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Andrew's body jolted.
WHOOSH!
A pair of brilliant, blood-red wings exploded from his back.
The next second.
The crimson feathers hardened, turning into razor-sharp, blood-colored steel. Gleaming with a lethal, metallic glint under the moonlight, they shot toward the figure standing in the backyard like a deadly volley of arrows.
Hawk didn't dodge. He didn't even flinch. He just watched the incoming barrage of blood-steel with a perfectly calm expression.
Ting, ting, ting—
One by one, as the lethal feathers came within inches of Hawk, they simply shattered. The crisp sound of breaking metal filled the air, and the fragments fell harmlessly to the grass.
In the blink of an eye.
The lawn in front of Hawk was carpeted in a thick layer of broken, blood-red feathers.
Andrew immediately stepped in front of Amy, shielding her. He glared at the intruder, his eyes narrowed in wary suspicion. There was something familiar about the man's face in the moonlight, but Andrew's voice was a low, dangerous growl, the tone of a man prepared to fight to the death.
"Who are you?"
"Hawk."
Andrew stared at him.
Hawk stared back.
This was it. The first time he was meeting his biological father in this life.
Well.
It was certainly a unique introduction.
Just like his first meeting with Amy.
But…
Once again, Hawk felt no profound emotional surge.
Ever since he had collapsed his timeline, awakened his Seventh Sense, and ascended to the level of a 'God,' very few things could evoke strong emotions in him.
He understood this was a byproduct of his newfound divinity.
However!
Just moments ago, when he'd heard Andrew explain that he had awakened long ago, but had stayed behind for the sake of his wife, son, and daughter…
When he'd heard Andrew's plan to kill the Angel of Death and then commit suicide to ensure Yahweh could never use him as leverage…
Honestly.
In that fleeting moment, Hawk had felt a genuine twinge of emotion.
It was just a flash.
But it was real.
He didn't deny what had happened.
A parent's love for their child compels them to plan for the child's distant future.
The old saying suddenly echoed in his mind. His gaze drifted past Andrew to Amy, who was still safely tucked behind her husband.
He remembered a conversation Amy had had with Wanda.
Amy had said that once she saw that Hawk and Anya had been adopted, she had forced herself to stay away. She had been terrified that reappearing in their lives would only cause them pain and confusion.
And the moment Hawk said his name.
Amy, shielded behind Andrew's back, trembled violently. She instinctively pushed past the protective barrier of his wings.
Andrew felt her move and immediately tried to stop her.
"Amy…"
"It's okay."
Amy stepped out from behind him, her eyes locking instantly onto the man standing in their backyard. The sharp, clean line of his jaw. The firm set of his lips. The tailored, dark gray suit and crisp white collar. And most of all, those deep, azure blue eyes—eyes she knew so well, because they were her own.
She stared at him, unblinking, her voice shaking.
"Hawk…"
"That's our son's name!"
Her voice broke on the last word, a sob catching in her throat.
When Hawk and Anya were born, they hadn't named them right away. They had planned to ask the priest to help choose their names at their baptism.
But…
Hawk's name was the one Amy had mentioned when she'd confided in Wanda.
Hearing her words, Andrew's body jolted again. His eyes went wide as he stared at the young man standing before him.
Now he understood.
He understood why Hawk's face had seemed so familiar. Because Hawk had inherited his own sharp, straight nose.
Andrew's voice trembled, his eyes fixed on Hawk.
"Are you... are you really our son?"
"...I am."
Hawk nodded, his expression remaining perfectly calm.
Amy let out a choked cry, covering her mouth as the tears began to fall.
Hawk looked at Andrew, his face an emotionless mask.
He paused.
"Since you're back, you should stay here."
"It's a nice place."
"No one will bother you."
"As for the Angel of Death and those two winged freaks... I'll handle them."
With those final words, he turned and vanished.
Andrew's pupils contracted. He took a step forward, intending to follow him out into the yard.
BAM!
He slammed into something solid. An invisible, impenetrable barrier now encased the entire property, completely blocking his exit.
What the—!
'Did my own son just put me under house arrest?'
Andrew stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock.
"...Are you two done enjoying the show?"
Hawk materialized back in the guest room of House 123. He looked at Gwen and Wanda, who were still practically pressed against the glass, their eyes wide as saucers. The corner of his mouth twitched in annoyance.
At the sound of his voice, the two women jumped like startled deer, leaping up from their small stools.
Gwen turned to face him. "That was fast."
Wanda looked equally surprised. "You barely said two words to them."
Hawk met their incredulous stares with a perfectly deadpan expression. "I'm not good with words."
It was the truth. He never had been.
He much preferred letting his fists do the talking.
In his past life, and in this one.
In his past life, he hadn't needed to fight much. But in this life, before he'd even started at Midtown Tech, he'd thrown more punches than he could count.
To protect himself. To protect his sister.
Back then, he won some, he lost some.
But losing didn't matter. Even if he was outnumbered, he would just pick the biggest guy and focus solely on him, fighting with a reckless, terrifying intensity that clearly communicated: You better kill me, because if you don't, I'm going to kill you.
And the most important thing.
Parents?
He didn't have them in his past life. He was supposed to have them in this one, but that old bastard Yahweh had ruined it.
Fuck!
'Yahweh, you just wait. If I don't rip your head off and use it as a chamber pot, I'll change my name.'
Hawk thought to himself, his inner rage simmering.
But after he stated his lack of conversational skills…
Wanda raised an eyebrow.
Gwen opened her mouth to speak, then seemed to realize something and burst out laughing.
Hawk snapped out of his dark thoughts and looked at his fiancée, who was now giggling uncontrollably. "Is it really that funny?"
Gwen held up a hand, trying to catch her breath. "Sorry. I'm not laughing at you. It's just... you're right. You are terrible with words. I can vouch for that. But still... you just drop a bomb like that, lock them in the house, and leave? That's a little harsh, don't you think?"
Hawk frowned.
"I'm protecting Andrew Chloe. Keeping him from doing something stupid and getting himself killed."
"Then you should have just told him that."
Gwen shook her head. "Come on. I'll go with you. I'll do the talking. Besides, I haven't officially met Mr. and Mrs. Chloe yet."
Before, it had just been Mrs. Chloe.
Gwen had wanted to visit, but Hawk had decided to wait until Anya was resurrected so they could go together, so Gwen hadn't pushed it.
If Hawk wasn't going, it wouldn't have felt right for her to go alone.
But now.
Mr. Chloe was back. They were both here. As his fiancée, it was time she officially introduced herself.
Especially since…
Wanda had already beaten her to the punch on the 'motherhood' front and had even spent time with Mrs. Chloe.
So!
Wanda covered a yawn. "I'm going to go check on Billy and Tommy."
With that, she slipped out of the room.
Gwen looked down at her outfit, then at Hawk. "Before we go, we need to stop by the apartment. I need to change."
Hawk frowned, looking at her perfectly nice, stylish clothes.
An hour later.
It was the dead of night.
The witching hour.
Hawk stared at his fiancée, who had just spent an hour completely tearing apart and reorganizing her closet before finally deciding on an outfit. "Maybe we should just go tomorrow."
Gwen shot him a look. "No. We're going now. Anyway, how does this look?"
Hawk looked at her. She was wearing a sharply tailored beige trench coat over a crisp white blouse, paired with slim-fit jeans. He thought for a second. "I still think that cop uniform that got ripped the other night looked better."
Gwen stared at him in dead silence.
"Ring the doorbell."
"Okay."
Hawk, recognizing the 'death glare,' wisely shrugged and pressed the buzzer at Amy's house.
Soon.
Footsteps approached, and the door swung open.
They stepped inside.
Gwen, keeping her hands out of sight, subtly pinched Hawk's arm.
Hawk got the message.
"Amy Chloe."
"Gwen Stacy. My fiancée."
"..."
"It's so wonderful to finally meet you, Mrs. Chloe."
Amy was still frozen in shock at Hawk's blunt introduction, but Gwen had already stepped forward, flashing a warm, sweet smile.
Half an hour later.
The living room was brightly lit.
Hawk sat on a barstool by the kitchen counter, watching with a surreal sense of detachment as Gwen and Amy sat on the sofa, talking and laughing like old friends who had finally reunited.
Just then.
A voice, stiff but filled with a tentative, almost desperate hope, spoke from behind him.
"Would you like a drink?"
"..."
Hawk turned. Andrew stood behind the bar. Since Gwen's arrival, Amy had apparently banished him upstairs to shower and change into a clean, albeit faded, flannel shirt and jeans she had saved all these years.
Andrew pushed a glass of whiskey across the counter, looking at Hawk with a tight, nervous expression.
"I won't be twenty-one until next year."
"...Oh. I'm sorry."
Andrew's face fell, and he quickly apologized.
But Gwen, who had been watching from the sofa, called out. "Hawk, a boy's first real drink is supposed to be with his father. Besides, you're at home, aren't you?"
Hawk looked over at her. She was giving him a soft, encouraging smile.
Their eyes met.
He chuckled. He turned back, took the glass from Andrew—whose eyes were now shining with unshed tears—and said a quiet "thank you."
He raised the glass and downed the whiskey in one go.
Yeah.
It tasted exactly like any other whiskey.
Hawk thought to himself.
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