arrange a jet to take you back to New York."
"...Alright." Hawk considered it, then accepted. After hanging up, he looked at the only building on the entire base that was still standing, and took a deep breath.
His right foot slid back. The stone beneath it cracked under the pressure.
The next second—
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
As Hawk's right fist shot forward, every window in the building exploded outward. The entire structure cracked and crumbled in seconds. With a thunderous roar, the last standing building on Quantico collapsed into dust and debris.
Watching from the satellite feed, Maria Hill's eye twitched.
The warmongers at the Pentagon watched, their hearts filled with terror.
And in a secure location far from the Triskelion, Nick Fury watched, something dangerous flickering in his one good eye.
....
Half an hour later, a S.H.I.E.L.D jet lifted off from the ruins of the Quantico base. Only after it had completely vanished from sight did the soldiers who had been waiting outside the perimeter finally re-enter.
The scene that greeted them was one of apocalyptic devastation.
The ground was scarred and broken. Buildings were reduced to rubble. Armored vehicles, tanks, and fighter jets were nothing but charred, skeletal remains. And everywhere, there were bodies.
But the thing that drew the most attention was a massive, charred corpse lying on a pile of rubble.
"Hiss."
"IS THAT..."
"THE ABOMINATION?"
"WHERE'S HIS HEAD?"
A few of the soldiers, their courage returning now that Hawk was gone, gathered around the corpse. They looked at the headless body of the Abomination, then at each other.
The next second, as if they'd all had the same thought, they looked up in the direction the S.H.I.E.L.D jet had disappeared.
....
Miles above the earth, Hawk relaxed on a plush sofa inside the jet. The charred, grotesque head of the Abomination sat on the table in front of him like some twisted trophy. He stared at it for a moment, then shook his head and tossed it into a nearby trash bin.
He had originally planned to bring the head back to his sister's grave as a gift. But his sister had always been timid.
When she was little, she would jump into his arms if she saw a mouse. A gift this ugly would probably make her cry.
So, he decided against it.
After this war at Quantico, Hawk now had a very clear and complete understanding of his own power.
On Earth, he was untouchable. But being the strongest on one planet didn't make him the strongest in the universe.
Mephisto, Lord of Hell itself, was no ordinary enemy.
He was a God.
A Dimensional God.
Hawk was not yet strong enough to take what he wanted from a Dimensional God.
Even with his Cosmo now anchored in the Marvel Universe, the odds were stacked against him. In the Saint Seiya universe, Mephisto ranked alongside Hades, the King of the Underworld.
A freshly awakened Saint—no Armor, not even the Sixth Sense unlocked—going toe-to-toe with Hades right off the bat??
That Saint would have to be an idiot.
And so—
"The Armor is the key."
"And I need the Reality Stone. With it, I can make my Cosmo a permanent part of the Marvel Universe—not just borrowed power, but something that truly belongs here."
"That, and only that..."
"Is how I'll get my sister back from Hell."
The thoughts flashed through Hawk's mind, and he now had a clear plan.
He had already identified two of the three materials he needed. All that was left was Orichalcum, or as it was known in the Marvel Universe—Vibranium.
Once he had the Vibranium, he could forge the Phoenix Armor.
And at that point, even if his Cosmo wasn't yet a physical reality in this universe, with his Armor, he should be able to go toe-to-toe with Thor.
After all, the Reality Stone's storyline was from Thor: The Dark World. That should happen next year—probably sometime in the second half?
...
Just then, the door to the jet's cockpit opened, and a female S.H.I.E.L.D. agent walked out.
Sharon Carter.
She was about to speak, but she froze, her eyes landing on the hideous head in the trash can. "Mr. Hawk, that head..."
"I don't want it." Hawk snapped out of his thoughts and followed her gaze. He shook his head. "It's too grotesque. My sister would've been terrified."
Sharon Carter laughed. "I can see that."
At first, she hadn't understood what Hawk had done today.
But, After reading his file, she had a different perspective.
"You're a good brother, Mr. Hawk."
Hawk glanced at Sharon and let out a short, humorless laugh. "No, I'm not. If I were, my sister wouldn't have died."
Seeing an opening, Sharon sat down on the sofa across from him. "That wasn't your fault, Mr. Hawk. If your sister knew you had avenged her, she would be very happy."
Hawk looked at Sharon but didn't speak.
Sharon felt a slight jolt and blinked.
"What is it, Mr. Hawk? Did I say something wrong?"
"No."
Hawk shook his head, his gaze shifting away. "So you agree with what I did?"
Sharon smiled. "Professionally, I'm noncommittal. But personally? Yes... However, if I had a brother, and if I were to die... I would want him to be happy. Not to live his life consumed by hatred."
Hawk smiled faintly. "I don't do forgiveness."
"Hm?"
"Forgiveness is God's business, Agent Carter. My business is arranging the meeting."
"I see." Sharon was taken aback for a second, then she nodded thoughtfully. She looked at Hawk and said, almost as a joke, "Then I hope I never become your enemy, Mr. Hawk."
Hawk laughed. "As long as you're not my enemy, you're my friend."
"Understood."
Sharon's eyebrow shot up, and she nodded with another smile. She shrugged. "So, what are your plans now that you're going back to New York, Mr. Hawk?"
Hawk seemed to think of something. He looked at her.
"Driving lessons."
"Driving lessons?"
"Yeah." Hawk nodded.
He had money now.
A lot of money.
....
Half an hour later, the S.H.I.E.L.D jet touched down smoothly at a private airfield outside of New York City.
As Hawk stepped out of the jet, the first thing he saw was Gwen standing next to the repaired yellow Corolla. She wore a yellow wool coat, arms crossed, watching him with a gentle smile.
Hawk walked down the stairs and toward her. "I'm back."
"I see that." Gwen's smile was radiant. "Going home?"
"Yeah."
"Come on, get in."
"Can I drive?"
"No. You don't have your license yet. If you get caught, my father will haul you into court himself."
"..."
--
Is it hard to get a driver's license in the United States?
Not at all.
Compared to the rigorous, multi-stage exams in other countries, getting a license in the US is ridiculously easy.
As long as you could shift gears, turn, and hit the brakes, you could get a license.
Of course, there was one catch. You had to bring your own car. The examiner would sit in the passenger seat, observing your habits and proficiency, and then decide if you passed.
And so, at the entrance to the Manhattan DMV, Gwen was waiting. Her eyes lit up as she saw her yellow Corolla make a turn and head toward her, and she hurried over to meet it.
Hawk unbuckled his seatbelt and got out.
The examiner got out from the passenger side.
Gwen walked up to Hawk, watching the examiner scribbling on a clipboard. She whispered, "How'd it go?"
"Should be fine." Hawk whispered back.
He wasn't entirely sure. When he was making a U-turn on 19th Avenue, some idiot jaywalker had decided to ignore the red light and step right out in front of him.
Hawk had slammed on the brakes.
His first instinct had been to hit the gas and send the idiot flying.
But he had hesitated. Though glancing at the examiner's face at the time, he got the distinct impression the examiner would have preferred he'd hit the gas.
He wasn't sure if he'd imagined it.
As Hawk and Gwen were whispering, the examiner finished his notes and looked up at Hawk.
"Mr. Hawk."
"Yes."
"A person who follows the rules should not have to yield to those who don't."
"..."
Knew it...
Hawk thought to himself. He met the examiner's eyes—which still held a hint of disappointment that he hadn't sent the jaywalker into orbit—and nodded seriously. "I'll remember that."
The examiner saw the understanding in his eyes and smiled, handing the clipboard to Hawk.
"Congratulations, Mr. Hawk."
"Thank you." Hawk's face lit up as he took the form.
With this piece of paper, he could walk right back inside and get his official driver's license.
But Gwen was clearly even more excited than he was.
It was a rite of passage. The boyfriend drives.
What others had, she would have too.
And sure enough, the moment they walked out of the DMV, Gwen immediately surrendered the driver's seat to Hawk, whose new license wasn't even warm yet...
Before, he didn't have a license, so she drove. Now that he had one, if she still drove, what was the point of him getting it?
Her logic was flawless.
Hawk had no counterargument.
By the time he opened the door and got back in the car, Gwen was already in the passenger seat, buckled in, a wide smile on her face as she looked at him.
"Alright, Mr. Chauffeur, let's go."
"..." Hawk's lip twitched. He looked at Gwen, who was clearly happier about him getting his license than he was, but didn't say anything. He buckled his own seatbelt and pulled the car away from the curb.
"Where to?"
"Didn't you say you wanted to go to St. Mark's Church?"
"Yeah."
"Then let's go."
"Alright." Hawk said nothing more and drove onto the road.
"Hiss."
"Oh my god, today's the last day of the break." Sitting in the passenger seat, Gwen was about to pull out her phone to take a picture of Hawk's new license when she noticed the date.
Winter break was always shorter than summer break. It felt like they hadn't done anything, and now it was already over.
It had been almost half a month since that evening when she had picked him up from the private airfield.
He had returned on December 27th.
It was now January 7th.
But not January 7th, 2012. It was 2013.
Seven days ago, both Hawk and Gwen had turned eighteen, the legal age to marry in the state of New York.
But neither of them could work up the courage.
Gwen might have.
Hawk hadn't.
He was terrified that the second they walked out of City Hall—George "Bullseye" Stacy would appear and put eight bullets in his back.
Of course, Hawk wouldn't die. But he couldn't say the same for George.
And so, To avoid such a tragedy, Hawk had not eloped with Gwen on the day he officially became an adult.
...
Half an hour later, they arrived at St. Mark's Church.
Located near Second Avenue in Manhattan, St. Mark's Church in-the-Bowery was a historic landmark, built in 1799, and one of New York City's most famous buildings.
But Hawk wasn't here to see the sights. He was here to move his sister.
Calvary Cemetery was no longer an option.
It had been nearly half a month since the military's disastrous raid, and the cemetery was still a complete wreck.
Shattered headstones were everywhere.
And the protests were endless.
It was too loud.
Besides, the day he'd returned, he'd already decided to find Anya a new place.
He had money now.
And since Gwen lived in Manhattan, and NYU was in Manhattan, he would eventually be moving to Manhattan as well.
It wouldn't make sense for him to move to Manhattan and leave his sister behind in Queens.
So for the past few days, he had been searching for cemeteries in Manhattan online.
And he had found St. Mark's.
Though its cemetery was small, it was quiet and shaded by trees. The first mayor of New York City was buried there. It was a place of peace and history.
Unfortunately, like Trinity Church Cemetery, because of its limited space, St. Mark's was generally no longer accepting new burials.
But this was New York City.
A city where money talks, and rules walk.
...
"Ding!"
"Thank you for your generous donation, Mr. Hawk. God bless you."
"I'd rather he bless my sister."
"He will!"
A smiling priest stood on an empty plot of land in the cemetery, holding a credit card machine in one hand while enthusiastically shaking Hawk's with the other.
After setting a time for the move from Calvary tomorrow, Hawk and Gwen left the church.
The priest waved them off with a wide, warm smile.
Gwen glanced in the rearview mirror at the priest, who was still smiling and waving from the church steps, and her lip curled slightly.
"That priest is very enthusiastic."
"Of course he was. He had to be."
Having found a new home for his sister, Hawk was in high spirits. He laughed. "I bet you if I'd donated five million dollars, that priest would have dug up the first mayor of New York and given his spot to my sister."
Faith?
That had gone out the window a long time ago.
Ever since the Vatican had set the example with their fondness for little boys, there was no faith left to speak of.
Gwen couldn't help but laugh at his words. Then, remembering she was a believer, she playfully punched his arm.
"Don't say that. God will hear you."
"Didn't you say you'd follow me to Hell?" Hawk glanced at her with a smile. "Having second thoughts?"
Gwen rolled her eyes at him, then turned, her expression suddenly serious. "I will follow you to Hell. But I'll also drag you up to Heaven with me."
Hawk glanced at her and just shrugged, saying nothing.
He decided against telling her the harsh truth—that while a Heaven Dimension might exist somewhere, it certainly wasn't connected to Earth.
For them, it was Hell or nothing.
Gwen, seeing he had nothing to say, simply smiled and turned her attention back to the road. Then she blinked, confusion crossing her face as she watched Hawk turn onto a residential street near the church.
"What are we doing here?"
"Buying a house."
Hawk looked at a middle-aged woman in a realtor's blazer standing in front of a house with a "For Sale" sign on the lawn.
He pulled the car over to the curb and glanced at the surprised Gwen.
His sister was moving. It was only right that he did too.
Besides, now was the perfect time to buy.
After the Battle of New York last year, the city's, and especially Manhattan's, real estate market had taken a nosedive. By the end of the year, prices had dropped by nearly 30%.
Though they were still falling, the rate had slowed considerably. He figured that in less than three months, they would start to climb again.
The house Hawk was looking at was a classic American home.
It had a large lawn on either side of a stone walkway that led from the street to the front door.
To the right was a two-car garage, connected to the first-floor living area.
Next to the garage was a shed for lawn equipment.
It looked a bit like the white house from Mr. & Mrs. Smith, but the exterior of this one was a warm orange.
The interior was even more impressive.
A massive, open-plan living space.
A fully equipped kitchen with a large center counter.
A spacious master bedroom with a walk-in closet.
A luxurious master bath.
Hawk followed the realtor on a tour of the three-story house, then they returned to the spacious, first-floor living room, with its massive fireplace.
Gwen stared at the fireplace, her mind already painting a picture—snow falling outside, a fire roaring in the hearth, the two of them wrapped in a blanket on the floor.
Hawk saw the look on her face and turned to the realtor.
"How much?"
"As we discussed on the phone. Twelve million dollars, paid in full."
"Alright." Hawk nodded, then took the bank card from his Stark Bank account out of his pocket and handed it to her.
"I'll take it. Do you accept cards?"
"..."
--
Manhattan's East Village.
This was the heart of Manhattan, where land was scarce and obscenely expensive.
Before the Battle of New York, a single-family home like this one—with six thousand square feet of living space, custom floor-to-ceiling windows, high-end construction, and a fully integrated Stark Smart Home system—would have been listed for around twenty million dollars.
So, Twelve million was a steal.
The moment Hawk said, "I'll take it," the real estate agent felt like her soul was about to leave her body.
Gwen, who had been lost in a daydream of snowy days by the fireplace, was jolted back to reality. Her eyes went wide as she watched the agent take Hawk's bank card.
Hawk's expression remained perfectly calm.
It was just as he'd said before. After awakening his Cosmo, money was no longer a necessity.
Lured by the promise of a massive commission, the agent promised Hawk she would have the deed transferred and the sale finalized within three hours.
A moment later, she was peeling away in her Porsche, racing to the city records office.
Hawk and Gwen turned and went back inside the house.
And then—
Gwen had him pinned against the wall.
Hawk, his back pressed against the drywall, blinked in surprise at Gwen, who had her hands braced on either side of his head, her eyes fixed on his.
"What's wrong?"
"Hawk."
"Yeah?"
Gwen's face was serious. "What exactly did you do in Quantico?"
Hearing this, Hawk laughed. "I was wondering when you were going to ask."
It had been two weeks since the Quantico incident. He had expected her to ask what had happened, but she never did, and he was not one to volunteer information. He assumed she never would.
Gwen dropped her hands and shrugged. "I wasn't going to. But now, it's obvious I have to."
She knew Hawk had a million dollars even before he went to Quantico. She knew exactly where it had come from. And with some effort, she could accept the two-million-dollar donation to the church.
But twelve million?? She couldn't even wrap her head around it.
Her father could work for the NYPD for a hundred years and his salary and bonuses combined probably wouldn't add up to that much.
Hawk didn't have this kind of money before he went to Quantico. He had it when he came back. He must have gotten it there.
So—
What the hell happened in Quantico?
Gwen had no idea.
The woman, Natasha, had never explained, only saying they had found Hawk. To be safe, Gwen hadn't pressed for details over the phone and had simply told Hawk to come home soon.
By the time she reached the airfield at the address Natasha had given her, the woman was already gone, and she still had no idea what had happened.
At first, Gwen hadn't worried about it.
She had figured she'd see it on the news in a few days, so she'd kept a close eye on the headlines, especially any reports from the D.C. area.
And the result? Business as usual.
Everything was quiet on the home front. Not a single news story even mentioned Quantico. She'd figured it must have been some minor incident.
But now here was Hawk, casually dropping twelve million dollars like it was pocket change.
...
Gwen stared at him, her eyes wide. "What did you do that day? Why would they give you so much money?"
"Uh..." Hawk opened his mouth.
Just as he was about to speak, Gwen raised an eyebrow, stopping him. She took a few steps back, her brow furrowed.
"Did you rob the base's treasury?"
"Of course not."
Hawk's denial was immediate. "Even if I did, it would have been in cash. Do you think I could just deposit it into my bank account like this?"
I just blew up their treasury. That's all.
Gwen nodded, accepting his logic. "Then you..."
"War reparations."
"What?"
"They started the war. If they wanted it to end, they had to give me a way out. The money was the price they paid."
"..." Gwen drew in a sharp breath, staring at him in shock, a single phrase echoing in her mind.
War reparations.
"How much did they pay you?"
"Thirty-three million."
"What??" Gwen's voice cracked. "That much?"
"Is it?" Hawk smiled. "One million per person. Thirty-three people. Honestly, I feel like I asked for too little."
Hawk felt a brief pang of regret, but then let it go.
What was he going to do with that much money anyway? Thirty-three million, minus the fourteen he'd spent today, still left him with nineteen.
That was more than enough for him and Gwen to live on.
That was all that mattered.
Money was secondary. Power was what mattered. As long as he had his fist, he would always have money.
...
Hawk looked at Gwen, who was still staring at him, her mouth slightly agape, and smiled. "I should really thank Ross."
Gwen snapped out of her shock, a suspicious look on her face. "Why?"
"If it wasn't for him, I never would have had the chance to get those war reparations."
Business was business.
Hawk was happy that Thaddeus Ross had given him the opportunity to make some money. But he was not happy about what Ross had done.
So, Ross was dead, and his family cemetery was a crater.
But there was no need to tell Gwen that part. She was too kind-hearted to hear about such things.
Hawk smiled, changing the subject as he took her hand. "Come on."
"Where are we going?"
"The realtor was here before. I didn't get a good look. Let's go explore our new house."
"...I like the walk-in closet in the master bedroom."
"You don't want to change anything?"
"No." Gwen shook her head, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.
She knew he was dodging the question. Gwen knew Hawk and the U.S. military.
For them to pay out "war reparations," something monumental must have happened at Quantico that day—so significant that the entire story was buried.
She tightened her grip on his hand.
Hawk felt the change in pressure and looked at her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Gwen smiled, and her smile was so brilliant it seemed to light up the entire room.
...
Some people laugh, and some people cry.
Betty Ross was crying.
It had been ten days since her father, General Thaddeus Ross, had been buried, but in her D.C. townhouse, she was still weeping.
One moment, she had been happy, having just gotten back together with her ex-boyfriend, Bruce Banner.
Next, she was being told her father was dead.
Decapitated.
And to this day, she still didn't know the real cause of his death. All they would tell her was that it was a "military accident."
A military accident my ass.
Her father had been murdered—brutally and violently. Betty Ross wasn't stupid. She was a scientist. The second she saw her father's body, she knew exactly what had killed him.
Someone had stomped his head into the ground.
The question was, who?
Since the funeral, Betty had been calling all of her father's old friends and colleagues.
But they had all stonewalled her, insisting that his death was a military accident.
Just as Betty was on the verge of losing her mind, one of them had sighed and said he would come and see her after work.
...
In the living room, Betty stared at a picture of her father on her phone, making a silent vow.
She would make her father's killer pay.
No matter who it was.
A blood debt for a father's murder can never be forgiven.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
Betty wiped her eyes, which were red and swollen from days of crying, and ran to the door.
She opened it.
"Oh, Betty."
Nick Fury stood in the doorway. He looked at her haggard face and red-rimmed eyes, and his voice was filled with genuine sympathy. "You have to stay strong. This is what Ross would have wanted..."
Betty closed the door and looked at him. "I will be, Mr. Fury. As soon as you tell me who killed my father."
Nick Fury sighed. "What happened at Quantico has been classified at the highest level."
"I know."
Betty led him to the sofa and brought him a glass of lemonade. She sat down across from him, her jaw tight. "No one at the Pentagon will tell me the truth. But I have a right to know, Mr. Fury. He was my father!"
Nick Fury shook his head with a pained expression, then looked around the empty living room. "Is Bruce here?"
"He went out to get some things."
Betty said, assuming he was trying to change the subject. She looked at him expectantly.
"Mr. Fury, who was it?"
"The killer is..."
Fury paused, a look of genuine conflict on his face.
Seeing his hesitation, Betty didn't wait. She dropped to her knees in front of him. "Please, Mr. Fury. You're the only one who will tell me the truth."
"Get up, Betty."
Fury shot to his feet, trying to pull her up.
But Betty wouldn't move. Her voice was choked with tears. "Please, Mr. Fury. Tell me who killed my father."
"..." A series of emotions flickered across Nick Fury's dark face. The next second, he let out a long, heavy sigh.
--
When Bruce Banner got home with the groceries, Nick Fury was already gone.
Betty knelt on the living room carpet, her eyes vacant and staring at nothing.
Seeing her like this, Bruce quickly closed the door, rushed to her side, and gently helped her up onto the sofa.
"Betty..."
"..."
She seemed to snap back to reality at his touch. Her eyes focused on him, and without a word, she lunged forward, crashing her lips against his.
Bruce froze for a second, stunned by the sudden, almost savage intensity of her kiss. He then yielded, meeting her passion with his own.
With a soft thud, their embrace sent them tumbling from the sofa onto the plush rug below. Clothes were torn away, piece by piece...
"Do you love me, Bruce?"
"Of course."
"Really?"
"I swear to God."
"Then you'll help me get my revenge, right?"
"Of course I—" Bruce's voice was thick with desire, his own eyes lost in hers. But then, as her words registered, the haze began to clear.
Betty didn't give him a chance to react. "My father is dead. Help me get revenge, Bruce!"
"Okay, I will."
Bruce was lost in the moment.
A look of joy crossed Betty's face. She leaned over him, her arms wrapped around his neck, and whispered in his ear, her breath hot and ragged.
"Then become the Hulk again, my love."
"..."
Hulk???
The word struck him like a slap of cold reality. Bruce's mind cleared in an instant. He stared up at her, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"What... did you say?"
"Become the Hulk again."
"The Hulk is dead."
"But you're not."
"What?" Bruce Banner was stunned.
In the dim, shifting light of the living room, Betty's beautiful features seemed to twist. "The man who killed my father is the same man who killed the Hulk. Don't you want revenge?"
Bruce Banner froze.
"..." The image of Hawk, standing before him in the snow-covered woods, flashed in his mind.
Betty took a deep breath, her own eyes burning with a desperate intensity. "Bruce, he killed my father..."
Nick Fury hadn't told her the killer's name.
But before he left, he'd told her that the man who killed her father and the man who killed the Hulk were the same person.
Betty had asked Bruce before who had killed the Hulk for him. But he had never told her who it was.
She hadn't pressed the issue at the time. After all, with the Hulk gone, it was a good thing. It meant her father would have no more reason to stop her and Bruce from being together.
But that was then.
Now, Betty desperately wished that Bruce could still become the Hulk.
It was the only way she could get her revenge.
Betty looked at Bruce, her eyes filled with a desperate hope. "Tell me, Bruce. You can still become the Hulk, can't you?"
Bruce met her gaze and said nothing.
Betty's eyes lit up. Just as Gwen understood Hawk, Betty understood Bruce. His silence didn't mean no. It meant there was a way.
A thrill went through her. She leaned in, holding him tightly, her voice a desperate plea.
"Bruce, Please!"
"I..." Bruce felt her on top of him, felt her tears and the strength in her grip. He bit his lip, shook his head, and said one word. "Sorry."
Hearing his answer, Betty's body went rigid.
With a sharp movement, she sat up, staring at him with her red-rimmed eyes, her expression one of pure disbelief.
"Bruce?"
"Betty..."
Bruce quickly got to his feet. He looked down at Betty, who had slumped back onto the rug, and gave her a pained smile. "The Hulk is dead."
He had come to terms with it. Losing the Hulk had its pros and cons, but overall, it was for the best.
He could finally live a normal life.
And that was a good thing.
Bruce had never been a wild person. He was a scientist. As a normal man, he could find a job in a lab, earn a good salary, and continue his research.
He had already lined up his next gig.
Stark Industries had a gamma lab in Jersey City.
Tony, who was about to undergo his own medical procedure, had already given him his blessing to use it.
Theoretically, another dose of gamma radiation could trigger the transformation again. That was why he had been silent when Betty had asked. But he didn't want to. He had finally gotten his normal life back.
...
"Betty."
Bruce knelt, placing his hands on his girlfriend's shoulders, his gaze fixed on her tear-filled eyes. His voice was heavy.
"Yes, there might be a way for me to become the Hulk again. But I don't know if it would even work. The Hulk is dead. He was the product of an accident. Maybe it would work, or maybe it would just kill me. If you really want me to try, just say the word. I'll do it."
Their eyes met.
Betty looked at her boyfriend's unwavering determination, at the devastating promise that he'd walk through hell if she asked him to. That's when she finally cracked. With a broken sob, she collapsed into his arms, her body shaking with raw grief and despair.
Bruce said nothing. He just held her tightly.
After a long while, Betty's crying subsided, though her eyes were even more red and swollen than before.
But she seemed to have calmed down.
She took a tissue from Bruce, and as she dabbed at her tears, her voice was quiet. "How did my father die?"
Bruce hesitated, then told her everything.
He had been there when she got the news. He had gone with her to D.C., had held her when she collapsed, had been the one to call Nick Fury and get the full story.
It was the same as what had happened to him.
Except Hawk was far more ruthless. His revenge had been swift. In a single day, he had gone to New Mexico, then to Quantico, and had killed Ross when he'd tried to have him captured.
When Bruce had heard the story, he had felt a secret satisfaction.
After all, he had been on the receiving end of it himself. General Ross had chased him so relentlessly that he'd had to hide in India.
So, to hear that Ross had been killed while trying to hunt someone else... he couldn't help but feel a little pleased.
After listening to Bruce's story, Betty had no extreme reaction. Her voice was calm.
"Who is he?"
"Betty..."
Bruce frowned, shaking his head. "No weapon in the world can hurt him. And besides, this was Ross... just let it go."
He had been about to say that Ross had brought this on himself. But he caught himself. The dead deserve at least that much respect.
"Even the military has conceded."
"I know. But the military knows who he is. And you know who he is." Betty's voice was still quiet as she looked up at him. "I just need to know who killed my father. Don't worry, Bruce. I'm not going to do anything stupid. There's nothing I can do anyway."
Bruce looked at her sad, pleading face, and after a moment, he sighed. "Hawk."
"Hawk? What's his last name?"
"I only know him as Hawk."
Bruce shook his head. "He killed the Hulk because his sister was killed during the Hulk's fight with the Abomination. So before Christmas, he found me, killed the Hulk, and spared my life. If your father hadn't tried to go after him, he..."
Bruce stopped himself again. But the meaning was clear.
Even the military was trying to bury the whole thing. Was that just because Hawk was powerful?
No.
The real reason was that Hawk had been in the right.
When the U.S. military's force is not enough to crush an enemy, the military becomes remarkably reasonable.
Betty looked at Bruce, who had once again cut himself off, and smiled faintly. "Don't worry, Bruce. I really did just want to know his name."
"Alright."
Bruce sighed. He looked at Betty, who seemed a little less strained now that she had the name. "Are you okay?"
Betty smiled again and stood up.
"I'm tired, Bruce."
"Okay." He stood up as well. "Let's get you to bed."
She shook her head. "I think... I think I'd like to sleep alone tonight. If that's okay."
Bruce didn't question it. He just nodded.
"Then I'll walk you to your room."
"Okay." Betty didn't refuse.
After Bruce walked her upstairs to her bedroom, he lingered in the doorway, about to speak. But she'd already turned onto her side, facing away from him. He shook his head, switched off the light, and quietly pulled the door shut.
...
Lying on the bed, Betty heard the door click shut. Her eyes, which had been closed, snapped open.
Her pupils, calm just moments before, now blazed with fury.
"Hawk."
"From New York..."
"Just wait!"
"I will avenge you, Dad."
"I swear it!"