Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Marvel Universe.

June 15th, 2012.

Friday.

New York City—Midtown School of Science and Technology.

Seventeen-year-old Hawk was drenched in sweat, pushing himself to the limit in the old gymnasium.

CRACK!

Thwack, thwack, thwack!

A relentless series of brutal impacts echoed through the empty space. With every blow Hawk landed, the black heavy bag hanging from the ceiling swung wildly, its iron chain groaning under the strain.

Hawk's hair was already plastered to his scalp.

Sweat traced paths down his high cheekbones, over his clenched jawline, and finally dripped onto the collar of his worn, sweat-soaked t-shirt.

But his eyes never left the bag.

His focus was absolute.

Right now, that heavy bag was his entire world.

"Nine thousand, nine hundred and fifty-one!"

"Nine thousand, nine hundred and fifty-two!"

"..."

Hawk adjusted his footing, counting silently as he deftly weaved to the side, dodging the bag's returning swing. Without a moment's pause—a left hook, a right cross... every punch landed with solid, bone-jarring force. The bag shuddered violently under his storm of an assault, the leather on its surface looking more frayed and torn with each strike.

Punch.

Retract.

Punch again.

With every fist he threw, Hawk's movements seemed to accelerate.

Faster and faster.

Until—

"Ten thousand!"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The fire in Hawk's eyes erupted in a blaze. The fist he'd just pulled back shot forward like a lightning strike, a viper's fang lashing out to slam into the heavy bag with pinpoint precision. The bag caved inward with a sickening thud, and the chain holding it finally gave out, snapping apart with a sharp crack.

Freed from its restraint, the heavy bag flew backward, letting out a final, mournful whine before it slammed onto the gym floor with a thunderous crash.

CRASH!

"Hah!"

With the final punch of his ten-thousand-punch daily regimen complete, Hawk stared at the torn bag on the floor and finally exhaled the breath he'd been holding, his chest heaving as he steadied himself.

Sweat flowed freely down his face, gathering at the tip of his chin before dripping onto the leg of his cheap sweatpants.

Of course.

"Cheap" was a relative term.

To anyone else, these twelve-dollar pants might be cheap—laughably so.

But not to Hawk.

After all...

In this life, he was an orphan—an orphan who had been reincarnated into the Marvel Universe.

If it weren't for his decent grades, which had earned him a scholarship to Midtown Tech, he wouldn't have stood a chance. The tuition alone, tens of thousands of dollars each semester, was a bill he could never hope to pay.

But even with the scholarship, Hawk still pinched every penny.

It wasn't because he had a natural habit of being frugal; it was because his scholarship wasn't a full ride.

It certainly wasn't the kind his classmate, the student aide Gwen Stacy, received.

Gwen Stacy had landed the top-tier scholarship.

Not only was her tuition completely covered, but the school also gave her a stipend each semester, not to mention the substantial prize money she won from various academic competitions.

Hawk's scholarship was the most common type—a simple tuition waiver.

After all, his grades were just "good," not exceptional.

But Hawk was more than satisfied with that.

Midtown Tech waived his tuition, and because he was a federally recognized orphan over the age of sixteen and under eighteen—a status known as 'transitional independence'—he received a monthly stipend of eight hundred dollars.

And since Midtown Tech was one of New York's elite schools, the state of New York kicked in another five hundred dollars a month.

All told, he had a monthly income of thirteen hundred dollars.

That kind of money wouldn't be enough for an adult living in New York City, but for Hawk—an orphan on federal aid with free tuition—it was enough.

More than enough, actually.

He ate his meals at school and slept in a low-income apartment provided by social services.

From his thirteen-hundred-dollar monthly stipend, he could cover his basic living expenses with five hundred dollars and still manage to save eight hundred a month.

What??

Five hundred isn't enough??

Again, that's relative.

It wouldn't be for an adult, but for Hawk, it was plenty.

He finished his 'Daily Ten-Thousand Punches' in the gym every afternoon, showered there, and even washed his clothes in the locker room sink. Then, he'd catch the last free school bus home, go straight to sleep, and wake up to catch the first bus back to school the next morning.

He had no utility bills, let alone a phone bill or an internet bill.

He was an orphan.

A one-man household.

Who would he call, and who would call him?

As for the internet?

Heh.

He didn't even own a computer. Whenever he needed to get online, the school library had public computers, and even printing was free.

So...

Even though this new life had started with him as an orphan again, Hawk felt like he was doing alright.

He saved eight hundred dollars a month and could even treat himself to a big bucket of fried chicken from a cheap joint every now and then to refuel.

To date, he had already saved up over thirty thousand dollars.

Life was good.

Of course.

It would be even better if the fried chicken place wasn't in such a rough neighborhood.

After a moment.

Hawk, who had been standing with his eyes closed, slowly opened them. He stared at the heavy bag on the floor, but his mind was elsewhere.

He wasn't looking at the bag, but at a prompt box floating in his vision.

To be more precise—his cheat.

[Cosmo Forging!]

[Current Status: "Inactive"]

[Activation Condition: "Ten Thousand Punches a Day, for One Thousand Consecutive Days"]

[Activation Progress: "999/1000"]

"Almost there!"

"Almost."

"Tomorrow. It activates tomorrow."

Hawk's heart pounded as he stared at the progress bar only he could see, wishing he could just fast-forward time to the next day.

This 'cheat' had appeared when he turned fifteen in this life.

To be exact, it had shown up on September 10th, 2009.

He remembered the date perfectly.

It was the day the Hulk had fought the Abomination in Harlem.

That was why he hadn't slacked off for a single second.

The moment his power appeared, his training began.

He had no choice.

The world he'd been reborn into was the Marvel Universe—a world where superheroes were a dime a dozen, where superhuman beings were treated like stray dogs, and where Cosmic Gods ran rampant.

Before he had this power, he could accept lying down and doing nothing.

But now that he had it, how could he stay down?

That would be a complete waste.

And so...

From the very day his power manifested, Hawk had maintained his routine of ten thousand punches a day.

Not one day less.

Come rain or shine.

Hell or high water.

To put it simply:

He could skip a meal.

But he could never skip his training.

And now, today.

He had maintained this routine for nine hundred and ninety-nine consecutive days.

At last...

The dawn of victory was finally within reach.

Chapter Text

One thousand days.

Two years, nine months, and five days.

His daily task complete, Hawk stood under the hot spray of the gym's shower, once again summoning the interface that only he could see. He looked at the progress bar, just one day shy of completion, of activating his [Cosmo Forging]. It still felt like a dream.

After all...

Ten thousand punches a day, for a thousand consecutive days without a single break—it's easy to say, but almost impossible to do.

Sometimes, Hawk didn't even know how he'd managed to keep it up.

Maybe it was just his personality—he never knew when to quit.

Or maybe it had something to do with this world being the Marvel Universe.

Hawk didn't know.

But...

One thing was certain.

"One day."

"Just one more day."

After today, tomorrow would be the day he finally activated his power.

"Cosmo Forging..."

"I wonder if it's what I think it is."

Hawk thought to himself.

In his memory, only one thing came to mind when he thought of the word 'Cosmo.'

If it really was what he was thinking of—

Then...

The future was looking bright.

According to the ancient Greek philosopher Democritus, all things are composed of Atoms. By that logic, the human body contained its own miniature universe.

A Cosmo.

To forge a Cosmo was to continuously ignite the primordial energy of one's own life force, awakening the hidden universe within. Through constant training, one could elevate their Cosmo, and by burning it, they could achieve a fighting power that transcended the laws of physics.

Hawk remembered an anime from his past life that was based entirely on this concept.

The name of that series was—

Saint Seiya.

The Bronze Saints, who mastered the first five senses and could touch the Sixth Sense.

The Silver Saints, who had awakened the Sixth Sense and could reach for the Seventh.

And then there were the Gold Saints, who had fully awakened and completely mastered the Seventh Sense.

But beyond the Seventh Sense, there was an Eighth, and even a Ninth...

Fragmented images of the series flickered through Hawk's mind.

The next second.

Hawk snapped back to reality, shaking his head with a slight smile.

He didn't even know for sure if the Cosmo from his power was the same one from his memories. What was the point in overthinking it?

Besides—

He had no grand ambitions of punching out Odin or kicking Zeus in the teeth.

Most importantly.

He had already lived in this world for seventeen years. Before his power even manifested at fifteen, he had already mentally prepared himself to face this brutal reality without any cheats at all.

So...

"Keep a level head."

"The higher the expectations, the greater the disappointment."

With that thought, Hawk cleared his mind of distractions. He wrung out his freshly washed t-shirt and stuffed it into a plastic bag with his pants, then wrapped a towel around his waist. While drying his hair with another towel, he pushed open the door of the shower stall.

Thump!

The main door to the locker room burst open, and a skinny figure was shoved inside.

The figure stumbled a few steps before his legs gave out, and he landed hard on the tiled floor.

"Is that..."

"Peter?"

Hawk raised an eyebrow, looking at the original Spider-Man, who had just been thrown in and was now sitting awkwardly on the ground.

At that moment, Peter looked up and saw Hawk emerging from the showers.

His expression was pure embarrassment.

He was just about to say something to Hawk—a kid in his grade he'd never really talked to—when a chorus of laughter echoed from the doorway.

A moment later, Flash Thompson—known by the nickname 'Flash' and the less-flattering title of 'Midtown's Top Jock'—strolled in, cradling a football. He was flanked by his three usual cronies.

The next second.

The laughter died.

Hawk, who had just stepped out of the stall, was now toweling his wet hair with one hand and holding the plastic bag of clothes with the other, a towel secured around his waist. As soon as Flash entered, his gaze locked onto him.

Flash Thompson was a big guy, built like a linebacker.

But Hawk was no slouch either.

Nine hundred and ninety-nine days of non-stop training, of throwing ten thousand punches a day, had forged a physique of dense, powerful muscle.

And this wasn't the kind of puffed-up muscle you saw from guys at a commercial gym.

The lines of his arms were defined with pure, functional strength—not bloated and showy, but lean and explosive.

The towel was cinched low on his waist, creating a slight indent above his hip bones that only accentuated his narrow, toned core. The outline of his abs was clearly visible, an eight-pack arranged like carefully sculpted armor.

Their eyes met.

For a moment, the air in the room felt thick enough to cut with a knife.

Everyone knows the score.

In American high schools, there's a clear pecking order, a food chain of sorts.

Logically, Hawk—an orphan with no parents and no money—should have been at the very bottom, a prime target.

But he wasn't.

It wasn't because he had ever fought the school's bullies and earned their respect.

The reason no one messed with him was much simpler.

Because—

Whether it was his looks or his build, nothing about him screamed 'easy target'.

Of course.

In the three years he'd been doing this, the school's jocks had never bothered him, and he had never felt the need to play hero for anyone else.

Everyone fights their own battles.

This time was no different.

Hawk broke eye contact. He walked over to the bench, pulled a clean t-shirt and jeans from his backpack, and got dressed. After stuffing the plastic bag inside, he slung the backpack over one shoulder and walked directly toward Flash Thompson, who was blocking the exit.

Flash frowned, watching Hawk approach him.

He knew who Hawk was.

It was hard not to notice the guy who spent every single day in the corner of the gym, throwing ten thousand punches at a heavy bag for over two years.

But he didn't know him. Not really.

Hawk never went to parties or hangouts. Despite seeing him at school every day, it was like he was living in a parallel universe.

Flash watched as Hawk stopped right in front of him.

"Haw—"

"Excuse me."

"..."

Flash instinctively stepped aside. His three friends behind him looked like they were about to say something, but the moment their eyes met Hawk's—a pair of piercing blue eyes that seemed completely indifferent to everything around them—they followed their instincts and shuffled out of the way too.

"Thanks."

Hawk gave a nod to Flash for clearing the path, his voice calm and even, before walking out of the locker room without a second glance.

Flash stared after Hawk's retreating back, a frown on his face, lost in thought.

Just then.

One of his cronies gasped.

"Holy shit."

"Flash, Parker's gone."

"What?"

Flash snapped out of it. He saw Peter Parker slipping out the door right behind Hawk, and it finally clicked.

"Get him!" he roared.

"Parker! You get your nerdy ass back here!"

"..."

Chapter Text

After leaving the old gymnasium, Hawk headed for the parking lot.

He had no idea what happened behind him.

Then again, even if he did, he wouldn't have cared.

Spider-Man might be the most famous comic book character in the world, but honestly, Hawk didn't know Peter at all.

Even if they were in the same grade.

By the time Hawk arrived at the parking lot with his bag slung over his shoulder, the doors of the last orange school bus were already open.

A burly, bearded driver in a school staff uniform was slumped over the steering wheel, fiddling with a portable radio.

"Afternoon, Mr. Hall," Hawk said politely as he stepped onto the bus. "Anything interesting on the news today?"

The bearded Mr. Hall looked intimidating as hell.

But he wasn't.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

He was a good guy.

"Still talking about that federal building collapse in Quantico. They're saying it was a terrorist attack." Mr. Hall looked up from his radio as Hawk boarded, then glanced at his watch. "You're two minutes later than yesterday, Hawk."

Hawk shrugged.

"Sorry, the shower took a little longer today."

"Good thing I know you catch my bus home every day, otherwise I'd have already pulled up to the main gate. Go on, take a seat. We're heading out."

"You got it."

Hawk kept his tone respectful, heading toward the back of the bus with his backpack.

Mr. Hall started the engine, ready to close the doors and drive to the main student pickup area.

Just then.

Peter came sprinting out of nowhere, squeezing onto the bus just as the doors were about to shut.

Mr. Hall jumped in his seat.

"Holy—"

He caught himself, swallowing the curse word before it could escape. He looked at the gasping, out-of-breath Peter, then past him to Flash Thompson and his crew, who had just run up to the bus.

Flash and his friends didn't get on. They just stood outside, glaring at Peter.

Mr. Hall's gaze flickered between Peter on the bus and Flash outside. He frowned at Flash and called out, "Hey, you getting on or not?"

Flash shot a look at Mr. Hall, said nothing, then turned and walked away with his cronies in tow.

Bullying a classmate was one thing. Doing it right in front of a staff member was something else entirely.

He was a jock, not an idiot.

Peter wasn't an idiot either. As soon as Mr. Hall closed the doors, he mumbled a "thank you" to the driver.

Mr. Hall glanced at him but didn't reply.

He knew what was going on, but as long as it didn't happen on his bus, it wasn't his problem.

Anywhere else?

He was just a bus driver. It wasn't his business, and it wasn't his job to get involved.

Peter didn't say anything else. He turned to find a seat and saw Hawk sitting in the very back, by the window. After a moment's hesitation, he walked over.

"Thanks."

"..."

Hawk, who had been staring out the window, lost in thought about what the next day would bring, turned his head. He looked at Peter standing in the aisle with a completely neutral expression. "I didn't do anything for you. You don't have to thank me."

With that, he turned his gaze back to the window, dismissing Peter completely.

He had no idea if this version of Peter had his powers yet.

Most likely, he hadn't become the Spider-Man from his memories.

But...

Even if he had, Hawk wanted nothing to do with him.

To be more precise, he wanted nothing to do with any superhero.

"Superhero" sounded great in theory, but in reality, the title was inextricably linked to one disaster after another.

Before he had his power, he never had any intention of chasing after them. He just wanted to live a long life. Having been given a second chance, the least he could do was live to a ripe old age.

The plan had been to study hard, do well, and maybe build a comfortable life for himself.

Now that his power was here, Hawk's core mission hadn't changed.

It had just... evolved.

The goal of living a "comfortable life" had become living a "longer and even more comfortable life."

But the prerequisite for achieving either goal was the same.

In a word:

Stay the hell out of the superheroes' messes.

So, even after he'd started school and learned who Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy were, he never had any desire to get to know them.

Gwen was a different story, though.

He couldn't avoid her.

She was the student aide for the entire eleventh grade. But dating Gwen Stacy, the girl known as the number one love interest in all of comics?

Hawk had no interest. At least, not right now.

He wasn't in a position to even think about things like love.

Peter watched Hawk turn back to the window. He opened his mouth as if to say more, but after a moment, he thought better of it, closed it, and took a seat on the opposite side of the aisle.

Soon.

The bus reached the main gate. Mr. Hall opened the doors, and the rest of the students waiting for the last free bus of the day piled on.

The quiet atmosphere was instantly replaced by a cacophony of chatter.

An hour later.

The bus arrived in Jackson Heights.

Mr. Hall opened the doors and smiled as Hawk stood by the exit.

"See you tomorrow, Hawk."

"See you, Mr. Hall."

Hawk returned the farewell politely and stepped off the bus. He walked toward a nearby five-story, old-fashioned apartment building with a faded, orange-brick facade.

The pre-war building was owned by the New York City Housing Authority.

Hawk's apartment was on the fifth floor. It wasn't large, but it had one major perk: he could easily access the building's rooftop via the fire escape outside his window.

Soon.

Back home, Hawk dropped his backpack on a table. He took out the plastic bag with his clean clothes, grabbed a couple of hangers, opened the window, and climbed up the fire escape to the roof.

After hanging his clothes on a makeshift line, Hawk walked to the edge of the roof. He leaned his hands on the low parapet and looked up, watching the planes that occasionally streaked across the sky as they prepared to land at or take off from nearby LaGuardia Airport.

Feeling the wind and counting planes.

It was one of the few hobbies he had that helped him relax.

Lately, though, he'd added a new one.

Stargazing.

Night fell.

Hawk sat on the ground, leaning his back against the building's ventilation shaft. He enjoyed the cool summer breeze as he gazed up at the stars that had begun to emerge in the twilight sky.

The cosmos was vast.

The stars, countless.

Maybe it was just his imagination.

But for the past six months, as he continued his daily regimen of ten thousand punches, Hawk had felt a growing connection to the vast expanse above.

Tonight, that feeling was stronger than ever.

Constellations that had been blurry to the naked eye just last night were now stunningly, impossibly clear.

Pegasus!

Draco!

Cygnus!

Andromeda!

Phoenix!

Lacerta!

...

The forty-eight constellations, each symbolizing one of the forty-eight Bronze Saints, were laid out before his eyes.

It was as if—

Tonight.

The entire universe would shine for him!

Chapter Text

Midnight passed.

On the rooftop of the apartment building.

Hawk was throwing punches.

There was no heavy bag.

No specific martial arts technique.

Hawk wasn't even moving from his spot. He just stood there, eyes slightly closed, as if in a trance, striking the empty air with one fist after another.

This time, he wasn't chasing speed. Instead, he seemed to have fallen into a state of profound enlightenment.

Though he had felt a strange sensation with every punch before, tonight, it was infinitely stronger.

Hawk felt as if he had entered a dimension of absolute darkness, infinite from every conceivable angle.

But...

With every punch he threw, a flicker of light would bloom within that endless void.

If Hawk had looked up right then, he would have noticed something even more miraculous.

Because—

The constellations dotting the night sky, the ones he could now see with his naked eye—Pegasus, Draco, Cygnus, Phoenix... Lacerta—all forty-eight Bronze constellations were flickering in response to his every strike.

Yes.

Not a single constellation, but all of them.

All forty-eight Bronze constellations were answering his call.

One punch, then another... and another.

This time, Hawk's movements were slow, yet impossibly fast.

Though he fully retracted his fist after each blow before throwing the next, the afterimage of the first punch would still be lingering in the air as the afterimage of the second appeared.

Then the third, the fourth, the fifth, until now.

The air was filled with a storm of phantom fists.

Just then, a deafening roar thundered through Hawk's mind.

It was a sound that was both silent and as loud as a colossal bell.

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

A single spark ignited within the void. As it appeared, the stars reflected in that infinite space—a mirror of reality itself—began to ripple outwards, gently parting the thick curtain of darkness.

At first, it was just a tremor.

Then, that tremor exploded, like the first moment of the Big Bang. The stars adorning the infinite darkness detonated in a brilliant flash—

Inside Hawk's body, an invisible, intangible barrier shattered under the force of this cosmic explosion. A power that had slumbered for eons was violently awakened.

WHOOSH!

Hawk's eyes snapped open.

As they did, the flame deep within them no longer flickered and died as it had before.

This time, it ignited into a raging inferno.

ROAR!!

Hawk felt the blood roaring through his veins, every single cell in his body vibrating with an insane energy, as if ten thousand stars were expanding at once. Under this violent, expansive shockwave, every inch of his being, every bone, was shattered and pulverized, only to be instantly reforged by the terrifying, star-birthing power.

VMMMM!

A high-pitched hum filled Hawk's ears. His vision blurred, then cleared to reveal an impossible sight.

He saw the very particles of his flesh spinning, burning, and collapsing, reenacting the universe's first moments.

He saw the blood flowing beneath his skin, a roaring, boiling river of stars.

He saw his own beating heart, each pulse echoing the primordial, eternal rhythm of creation, sending invisible ripples through the infinite void.

The next moment.

Instinct took over.

Hawk clenched his right fist, ground his heel into the rooftop, and pivoted, shattering the concrete beneath his feet as he shifted his entire body weight back.

He drew back.

And then...

He unleashed the punch.

A low growl tore from him—a sound not from his throat, but from the very explosion of his soul.

"Burn, my Cosmo!!!"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The surrounding air blasted outwards like a shockwave on water.

The space around him shattered like glass.

The very flow of time was violently torn to shreds.

Air and even space seemed to freeze in the face of Hawk's punch.

The next second.

"HIIISSSS!"

The air screamed as it was ripped apart.

"CRACK!"

Space shrieked as it was crushed into dust.

"KRA-KOOOM!"

Time itself was annihilated by the blow. But in that same instant, a new timeline seamlessly replaced the one that had been destroyed.

POP!

POP!

POP!

Across the street, the windows on the apartment building facing Hawk's exploded outwards from the force of the punch, shattering into a deafening cascade of splintered glass.

"CRUNCH!"

"WEE-WOO! WEE-WOO!"

The cars parked along the street below were violently slammed downwards as if crushed by a giant, invisible hand from the sky.

Their windows burst, and one after another, their alarms began to shriek into the morning air.

....

At the same time.

Kamar-Taj.

"Hm?"

"Master?"

The sorcerers of the Sanctum looked toward the Sorcerer Supreme, who had just made a quiet, puzzled sound.

The Ancient One, clad in her yellow robes, looked down at the holy relic hanging from her neck—the Eye of Agamotto.

Her hands formed a mystic gesture. The Eye of Agamotto slowly began to rotate, then opened, unleashing a spectral green light from the mysterious, arcane gem nestled within.

This gem had a common name in the Marvel Universe.

The Time Stone.

It allowed its wielder to travel to any point in time, past or future, no matter how distant.

The Time Stone controlled all timelines, known and unknown. To control the stone was to control time itself.

"What is this?"

"The future has been altered?"

"..."

The Ancient One formed another gesture, closing the Eye of Agamotto. She then rose to her feet and vanished from the Sanctum.

....

[DING!]

[Congratulations, you have activated Cosmo Forging!]

[DING!]

[It has been my honor to accompany you for these one thousand days. The system will now unbind. I look forward to our next encounter!]

[Finally, the path of Cosmo Forging is the path of combat, the path of holy war. Grow in battle, and in battle, you will ascend!]

[Goodbye!]

The system's mechanical voice echoed one last time in Hawk's mind.

A thousand days ago, it had arrived in silence.

A thousand days later, it departed just as quietly.

It came without a sound.

It left without a trace.

By now, the sun was rising.

"Holy shit!"

"What the hell happened?"

"My windows!"

"Ah, my car!"

"Who the hell did this?"

"Wait a second."

"Look, up there! What is that?"

"HOLY SH—"

"JESUS CHRIST."

Standing on the rooftop, Hawk listened to the chaotic symphony of voices rising from the street below. He slowly opened his eyes and saw it—a gaping wound torn in the sky above Manhattan, glowing with an ethereal blue light.

Hawk froze.

"Hiss!"

"Did... did my last punch just tear a hole in the sky?"

"..."

Chapter Text

Hawk stared, stunned, at the sky above Manhattan—a sky that had been ripped open, exposing the infinite blackness beyond.

An ethereal blue beam of light shot upwards, pulsing into the tear in reality, as if it were forcing open a gateway.

The edges of the portal, torn open by some unseen, violent hand, crackled and hissed with raw, blue energy.

Hawk instinctively glanced down at his right fist.

But...

The next second.

He realized his mistake.

No.

He hadn't torn the sky open. The Space Stone had.

2012.

The Chitauri Invasion.

The timeline clicked into place in his mind. In a flash, his eyes snapped back to the gaping wound in the sky.

Just as he thought.

As the portal stabilized high above Manhattan, a metallic swarm of Chitauri soldiers began to pour through, spilling into the sky like a plague of locusts.

A sudden, violent flood.

The Chitauri soldiers, riding sleek, single-man flyers that glinted with a cold, metallic sheen, descended upon the city. The engines of their craft whined with a high-pitched, grating hum, their alien bodies encased in dark, alloyed armor.

KRA-KOOM!

The first Chitauri soldier squeezed the trigger of its energy rifle. The glass curtain wall of a Manhattan skyscraper instantly shattered, exploding outwards in a shower of glittering shards.

"Skreeee!"

"ATTACK!"

"INVASION! INVASION!"

"KILL THEM ALL!"

The swarming Chitauri shrieked with bloodlust. As they poured from the wormhole, they quickly broke off into their designated attack wings.

Some soldiers banked their flyers low, streaking toward the streets of Manhattan.

Others climbed higher, then veered off, heading toward Brooklyn after locking onto their targets.

And, of course.

Queens was also in their line of fire.

"Holy shit!"

"What is that?"

"Are those aliens? Is this an invasion?"

"They're coming this way!"

"Hiss!"

"Oh my God!"

"Run!"

"Aaaah!"

....

Just like Manhattan, which had already descended into chaos, the residents of Queens erupted into terrified screams. They watched as the Chitauri descended, firing their energy weapons indiscriminately, blasting through buildings, incinerating cars, and cutting down civilians. People scattered, running in any direction they thought was safe.

The guttural shrieks of the Chitauri.

The shattering of skyscrapers.

The roar of exploding cars.

The final screams of the fallen, mixed with the panicked shouts of the fleeing—in that moment, the entire city of New York was plunged into absolute terror.

Standing on the rooftop, Hawk's first instinct was to turn and run back into his apartment.

But...

The moment he turned, he froze. A thought struck him. He slowly turned back around and looked up at the sky, at the swarm of Chitauri soldiers that was now descending upon Queens like a tidal wave.

One of the soldiers, piloting its flyer and screeching as it flew, spotted Hawk standing on the rooftop.

For an invader, there was nothing more satisfying than watching the terrified masses scream and flee from their slaughter.

So, while everyone else was running for their lives, Hawk just stood there, completely still. It was impossible not to notice him.

Their eyes met.

In the depths of Hawk's piercing blue eyes, a single star seemed to flicker.

"Human!!"

The Chitauri soldier locked its gaze with Hawk's. The reptilian eyes hidden behind its dark metal faceplate seemed to receive a signal. It broke off from its squadron, banking its flyer and diving straight for the rooftop where Hawk stood.

It opened fire immediately.

A destructive ball of energy gathered at the front of the flyer, coalescing in an instant before shooting directly at Hawk.

Hawk watched the energy blast rapidly expand in his vision, his pupils constricting.

BOOOOOOOOOM!

The blast slammed into the rooftop, shattering the concrete and sending a cloud of dust into the air.

The Chitauri soldier saw Hawk move at the last second, reappearing on the other side of the rooftop completely unscathed. Without a flicker of emotion, it pulled the trigger again.

Pew! Pew! Pew!

BOOOOOM!

The apartment rooftop was turned into a warzone, rocked by a relentless barrage of energy blasts from the Chitauri soldier.

Shrapnel flew.

Dust choked the air.

Hawk's figure weaved through the chaos, dodging one energy blast after another.

He moved with impossible speed, a blur against the backdrop of explosions.

At first, Hawk had felt a surge of panic, but now, he was calm, moving with a fluid grace that felt entirely natural.

It had taken him less than a minute to adapt.

A Saint, after all, is born for war.

The Chitauri soldier fired again and again.

Click-click-clank!

With a final, hollow sound, the soldier's barrage stopped. It looked down at its weapon, seeing the empty energy clip on its flyer.

Just then.

A whistling sound cut through the air.

The Chitauri soldier looked up. A jagged piece of a steel water tank shot out from the dust cloud and—CRUNCH—slammed into its flyer.

The impact sent the flyer into a violent spin. The Chitauri soldier was thrown from its seat and, with a clumsy flail, fell from the sky.

THUD!

The soldier crashed onto the rooftop, but it was back on its feet in an instant, pulling a rifle-like weapon from its back, powered by the same eerie, green energy source.

"Hssss-kss-kss!"

The Chitauri soldier made an indescribable, guttural sound—perhaps it was speaking, or perhaps it was communicating with its hive.

Hawk didn't understand what it was doing, and he didn't much care.

After all...

This was a fight. Time to get serious.

The rooftop was a wreck. After the Chitauri's relentless assault, it was barely recognizable.

It hadn't collapsed completely, but it was close.

Large sections of the roof had caved in, some falling all the way down to the third floor, exposing the apartments below.

But no one was paying attention to what was happening on the roof.

New Yorkers were experts at one thing above all else: Survival.

Hardened by years of crime waves and terrorist threats, they had perfected the art of running for their lives without a second thought the moment danger appeared.

The dust on the rooftop began to settle.

Soon.

Hawk's figure became visible again.

The Chitauri soldier saw him emerge. A cold light flashed in its green, reptilian eyes as it instantly pulled the trigger.

"Die!"

"..."

Chapter Text

CRACK!

The Chitauri soldier, still frozen in its firing stance, felt its head snap ninety degrees to the side. Its compound, fly-like eyes, glowing with that eerie green light, stared in disbelief at Hawk, who was now standing in front of it.

How did he suddenly get behind me?

The Chitauri soldier didn't understand.

But it didn't need to. That was the last thought it would ever have. An instant later, an endless darkness consumed it.

The soldier's lifeless body crumpled to the rooftop, its energy weapon slipping from its grasp and clattering to the ground.

"That's it?"

"Heh."

Hawk looked down at the soldier whose neck he'd just broken and let out a short, dismissive laugh.

The next second.

He felt it. Deep within the Cosmo that had been born from that internal Big Bang, a warm current of energy surged as the Chitauri soldier died. As this energy flowed into him, it was as if a single star had just been ignited in his personal universe.

At the same time, with the lighting of this star, a wave of information washed over him.

The ghostly outlines of the forty-eight Bronze constellations, which had been shimmering within his Cosmo, became slightly more defined as the first star flared to life.

Hawk closed his eyes, absorbing the information his Cosmo was feeding him.

To grow in countless battles.

To ascend in endless combat.

After all...

The path of the Cosmo was born for war, forged for holy crusades. It was the art of battle, the way of the Saint.

"So."

"If I want to light up my own constellations within my Cosmo, I need to fight. I need to keep fighting."

In the lore of the Saints, the awakening of one's Cosmo was deeply tied to their guardian constellation, but it wasn't a simple one-to-one relationship.

If an awakened Cosmo was the liquid, then the constellation was the vessel.

The constellation was the symbol of a Saint's identity and the container for their power.

The bad news:

In the Marvel Universe, there were no Saints. So, if he wanted a guardian constellation of his own, he would have to ignite them, one by one, through his own efforts.

The good news:

Because there were no Saints in the Marvel Universe, then theoretically, he could awaken all forty-eight of the Bronze constellations.

It wasn't like in the old stories, where tens of thousands of warriors would fight and die just for the chance to claim a single constellation, with only one emerging as the victor.

In those stories, the constellations were few, but the warriors were many.

But here, it was different.

Here, he was the only one who had awakened a Cosmo.

So...

He could be the Pegasus Saint, or he could be the Phoenix Saint. He could be any of them, as long as he could ignite their stars within his Cosmo.

And that...

Was awesome.

He was going to take them all.

Wait a minute.

If he could claim all forty-eight Bronze constellations... what about the twenty-four Silver constellations?

And the twelve Zodiacs of Gold?

Hiss!

The thought struck Hawk with the force of a physical blow, and he drew in a sharp breath.

....

Just then.

He heard the whistle of air cutting above him. His eyes snapped open to see two more Chitauri soldiers on their flyers. They had seen the body of their fallen comrade at his feet and immediately locked onto him. Without a word, they opened fire.

Pew! Pew! Pew!

Enraged at the sight of their ally killed by a weak human, the two Chitauri soldiers unleashed a torrent of energy blasts, pouring their fury down onto the rooftop.

Under their combined assault, the already crumbling rooftop finally gave way.

With a deafening groan, the roof of the apartment building collapsed.

The entire structure began to shudder.

Soon.

As the two Chitauri circled, relentlessly firing, the building began to fail, collapsing in on itself from the top down.

The ground seemed to tremble. With a massive plume of dust and debris, the five-story apartment building was reduced to a pile of rubble.

Some of the residents who had managed to escape the building just before it collapsed, but hadn't gotten far, now stood frozen, their mouths agape as they stared at the ruin.

But their shock was short-lived.

The two Chitauri soldiers descended, appearing before them.

They snapped out of their trance. Seeing the inhuman soldiers, they screamed and turned to run.

But it was too late.

Their orders from the mothership were simple: kill all humans. Seeing the fleeing civilians, the Chitauri didn't hesitate. They pulled their triggers once again.

A storm of exploding energy blasts.

A street of falling bodies.

In the blink of an eye, the already impoverished, rundown street was transformed into a warzone, looking like something straight out of a battle-scarred city.

After clearing out the civilians, the two Chitauri soldiers dismounted from their flyers. They drew their energy rifles and aimed them at the pile of rubble that was once the apartment building.

They had realized something.

The life signal of the human who had killed their comrade was still active.

Not only was it not weakening, it was growing stronger.

Stronger and stronger.

The two Chitauri exchanged a look.

The next second—

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

The rubble exploded outwards, and a blur of motion shot out.

The Chitauri soldier on the right vanished. A split-second later, a thunderous CRACK echoed through the street. The soldier was now plastered against the wall of the building across the road, spread out like a grotesque mural.

Eerie green blood flowed down the bricks.

The remaining Chitauri soldier stared, its eyes wide, at the sudden fate of its partner.

But its eyes were too small. No matter how wide it tried to open them, they still looked like little green beads.

It instinctively started to run toward its splattered comrade, but it didn't get more than a few steps. It saw a flash of movement, and then its entire body was launched backward.

Only then did the sound of the impact reach its ears.

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

CRACK!

The Chitauri soldier's chest caved in mid-air. It flew through the air like a ragdoll before crashing into the pile of rubble.

Its body bounced once off the debris before settling into the ruins.

It didn't move again.

"Pa."

"Pa."

Hawk appeared where the second soldier had been standing. He casually dusted off his clothes while looking around with a curious expression.

He killed one Chitauri, and two more showed up.

Now he'd killed these two. So, three should be coming next, right?

Hawk thought to himself, then looked up toward Manhattan, at the colossal Leviathan that was now descending from the portal...

His eyes burned with anticipation.

He was ready for more.

Chapter Text

In the end, Hawk suppressed the burning urge inside him and chose not to join the chaos on the main front in Manhattan.

The Leviathan, a biomechanical war machine belonging to the Chitauri, was an impossibly massive creature, its entire body plated in thick, alloyed armor as it roared out of the portal.

Leaving aside the question of whether he could even hurt the thing, the sheer size difference was like comparing an ant to a mountain.

Besides.

If he had his Saint Armor, maybe he would have considered crashing the party.

But for now, it was better to pass.

Queens had more than enough Chitauri swarming around. There was no need to rush off to Manhattan.

That was the original Avengers' battlefield, not his.

He was stronger now.

But that was all. He was just stronger.

Awakening his Cosmo was just the beginning, the starting point.

It wasn't the destination, nor the end of his journey.

So...

Hawk went nowhere. He didn't even go on the offensive. Instead, he found a spot right in front of his ruined home, hunkering down to wait for the inevitable. He was an angler waiting for the fish to bite, knowing the Chitauri in the area would get the message about their fallen comrades and come looking for payback.

This was a hell of a lot easier than chasing them down himself.

After all, the Chitauri could fly. He couldn't.

Most importantly.

His apartment building was in a poor neighborhood.

What does that mean, exactly?

Let's just say, it took an ambulance at least half an hour to get there after a 911 call. In a wealthy Manhattan neighborhood, the response time was three minutes, tops.

The same went for surveillance.

In the rich parts of town, there was probably a dedicated camera pointed at every single trash can in every alley. Here, there weren't even cameras on the main streets.

And even if there were, they wouldn't last a day before some local kids figured out how to strip them for parts.

Soon.

Hiding in the shadows, Hawk saw them. Two Chitauri soldiers on flyers, drawn by the death signals of their allies, streaked through the sky nearby.

Hawk's eyes lit up.

....

Two minutes later.

Thump.

Thump.

On the ruins of the apartment building, two more ugly corpses joined the two Hawk had already arranged neatly, almost as if for display.

Sensing the deaths of their pilots, the two now-empty flyers automatically turned and flew off in a single direction.

Hawk watched them go, then silently retreated back into the shadows.

A minute later.

Detecting a sharp spike in Chitauri casualties in Queens, a signal was broadcast down from the command ship lurking within the wormhole above Manhattan.

The next moment.

A nearby squad of Chitauri soldiers—who had been unleashing hell, screeching with glee as they destroyed buildings, cars, and people—all stopped.

They received the new signal and immediately changed course, converging on the source of the silent alarms now ringing out across Jackson Heights.

They had been ordered to engage.

The Chitauri squad shrieked as they formed up behind their leader. He was taller and more heavily built than the others; even his flyer looked more menacing. He led them over the neighborhood and into the sky above the destroyed street.

Instantly.

They saw them: the broken bodies of their four comrades, laid out in a neat row on the rubble of the apartment building.

"Skeee-keee-keee!"

"Hsssss-sss."

The Chitauri captain and his six soldiers seemed to freeze in mid-air at the sight of their dead.

A second later.

As if they'd received new orders, they came back online. The engines of their flyers roared back to life.

In seconds, the captain and his soldiers spread out, forming a circle in the sky above the street. Then, with cold, emotionless eyes like reptiles, they squeezed the triggers on their flyers' energy cannons without hesitation.

In an instant—

A storm of energy blasts rained down, a net of pure destruction covering the entire street block in a carpet bombing run.

BOOOOOM!

BOOOOOM!

BOOOOOM!

....

The buildings on the street exploded. The asphalt buckled and cracked. The cars still on the road detonated in secondary fireballs.

Hovering in their circle, the Chitauri fired relentlessly, their expressions blank, their claws locked on the triggers like machines. They didn't stop until the entire block was choked with smoke and fire, until their flyers' energy cells were completely depleted, and until their captain finally ceased his assault. Only then, like a perfectly synchronized machine, did they all release their triggers at once.

The entire block was now nothing but a smoldering ruin.

Crumbling skeletons of old apartment buildings.

Burning cars that occasionally popped and exploded.

The place now looked more war-torn than any battlefield.

The Chitauri captain, still seated on his flyer, scanned the silent, lifeless ruins with his slightly larger, green-bead eyes. Satisfied, he turned away, having received his next orders to withdraw.

Under such a powerful and overwhelming barrage, no life form could have possibly survived.

And so...

The Chitauri mothership, monitoring through the soldiers' eyes, issued the new directive to the captain.

As the captain turned, his six soldiers began to follow, banking their flyers to leave.

But just as they turned their backs, one of the soldiers on its flyer suddenly arched backward violently, its body bending like a cooked shrimp. With a sickening squelch, its armored chest exploded from the inside out.

The next second.

One, two, three, four, five.

Before the remaining soldiers could even react, they all suffered the exact same fate.

The moment they turned their backs to the street, their chests detonated, leaving a fist-sized hole clean through their torsos.

The wounds were ripped from back to front, as if they had each been punched straight through the spine.

Almost in perfect sync with the six soldiers' chests exploding, six thunderous sonic booms finally caught up, tearing through the air.

BOOM!

BOOM!

The Chitauri captain, who had been turning just as his six squad mates were obliterated, heard the sonic booms rip past his ears. His head snapped up mechanically. Without a shred of hesitation, he threw himself sideways, leaping from his flyer.

The next instant.

His custom, menacing-looking flyer, now empty, was struck by something unseen and vaporized in a massive explosion.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Chapter Text

Hawk had no idea how other Saints trained.

The ones he remembered were from an anime, after all.

This was reality.

And as everyone knows...

Stories need logic. Reality doesn't.

And so...

Hawk, who had thrown ten thousand punches a day for a thousand consecutive days, had long since mastered this simple movement to the point of perfection.

What was that Bruce Lee saying?

I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times.

Hawk had thrown and retracted his fist more than ten thousand times. Now that he had completed the activation of his Cosmo, that simple punch had undergone a fundamental transformation.

The Sonic Fist.

It was a technique that allowed his punches to reach the speed of sound. By burning his Cosmo, he could even shatter that barrier.

What does that mean?

It means that by the time you feel the impact of my fist, you will only then hear the sound of me throwing it.

That is the Sonic Fist.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

As the flyer exploded in the sky above, the Chitauri captain—who had jumped to safety at the last possible second—heard the sonic boom rip past his ears. He pulled a weapon from his back, a spear-like weapon that glowed with the same eerie green light, and fixed his gaze on Hawk, who now stood before him, bare-chested, his physique like that of a Greek statue.

It couldn't be helped.

During the Chitauri's carpet bombing, Hawk had been unharmed, but the t-shirt he'd worn for years had been shredded by flying debris.

It didn't matter.

Now, dressed only in a pair of gray sweatpants and old sneakers, Hawk felt even stronger.

And it wasn't an illusion.

Everyone knows the rule.

A little battle damage is a power-up.

"HUMAN!!"

The Chitauri captain gripped its glowing energy spear, its oversized green-bead eyes locked on Hawk from behind its faceplate.

On a monitor aboard the Chitauri mothership, deep within the wormhole, Hawk's image now appeared.

Hawk looked at the captain and its glowing spear and cracked a slight, crooked smile.

The next second.

He extended his right hand, palm open, then curled his fingers, beckoning the Chitauri captain forward.

No more words were needed.

"Come on."

"You will die!"

The Chitauri captain, seeing Hawk's dismissive expression and insulting gesture, remained emotionless. With a CRACK, it stomped its foot, shattering the ground, and launched itself forward like a missile. As it closed the distance, the tip of its spear glowed, firing off a volley of energy blasts.

Hawk pushed off the ground as well. The asphalt beneath his feet spiderwebbed and collapsed as he shot forward, transforming into a streak of golden light that tore through the air, directly at the Chitauri captain.

In his memories, once a Bronze Saint awakened their Cosmo, earned the recognition of their guardian constellation, and donned their Saint Armor, their bodies became terrifyingly powerful.

Their durability was incredible. Their punches and movements reached the speed of sound.

Even their lifespans far exceeded that of a normal human.

Although Hawk had only just awakened his Cosmo, had yet to ignite a single constellation, and didn't even have a hint of a Saint Armor, it didn't change the fact that, in a very real sense, he was no longer human.

And so...

Squelch!

The Chitauri captain, who had been rocketing toward Hawk, trying to pin him down with ranged attacks before closing in for the kill, suddenly froze. Its expression twisted, and it coughed up a spray of green blood.

The force of the eruption was so violent it blew the metal faceplate clean off, revealing the grotesque, insectoid face beneath.

The next moment.

The sound of the punch arrived, exploding next to the captain's ear.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The Chitauri captain dazedly looked down, seeing the arm that had punched clean through its hardened armor and was now buried in its chest.

It let out an incomprehensible, gurgling shriek, trying to lift its impossibly heavy head to get one last look at the human who had killed it in a single blow.

But...

It was out of time. Just as it raised its head, the arm was pulled from its chest, and an infinite darkness consumed it.

Thud.

Without Hawk's arm to support it, the Chitauri captain collapsed to the ground like a dead insect.

As the captain fell, Hawk casually hooked his finger, catching the energy spear before it could hit the ground.

A green, liquid-like energy flowed within the weapon, causing the spear to glow.

Hawk hefted the spear in his hand.

A thought suddenly occurred to him.

If he were to sell this energy spear, and the other rifles from the soldiers he killed, on the black market... how much would they be worth?

Alien weaponry...

That had to be valuable, right?

Thinking this, Hawk instinctively glanced toward a corner of the ruined apartment building.

When he had been arranging the bodies, he'd tossed the four energy rifles he'd collected into a large crater.

Just then.

A brilliant flash of blue light from the direction of Manhattan caught his eye.

He snapped his head up.

He looked toward the sky over the city.

The colossal pillar of blue light that had stretched from earth to sky was gone. At the same time, the tear in the sky was closing at a visible rate.

"That's it?"

"It's over?"

"The Chitauri invasion event is already finished?"

"Somehow it feels..."

Hawk blinked.

He was tempted to say that if he'd known the Chitauri invasion would be this pathetic, he wouldn't have been so worried.

But...

Hawk's gaze returned to his surroundings. He looked at the utter devastation, the war-torn ruins of his neighborhood, where he could still see the mangled remains of his neighbors. He swallowed the thought.

It wasn't that the Chitauri were weak.

It was that he had become strong.

"If I hadn't awakened my Cosmo at this exact moment, a piece of me would probably be lying in that wreckage right now."

Hawk's eyes fell on the gruesome remains scattered across the rubble. The thought solidified his resolve.

He had to get stronger.

And keep getting stronger.

Not for fame, not for glory, but for one simple reason.

For the right to say one single sentence.

My Fate Is My Own!

But for now, Hawk had a more immediate problem to deal with.

Namely...

Finding a safe place to stash the five alien weapons he had just earned from his hard work, and then figuring out how to sell them for enough cash to improve his life.

Chapter Text

The Chitauri came.

The Chitauri left.

They left behind Loki, the mastermind of the invasion, a number of their soldiers who didn't make it back through the portal, and a New York City in utter ruins.

The good news:

Loki was in custody. Even the Chitauri soldiers left on Earth had collapsed the moment their connection to the mothership was severed, dropping like puppets with their strings cut.

The second the wormhole snapped shut, the Chitauri still swarming the skies over New York simply powered down and fell from the sky, one after another, like stones.

Clearly.

In this sudden war for the planet, Earth had emerged victorious.

The bad news:

New York City was severely damaged. The five-block radius around Stark Tower was hit the hardest.

That had been the main battlefield, and it was almost completely leveled.

Other parts of Manhattan had sustained less damage—but that was only in comparison to ground zero. Compared to the rest of the city, the damage was still catastrophic.

Beyond that, the outer boroughs had their own scars.

With one major exception.

...

"We have a situation in Queens, Jackson Heights. An entire city block has been practically wiped off the map by the Chitauri."

"HUH?"

Aboard the Helicarrier, Commander Maria Hill, dressed in her tactical gear, was reviewing the satellite imagery of New York. Her voice came through the comms of the original Avengers, who were just starting to celebrate Iron Man's revival.

"It's strange. The attack seems highly concentrated. That one block in Jackson Heights was hit with a full-scale carpet bombing. Intel suggests the Chitauri forces in Queens were enraged by something and converged on that location."

The Avengers, still standing amidst the wreckage of the main battlefield, exchanged confused looks.

Captain America was the first to speak.

"Why?"

"We don't know, Captain. Agents are en route to investigate now."

Maria Hill's voice was all business. Her tone then shifted slightly. "All Chitauri life signs have been extinguished. Congratulations, Captain. We won."

As her words sank in.

A collective sigh of relief went through the Avengers. They looked at each other.

And then—

Tired, bruised smiles broke out on their faces.

That night.

It wasn't just the New York City news channels. It was every channel in the country—and around the world. The Chitauri invasion was the only story.

Without a doubt.

The original Avengers, the heroes who had fought on the front lines, were now public figures.

Captain America, Steve Rogers.

Iron Man, Tony Stark.

Thor, the God of Thunder.

Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff.

The Hulk, Bruce Banner.

Hawkeye, Clint Barton.

The legitimate news networks reported the details of the battle.

The less reputable ones ran sensationalized specials on the heroes' backstories and rumored love lives.

The most popular topic, by far, was the confirmed return of Captain America, Steve Rogers. He had reappeared after being presumed dead for decades, looking exactly the same.

After all, Captain America was a national symbol. His popularity was already sky-high. Now, with his dramatic return from the dead, his celebrity had exploded.

...

Hawk was currently eating a relief meal handed out by a local church group, watching an old 18-inch TV that was playing a documentary about Captain America's "Secret history."

He had no choice.

His apartment building was now a pile of rubble. It wasn't just him, or just the people from his building. Technically, everyone who lived on his block was now homeless.

About half an hour after the battle ended, their entire street had been cordoned off by a group of men in black suits and black ties.

Some residents who tried to go back and salvage their belongings from the wreckage were turned away.

The official reason: Federal emergency zone. No entry.

Fortunately, the agency that sealed off the block took pity on them. They were provided with temporary shelter in an unused hangar at LaGuardia Airport, and local churches were brought in to provide free food.

But...

As Hawk was chewing on a piece of dry bread and listening to the TV, he heard a sniffling sound next to him.

He turned his head.

He saw a large, burly man, probably in his mid-thirties, hugging his knees to his chest, his face buried between his legs. The quiet sobs quickly escalated into full-blown, gut-wrenching wails.

Another survivor nearby couldn't help but ask.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"My house... it's gone."

"It's okay."

The other man, relieved it wasn't something worse, tried to comfort him. "Don't worry, we have insurance."

He shouldn't have said that. At the mention of insurance, the man began to cry even harder.

Now the other survivor was completely lost.

"What is it now? You didn't have insurance?"

"No, I did."

"Then..."

"I just called my insurance company," the man choked out between sobs, looking up at the other survivor. "They said... they said an alien invasion falls under the 'Act of God' clause. It's not covered."

The other survivor's face froze.

"WHAT?"

"NOT COVERED?"

"NO WAY."

"HOW CAN THEY NOT PAY OUT?"

"SHIT, I GOTTA MAKE A CALL."

"..."

Hearing this exchange, the other survivors in the hangar immediately scrambled for their phones, frantically dialing their own insurance companies.

About a minute later, a second person started crying.

Then a third.

A fourth.

In the blink of an eye, the entire hangar was filled with the sounds of people realizing they were about to be homeless.

Hawk, now surrounded by a chorus of despair, felt a lump form in his throat. His apartment was gone, and insurance wasn't paying.

But then, he stopped.

Wait a minute.

That apartment was federal housing. And it was going to be taken away next year anyway when he turned eighteen.

That was the whole reason he'd been saving up, why he had over thirty thousand dollars stashed away.

Once he turned eighteen, the government would kick him out of the system in the name of "Independence."

After all, at eighteen, he would legally be an adult in the state of New York, and no longer eligible for juvenile orphan benefits.

What's that?

You don't have money for rent?

Sorry, not our problem. There are plenty of homeless people under the bridges and in the subway tunnels of New York City. You can try asking them if they mind sharing.

So...

I don't even own a house. The insurance company not paying out has absolutely nothing to do with me.

Hawk snapped out of it. He looked at the faces of the other survivors, which were twisting with grief and rage. A thought occurred to him, and he quietly got to his feet and started walking toward the hangar exit.

He was suddenly afraid there was about to be a riot.

Chapter Text

Five days later.

Midtown School of Science and Technology.

The physics teacher was lecturing at the front of the classroom.

Down below, Hawk sat in his usual seat by the window, jotting down a few words in his notebook.

Orichalcum.

Gammanium.

And Stardust Sand.

Individually, these names meant nothing to most people. But together, they meant only one thing.

Saint Armor.

The combat gear of the Saints. When worn, it allowed a Saint to connect with their guardian constellation, dramatically amplifying their power.

And to forge a Saint Armor, these three materials were essential.

The good news:

Since he was the only person in this universe with a Cosmo, he wouldn't have to literally forge the armor himself. He just needed to find the three materials, and his guardian constellation would automatically refine them into his own unique Saint Armor.

The bad news:

Who the hell was going to tell him how to find materials from the Saint Seiya universe inside the Marvel Universe?

Hawk felt a headache coming on.

Fortunately, he still had time. He hadn't even ignited a single guardian constellation yet, so the need for an armor wasn't urgent.

But...

It was always better to be prepared.

Rather than waiting until he'd awakened a constellation to start searching, he might as well start planning now.

So.

Hawk looked at the word 'Orichalcum' in his notebook. After a moment of thought, he wrote another word next to it.

Vibranium?

Orichalcum, one of the three core components of a Saint Armor, was a legendary alloy from ancient Greek mythology, said to be capable of resisting any normal impact.

Coincidentally.

Vibranium was a legendary alloy in the Marvel Universe—in fact, it was the top-tier alloy.

And Vibranium also possessed the property of absorbing and negating kinetic energy indefinitely.

Captain America's shield was forged from it.

One of a kind.

Unparalleled in the world.

As a metal that existed only in whispers and legends, Vibranium was something money couldn't buy.

But...

Hawk knew of a place in the world where Vibranium was abundant. A place with reserves so vast, it would probably be enough to forge all forty-eight Bronze, twenty-four Silver, and twelve Gold Armors, with plenty left over.

That's right.

He was talking about Wakanda—the nation that was still isolationist in the 21st century, all while pretending to be a starving third-world country to get relief aid from the UN.

If Vibranium really could be a substitute for Orichalcum...

Then—

Hawk had to have it.

What's that? Wakanda won't give it to him?

Heh.

My need for Vibranium has nothing to do with you.

He wasn't a warmonger, but if anyone stood in the way of him getting stronger, that was a fundamental conflict.

And in a conflict like that...

There was no backing down.

With that thought, Hawk's eyes moved to 'Stardust Sand' in his notebook. He paused, then wrote the word 'Meteorite' next to it.

Stardust Sand.

The name was self-explanatory: sand ground from the stars of the galaxy.

Meteorites were, quite literally, fallen stars.

If he could find a meteorite, he could use the energy from his burning Cosmo to crush it into Stardust Sand.

But...

Gammanium.

What the hell was this stuff?

If Orichalcum provided the armor's metallic properties and Stardust Sand granted it the ability to self-repair, then Gammanium was the catalyst—the agent that fused the other two materials and, most importantly, imbued the armor with a life of its own.

In a word.

Orichalcum and Stardust Sand weren't the true key to forging a Saint Armor.

Gammanium was.

Without it, an armor made from the other two would be nothing more than an inert, lifeless shell. Only with Gammanium could it become a true, living battle suit for a Saint.

But.

Hawk's brow furrowed. After a moment of deep thought, he wrote 'Gamma Radiation' next to the word, then drew a small question mark.

Based on its ability to grant life to the armor, and the obvious 'Gamma' in its name, it seemed almost certain to be related to the mother of the Hulk—gamma radiation.

The Hulk was born when Bruce Banner was exposed to a massive dose of gamma rays.

From a biological standpoint, gamma radiation was the Hulk's mother.

Of course.

If Bruce Banner had been a woman, then it could have been the Hulk's father.

The point was, even if gamma radiation wasn't Gammanium itself, there was almost certainly a crucial connection between the two.

Hawk closed his eyes, the tip of his pen tapping unconsciously on the notebook as he thought.

Just then.

He felt a nudge.

Hawk opened his eyes and looked at Gwen, who had just nudged him with her elbow.

"Mr. Anderson is calling on you."

"..."

Hawk blinked, then looked up toward the front of the class.

Mr. Anderson, his hair starting to gray at the temples, smiled as Hawk met his gaze. "Hawk, would you care to answer the question for us?"

Great. Busted for daydreaming.

But—

Hawk stood up from his seat, and after only a moment of thought, he gave a perfect answer to Mr. Anderson's question.

Now it was Mr. Anderson's turn to be stunned.

However, since Hawk's answer was correct, the teacher just gave him a look that said, 'You got lucky this time,' and told him to sit down.

Hawk said a quick "thank you" and took his seat.

Just as he was about to dive back into the puzzle of 'Gammanium' and 'Gamma Radiation,' a small, folded piece of paper was slid onto his desk.

Hawk unfolded it and read the note.

In neat, cursive handwriting, it said:

"Is your court hearing for your emancipation petition confirmed?"

"...It is. This afternoon."

Hawk thought for a second, then wrote his reply below her question and slid the note back.

Since his apartment had been demolished by aliens, a new placement in the foster care system had yet to be arranged.

But Hawk figured he'd never get one anyway.

The New York City bureaucracy was notoriously slow, and he wasn't the only orphan who had been displaced. He estimated that by the time his name came up, it would be next year.

And next year, he'd be eighteen.

So.

Hawk had been spending his time looking for a cheap apartment to rent.

He couldn't keep living like a refugee, crammed into a smelly hangar with hundreds of other people. Not to mention, he was constantly worried that one of the people who'd lost everything would snap.

He had to move out next year anyway. He might as well just do it now.

But since he was still a minor, legally, no one would rent to him.

That was why he had been taking the afternoons off to go to the Queens Family Court and file a petition for early emancipation.

And since he'd been leaving early, Gwen knew why.

It wasn't that Hawk had told her.

He wasn't that sociable.

Simply put:

Hawk was a student.

Gwen was the student aide.

And she was the student aide for his grade.

Chapter Text

Inside the old gymnasium.

Even though Hawk had already awakened his Cosmo, the habit of throwing ten thousand punches a day for a thousand straight days wasn't something he could just drop overnight.

So, he'd kept up the routine.

Besides, he had nothing better to do.

More importantly, he could feel that with each day of training, another star within his Cosmo had begun to glow faintly.

It hadn't fully ignited yet, but he estimated that if he kept this up for another month, it would.

Clearly, combat wasn't the only way to awaken his constellations.

It was just the fastest. Compared to the slow grind of a month of training to ignite a single star, fighting was a shortcut.

But that didn't matter.

Hawk wasn't in a hurry.

First, he didn't see himself as some kind of violence-addicted maniac. He certainly wasn't going to be one of those guys who gets powers and the very next day decides he's too good for humanity.

A thousand days of ten thousand punches had forged more than just his strength; it had forged his character.

He controlled his power. The power did not control him.

Second, he hadn't even gathered the materials to forge a Saint Armor yet. There was no rush to light up his constellations.

Everyone knows the score.

A Saint without their armor and a Saint with their armor are two completely different species.

Well—

For the most part, anyway.

...

A little while later.

After a quick shower, Hawk changed into a new t-shirt and jeans. He slung his backpack over his shoulder, walked out of the old gym, and headed for the main school gate.

His emancipation hearing was scheduled for 3:30 this afternoon.

If he caught the bus from the school gate now and made a couple of transfers, he could probably get to the courthouse by three.

Hawk sat at the bus stop outside the school, eating a sandwich and waiting.

He watched the various cars coming and going from the school entrance and started to wonder if he should get a car himself.

Of course, before he could do that, he'd need to get his driver's license.

That's right.

Unlike most of the kids in his grade, who all seemed to have their licenses, he didn't.

He'd never even considered buying a car before.

But now, the thought had taken root.

Before he awakened his Cosmo, he couldn't afford to. He had to plan for his future. Once he turned eighteen, the federal aid would stop. He'd have to cover rent on his own, and eventually, student loans for college.

The pressure of his future was suffocating. Buying a car?

Was he worthy?

No. He probably wouldn't even be able to afford the insurance premiums.

But things were different now.

If there was one thing Hawk felt after awakening his Cosmo, it was an immense sense of relief.

The weight of his uncertain future had been completely lifted.

After all...

Barring any unforeseen accidents, his future now had only two possibilities:

Living comfortably, or living very comfortably.

In fact, if he were a little darker, a little more ruthless, he could use his power and a Saint Armor to live like an emperor—where those who followed him prospered, and those who opposed him perished.

Power is strength.

Strength is in the fist.

And his fists were already sonic. Soon, they would be faster than light.

But he didn't have that kind of ambition. He certainly had no desire to become some kind of detached God-king.

At least, not right now.

But with the pressure of the future gone, Hawk figured he could afford to upgrade his quality of life a bit.

For starters, he still had five Chitauri weapons stashed away, waiting for the right opportunity to be sold.

Even if he sold them cheap, say, twenty thousand dollars a pop, that was still a hundred thousand dollars.

So...

Buying a car to make his life a little easier didn't seem so out of reach anymore.

As Hawk was lost in thought, he started to wonder why the bus was taking so long. Just then, a yellow Toyota Corolla with the custom license plate 'GW521' pulled up in front of him.

The window rolled down.

Gwen Stacy, her blonde hair tied back casually, her face framed by sharp, intelligent features and a pair of blue eyes that seemed to see right through you, looked out at him.

"Get in."

"..."

Hawk looked at Gwen, who was now waving him over. After a moment's silence, he said, "It's okay, I can just wait for the bus. Thanks, though."

Gwen smiled.

"You sure? The buses aren't running today."

"They're not?"

Hawk blinked, confused.

"When? Why?"

"Since noon."

Gwen's smile widened. "The MTA is on strike. Haven't you noticed you're the only one at the bus stop?"

Hawk instinctively looked around.

She was right. The entire bus stop was empty, except for him.

Damn it.

Hawk took a deep breath. He looked at Gwen, who was still smiling at him from the driver's seat. After a moment, he stood up, grabbed his backpack from the bench, walked to the car, and opened the passenger door.

"I owe you one. Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Gwen said. Once Hawk was inside, she hit the gas, and the car sped off, heading toward the Queens County Courthouse.

"Oh, by the way."

As she was driving, Gwen remembered something. She glanced at Hawk in the passenger seat. "They changed the judge for your hearing. It's Judge Burroughs now. They also moved the time up to three o'clock."

"?"

A question mark slowly formed over Hawk's head. He looked at Gwen, confused.

Gwen smiled slightly. "The contact number you listed was the school's. The guidance counselor couldn't find you. I saw you heading to the old gym at lunch, so I figured you'd probably be waiting here for the bus."

It clicked. Hawk nodded in understanding.

A moment later.

It hit him again. He looked at Gwen, who was focused on the road, and said another thank you.

"Thanks. Seriously."

"Again, don't mention it."

Gwen replied with another smile. "I'm the grade's student aide. It's my job to help students."

And that was the truth.

At Midtown Tech, Gwen Stacy was universally known for being smart, kind, and beautiful.

She would patiently help any student who came to her with a question.

Like Jessica.

She would even help Flash Thompson when he occasionally, and reluctantly, asked for it.

Gwen would also stand up for students who were being bullied.

Like Peter.

She had even stepped in to defend another girl, Maria, from the head cheerleader.

And on top of all that.

Gwen was at the top of her class.

So—

Smart.

Kind.

And Drop-Dead Gorgeous.

That was Gwen Stacy in a nutshell.

Chapter Text

If you were to rank the most popular girls at Midtown Tech, Gwen might not have the most rabid fanbase, but she would absolutely be number one.

In fact, she'd probably be in a league of her own.

The silent majority of the student body would cast their vote for Gwen.

That included Hawk.

He still remembered when he first started at Midtown. He was quiet, a bit of a loner, and Gwen had mistaken his solitude for him being ostracized by other students. She had even tried to help him fit in.

But that was just Gwen being kind.

Hawk never misinterpreted her concern as anything more.

She would have done the same for any other student. She was just a genuinely good person.

Besides, what was that famous saying?

Right.

Life's three biggest delusions.

And chief among them, the undisputed champion, is the delusion: "She's into me."

So—

Hawk was under no such illusions.

...

Soon.

They arrived at the Queens County Courthouse.

Hawk looked at the building, then turned to Gwen and thanked her again for the ride before getting out of the car.

And then.

He heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see Gwen getting out of the car and following him. A question mark appeared over his head once again.

"?"

"How are you planning on getting back?" Gwen asked. "You're not going to walk, are you? The airport is miles from here."

"The sub—"

"The transit union is on strike. Subway operators are still transit workers."

"..."

Hawk fell silent.

Gwen just smiled and started walking toward the courthouse. "Come on, it's almost three. You don't want Judge Burroughs to cancel your hearing, do you?"

Hawk watched her walk ahead of him, opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. He shook his head and followed.

...

Family Court, Courtroom 3.

Judge Burroughs, presiding from the bench, tapped his gavel lightly.

"Next, the emancipation petition of Hawk."

"Your Honor."

Hawk rose from his seat and gave a respectful nod to the judge.

"Your Honor."

The social worker from the Administration for Children's Services assigned to Hawk's case also stood.

Judge Burroughs reviewed the documents Hawk had submitted with his petition. After a moment, he looked up at the social worker. "I see here he's never been adopted, nor placed with a foster family?"

The social worker gave a weary smile.

"That's correct, Your Honor."

"May I ask why?"

"Hawk was different from the other children. Even when he was young, he was quiet and didn't socialize much. As a result, prospective parents never considered him. That's why he's remained in the system for so long."

"Hawk."

Judge Burroughs nodded after hearing the social worker's explanation. He then looked at Hawk, who, despite his quiet nature, didn't seem aloof or withdrawn. "I see in your petition that you're seeking emancipation in order to rent an apartment?"

Hawk nodded.

"Yes, Your Honor."

"May I ask how you plan to pay for this rent, should you be granted independence?"

"I have thirty thousand dollars saved in my bank account. If I'm just renting a cheap apartment, that's more than enough to cover my expenses until I can find a job."

"THIRTY THOUSAND??"

"..." Judge Burroughs's eyes widened slightly. He flipped through the file until he found the bank statement Hawk had submitted, then cross-referenced it with the other documents. A look of disbelief crossed his face.

No phone.

No computer.

No car, not even a driver's license.

Judge Burroughs was genuinely surprised.

It wasn't unheard of for minors in the system to petition for early emancipation. But he had never seen a case like Hawk's, where a kid had cut out every single non-essential expense.

More than that, he had never seen an un-adopted, un-fostered orphan with a savings account containing a sum as substantial as thirty thousand dollars.

Judge Burroughs looked at Hawk, his tone shifting.

"You have a remarkable amount of self-control, Mr. Hawk."

"Thank you, Your Honor."

Hawk's heart skipped a beat when he heard the judge use the honorific.

"Mister" was a title reserved for independent, adult men.

Just as he thought.

Judge Burroughs smiled, then brought a stamp down on Hawk's petition with a satisfying thump. He handed the document to the bailiff next to him. "Normally, I'm hesitant to grant early emancipation. The adult world can be a cruel place. But you, Mr. Hawk, I believe you are more than prepared. So, congratulations."

Hawk took the stamped document from the bailiff, his eyes meeting the judge's.

"Thank you."

"You've earned it."

Judge Burroughs gave him a final nod, then tapped his gavel again. "Next case..."

Hawk and Gwen left the courtroom.

...

Outside the courthouse.

Hawk looked down at the document in his hand, now bearing the official seal of the court, and smiled.

With this, he was legally an independent adult. Even though he wasn't yet eighteen, he could now legally sign a lease.

He could finally move out of that powder keg of a hangar.

And that was a very good thing.

Feeling a sense of accomplishment, Hawk started walking toward the subway station.

The next second.

A hand grabbed his arm.

Hawk looked up to see Gwen giving him an exasperated look. He blinked, and then it hit him.

Right. The subway isn't running either.

"Sorry."

"Come on..."

Gwen shook her head, then a playful smile touched her lips. She looked at Hawk and added, "...Mr. Hawk."

Hawk raised an eyebrow at her teasing tone as she turned and walked toward where she had parked her car.

A traffic cop was standing in front of her yellow Corolla.

"Just a second, Officer!"

Gwen, seeing the cop was already writing a ticket, rushed over. She quickly dug through her bag and pulled out a small card.

The officer looked up, a bit surprised, as Gwen handed it to him.

It wasn't a business card, but a family courtesy card—the kind issued to the families of NYPD officers.

The officer looked at the card, noted the name and number—'19th Precinct: George Stacy'—then looked back at Gwen. He holstered his ticket machine and handed the card back.

"Have a nice day."

"Thank you, Officer."

Gwen said with a relieved sigh.

The officer got back on his police motorcycle and rode off with a roar.

Gwen watched him go, then let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She looked at Hawk, her voice laced with relief.

"That was close!"

"..."

Chapter Text

Traffic tickets in New York City aren't outrageously expensive.

But there's one key difference from how things work in other countries.

Here, a traffic violation is treated like a minor criminal offense. In other places, you might just pay a fine, get some points on your license, and be done with it. Here, you have to waste a day in traffic court.

So...

As Gwen started the car and began the drive back to LaGuardia Airport, she was still feeling relieved that she'd gotten out there in time. Otherwise, she'd have had to take a day off school just to deal with it.

At the same time, she was still a little confused.

"It's so weird. You can park right in front of the courthouses in Manhattan. Why not in Queens?"

"..."

Sitting in the passenger seat, Hawk listened to Gwen thinking out loud. After a moment, a thought occurred to him. "Even if you got a ticket, couldn't you just have Captain Stacy take care of it?"

Gwen snapped out of her thoughts and glanced at Hawk, then shook her head.

"No way."

"Uh..."

Hawk remembered the courtesy card Gwen had just shown the traffic cop.

Gwen seemed to read his mind and explained with a smile, "Using the family card is fine. Everyone does it. It's one of the unofficial perks for police families. But getting an actual ticket is different. My dad would never call in a favor with one of his friends at the courthouse over a parking violation. He'd just give me a very serious look and say, 'Gwen, you need to stand before the court and take responsibility for your actions.'"

As she explained, Gwen perfectly mimicked the stern tone and expression of George Stacy of the NYPD's 19th Precinct.

Hawk listened to her explanation and nodded in understanding.

He had always pictured George Stacy as one of those old-school, by-the-book cops who didn't bend the rules for anyone.

But from the way Gwen described him...

That didn't seem to be the case.

Movies always rely on stereotypes.

...

Forty-five minutes later.

Gwen pulled up to the curb at LaGuardia Airport.

Hawk unbuckled his seatbelt and thanked her one more time as she put the car in park.

Just as he was about to open his door and get out, Gwen spoke up. "I'm curious about something, Hawk."

Hawk, who had already pushed the door open, turned back to look at her.

"What?"

"If I didn't accept your 'thank you,' what would you do? Just keep saying it?"

"..."

Gwen's question left Hawk speechless.

After a moment.

He looked at her smiling face, which seemed genuinely curious about his answer, and thought about it.

"Sorry?"

"..."

Now it was Gwen's turn to be silent.

If I don't accept your thanks, you apologize?

...Sure, why not.

Gwen's smile grew wider. She looked at Hawk and said, "You say 'thank you' way too much. We're friends. Friends don't have to say thank you all the time."

Friends?

Hawk was taken aback again.

He and Gwen were friendlier than he was with most other students, but that was mainly because they shared a physics class and sat next to each other.

But that was it.

Outside of physics, they barely interacted at school.

To be fair, he barely interacted with any student.

But—

Hawk didn't argue. She had just given him a ride all the way out here. The last thing he was going to do was tell her they weren't friends.

He wasn't a complete social idiot.

Soon.

After he got out, Gwen made a U-turn, hit the gas, and disappeared from view. Hawk watched her car go, then turned and walked toward the temporary shelter.

...

That evening.

Manhattan.

The Goring Building.

Helen Stacy was lounging on the sofa in her pajamas, watching the latest episode of Desperate Housewives. She heard the front door open and turned to look.

Her husband, George Stacy of the 19th Precinct, walked in, dressed in a black suit, his badge clipped to his belt.

"You're home."

"Yes."

George replied, closing the door behind him. He looked at Helen on the sofa. "Where's Gwen?"

Helen glanced toward the stairs.

"In her room."

"Oh."

George nodded and headed upstairs. He knocked lightly on his daughter's door. "Gwen?"

Gwen's voice came from inside. "It's not locked, Dad."

George pushed the door open.

Inside.

Gwen was already in her pajamas, a cute matching set. Her long, blonde hair was down, and she was sitting cross-legged on her desk chair. She looked up as her father came in. "What's up, Dad?"

George didn't come into the room. He leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, a knowing smile on his face. "So, you skipped your afternoon classes today."

Gwen froze for a second, then it clicked.

She uncrossed her legs and stood up.

"Did someone call you?"

"What do you think?"

George chuckled. "They have to call and verify. Make sure it wasn't someone using a fake family card."

It was unlikely, but...

There was a saying in the department: You can be an idiot, but you can't be a boring idiot.

People had tried to fake the cards before. It was rare, but it happened.

Since calling to verify on the spot could be awkward, the protocol was to just jot down the plate number and confirm it back at the precinct.

If the card was legit, no problem.

If it was a fake, well, that was also no problem. They had the plate number. The driver could look forward to a dozen tickets in their mailbox the next day.

The NYPD made sure that anyone who tried to pull a fast one paid the price.

Gwen sighed. "Dad, I really didn't mean to park there. You can park right in front of the courthouses in Manhattan."

George shrugged. "I'm not interested in your parking violation. That's what the family card is for."

He wasn't that much of a hard-ass.

The card was meant to be used. Just not abused.

Gwen blinked.

"Then why..."

"Why were you at the Queens County Courthouse this afternoon."

"Oh."

Gwen sat back down in her chair and picked up the book she had been reading. "It was nothing. I just gave a classmate a ride to the courthouse for something."

George's smile widened.

"A male classmate?"

"..."

Gwen put down her book and looked at her father, her expression serious. "Dad, Hawk and I are just friends."

No, that's not right.

That guy seems to actively resist the idea of being my friend.

Gwen thought to herself.

She remembered the look on Hawk's face that afternoon when she'd told him they were friends—that fleeting, almost pained expression of stiffness.

Chapter Text

The next day.

Since it was Saturday, Hawk got an early start and headed over to an apartment building across from Queensbridge Park.

This was his new home.

It hadn't taken long to find.

A nice, affordable apartment was hard to come by, but a cheap one was easy enough to find.

Even so, no landlord would rent to a minor, especially one who couldn't provide a guarantor.

But—

When Hawk explained that he had already petitioned the court for emancipation, the landlord had agreed to wait.

And now, here he was.

After seeing the court-stamped document confirming Hawk's legal independence, the landlord didn't waste any time. They signed the lease, Hawk paid six months' rent upfront, and the keys were handed over. The deal was done.

...

Once the landlord left, Hawk closed the door and took a look around his new place.

It wasn't any bigger than his last one.

To put it dramatically, it looked like a cardboard box that life had stepped on.

The carpet was old, the walls were stained.

The living room was pathetically small; with a secondhand sofa and a folding dining table, you had to be careful just to turn around.

The bedroom was the same. Once he put a bed in, there would be no extra space.

But...

It was small, but it had everything he needed.

Most importantly.

Just like his old place, this apartment had a fire escape outside the window with direct access to the rooftop.

That was the main reason Hawk had asked the landlord to give him time to sort things out with the court.

Besides.

For seven hundred dollars a month in New York City, what more could you ask for?

Hawk spent the next two days cleaning and setting up his new apartment.

"Setting up" was a generous term. He bought a new mattress and replaced the old, yellowed showerhead in the bathroom.

He also left the windows open for two full days to air the place out, finally getting rid of the lingering smell of stale curry.

Of course.

He didn't forget his treasure. Under the cover of night, he went to his hiding spot and retrieved his spoils of war—the five Chitauri weapons—and brought them back to his new home.

He wrapped them in the bedsheet that had come with his old apartment's bed and stashed them underneath his new one.

...

That evening.

Just like he used to, Hawk bought a burger and a Coke from a place downstairs. He then climbed the fire escape to the roof of his new building. After looking around, he found a relatively clean spot and sat down.

He ate his burger while gazing up at the stars.

As a few stars flickered in the night sky, the stars within his own Cosmo mirrored their light.

Hawk had already decided which Bronze constellation he would ignite first.

Not Pegasus.

Not Cygnus.

And not Draco.

It would be—

The Phoenix!

A constellation wasn't just a container for a Saint's power; it was a mark of their legacy.

Once a Saint awakened their Cosmo and claimed their guardian constellation, they inherited the core attributes of that constellation.

And in Hawk's opinion, among all forty-eight Bronze constellations, none had an attribute that could compare to that of the Phoenix.

Because the Phoenix possessed a quality that not even the twelve Gold Zodiacs had.

The Phoenix doesn't die, it's reborn.

If the core of the Draco constellation was 'The Might of the Dragon' and 'The Dragon's Guard,' then the core of the Phoenix was 'Immortality' and 'Rebirth.'

The bad news:

Because the Phoenix's core attribute was so ridiculously overpowered, the requirements to become the Phoenix Saint were incredibly demanding.

In the old stories, from the very first Holy War, the Phoenix Saint was a position that had remained vacant among Athena's eighty-eight Saints, only appearing for the first time in the modern era.

The good news:

This wasn't that universe. The Phoenix constellation here wasn't nearly as picky.

The second he finished lighting up the star chart for the Phoenix in his Cosmo, he would gain its core attribute.

His life force would reach a terrifying new level. Even if he were killed, he wouldn't truly die. As long as the Phoenix constellation existed, he would be reborn from the ashes, rising from the flames to return.

So...

He'd have to be insane to choose any other constellation over the Phoenix.

After all, his core mission hadn't changed.

Survive. And if possible, live comfortably, and live for a very long time.

Having made his choice, Hawk didn't hesitate. He focused his will, directing the twelve stars he had ignited by killing the Chitauri. He began to arrange them within his Cosmo, forming the pattern of the Phoenix constellation.

The Phoenix constellation is composed of one second-magnitude star, two third-magnitude stars, and six fourth-magnitude stars.

The stars Hawk had ignited by killing the Chitauri were the smallest kind—fourth-magnitude.

It took two fourth-magnitude stars to form a third-magnitude star, and two third-magnitude stars to form a second-magnitude.

So—

"Still need two more."

"Not bad."

"This is good."

Hawk took a sip of his soda, a smile on his face as he looked at the nearly completed Phoenix star chart glowing brightly in his inner universe. Only two stars left to go.

Just then.

The ghostly outlines of the other forty-seven Bronze constellations flickered within his Cosmo.

For some reason.

Hawk felt a wave of resentment from them, a silent protest.

But amidst their complaints, he heard the faint cry of a phoenix. And with that cry, the protests of the other forty-seven constellations vanished.

Hawk blinked, looking at the Phoenix star chart in his Cosmo.

The mostly-completed constellation seemed to radiate a palpable arrogance, like a true Phoenix looking down on the other forty-seven constellations.

Clearly—

As Hawk's first choice, the proud Phoenix was now even prouder.

"..." A corner of Hawk's mouth twitched. He decided not to linger on it and withdrew from his Cosmo, climbing back down the fire escape into his new apartment.

...

A little while later.

Lying in bed, not yet asleep, Hawk closed his eyes and once again turned his thoughts to the Saint Armor.

Igniting the Phoenix constellation would grant him the core of the undying Phoenix.

But forging and wearing the Phoenix Armor would unlock the constellation's exclusive powers and abilities.

For example—

The Phoenix Illusion Demon Fist, a technique that shattered an enemy's mind, not their body.

A psychic assault that allowed him to directly invade an enemy's mindscape and tear their psyche to shreds with his own superior mental fortitude.

And there was one more.

The ultimate technique, the exclusive secret art of the Phoenix, where he would become the Phoenix itself, unleashing a powerful, scorching wave of air like the beating of its wings, capable of annihilating all in its path.

The Phoenix's Winged Ascent!

Chapter Text

Better to act than to just think about it.

The Phoenix constellation was only two stars away from completion. It was only a matter of time.

Even if he didn't get into any more fights, at his current training pace of ten thousand punches a day, he could probably ignite the remaining two stars in less than three months.

But Hawk was still completely stumped when it came to the Saint Armor.

More specifically, he had no leads on 'Gammanium.'

The other two materials were manageable.

Theoretically, as long as he had enough money, he could just buy them.

Take the meteorites needed to create Stardust Sand, for example.

There were plenty of wealthy meteorite collectors in New York City alone, not to mention the various trade shows and conventions that happened regularly.

So, if he was willing to spend the money, he could get his hands on one.

And while Vibranium was technically priceless...

That was fine.

He knew where it came from. If Vibranium was the final piece of the puzzle and its owners refused to cooperate, he had no problem seizing it himself.

Again.

My need for Vibranium has nothing to do with you.

So that left only one problem.

Gammanium.

For the past few days, after his classes, Hawk had been camping out in the library, checking out every book he could find on gamma radiation and using the public computers to search for more information online.

As a side benefit, he'd also learned who the biggest meteorite collector in New York City was.

Norman Osborn.

That's right.

The very same Norman Osborn of Oscorp Industries, the man who becomes a major villain in the Spider-Man story.

Hawk had found a post on a meteorite enthusiast forum from a month ago.

According to the post, Norman Osborn had an entire room in his mansion dedicated to the meteorites he had collected over the years.

He'd even found information on the Wakandan ambassador to the United Nations.

The ambassador was based right here in New York City, since the UN headquarters was here.

So, Hawk had leads on the meteorite and the Vibranium. But the final, and most crucial ingredient, Gammanium, was still a complete mystery.

Right now, Hawk was monopolizing one of the library computers, continuing his search.

If you had to name the one person in the Marvel Universe who knew the most about gamma radiation, it would undoubtedly be the father of the Hulk himself, Dr. Bruce Banner.

Unfortunately...

Even if Hawk wanted to find him, he couldn't.

After the Battle of New York, Dr. Banner had ridden off on a scooter and disappeared.

S.H.I.E.L.D. probably knew where he was.

But Hawk wanted nothing to do with superheroes, let alone S.H.I.E.L.D, an organization that was practically synonymous with "trouble."

It wasn't a huge problem, though.

Dr. Banner wasn't the only person who studied gamma radiation. There were others, even if they weren't as knowledgeable.

Like the author of the paper Hawk had just found.

"On the Application of Gamma Radiation in the Field of Bioregeneration."

"Dr. Curt Connors."

"Oscorp Industries..."

Hiss.

Isn't that the Lizard?

The name clicked. Hawk stared at the title of the paper on the screen and blinked.

"Oh, you're reading Dr. Connors's paper?"

"..."

A familiar voice pulled Hawk from his thoughts. He turned his head.

Standing right behind him was Gwen. She was holding a book, a few strands of blonde hair falling across her forehead as she leaned in to look at his screen.

"On the Application of Gamma..."

Gwen read the title, then looked at Hawk with a curious expression. "I thought you wanted to go to NYU for law school. What's with the sudden interest in gamma radiation?"

No, that was just a way to make money.

Hawk answered in his head.

Before his power awakened, he had set a clear goal for himself.

Study law.

His first choice had actually been medicine.

In some parts of the world, doctors were expected to be humble public servants. If a doctor lived in a mansion and drove a sports car, they were probably corrupt.

But not here. Not in America.

Here, if a doctor didn't live in a mansion and drive a nice car, people would probably assume they were a bad doctor.

So, a successful doctor, especially a surgeon, could make a fortune.

But Hawk had given up on that idea pretty quickly.

The reason was simple.

He didn't think he had the aptitude for it. So, he had settled for the next best thing: becoming a lawyer.

Lawyers did just as well as doctors.

And more importantly, after law school, if he didn't want to work for a firm, he could go into public service, maybe become a prosecutor, or even a judge someday.

But that was the path he had planned for himself before he awakened his Cosmo, a path designed to make his future a little easier.

He didn't need it anymore.

He still planned on going to college—he wasn't going to get lazy—but the desperate need to study law was gone.

...

Hawk shook his head with a slight smile and turned to Gwen. "Just browsing. Stumbled upon it by accident."

He closed the web page, stood up, and let someone else have the computer. It was time to head to the old gym for his daily ten-thousand-punch routine.

He couldn't help it.

After more than two years, a day without training just felt... incomplete.

Gwen watched Hawk leave the library, a thoughtful expression on her face. A moment later, one of her friends nudged her, and they went to find a table to study.

Summer break was just around the corner, which meant that starting tomorrow, Midtown Tech would be entering the most dreaded time of the year for slackers: finals week.

Every school had them.

Midtown Tech was no exception. Aside from a few scholarship students, most of the kids here were paying tens of thousands of dollars in tuition each semester.

And that was the demographic where you found most of the slackers.

So, for the past few days, the library had been filled with the sight of normally hyperactive students suddenly cramming, their noses buried in textbooks.

Hawk didn't need to.

He hadn't needed to cram before his Cosmo awakened, and he certainly didn't need to now.

His future was set. His only two options were "comfortable" and "more comfortable."

So...

Hawk stuck to his usual routine.

...

Inside the old gymnasium.

Hawk was focused, throwing punch after punch.

The squeal of the gym door opening cut through the silence, and a familiar, radiant figure walked in.

"The school board said they're tearing this place down after the break. They're turning it into a swimming pool."

"...CRACK!"

Hawk's fist slammed into the heavy bag in front of him.

The bag didn't swing. It didn't even move. It just shuddered violently, and a cloud of dust exploded from its surface.

The midday sun streamed in through the grimy windows of the old gymnasium.

It illuminated the scene perfectly.

Chapter Text

Gwen's mouth hung slightly open.

She watched in disbelief as the dust, illuminated by the sunbeam, hung in the air for a moment—still perfectly in the shape of the heavy bag—before slowly dissipating.

Hawk stood his ground, slowly exhaling a breath before turning to face her.

At that moment, Gwen's gaze shifted back to him.

Their eyes met.

Looking at him—forehead glistening with a light sweat, clad in a white tank top that accentuated his powerful physique, hands wrapped in tape—Gwen felt a strange, indescribable feeling.

Hawk, on the other hand, was just surprised to see her here.

"Can I help you?"

"Nope."

Gwen shook her head. With her hands behind her back, she started walking toward him, taking in the surroundings of the old gymnasium she hadn't visited since the new one was built. "The new gym has air conditioning. Why don't you train there?"

Hawk thought for a moment.

"It's quiet here."

"It is, isn't it?"

Gwen nodded, accepting his explanation.

Hawk watched as she walked over to the bench where he'd left his backpack and sat down, a look of confusion on his face.

"Are you sure you don't need something, Gwen?"

"I'm sure."

Gwen, leaning back on her hands, smiled at him. "I had some free time, so I thought I'd come and watch my friend train."

Hawk raised an eyebrow.

He looked at her smiling face and felt like there was something more to it.

But...

Whatever. Training was more important.

He shook his head, pulled his focus away from Gwen, and turned back to the heavy bag, ready to finish his daily ten-thousand-punch routine.

He'd been almost done, after all.

Then Gwen walked in.

And now...

He had to start all over again.

Hawk took a deep breath. He didn't draw on his Cosmo, relying only on his physical strength to complete the task.

As for Gwen?

If she wanted to watch, let her. This was a public gym. He couldn't exactly kick her out.

He had no right to.

Soon.

As Hawk began to throw punches again, the rhythmic, impactful sounds of his strikes echoed through the old gym once more.

This time, however, wanting to finish quickly, he subconsciously picked up the pace.

One punch, then another, and another.

And then...

The afterimages appeared.

Sitting on the bench, Gwen felt her vision blur. She stared, dumbfounded, at the storm of phantom fists that had materialized before her.

What's happening?

I didn't even blink.

She thought, instinctively pulling her phone from her pocket and aiming it at Hawk.

Hawk, still focused on his training, caught the movement out of the corner of his eye.

"No videos."

"...Oh."

Gwen heard his voice—calm and steady, even though he hadn't stopped or even looked in her direction. She blinked, wondering if she'd imagined it, but lowered her phone anyway.

A little while later.

The storm of fists gradually faded, and Hawk's movements came to a stop. The old gym fell silent once more.

He unhooked the heavy bag from its chain, swung it with one hand, and tossed it effortlessly back into the corner. Then, with Gwen's eyes still on him, he walked to the bench, pulled a towel from the side pocket of his backpack, and looked at her.

He hesitated for a second, then asked again, "Are you sure there's nothing you need, Gwen?"

Gwen nodded.

"There is."

"..."

The corner of Hawk's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.

But Gwen caught it.

She smiled.

Not wanting to tease him any further, she got straight to the point. "They're doing the headcount for this year's prom. Are you going?"

Midtown Tech might be an elite private school, but it still had all the usual dances and parties—homecoming, masquerades, and of course, prom.

Gwen asked him every year.

And every year, Hawk said no.

He was a lone wolf. He preferred quiet. He hated loud, crowded places.

That was the polite way of putting it.

The real reason was much simpler.

He was broke. He didn't have money for a tux, he didn't have a car, and he didn't even have a license. He couldn't exactly walk his date home after the dance.

And most importantly.

He didn't have a date.

Why would he go to prom alone? To watch couples make out and feel miserable?

This year was no different.

...

"No."

Hawk shook his head without a moment's hesitation.

He'd rather be on his rooftop, watching the stars, than go to some stupid dance.

It was quiet.

And It was free.

Save where you can, spend where you must. He was legally independent now, which meant no more federal aid. Between renting a new place and buying basic necessities, his savings had taken a serious hit this week.

He was even starting to think that his idea of buying a car had been a bit reckless.

He had already given up on that plan.

It was better to keep some money saved for emergencies.

Besides, the school bus had a stop near Queensbridge Park. Who needed a car?

He didn't even have a license.

He couldn't drive it even if he bought it.

...

Maybe I should just rob a bank. I need money to buy that meteorite, after all.

No, wait.

If I'm already planning on stealing something, why not just steal the meteorite directly? Why bother robbing a bank?

I'm not going to rob a bank just to use the money to buy a stolen meteorite from some rich guy.

That's just stupid.

Hawk's thoughts began to drift.

He was now seriously considering the feasibility of just stealing the meteorite.

The Wakandans were never going to give him their Vibranium willingly.

He'd probably have to steal that too.

So if he's stealing the Vibranium, and he's stealing the meteorite... what's one more bank robbery on top of that?

Gwen watched as Hawk, after shaking his head about prom, suddenly seemed to zone out, a distant look in his eyes. She was curious.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Robbing a bank."

"..."

Gwen's eyebrow arched.

Hawk snapped back to reality and looked at her.

Their eyes met.

A moment later.

A thoughtful, amused expression crossed Gwen's face. "So, which bank are you planning to hit? I'd recommend the Pacific Standard in the 19th Precinct."

Hawk frowned slightly.

"Is that one an easy target?"

"No."

Gwen's smile was radiant. "But my dad's the captain of the 19th Precinct."

Hawk fell silent.

After a long moment.

He looked at Gwen with a dead serious expression. "I was kidding."

Okay, new plan. If I ever do rob a bank, I'm staying the hell away from the 19th Precinct.

Gwen's smile widened. She stood up from the bench, but just as she was about to say something, her phone rang.

"Mrs. Snow..."

"Hawk?"

"Okay."

"I know where he is."

A moment later.

Gwen hung up and looked at Hawk. "Come on. Mrs. Snow is looking for you."

Hawk: "..."

Chapter Text

Mrs. Snow.

Full name: Selena Snow. She was the guidance counselor for the eleventh grade.

Her responsibilities ranged from providing personal, social, and emotional support to guiding students through their academic development and college applications.

Unlike counselors in public high schools, who were often responsible for hundreds of students, Midtown Tech was a private school. Mrs. Snow was in charge of only thirty-five students.

This allowed her to provide more in-depth, personalized support to each of them.

And in another coincidence...

She was the counselor for both Hawk and Gwen.

However—

Hawk, who had been hoping to grab a quick shower and change into some clean clothes, was now being hurried along by Gwen to Mrs. Snow's office.

On the way, he glanced at her curiously.

"Did Mrs. Snow say what it was about?"

"No, she just asked if I knew where you were. And if I did, to find you and bring you to her office."

"Really?"

Hawk thought for a moment, then looked at Gwen. "You think it's about college? Did your early acceptance and scholarship from Berkeley come through?"

It was the only reason he could think of for Mrs. Snow to want to see them both together.

After this month, when school started up again in September, they would be seniors.

They would graduate next June.

But the top students had usually already locked in their preferred universities long before then, and the universities had locked in their preferred students.

Like Gwen, who had her heart set on UC Berkeley.

Located in California, Berkeley was a public research university, often called a "Public Ivy." It had produced over a hundred Nobel laureates, the third most in the world.

Gwen shrugged, then looked at Hawk. "What about you? Still set on NYU for Law? You're not even considering Stanford?"

NYU's law program was good, no doubt.

But everything is relative.

Compared to Stanford, at least in the field of law, NYU was completely outclassed.

So Gwen didn't quite get it. "I heard Mrs. Snow say she recommended you prioritize Stanford."

"There's no way I'm getting a scholarship from Stanford." Hawk shrugged back. As they walked, he explained, "NYU is a different story. I might not get a full ride, but I'll definitely get some kind of scholarship. And if I have that, I can negotiate a better interest rate when I take out student loans."

Yep.

It was that simple.

He'd love to go to Stanford for law. He'd even love to go to Yale and see if he could get tapped for a certain secret society.

But—

It wasn't just a matter of wanting to go. Even if he got in, the tuition at Stanford or Yale would crush him.

Hawk was a realist.

He was going to have to take out loans for college no matter what. So why not choose a school that was more likely to give him a scholarship and reduce the total amount he'd have to borrow?

He had no desire to still be paying off student loans when he was fifty.

Of course, that was his plan from before he awakened his Cosmo.

And now?

He had even less desire to go to Stanford or Yale.

NYU was fine. And besides, he was familiar with New York City. His main goal was to live a comfortable life, so staying in his comfort zone seemed like a pretty good idea.

Gwen frowned slightly at Hawk's almost flippant explanation. She was about to say something, but then she thought about his situation—seventeen years old, no car, no house, no phone—and decided to let it go.

...

Soon.

They arrived at Mrs. Snow's office.

Knock, knock.

"Come in."

Mrs. Snow's voice came from inside.

Gwen pushed the door open and smiled at the woman sitting behind the desk—Mrs. Snow, a kind-looking woman in her forties with glasses perched on her nose.

"Mrs. Snow."

"Gwen, have a seat."

"Hawk."

Mrs. Snow smiled and gestured to the sofa, then her expression softened into a sigh as Hawk followed Gwen into the room. "Once again, Hawk, you really should get a cell phone."

It was just too inconvenient not to have one these days.

When he'd first started at Midtown, Mrs. Snow, knowing his situation, had even offered to give him a spare phone. But Hawk had refused, promising he would get one soon.

And then.

From his first day of ninth grade to now, the end of his junior year, every time Mrs. Snow asked about his phone, Hawk would give the same answer.

Sure enough.

This time was no different. His response wasn't just similar to his previous ones, it was a perfect copy-and-paste.

"I'll get on it as soon as I can."

"You always say that."

Mrs. Snow looked weary. She was about to press the issue when there was another knock on the door.

A moment later.

Another familiar face walked in.

Hawk, who had just sat down on the sofa, raised an eyebrow as he saw who it was.

Peter Parker.

But for some reason, the Peter Parker standing before him now looked different from the one he had seen in the locker room.

How to put it...

This time, Hawk saw a hint of "Bully Maguire" in him.

To be more precise, if the Peter he'd seen before was just Peter Parker, the one standing here now felt more like the superhero, Spider-Man.

The Tobey Maguire version.

The original Spider-Man.

Yes.

Even though this was the MCU, and technically Spider-Man should be the Tom Holland version, the Peter Parker he was looking at was a dead ringer for Maguire's.

It was strange.

He couldn't figure it out.

"Mrs. Snow."

"Peter."

Mrs. Snow's face lit up as Peter walked in. "Wow, Peter, it's only been a few days. You look like you've bulked up."

It was true.

If the old Peter was a beanpole, the new Peter was a young bull.

Peter just scratched the back of his head and gave a shy smile. Then, his eyes fell on Hawk, who was sitting on the sofa. He froze, as if he'd been struck by lightning.

Hawk was looking right back at him.

Their eyes met.

And Hawk saw it, clear as day.

The moment Peter's gaze landed on him, Peter's pupils rapidly contracted and then dilated at an insane speed.

Yep.

No doubt about it.

Peter had undergone the change.

The real one. The original Spider-Man, the one who didn't need tech to shoot webs from his wrists, had successfully come online.

Chapter Text

Spider-Man...

No.

The Spider has finally come online.

Hawk watched Peter's pupils rapidly contract and felt a sense of satisfaction.

Truthfully, the reason he had stayed out of the fight in the locker room and ignored Peter on the bus wasn't just because he wanted to avoid the tragedy that always follows superheroes. It was also because he didn't want his interference to prevent the original Spider-Man from ever existing.

There were three versions of Spider-Man.

And Hawk's favorite, by far, was this one—the one with the "Bully Maguire" face.

Having processed all of this, Hawk looked at Peter Parker, who was still staring at him as if in a daze, and was the first to speak.

"Afternoon, Peter."

"...Afternoon."

Bully Maguire snapped out of it, his expression reverting to its usual mild-mannered look. After greeting Hawk, he turned to Gwen. "Gwen."

Gwen had seen the intense look that had passed between Hawk and Peter.

It piqued her curiosity, but she pushed the thought aside and smiled. "Hey, Peter. I heard you gave Flash a run for his money yesterday."

The previous day at lunch, Peter and Flash Thompson had caused a scene in the cafeteria.

Gwen hadn't been there, but she'd heard from others that Peter had been like a completely different person, leaving the jock utterly humiliated.

Peter didn't say anything, just scratched his head and smiled.

Gwen took the hint and didn't press. She just gave him an encouraging thumbs-up. "It's about time you fought back. Good for you, Peter."

Peter's shy smile grew wider.

Seeing that everyone had arrived, Mrs. Snow clapped her hands together. "Peter, have a seat." Once Peter had taken a seat on the sofa opposite Hawk and Gwen, she walked back to her desk and picked up three folders.

After a moment.

She handed one of the folders to Gwen. "A summer internship offer. Lab assistant in Dr. Connors's lab at Oscorp Industries."

Gwen's eyes lit up as she took the folder. "Thanks, Mrs. Snow. Dr. Connors just told me yesterday that he'd be in touch with the school. I didn't expect it to be this fast."

She could have gotten the internship without the official paperwork, of course.

But having this on file would look great on her college applications.

Mrs. Snow then looked at Hawk and Peter. "I have two other summer job offers, but I wasn't sure which one you'd prefer, so I figured I'd just call you both in and let you choose."

As she was about to continue, Hawk raised his hand, interrupting her.

"Wait, Mrs. Snow."

"What is it, Hawk?"

"I'm still not sure why I'm here."

"..."

Mrs. Snow blinked, then looked at Hawk's genuinely confused expression. "Did you forget our conversation in my office last month?"

Hawk's eyes widened slightly as he tried to recall their last one-on-one counseling session.

It had been a routine meeting.

Except...

Right as he was about to leave, Mrs. Snow had asked him about his plans for the summer, if he was looking for a job.

Hawk had told her he hadn't found anything yet, and Mrs. Snow had offered to help him look.

He hadn't thought much of it at the time, but had agreed.

After all, he really hadn't found a summer job yet.

As the memory returned, Hawk drew in a sharp breath.

Mrs. Snow chuckled at his expression.

"Remember now?"

"Yeah."

Hawk nodded.

Mrs. Snow smiled, then got back to business, holding up the two remaining folders. "One is also from Oscorp, a summer position in their Bio-Electricity Department. They need someone to help with filing and data entry. The other is from the Daily Bugle. They're also looking for a summer intern."

Neither job sounded particularly glamorous.

And they weren't.

But if you were to just walk in off the street, both Oscorp and the Daily Bugle would tell you they weren't hiring.

These weren't just two job openings, they were favors for Mrs. Snow.

In other words:

The only way to get these jobs was with the official paperwork she was holding.

Peter Parker instinctively looked at Hawk.

"Hawk, you want to choose first?"

"I..."

Hawk was about to tell Mrs. Snow that he wasn't planning on working this summer, but then a thought struck him. He changed his mind mid-sentence. "I'll take the one at Oscorp."

He had just remembered the paper by Dr. Connors on gamma radiation.

This was perfect.

He had been trying to figure out a way to meet with Dr. Connors, and now, an opportunity had just fallen into his lap.

Peter, seeing that Hawk had made his choice, looked at Mrs. Snow. "Then I'll take the Daily Bugle. I like taking pictures."

You sure do.

Hawk thought to himself, hearing Peter's words.

Mrs. Snow didn't care about their internal thoughts. Seeing that they had both made their choices, she handed them their respective folders and gave them their instructions.

"Peter."

"Yeah?"

"When you go to the Daily Bugle, ask for Mr. J. Jonah Jameson. Just give him this folder, and he'll get you set up."

"Okay."

"Hawk."

"Mrs. Snow."

"When you get to Oscorp, go to the Bio-Electricity Engineering department and ask for an engineer named Max Dillon. I'll call his supervisor ahead of time to let them know you're coming."

"Got it."

Hawk nodded, his expression unchanging, though the name registered.

Max Dillon?

Isn't that the guy from The Amazing Spider-Man 2? The nobody engineer who thinks the whole world ignores him, falls into a tank of electric eels, and becomes Electro?

Hawk shook the thought from his head.

He was far more interested in Dr. Connors's gamma radiation research than some future villain.

After all—

He had a feeling that the 'Gammanium' he was looking for was directly connected to whatever Dr. Connors was working on.

Chapter Text

Soon.

With their business concluded, the three of them stood up, said their goodbyes to Mrs. Snow, and left the office.

Gwen immediately turned to Hawk.

"Do you want me to show you where the bio-electricity department is when we start?"

"No, I can find it myself."

Hawk replied, then immediately started walking away, his backpack slung over one shoulder.

He didn't have much time.

His afternoon classes were about to start, and he needed to hit the gym for a quick shower first.

Peter, who had followed them out of the office, watched Hawk's retreating back.

He stared.

Intently.

Gwen, who had been watching them both, suddenly spoke up.

"Peter!"

"...Huh?"

Peter looked at Gwen, his eyes a little unfocused. His pupils quickly adjusted, and he snapped back to the present. "Gwen?"

Gwen smiled. "It's nothing. Hey, are you going to prom this year?"

Peter gave an embarrassed smile. "Sorry, I probably can't make it."

If Hawk wasn't going to prom because he was broke and didn't have a date, Peter was skipping it simply because he didn't have a date.

But the reason Hawk didn't have a date was because he couldn't be bothered to find one.

If he wanted to, with his looks, his physique, and the quiet confidence forged from years of training, he could easily find a girl willing to go with him.

Peter, on the other hand, just couldn't find a date.

To be more specific, it was because he was hopelessly hung up on Mary Jane Watson.

Mary Jane, Peter's next-door neighbor, was also in their grade.

Peter probably thought his crush on her was a secret, but pretty much everyone knew.

And since everyone knew, no girl was going to agree to be his date just to be Mary Jane's stand-in.

And the real Mary Jane wasn't going to say yes.

Peter had no desire to go to prom alone and watch the girl of his dreams dance with someone else.

Gwen wasn't surprised by his answer.

She was friends with Mary Jane. The moment prom was announced, Mary Jane had come to her and put her and her date's names on the list.

Harry Osborn.

Yep.

He fit Mary Jane's usual type.

Gwen thought to herself but didn't say anything more. She just nodded and turned to leave.

But—

As she walked away, a thought occurred to her. She glanced back over her shoulder.

Peter was still standing there, staring in the direction Hawk had gone, a lost look on his face.

...

A few days later.

A roar of celebration erupted from Midtown Tech.

Summer vacation was finally here.

"Liz, you got your summer plans locked in?"

"Yep. Hawaii, here I come."

"Tom and I are going to Slovakia."

"Slovakia? Dude, did you not see the news?"

"What?"

"Last week? A bunch of tourists went missing there."

As the final bell rang, students poured out of the school in groups of twos and threes, excitedly chattering about their vacation plans as they headed for the parking lot.

Cars started up, and one by one, they pulled away. In no time at all, the entire campus felt deserted.

The usual cacophony of the school day was gone.

The only sound that remained was the rhythmic thudding coming from the old gymnasium.

About ten minutes later.

The sound stopped.

Hawk stood in the center of the gym, steadying his breath as he began to unwrap the tape from his hands.

Even though he could now punch a steel plate without so much as reddening his knuckles, the habit of a thousand days was hard to break. He still taped his hands before every session.

Just as he was finishing, his eyebrows shot up.

A moment later.

A voice came from behind him.

"I heard they're turning this place into a swimming pool next semester."

"...Peter."

Hawk turned to see him standing there—the face of Tobey Maguire. "It's not a rumor. It's true."

Peter just smiled and said nothing.

This was another reason why Hawk preferred the original Spider-Man.

Compared to the slight motormouth of the Andrew Garfield version and the hyper-talkative tech-bro of the Tom Holland one, he preferred the original's quiet intensity.

Just like him.

All substance, no flash.

Not one for small talk.

Hawk tucked the used tape into his pocket. "You didn't come all the way here just to tell me they're renovating the gym, did you?"

Peter quickly shook his head. "No."

"Then what is it?"

"Uh..."

Peter looked like he was about to say something, but the words caught in his throat. He just stood there, hesitating.

Hawk smirked.

He looked at Peter's conflicted face, then turned and walked toward his backpack. He slung it over his shoulder and started for the exit.

"Have a good summer, Peter."

"Thwip!"

Hawk, who had almost reached the door, heard the telltale sound of a web-shooter. He spun around, his right fist already lashing out.

Peter, whose Spider-Sense had screamed a warning, instinctively dodged to the side.

The next second.

CRACK!

One of the wooden benches in the middle of the gym exploded into splinters.

Peter's eyes went wide as he stared at the shattered bench.

Hawk, meanwhile, was peeling the web off his backpack.

It was sticky.

He had to flick his wrist a few times to finally get the wad of webbing off.

Peter had already recovered from his shock. He looked back at Hawk.

"Hawk, are you..."

"I'm not."

Hawk cut him off, his gaze sharp.

He had gotten this strong through his own relentless, day-in-and-day-out effort.

Of course.

His 'cheat' might have played a small role in it.

But not much.

Hawk was convinced that even without it, he would have awakened his Cosmo eventually.

Now that his power system was gone and couldn't argue, he was sticking to that story.

But that wasn't the real reason he had cut Peter off.

Hawk gave a subtle glance toward the gym entrance.

With his Spider-Sense, Peter understood instantly.

Hawk smiled.

"Have a great summer, Peter. See you next semester."

"...Yeah. See you next semester."

Peter swallowed the words he had been about to say and nodded.

Hawk said nothing more. He turned and walked out of the gym.

And then—

He saw Gwen standing right outside the door. A look of genuine surprise crossed his face. "Gwen?"

Gwen: "..."

Chapter Text

Hawk looked surprised.

Gwen looked back at him, her expression deadpan.

Fake... So fake.

She couldn't help but offer a sincere critique.

"You're a terrible actor."

"Sorry."

Hawk shrugged. "I'm not a professional."

It was true.

Gwen had been outside for a while.

To be more precise, she had arrived just as Peter was about to confront Hawk. She'd stopped when she heard the commotion inside.

Gwen thought she had gone unnoticed.

But—

After awakening his Cosmo, Hawk's five senses were heightened to a superhuman degree. He could hear a leaf fall from a tree behind the gym if he wanted to, let alone Gwen's footsteps.

The same went for Peter and his Spider-Sense, especially this version of Peter, who was the genuine, mutated article.

Though Peter had probably just gotten his powers and wasn't used to them yet. Plus, Hawk's punch had left him in a state of shock.

But with Hawk's subtle signal, Peter had quickly caught on, his senses picking up Gwen's breathing just outside the door.

So, they had both, in a moment of unspoken agreement, shut up.

This was yet another reason why Hawk preferred the original Spider-Man.

He had no comment on the Andrew Garfield version.

But the tech-based Spider-Man?

Heh.

Hawk had no doubt that if it had been the Tom Holland version in there, the kid wouldn't have understood his signal at all. He probably would have just kept babbling on and on.

No, not probably. Definitely.

Hawk thought to himself.

Just then.

Peter emerged from the gym. He saw Gwen standing there and put on a look of mild surprise. "Gwen, you're still here?"

Gwen looked at the stiff, unconvincing surprise on Peter's face and finally lost it.

"Peter, your acting is even worse than Hawk's."

"Hahaha..."

Peter's expression froze. He just scratched the back of his head and laughed awkwardly. He mumbled a quick goodbye to Hawk and then hurried off toward the school gate.

Seeing his cue, Hawk prepared to leave as well.

He had to be at Oscorp early tomorrow for his first day of work. He planned on getting to bed early tonight.

Gwen stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

"Something's different about you, Hawk."

"Huh?"

Hawk blinked.

Gwen's brow was furrowed, her eyes searching his. "Since when are you and Peter so chummy? I've never even seen you talk to him before."

To be more accurate, she had never seen Hawk make small talk with anyone.

Even when other students tried to talk to him, he would just give a few short answers and go back to doing his own thing.

And then there was the prom situation. At first, some girls had actually worked up the courage to ask him to be their date.

The result—

As the rumor among the girls went:

"Hawk?"

"He's a mountain of ice. A ten-thousand-year-old mountain of ice."

That was how the other girls saw him.

And Gwen was no exception.

She thought about the times she had tried to talk to him. Even though he never said it, she could always feel this invisible wall, this resistance to their conversation.

But today?

Her intuition was telling her that the wall was gone. The resistance she always felt when talking to him had vanished.

She was curious.

Hawk listened to Gwen's assessment and explained with a relaxed tone, "Peter and I aren't friends. He just came to thank me. I was there when Flash cornered him in the locker room."

Gwen fell silent again, listening to his explanation.

After a moment.

She looked him straight in the eye, a slight smile playing on her lips. "If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to. There's no need to lie."

Hawk thought for a second, then met her gaze. He gave a slight nod.

"Okay. I don't want to tell you."

"I'll figure it out on my own."

"Go for it."

Hawk nodded, ready to leave. But just before he turned, he paused and looked back at her. "Just be careful. You know what they say. When a woman gets curious about a man, that's the beginning of the end."

Gwen was now certain that the wall between them was gone. But she just scoffed playfully.

"I don't think I'm in any danger of falling for a guy who can barely admit that we're friends."

She remembered the look on his face a few days ago when she'd given him a ride home and told him they were friends.

No, wait.

Even then, the wall had already started to come down.

Gwen replayed the scene in her mind, and a thought struck her.

Hawk didn't argue. He just shrugged and started walking down the stairs.

"See you around, Gwen."

Gwen called after his retreating back, "I'm going to find out your secret!"

"Good luck!"

Hawk waved over his shoulder without looking back.

He didn't give it another thought.

That line about a woman's curiosity was just something he'd said on the fly.

But—

He probably wouldn't have said something like that before he'd awakened his Cosmo.

...

Sitting in the back of the school bus on the way to his new apartment, Hawk stared out the window at the passing scenery, lost in thought.

Before he had his power, love was a luxury.

A luxury he could never afford.

But now?

Courage comes from confidence.

Hawk still didn't have any money, but he had his fists.

Strength is power.

Power is currency.

By that logic...

To have strength is to have wealth.

So—

Then was then.

This is now.

With his awakened Cosmo, he had finally earned the right, from a position of strength, to believe that love was something he could have.

Hawk thought to himself.

Just then.

The image of Gwen looking him in the eye flashed in his mind. He felt a sudden, sharp pang in his chest.

Hiss!

Hawk snapped out of it, shaking his head to clear the sudden thought.

It was nothing.

Just the "Three Biggest Delusions" warning system kicking in again.

He wasn't Peter.

Peter would see Mary Jane smile at him once and convince himself she was in love with him.

Hawk wouldn't make that mistake.

So—

Forget it.

Time to focus on what's important.

Tomorrow was his first day at Oscorp. He would finally find out if Dr. Connors's lab held the key to the Gammanium he was looking for.

If it did, that would be perfect.

Hawk already had a plan.

Once he had confirmed the location of the Gammanium, his next target would be the source of all Vibranium: Wakanda.

And the plan was simple.

If Wakanda was willing to hand over the Vibranium he needed, then everyone would be happy. But if they refused, and if they chose to fight back?

Then too bad for them.

Chapter Text

The next day.

Hawk was up early. Dressed and with his backpack slung over one shoulder, he took the folder Mrs. Snow had given him and headed for the subway.

His original plan had been to take the bus.

Everyone knows the New York City subway is an experience you don't forget.

But Hawk discovered there was no direct bus route from his new apartment to the Oscorp building. He'd have to make three transfers.

At that point, he might as well just take the subway.

At least with the subway, if you had no shame, you could ride for free.

In a word:

You could hop the turnstile. And even if you paid, the fare was still cheaper than the bus.

So, the subway it was.

Except—

The moment he stepped onto the train, he regretted it.

The smell.

God, the smell.

A sensory assault of indescribable odors washed over him from all directions. He shut down his sense of smell so fast it was practically a reflex.

But the smell was only part of the problem.

The car was a rolling circus.

There was a wannabe rockstar with a guitar, howling like a wounded animal, lost in a delusion of future stardom.

Not far from him, a woman built like a Sherman tank had a massive python draped around her neck.

God only knew how she got that thing on the train.

But that wasn't even the main event.

It's a well-known fact that if you were to list the most common places to get pickpocketed in New York City, the subway would be at the top.

And right on cue, a young tough in a hoodie, his face shadowed, locked onto Hawk.

His instincts screamed subway rookie.

A "subway rookie" was someone who didn't ride the trains often, who didn't understand the unspoken dangers of the cars or the darkness in people's hearts.

They weren't always rich, but they were always the easiest prey.

Soon.

The kid in the hoodie, pretending to adjust his headphones, bobbed his head to a silent beat and sidled up behind Hawk.

The next second.

As his hand came down from his ear, a small folding knife appeared in it. He was about to slice open the backpack on Hawk's back.

Just then.

Hawk, his back still to the kid, suddenly lurched backward as if he'd lost his balance.

The kid, caught completely by surprise, was still fumbling with the knife. Hawk's sudden movement slammed the handle of the blade, flipping the point around. With a sickening squelch, the knife plunged deep into the kid's own wrist.

"Aaargh!"

The kid let out a strangled cry, his eyes wide with shock and pain as he stared at the knife buried in his arm.

Blood began to drip, pattering onto the grimy floor of the car.

The train pulled into the next station.

The surrounding passengers stood up and filed off the car.

No one gasped.

No one cared. And certainly, no one asked the kid if he needed medical attention.

Hawk simply moved with the crowd, stepping off the train without a single backward glance.

As he walked away, he felt the burn of a hateful glare on his back, but he just let a small, cold smile touch his lips.

He had been merciful.

If this hadn't been a crowded subway car, if it had been some dark alley or deserted lot, he would have scattered the little punk's ashes to the wind.

Could he not see that Hawk was wearing clothes that, all combined, weren't worth fifty dollars?

He was this broke, and the kid still tried to rob him?

Was there no justice?

No law?

...

"Gwen?"

As he emerged from the subway station, still stewing over the attempted robbery, Hawk saw her. She was standing in front of the Oscorp Industries building, seemingly waiting for someone.

Gwen, who had been scanning the area, spotted him across the street. Her face lit up, and she raised her hand, waving him over.

Is she waiting for me?

Hawk paused for a second, then darted across the street during a break in traffic.

The Battle of New York had been two weeks ago. Now, looking around Manhattan, you could barely see any trace that an alien invasion had ever happened.

That's the power of money for you.

The battle ended in the morning, and the reconstruction of Manhattan, especially Wall Street, had begun by noon.

The Oscorp building's facade had been heavily damaged during the attack.

But now, you'd never know it had been torn open by the Chitauri.

Hawk glanced up at the massive skyscraper, which rivaled the Stark Tower five blocks away, then looked back at Gwen.

"Were you waiting for me?"

"Of course."

Gwen was dressed differently from her school attire. Today she had her hair in a high ponytail and was wearing the standard-issue white lab coat of a researcher. "If I'm not here waiting for you, how else am I supposed to figure out your secret?"

Hawk just shook his head, a wry smile on his face.

"I don't have any secrets."

"Yes, you do. And I'm going to find out."

Gwen said it with a completely straight face, then her expression softened back into a smile. "Okay, I'm just kidding. Mrs. Snow called me this morning. She forgot you don't have a phone and was worried you wouldn't even be able to get in the front door without a security pass. So she asked me to meet you and take you up to see that, uh..."

Gwen paused, looking at Hawk. "Right, what was that guy's name again?"

"Max Dillon."

Hawk said the name of the future supervillain Electro, currently a super-invisible engineer.

Gwen's face lit up with recognition.

"Right, him. Come on, I'll take you to the Bio-Electricity Engineering department."

"Okay."

Hawk didn't refuse.

Gwen stuck her hands in her lab coat pockets and, with a flick of her ponytail, turned and led him toward the entrance. After swiping her own card, she said a few words to the security guard at the front desk.

The guard looked over at Hawk, then nodded and manually opened the security gate.

Once Hawk was inside, Gwen thanked the guard.

A few moments later.

Gwen, moving with the easy confidence of someone who knew her way around, led Hawk to the Bio-Electricity Engineering department on the first floor of the annex building.

Chapter Text

"Hawk, check these readings."

"One-oh-eight."

"Hawk, I've got to run down to the SL lab. Can you file the papers on my desk for me?"

"No problem."

Today was Hawk's twentieth day as a summer intern at Oscorp Industries.

And he still hadn't found an opportunity to get to Dr. Connors's lab.

In fact, forget Dr. Connors's lab, in twenty days, he hadn't even set foot outside the Bio-Electricity Engineering department.

From the moment he clocked in to the moment he clocked out, he was busy. He was either reading data for someone or on his way to read data for someone.

Or, like right now, cleaning up someone else's desk.

Hawk watched the engineer hurry out of the office and walked over to the man's workstation.

Even though it had been twenty days and he was no closer to his goal, he wasn't worried.

For one, good things come to those who wait.

And for another...

This place might be a madhouse, but the pay was incredible.

Eight hundred dollars a week, plus a free all-you-can-eat buffet in the 18th-floor cafeteria for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

He might have briefly considered robbing a bank last month, but he hadn't actually done it.

Most importantly.

A line in the sand is meant to be crossed, but until he was forced to cross it, Hawk wanted to stay on the right side of it for as long as possible.

Because he was afraid.

Hawk had no idea what kind of person he would become once he finally broke his own rules.

It's a well-known fact.

Transmigrators are a species with a particularly flexible moral compass, and a deep, instinctual detachment from the people and events around them.

Hawk was no exception.

That was why he avoided socializing. Sometimes, when he looked at other people, he couldn't help but feel like he was looking at NPCs in a video game.

It was a feeling of... being the only sane person in a world of lunatics.

The reason he was still willing to play by the rules, even after awakening his Cosmo, was simple.

The values he'd been raised with in his past life were still ingrained in him: Be a good person. Or, if you can't be good, at least don't be evil.

That was why, even with his incredible power, Hawk still lived a relatively humble life.

Any other transmigrator, on the first day they got powers, would have probably declared themselves the new God of this world.

The most important reason might just be that he was a genuinely good person.

Unfortunately—

Hawk had a feeling that this line he was so determined not to cross would have to be crossed soon, whether he wanted to or not.

But until then, he was happy to follow the rules.

Having been at Oscorp for a few weeks now, Hawk was familiar with the department's rhythm. He quickly organized the scattered papers on the engineer's desk, carried them over to the filing cabinet, and put them away in their proper place.

...

Just then, the office phone rang.

"Haw—"

"I'll get it."

Hawk cut in, walking over and picking up the receiver. "Bio-Electricity Engineering."

"Oh, Hawk?" A familiar voice came through the line.

Hawk raised an eyebrow. "Gwen?"

He hadn't seen her since she had brought him to the department on his first day.

He was busy.

She was even busier.

Even from his isolated post in the engineering department, Hawk had heard the rumors. For the past few weeks, Dr. Connors had been working like a madman.

They weren't just ordering lab rats by the dozen anymore, they were ordering them by the crate.

It was insane.

"Yeah, it's me," Gwen said. "Hey, the voltage in our lab is fluctuating again. Dr. Connors wants you guys to send someone over to take a look."

"Okay, right away."

Hawk hung up and relayed the message to the department supervisor.

The supervisor—a fifty-year-old man with a completely bald head and the Zen-like calm of someone who had given up on life—glanced around the nearly empty office. "Every lab on this floor is reporting voltage drops today. It's probably the resistors again. We just replaced them yesterday... whatever. You, what's-your-name, take Hawk and go down to Dr. Connors's lab. Swap out their resistor."

Hawk followed the supervisor's gaze to a man standing nearby—a quiet, unassuming man with dark skin and a gentle face. The future Electro.

Yep.

A genuinely decent guy.

Max Dillon was a truly good person. He didn't have any of the sly, cunning traits that Hawk had come to associate with others.

In the past twenty days, Hawk had seen it firsthand. If the Bio-Electricity Engineering department had an "Employee of the Month" award for hard work, Max Dillon would win it every time.

If Max had even a shred of office-politics savvy, he wouldn't still be the guy his own supervisor couldn't remember the name of.

But Max himself didn't seem to mind. Maybe he was just used to being called "what's-your-name." He simply nodded at the supervisor's order and headed to the supply closet to get the parts.

A little while later.

Hawk was waiting by the department entrance when Max walked up. "Mr. Dillon."

Max's entire body jolted, and his pupils seemed to contract.

His voice trembled as he looked at Hawk. "You... you know my name?"

Hawk smiled warmly. "Of course, Mr. Dillon."

He had no intention of getting too close to the future Electro, but that didn't mean he couldn't be kind to the Max Dillon of today.

A little kindness goes a long way.

Hawk looked at Max, who now had tears welling up in his eyes. "Mr. Dillon, we should probably get going. Dr. Connors's lab just called again."

Max snapped out of it and nodded eagerly. "Right, right. Let's go."

Hawk smiled to himself and followed Max toward the elevators.

Finally. A chance to get to Dr. Connors's lab.

As they stepped into the elevator, Hawk looked at the floor indicator lighting up, a sense of irony washing over him.

For the past twenty days, he had been racking his brain, trying to figure out a way to get into that lab.

And he had failed, every single time.

This wasn't the local grocery store.

Did he really think he could just waltz into a lab that Oscorp had poured millions of dollars into, a lab that was on the verge of developing a revolutionary regenerative technology that could monopolize the market?

But the moment he had decided to just let it go and let fate take its course, an opportunity had fallen right into his lap.

Patience is a virtue. You can't rush things.

Hawk silently reminded himself, completing his daily moment of self-reflection.

...

Soon.

The elevator doors opened.

"Hawk!" Gwen was already waiting for them. Her face lit up as she saw him step out. She rushed over. "What took you so long? Dr. Connors is about to blow a gasket."

Before Hawk could even say anything, Gwen had grabbed his arm and was pulling him urgently toward the lab.

Hawk was stunned.

But as he looked past her, toward the lab at the end of the hall...

His heart skipped a beat.

Chapter Text

Dr. Connors's Regeneration Lab was located on the twenty-first floor of the Oscorp building.

The entire space was filled with a dazzling array of complex scientific instruments.

Some of the equipment looked incredibly expensive, even to a casual observer.

But the thing that truly captured Hawk's attention was right in front of him, visible through a large glass window: a strange, dark stone, housed in a transparent, climate-controlled case.

Hawk didn't know what kind of rock it was.

But—

His gut was screaming at him. This was what he had been looking for.

A thought struck him. He turned to Gwen.

"What is that?"

"What?"

Gwen looked up from where Max Dillon was working on the circuitry. She followed Hawk's gaze and then looked back at him.

"Oh, that? It's gamma radiation."

"?"

Gamma Radiation?

A question mark materialized over Hawk's head, and the corner of his mouth twitched. "My physics grades might not be as good as yours, but they're not bad. Since when can gamma radiation be a solid rock?"

Gwen laughed.

She glanced around, making sure none of the other lab techs were listening, then lowered her voice. "Do you remember back in September of '09, when the Hulk tore up Harlem?"

Hawk froze for a second, then nodded. "Of course."

How could he forget?

That day was burned into his memory more than any other since he'd arrived in this world.

It wasn't just because his power had activated that day.

There was another reason too.

He remembered that day with perfect, painful clarity.

Gwen shrugged.

"Then you probably know about the Abomination. He was created using the Hulk's blood."

"Yeah."

Hawk nodded again. Then, a thought occurred to him. He looked at Gwen, a sudden, wild idea in his mind.

"Are you saying that rock is the Abomination?"

"Of course not. Those rocks were brought in from the military base in Quantico."

Gwen explained with a small smile, "The Hulk... Dr. Bruce Banner... he was created in a gamma lab explosion. But something strange happened during that explosion. These rocks were dug out of the wreckage of that lab."

Hawk was floored.

"Then why did you bring up the Abomination?"

"Oh."

Gwen realized her mistake and shrugged. "I just assumed you didn't know the Hulk was Bruce Banner. I mean, you don't have a computer or a phone..."

She trailed off, then another thought struck her. She looked at Hawk. "That phone I gave you. Don't tell me you still haven't gotten a SIM card for it."

Hawk pulled a sleek, iPhone 4-like device from his pocket. "I did."

Gwen had given him the phone on his first day at Oscorp, twenty days ago.

He hadn't wanted to take it, but she'd given him a reason he couldn't refuse.

Every employee had to clock in and out.

Oscorp was no exception.

And she hadn't given him a chance to say no, just shoved the phone into his hand and walked away.

Hawk gave the phone a little shake, then steered the conversation back on topic, his eyes fixed on the strange rock in the glass-walled room.

"What's a rock from Quantico doing here?"

"Because Dr. Connors's research is partially funded by the military."

Gwen explained.

To be more precise, most of Oscorp's major research projects had military backing. Some were even direct partnerships.

Oscorp and the military had always been close.

The company had started out as a herring cannery, but when the wars came, a young Norman Osborn had seen an opportunity. He'd sold off the cannery and converted the factory to produce weapons and ammunition.

These days, Oscorp was out of the arms business, but they still maintained a very cozy relationship with the military.

Take Dr. Connors, for example.

His project was a joint venture between Oscorp and the Department of Defense. The lab was just housed here for convenience.

After all, Dr. Connors had been a military surgeon before coming to Oscorp.

Hawk nodded, finally understanding.

Inside the glass-walled lab, a technician was preparing a vial of an unknown serum. Another was using a robotic arm to carefully lift the so-called "gamma stone."

"What are they doing?"

"A regeneration serum trial."

"The lizard serum?"

It was no secret that Dr. Connors was studying reptiles, trying to unlock the secret of their ability to regrow lost limbs.

His research papers were all publicly available.

But most of the scientific community was skeptical.

There were a lot of reasons why.

Hawk had never bothered to read them in detail. He'd never had any ambition to be a scientist, either before or after awakening his Cosmo.

So, Gwen wasn't surprised that he knew about it. She just nodded. "Dr. Connors thinks that combining the lizard serum with gamma radiation might be the breakthrough he's been looking for."

Hawk nodded slowly, his eyes still on the stone being held by the robotic arm. An idea sparked. He looked at Gwen. "Can I go in and get a closer look?"

He had to be sure.

Gwen remembered seeing him reading that research paper in the library.

"Don't tell me you're actually interested in the stuff that turns people into monsters."

"Not the radiation. The rock."

Hawk said, shaking his head. From a scientific standpoint, gamma radiation couldn't be stored. The moment it was emitted, it was gone.

What's that?

This is the Marvel Universe, and science doesn't apply?

Okay, fair enough.

Gwen thought for a moment. She decided that letting him get a closer look wouldn't spoil any of Dr. Connors's secrets, so she nodded.

A jolt of excitement went through Hawk. As he followed Gwen toward the lab entrance, he called out to Max Dillon. "Max, I'm just going to go check out that amazing rock."

He didn't call him Mr. Dillon. Max had insisted against it. It seemed that just by knowing his name, Hawk had accidentally made a friend.

...

Max looked up from his work, a gentle, good-natured smile on his face. "Okay. I'm almost done here anyway."

Hawk said a quick "thanks" and then followed Gwen as she swiped her keycard and opened the door to the inner lab.

And then.

The moment Hawk stepped across the threshold, the moment his eyes locked onto the gamma stone clutched in the robotic arm...

Instantly.

A message, clear and undeniable, surged through him from the depths of his Cosmo.

That's it.

That's the one.

Gammanium.

Chapter Text

A gentle tap.

"Pa."

The moment the stone in the transparent containment unit was fractured, a strange light, invisible to the naked eye but perfectly clear to Hawk, burst forth.

And in that same instant, his Cosmo surged.

The message was unmistakable.

His Cosmo was telling him one thing.

Gammanium.

He had found it.

As the information from his Cosmo settled, Hawk finally understood what Gammanium was. A wry, almost exasperated smile touched his lips.

The reason was simple.

Gammanium, put simply, was stabilized gamma radiation. Once an uncontrollable energy, it had somehow condensed into a storable solid.

That was Gammanium.

Yep. It sounded ridiculous.

But it didn't matter. What mattered was that Hawk now knew where to find what he needed.

Quantico.

The lab where Bruce Banner was caught in the gamma bomb explosion.

Gwen, who had taken on the role of temporary tour guide, saw Hawk staring intently at the fractured stone. She gently nudged him with her elbow.

Hawk snapped back to the present and looked at her.

His eyes were clear.

"Hm?"

"What are you thinking about?"

Gwen's brow was furrowed. "You're not actually thinking about turning yourself into a monster like the Abomination, are you?"

She had seen the entranced look in his eyes and had gotten the distinct feeling that Hawk was contemplating leaving his humanity behind.

Hawk pushed aside the sudden urge to bolt for Quantico and shook his head. "Of course not. I was just wondering if Dr. Connors's experiment is close to a breakthrough."

Gwen was about to reply.

Just then.

Dr. Connors, who had seen Gwen bring a visitor into the lab, walked over. He overheard Hawk's comment and chimed in, "Scientific progress is a long road of trial and error. But yes, I do believe we are on the verge of success."

Gwen turned to greet him.

"Doctor."

"Curtis. Curtis Connors." Dr. Connors, also in a white lab coat but with only one arm, smiled and extended his left hand to Hawk. "And you are...?"

Hawk met his handshake with his own left hand. "Hawk. I'm a classmate of Gwen's. I'm working in the Bio-Electricity department for the summer. I came over with Mr. Dillon, and I asked Gwen if I could see the lab. I hope I'm not disturbing you, Doctor."

Dr. Connors laughed. "I heard what you said to Gwen. Do you really believe my experiment can succeed?"

Hawk smiled back. "I've read your papers, Doctor. It's clear that if your experiment is successful, it will be a tremendous benefit to mankind."

It wasn't flattery, it was a fact.

If Dr. Connors's regeneration research succeeded, it could mean the end of physical disabilities for the entire world.

Of course, that was assuming he could actually create a regeneration serum, and not just the lizard formula that turned him into a monster.

But... That seemed unlikely to happen here.

In the other story, Dr. Connors only became the Lizard because of a push from Spider-Man.

And while this Dr. Connors looked just like the one from the movie, there was no Andrew Garfield Spider-Man in this universe.

There was a Spider-Man, sure.

But he was interning at the Daily Bugle. He wasn't likely to show up here.

So—

The probability of this Dr. Connors becoming the Lizard was probably lower than the probability of Max Dillon becoming Electro next year.

Hawk chose his words carefully.

He didn't say whether he believed in it or not, only that its success would benefit humanity.

Dr. Connors was clearly pleased. He laughed again and, just before he walked away, he turned to Gwen. "Gwen, feel free to show your classmate our current progress."

It wasn't often he got such positive feedback. Besides, Gwen wasn't involved in the core research, and the progress was all unclassified. There was no risk of a leak.

Gwen nodded. Once Dr. Connors was gone, she stood next to Hawk again and whispered, "Do you really think his experiment can work?"

Hawk was watching the technician who had fractured the gamma stone walk over to a centrifuge. He turned to Gwen.

Just as he was about to shake his head and say no, he sensed something. He looked up at the ceiling.

The fluorescent lights overhead flickered once, twice.

The next second.

POP!

With the sound of a bursting bulb, the entire lab was plunged into darkness.

"Thump!"

"Holy—"

"Squelch!"

In the sudden blackness, a series of sharp, violent sounds echoed through the room. Hawk instantly felt a wave of pressure rushing toward—

Gwen.

Without thinking, almost on pure instinct, Hawk shot his right hand out, shielding her.

"Thwip!"

"..."

A sharp pain lanced through his palm. He gritted his teeth as the lab's emergency lights kicked in, bathing the room in a scary red glow.

The scene they illuminated was horrific.

A female lab technician lay in a rapidly growing pool of her own blood.

She was clutching at her neck, where a shard of the destroyed centrifuge had embedded itself. Blood bubbled and frothed between her fingers.

A few white lab mice scurried across the floor.

"HOLY SHIT!"

"Mia?"

"JESUS CHRIST!"

"Mia!"

The people in the lab, their faces pale in the red light, began to panic. Some ran out to get help, while others rushed toward the fallen woman.

Gwen's eyes were locked on Hawk, who had quickly pulled his right hand back and hidden it behind him.

Her gaze was sharp. She moved to stand directly in front of him.

"Show me your hand."

"What?"

Hawk feigned confusion.

Gwen didn't say another word. She just reached out, grabbed his arm, and pulled his right hand out from behind his back, forcing it open.

And there it was.

Hawk's palm was completely unharmed, except for a small patch of skin in the center that looked brand new.

Gwen stared, speechless.

Hawk just smiled and pulled his hand back. "My hand's not as pretty as yours."

Gwen didn't reply, her brow furrowed in thought.

Just then, Oscorp's paramedics and security team burst into the lab and began clearing the area.

In the ensuing chaos, Hawk grabbed a dazed-looking Max Dillon and slipped out of the lab.

Gwen remained standing just outside the door, her mind racing.

She was certain she hadn't imagined it.

The moment the lights went out, she had felt that wave of pressure, that sense of something moving through the air. It was gone in an instant, but she had seen it—in that split second, she had seen a few drops of blood fall right in front of her.

But Hawk's hand was fine.

Wait a minute...

A thought struck her. Her eyes lit up. She walked back to the entrance of the lab and looked at the spot where she had been standing.

There, on the pristine white floor.

Were a few distinct drops of blood.

A lab mouse with a severed tail scurried over. It sniffed at the drops, then its eyes seemed to brighten, and it began to lick the blood from the floor.

Shit.

Gwen snapped out of it and rushed back into the lab.

Chapter Text

Evening.

On the rooftop of the new apartment building.

His workout finished, Hawk tugged at the hem of his shorts and sat down, leaning his back against the cool metal of the ventilation shaft. He grabbed a Coke from beside him and took a long drink.

Just then.

A thought occurred to him. He put the soda down and opened his right hand, palm up.

The spot where Gwen had seen a patch of new skin was now completely gone, without a trace.

After awakening his Cosmo, his strength, speed, and durability had all transcended the limits of a normal human.

Even without burning his Cosmo:

His strength could easily shatter boulders, demolish thick walls, and even bend steel.

His speed, if he pushed it, could break the sound barrier.

His durability was just as impressive.

He could withstand impacts that would kill a normal person instantly, even without the protection of a Saint Armor. And if he did get injured, his Accelerated Healing allowed him to recover from fatigue and minor wounds far faster than any human.

That piece of shrapnel from the centrifuge today was a perfect example.

If he hadn't intervened, Gwen wouldn't have stood a chance. The shard would have killed her instantly.

But that wasn't what was bothering him.

The important thing was...

Hawk replayed the moment in his mind, his left hand tracing the spot on his right palm where he'd felt the impact.

He frowned, lost in thought. Just then, the phone lying next to him began to ring.

Hawk snapped out of it, surprised. Since he'd gotten the SIM card, this was the first time it had ever actually rung.

He answered.

"Hello?"

"...Yeah, it's me. Are you there?"

"Okay, I'm on my way."

He hung up.

Hawk sprang to his feet. In a blur, his figure vanished, reappearing a moment later by the fire escape. He slipped back through his window, grabbed five hundred dollars from his backpack, and headed out.

...

Ten minutes later.

At the entrance to Queensbridge Park, across the street.

Hawk stood by the gate, scanned the empty surroundings, then pulled out his phone and dialed the only number in his contacts.

A moment later, the headlights of a parked van down the street flashed once.

Hawk's eyes snapped toward the vehicle.

The driver's side door opened, and a young Asian woman with long, thick brown hair, looking to be in her early twenties, stepped out. She held up a phone, showing him his own number on the screen.

Hawk looked at her face and raised an eyebrow.

Skye?

Skye, standing next to her van—which also looked like her home—called out the agreed-upon code phrase. "Faster than a speeding bullet?"

Hawk nodded. "But not as strong."

That was the signal. Skye didn't waste any more time. She pulled a laptop from the van and handed it to him. "Just like we discussed online. Three years old, but in great condition. I've already wiped it and installed a fresh OS. Check it out. If you're happy, you can pay me."

Hawk took the laptop without a word.

After all, this was a five-hundred-dollar transaction.

If he had been a little less proud, he might have just asked Gwen if she had an old laptop he could have.

Again.

A line in the sand is meant to be crossed.

He had already accepted the phone Gwen had practically forced on him.

But, Hawk thought, a man's got to have some dignity.

Still, he never would have guessed that the random seller he'd found on a used electronics forum this afternoon would turn out to be another major player in the Marvel Universe.

Skye.

The future Quake.

Hawk shook his head at the irony. He opened the "girl's old laptop" and ran a quick diagnostic, confirming that it booted up and ran the basic programs without any issues. Satisfied, he closed it and handed over the five hundred dollars he had brought.

Skye took the five crisp hundred-dollar bills and inspected them just as carefully.

A moment later.

She pocketed the money and extended her hand. "Pleasure doing business with you."

Hawk shifted the laptop to his left hand and shook hers. "Likewise."

No small talk.

Just business.

The transaction complete, Skye got back in her van, started the engine, and drove off without another word.

...

Hawk returned to his apartment, placed the "girl's old laptop" from Skye on his folding table, and set the "girl's old phone" from Gwen next to it.

Comparing them like this, Gwen was better.

Wait, what am I thinking?

Hawk frowned again, shaking the distracting thoughts from his head. He connected the laptop to the mobile hotspot from Gwen's phone.

Next step.

Quantico.

He opened a satellite map and zoomed in on the coordinates of the military base.

Some of the more classified buildings were blurred out.

But it didn't matter.

With a single glance, Hawk found it: a ruined, fenced-off structure on the edge of the base.

He spent the next half hour cross-referencing information, confirming that this was, in fact, the remains of the lab where Bruce Banner was exposed.

The internet was a powerful tool. After the Avengers were revealed to the world, and with Banner's own public incident back in '09, his history was all out there.

His life story, how he became the Hulk, when he became the Hulk... it was all online.

Even the gossip about his past relationship with Betty Ross had been dredged up.

But that wasn't what Hawk was focused on.

Sitting in his new apartment, one hand propping up his chin, the other scrolling on the trackpad, Hawk stared at the satellite image of the abandoned lab, a thoughtful, calculating look in his eyes.

Hawk had a feeling he was about to cross that line.

He had no choice. He had no money, and even if he did, the military wasn't about to sell him a piece of a top-secret Gamma experiment.

But he needed that Gammanium.

His Saint Armor depended on it.

However...

Stealing the Gammanium from a US military base was not the same as stealing Vibranium from Wakanda.

To put it simply:

If he stole the Vibranium and got caught, the world wouldn't come after him. It would be like starting a raid and having the rest of the server automatically join his team. The world would come after Wakanda. The five permanent members of the UN Security Council would undoubtedly demand that Wakanda share its resources, or at the very least, allow a UN peacekeeping force within its borders.

So, he wasn't worried about Wakanda.

Hawk stared at the satellite map on his screen, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Chapter Text

The next day.

On the subway ride to Oscorp, Hawk was still thinking about the gamma stones stored at the Quantico military base.

He had a plan.

If he was going to hit a place like Quantico, there was only one way to do it.

A lightning raid.

Get in, get out. No hesitation.

After all, he was talking about storming a United States military base, not some random warehouse.

The FBI Academy was there.

The infamous CIA headquarters in Langley was just down the road.

Robbing Quantico was the equivalent of taking a dump on the heads of the US military, the FBI, and the CIA, all at the same time.

...

"Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst."

"I need to make a trip out to Quantico first. Do some recon."

"At the very least, I need to scout the place out and map an escape route."

Lost in thought, Hawk swiped his keycard and walked into the Oscorp building, heading up to the Bio-Electricity department.

And then. He was immediately called into his supervisor's office.

The future Electro, Max Dillon, was already there.

The supervisor looked uncomfortable. After a long silence, he finally spoke to Max. "Starting today, you're being transferred to the maintenance division."

Max Dillon looked stunned.

"Sir, I—"

"I'm not finished."

The supervisor cut him off, then turned to Hawk and sighed. "Hawk, you're being let go. You can collect your final week's pay."

"..." Hawk just blinked.

He wasn't as shocked as Max. He had already figured out what this was about. He looked at the supervisor, his expression calm.

"May I ask why?"

"The accident in Dr. Connors's lab yesterday."

Knew it.

Hawk thought to himself.

Max was frantic. "Sir, what does a power outage have to do with us? Our department only supplies the building's general power. The specialized equipment in the labs runs on a completely different—"

The supervisor rubbed his forehead. "That's enough. This isn't a negotiation, it's a decision. You can go... Hawk, stay."

Max stood frozen for a moment, then looked at Hawk.

Hawk just shrugged.

"It's okay, Max."

"Alright."

Max looked like he wanted to say more, but he just hung his head and walked out of the office.

...

Once Max was gone, the supervisor sighed again. "I'm sorry, kid. I pulled every string I had to keep Max, but there was nothing I could do for you. You're a good worker, Hawk. If there's anything you need, just ask. I'll do what I can."

Hawk smiled slightly. "It's fine. Just make sure you explain the situation to Mrs. Snow."

His only reason for coming to Oscorp was to find the Gammanium. Now that he had, there was no reason to stay.

His original plan had been to ask for a few days off, not get fired.

After all, this job was a favor from Mrs. Snow. She was a good person who had always looked out for him, and he didn't want to make her look bad.

But now he didn't even have to ask for time off.

The supervisor looked relieved. "Of course. In fact, I just got off the phone with Selena. I know this wasn't your fault, or, uh, what's-his-name's..."

Hawk prompted him. "Max."

"Right, Max." The supervisor's brow smoothed out. "I know it wasn't your fault. But... my hands are tied."

Hawk just shook his head with a small, knowing smile.

The truth was, Max had been right. The Bio-Electricity department's power grid was for the building's basic needs.

Those eels could only generate limited juice.

It wasn't nearly enough to power the dozens of labs with their massive, energy-guzzling equipment.

But you can't fix stupid.

The whole mess had started because some idiot executive at Oscorp thought the Bio-Electricity department could handle a bigger load.

And now that there had been an accident, that same executive was refusing to take responsibility.

Yep.

Scumbag move, but it fit the corporate profile.

It was that simple.

Hawk didn't linger. He took the eight hundred dollars for his final week's work, walked out of the office, and left the Oscorp building without a backward glance.

"Hawk, wait!"

Just as he was about to cross the street to the subway, Gwen came running out of the building.

Hawk turned and watched her catch up.

"Did Mrs. Snow call you?"

"Yeah."

Gwen stopped, leaning over with her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

She'd run down as soon as she'd gotten the call, but by the time she got to the Bio-Electricity department, they told her Hawk had already left.

Good thing she'd caught him.

After a moment, she straightened up and looked at his face. "Are you okay?"

Hawk shrugged. "Never better."

He hadn't let Mrs. Snow's favor go to waste, he was free to head to Quantico, and he'd gotten a free week's pay out of it.

What was not to like?

He saw the genuine concern in Gwen's eyes and gave her a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry, I'm really fine. The supervisor said I could even come back and work here during winter break."

The supervisor did indeed say so.

He had no intention of coming back, but he hadn't turned down the offer either.

You never know.

Never burn a bridge. Never say never. A lesson well learned.

...

Gwen seemed to relax, seeing that he was genuinely not upset. "So, what are your plans now? You've still got over a month until school starts."

"Probably just stay home and read. You know how it is. It's too late to find another decent summer job now."

Hawk shrugged, then started to turn away. "Anyway, you should get back inside. I'm really okay."

Gwen nodded. "Alright. Well, if you get bored, we could go study at the library sometime."

Hawk paused for a second.

But Gwen didn't give him a chance to reply. It seemed that ever since she'd given him the phone, she'd figured out the best way to talk to him was to not let him talk at all. She just smiled, turned, and with her hands in her pockets, walked back into the Oscorp building.

Hawk watched her go, a small, genuine smile on her face as she waved at him one last time. He frowned slightly.

The next second.

He turned and walked away.

Time to get to work.

Quantico.

Here I come!

Chapter Text

Vroooom!

2:30 PM.

The flight from New York touched down, taxiing smoothly to a stop at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport in Washington, D.C.

Half an hour later.

Traveling light, Hawk walked out of the airport, went straight to the taxi stand, and got into the back of the first cab in line. He gave the address of a motel in Quantico Town to the young driver.

The driver nodded, started the meter, and pulled away from the curb.

Just because the FBI Academy was in Quantico didn't mean the area was off-limits to civilians.

You just couldn't waltz onto the military-controlled parts.

Quantico Town itself, the area surrounding the base, was open to the public.

Any disciplined man is a person of action, and Hawk was a man who had thrown ten thousand punches a day for a thousand straight days.

His ability to act was second to none.

The moment he'd left the Oscorp building that morning, he had gone straight to the airport and bought a ticket for the next flight to D.C.

He hadn't even gone home to pack a change of clothes.

Fortunately, he had spent all of last night studying the satellite maps of Quantico, roughing out a plan for how he was going to get his Gammanium.

Otherwise, he'd be stumbling around completely lost.

...

"Plan A."

"Get in quiet, get out quiet."

"But if I'm spotted, switch to Plan B immediately."

"Overwhelming force. No survivors!"

Sitting in the back of the taxi, Hawk silently reviewed his plan, then turned his gaze to the scenery passing by outside the window.

And then...

Without changing his expression, his eyes flickered to the young driver in the front seat. He casually pulled his phone from his pocket, the one he'd forgotten to turn back on after the flight.

The phone booted up.

A series of dings announced a flood of incoming text messages.

Hawk's eyebrow twitched. Just as he was about to unlock the screen to see what spam his carrier had sent him this time, a low voice, accompanied by the black, unblinking eye of a gun barrel, filled the car.

"DON'T MOVE. GIVE ME THE PHONE."

"..."

Hawk froze.

Who am I?

Where am I?

What am I doing?

No, seriously.

I'm on my way to rob a military base, and I'm getting robbed the second I land?

Damn it.

This is the nation's capital. Is the crime rate really worse than New York's?

In an instant, Hawk's opinion of Washington, D.C. plummeted.

The young driver, watching him in the rearview mirror, saw that he was frozen. He growled, waggling the gun. "I said, don't move. Hand over the phone."

Hawk snapped out of it.

"Do you want me to not move, or do you want me to give you the phone?"

"..."

The driver fell silent for a moment, processing the question.

The next second, he seemed to snap.

"Motherfucker, don't get smart with me, give me the f—"

Ring, ring!

Just as the driver was losing his cool, Hawk's phone began to ring.

It was Gwen.

Hawk answered the call and put the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"..."

The young driver broke.

He watched in the rearview mirror as this kid, completely ignoring the gun pointed at his head, not even bothering to pretend to be scared, just casually answered his phone. He had a full-blown meltdown.

The next second, he slammed on the brakes. The taxi screeched to a halt. He twisted in his seat, lunging for the back.

"Motherfucker, I'll f—"

"Thump!"

"Aaaaaaaargh!"

"..."

On the other end of the line, Gwen, who had just been about to speak, heard what sounded like a pained scream.

"Was that someone screaming, Hawk?"

"...Yeah. Some guy walking by was watching a movie on his phone. Probably some violent action flick."

"Sounds like it. That scream sounded exactly like someone getting their ribs broken."

"Uh..."

Hawk, who was now leaning over the front seat, one hand clamped over the driver's mouth, looked down at the exact spot on the man's ribs he had just struck. "You can tell where someone's injured just from the sound of their scream?"

A laugh came from the other end of the line.

"Of course. My dad's a police captain. And between you and me, I'm probably more qualified than most of the rookies at his precinct."

"...I can see that."

Hawk was speechless.

What could he even say? A genius is a genius. They learn everything faster and better than anyone else.

Just then, Gwen's laugh became bright and clear.

"I'm kidding. Of course I can't."

"...Right. You had me for a second."

"So, why was your phone off? I've been trying to call you."

"What's up?"

Hawk maintained his position, one hand silencing the driver, the other holding the phone to his ear.

"Come downstairs."

"What?"

"Dr. Connors found out you were fired and that you were the scapegoat. He felt bad, so he prepared a little something for you. But I couldn't reach you, so I just came over. Are you not home?"

Gwen, who had just parked her yellow Corolla in front of Hawk's new apartment building, tapped an envelope sitting on the passenger seat and peered up at his window.

Hearing that Gwen was right outside his apartment, Hawk went silent for a second, then it clicked.

"Right, I'm not home. Can you just hold on to it for me? You can give it to me when school starts."

"I'm already out of the car."

Gwen closed her car door and started walking toward the building. "You're on the top floor, facing the street, right? Your window's open. I'll just take the fire escape and leave it inside for you."

Hawk was stunned.

He wasn't surprised that Gwen knew where he lived. She had probably seen his address on his employment forms.

But...

"How do you know that?"

"I saw your shorts hanging in the window."

"Uh..."

"You've had those for three years. And if I remember correctly, they used to be pants, right? You cut them into shorts back in tenth grade."

"Anyway, I'm just going to drop this off. I've gotta get going."

"..."

Chapter Text

Hawk listened to the dial tone for a moment, then pocketed his phone.

The next second, his mind was racing.

He wasn't worried about Gwen being in his apartment. He was worried about what she might find. He quickly ran a mental checklist of anything embarrassing or incriminating.

Embarrassing?

Nope.

He didn't own any posters, let alone magazines or videos.

He was too broke.

In his younger years, when he had too much energy, he would just go up to the roof and punch the air until he was too exhausted to think, then go back inside and sleep.

Incriminating?

He didn't think so.

The five Chitauri weapons were wrapped tightly in a bedsheet and shoved all the way under his bed.

She probably wouldn't find them.

So—

Whatever. Let her.

Time to deal with the problem at hand.

With that thought, Hawk's focus returned to the present. The warmth in his eyes from his conversation with Gwen vanished, replaced by a chillingly cold indifference.

The young driver, his mouth still covered, stared at Hawk with wide, terrified eyes.

Hawk savored the fear in the man's gaze. A slow, handsome smile spread across his face.

"Now..."

"It's my turn to rob you."

"..."

...

After hanging up, Gwen put her phone away and walked over to the fire escape on the side of Hawk's building. She climbed effortlessly to the top floor.

She pushed aside the pair of shorts that had been hanging in the half-open window—shorts that, on closer inspection, looked like they had once been a pair of sweatpants—and slipped inside.

She looked around.

The living room was small. A secondhand sofa and a folding table with a laptop on it took up two-thirds of the space.

But it was clean.

Not spotless, but neat and orderly.

Gwen's first impression of the place was that it was... comfortable.

She had never been to Hawk's old apartment, and this was the first time she'd seen his new one.

But as she pulled Dr. Connors' envelope from her pocket and set it on the folding table, her gaze was drawn to the closed laptop.

It wasn't that she was surprised he owned a computer.

It was...

The stickers on the lid.

"Are these..."

"Unicorns?"

Gwen couldn't help but laugh, looking at the cutesy, girly stickers plastered all over the laptop. She wondered which of his female friends had sold him the computer.

It never even crossed her mind that Hawk might have put the stickers on himself, or that a girl might have given him the laptop as a gift.

Impossible.

Absolutely impossible.

No one knew Hawk better than she did.

She had no doubt that if she had tried to talk to him after giving him the phone, he would have just handed it right back to her.

That was why she had deliberately avoided him for the past few weeks.

With that thought, Gwen's eyes returned to the envelope on the table. She turned to leave.

But as she turned, the sleeve of her open jacket caught the air, creating a small gust of wind that lifted the envelope from the table.

It fluttered through the air and drifted into the adjacent bedroom.

Gwen sighed and walked into the room. She bent down to pick up the envelope, which had landed just short of the bed. As she stood up, a faint, greenish light pulsing from under the bed caught her eye.

She froze.

Her eyes darted to the space under the bed.

She could just make out the shape of a large, tightly wrapped bundle.

The bedsheet it was wrapped in was clearly cheap.

It wasn't opaque.

A faint, greenish light was pulsing from within, like a slow, rhythmic breath.

The light was dim.

Even in the daylight, she wouldn't have noticed it if she hadn't caught it out of the corner of her eye.

What is that?

Gwen crouched down, peering under the bed, her brow furrowed in curiosity.

Just as she was about to stand back up, her gaze shifted. She saw a cracked picture frame on the nightstand.

Inside the frame was a photograph.

The background was Times Square. The subjects were a boy and a girl, both looking to be about fourteen years old, their clothes slightly faded and worn.

The boy, Gwen recognized.

It was Hawk.

He was smiling. A wide, genuinely happy smile.

Gwen couldn't remember ever seeing him smile like that.

But the girl?

Gwen's frown deepened. She put the envelope down and picked up the photograph.

The picture must have been taken when Hawk was fourteen, not long after he started at Midtown.

Gwen was sure of the date.

She recognized the pants Hawk was wearing in the photo.

They were the same ones she had just been mentally teasing him about—the ones he had worn for three years, and when they got too short, had cut into shorts instead of throwing them away.

The very same shorts that were still hanging in his window.

But who was the girl?

Gwen studied the photo, her eyes drawn to the girl with the pale complexion, who was also smiling happily, her arms linked tightly with Hawk's.

His sister?

He's never mentioned a sister.

Gwen saw the subtle family resemblance in their features.

She racked her brain. Hawk had never, ever mentioned her.

Is she gone?

Gwen thought of the most likely reason for his silence. She gently placed the picture frame back on the nightstand, stood up, and walked out of the room.

As she reached the living room, she stopped, slapping her forehead.

She had forgotten the envelope.

"Huh?"

"Where'd it go?"

Gwen walked back into the bedroom, confused. The envelope was no longer on the floor where she'd left it. Then, she realized what must have happened. She crouched down again.

Sure enough.

The envelope had slid under the bed, probably blown there by the breeze when she rose.

Gwen sighed, reached under the bed, and felt around for it.

Soon.

Her fingertips brushed against the edge of the envelope.

And at the same time...

They brushed against the tightly wrapped bedsheet.

The moment her fingers made contact, she felt it. A cold, hard sensation, like touching metal, shot from her fingertips to her brain.

Chapter Text

A remote backroad, thirty miles north of Quantico Town.

Hawk had studied the satellite maps. He knew the general layout of the area and the route he was supposed to take from the airport.

So, the moment the young driver had veered off the main road, Hawk knew something was wrong.

His memory was already sharp, but after awakening his Cosmo, it had become flawless.

Hawk got out of the car and scanned his surroundings.

Remote.

Muddy.

A perfect place to rob, murder, and bury a body. No wonder the kid had driven him out here.

Behind him, still in the car, the young driver was bruised and bloodied, but alive. He was still screaming.

Hawk hadn't killed him.

Not yet.

After a moment, Hawk turned, opened the car door, and with a single, effortless motion, dragged the whimpering driver out of the car. He tossed him onto the muddy dirt road.

"Splat."

The driver, dizzy and disoriented, scrambled to his feet, driven by pure survival instinct. He fell to his knees in front of Hawk, his voice trembling. "Please, don't kill me. Please. I'm sorry. I was wrong."

Hawk looked down at him—the man who had been so arrogant just minutes ago, now so pathetic.

His voice was cold.

"You're not sorry you were wrong. You're just sorry you're about to die."

"..."

The driver's body went rigid, his pleas becoming even more desperate.

Hawk's eyes narrowed. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you."

The driver's mind raced.

He looked up at Hawk, his face a swollen mess, and babbled, "You can have the car. My money. I have money. You can have all my money."

"Not good enough. If I kill you, the car and the money are mine anyway."

Hawk shook his head, his expression unchanged.

"Try again."

"...You can't kill me. If you do, you'll be a wanted man. If you let me go, I swear, I won't tell anyone. I won't say a word. Please, don't kill me."

The driver's words tumbled out, his eyes wide with a desperate will to live.

Hawk glanced at him, then looked down, as if considering it.

He seemed to be weighing the odds of the man keeping his word.

The driver, seeing Hawk's gaze shift, felt a flicker of hope.

He kept begging, his voice cracking, while his right hand slowly, carefully, crept toward the small of his back.

The next second.

"Hyaah!"

He whipped a folding knife from his waistband and, with a guttural cry, lunged at Hawk, his face twisted in a snarl. "DIE!"

Hawk looked up. His eyes were like ice. He didn't even flinch. He just slapped him.

Whump-whump-whump!

The driver's head began to spin, as if it were a top that had just been wound.

Faster and faster.

Tighter and tighter.

Until—

SQUELCH!

His neck, twisted into an impossible shape, tore loose from his shoulders.

Splat.

Thump.

Hawk looked down at the head that had just rolled to a stop at his feet, the snarl still frozen on its face. A contemptuous smile touched his lips.

"I was actually going to let you go."

"A pity."

"I gave you the one and only chance I might ever have for weakness in this life, and you thought it was fear."

Hawk's gaze shifted to the headless body, which was now gushing blood onto the muddy ground.

He hadn't been lying. He had actually considered letting the man live.

It wasn't just because he had business to attend to and didn't want any complications.

There was another, more important reason.

The line.

Just as he had thought, once that line was crossed, he had no idea what he would become.

Killing is like a valve.

Once it's opened, the sanctity of life is gone.

This was especially true for a transmigrator, someone who already had a flexible moral compass.

The Chitauri had been different.

Hawk had seen them without their helmets. They were insects.

A human doesn't feel guilt for killing a bug. And Hawk wasn't about to apply his moral code to a race of overgrown cockroaches.

But this man was different.

And yet—

Just as Hawk had suspected.

Even though this was the first time he had truly killed a human, as he looked at the headless corpse, he felt nothing. No revulsion, no guilt. Not even a flicker of emotion.

No, wait.

He did feel something.

This feels no different from killing a Chitauri.

Hawk closed his eyes for a moment.

He had no intention of trying to close the valve again.

Some things, once done, can't be undone.

The floodgates were open. Whether he liked it or not, from this day forward, killing would no longer be something he shied away from.

...

With that final thought, Hawk turned away from the head in the mud and the bleeding corpse. He got into the taxi, glanced up at the clear blue sky, then started the engine and drove away.

He didn't bother to bury the body.

The valve was open, and it wasn't closing. Whether the body was found or not was no longer his problem.

Killing one is still killing.

Killing another, or another hundred, was just a matter of numbers now.

However—

"I can kill."

"But I must not revel in it."

"A true warrior always maintains a humble heart."

Hawk thought to himself, steering the taxi back onto the main road. He glanced around, got his bearings, and headed toward Quantico Town.

He might not have a driver's license in this life, but that didn't mean he didn't know how to drive.

As the taxi disappeared down the road, the backroad returned to its usual quiet, desolate state.

About half an hour later.

A footstep broke the silence.

Then a second, and a third.

Soon.

Three men in dark sunglasses walked onto the scene. Their eyes fell on the head in the mud and the headless corpse, its bleeding finally stopped.

Chapter Text

Hawk didn't drive the stolen taxi all the way into Quantico Town.

About ten miles out, he veered off the road, sent the taxi plunging into a reservoir, and started walking.

But his luck was holding.

After about a mile, a car pulled over. The driver was a military wife who lived in the town, on her way back from a supply run.

When she heard where he was headed, she cheerfully offered him a ride.

Hawk didn't refuse.

Once they got to town, there was no awkward drama. She didn't find it strange that he was alone or invite him to stay at her place.

She just dropped him off in front of a clothing store, and from there, it was a short walk to the town's motel.

Hawk paid for the room, got his key, and went up to the second floor.

Before he went inside, he paused and looked out over the town. He could see it from here, not too far in the distance: the main gate of the Quantico Military Base.

The entrance was heavily guarded by soldiers.

Every vehicle, every pedestrian, had to stop and be searched.

Hawk only looked for a moment before turning away.

It was too late today.

Tomorrow.

Recon during the day.

Strike at night.

And then—

Get the hell out. By the time the driver's body was discovered and the investigation eventually led back to him, it would be weeks, if not months.

In some countries, a murder might be a big deal, a case to be solved overnight.

But here, there were a lot of nobodies.

Hawk figured that by the time the authorities even had a name, he'd already be wearing his Saint Armor.

And at that point...

I am inevitable.

Besides, Hawk didn't think they'd ever track him down.

Here's a joke: the security camera at the airport taxi stand was broken.

Hawk had seen it when he got in the cab. The one and only camera that might have recorded him had been decapitated.

That was another reason he hadn't bothered to hide the body.

He didn't care, and he had a very realistic understanding of federal law enforcement's efficiency.

The different agencies didn't talk to each other.

To put it simply, if you committed a crime in New York and left fingerprints, and then committed another crime in California and left fingerprints, the authorities in California would have no way of matching them.

The state databases weren't connected.

And more importantly...

Hawk had been a model citizen in this life. He had no criminal record. His fingerprints weren't in any database, not even New York's.

So even if they found the body and his prints all over it, they'd have no one to match them to.

...

Half an hour later.

After completing his ten-thousand-punch routine in the motel room, Hawk took a shower.

When he got out, he saw his phone, which he'd left on the bed, ringing. He had just picked it up, before he could even see who was calling, when the screen went black and the ringing stopped.

"Huh?"

"Dead battery?"

Hawk shrugged. He didn't give it another thought. He didn't bother looking for a charger.

Just like before, he had no one he needed to talk to.

And no one who needed to talk to him.

He tossed the dead phone aside, pulled back the covers, and got into bed.

Time to sleep. Big day tomorrow.

Within three minutes, he was fast asleep, a soft snore filling the quiet room.

...

New York City.

In her bedroom, Gwen frowned as her call to Hawk went straight to a "this number is no longer in service" message. She put her phone down, tapped it against her chin, and then turned to her laptop. She opened a website, glanced at a two-factor authentication code on her phone, and typed it in.

A moment later, a map appeared on her screen.

There was a single, pulsing dot on it.

But the dot wasn't in New York City.

It was—

Washington, D.C.?

Why is Hawk's phone in D.C.?

Did it get stolen?

Gwen thought to herself.

She swore she hadn't meant to track him.

When she'd gotten home, she had received an automated text from her phone provider, a security alert stating that a device linked to her account had logged in from an unusual location.

That's when she remembered.

When she'd given Hawk her old phone, she had wiped all the data, but apparently never logged out of her account.

Now, seeing that the phone's last known location before it died was in Washington, D.C, her first thought was that it had been stolen.

After all, New York City had a lot of thieves.

Gwen thought back to the first phone she'd ever bought, the one that had been stolen less than three days after she got it. A wave of resentment washed over her.

Whatever. I'll just give him another one when school starts.

She shook her head, closed the tracking website, and then pulled up a different page: a digital copy of a newspaper.

It was an article published right after the Battle of New York.

It had a picture.

A picture of a block in Jackson Heights, Queens, that had been completely leveled.

Gwen scrolled through the article, reading the details.

Just then, she heard footsteps in the hallway.

She looked up.

The next second, her eyes lit up. An idea struck her. She closed the webpage, jumped up from her chair, and ran to her bedroom door, pulling it open.

"Dad!"

"..."

George Stacy, who made it a point to check on his daughter every night when he got home, was startled by the sudden appearance of Gwen, her eyes shining with excitement.

A slow smile spread across his face. "Sorry, kiddo. No new intel on Spider-Man for you tonight."

Recently, a masked vigilante in a ridiculous red and blue suit had been swinging around the city, playing hero.

The NYPD was not amused.

Their official stance: if vigilantes were so effective, what was the point of having police?

But everyone else was fascinated.

The media loved it. They had a new headline.

The internet was buzzing, with forums and message boards dedicated to figuring out who the man behind the mask was.

Gwen was curious too.

Especially since her father was a police captain.

Gwen shook her head. "I'm not interested in Spider-Man, Dad."

George chuckled.

"Then yesterday you..."

"That was Mary Jane. She was the one who was curious, not me."

Gwen cut him off, then got to the point. She looked up at him, her eyes wide.

"Dad, can I ask you for a favor?"

"..."

Chapter Text

The next morning.

Hawk got dressed, went down to the motel's front desk, and pulled thirty dollars from his pocket.

"One more night, please."

"Room key."

"Here."

Hawk handed over the key.

The clerk glanced at the room number, updated the booking, and handed the key back.

Hawk took it, said a quick "thanks," and walked out of the motel.

A short while later, he was there.

Not at the Quantico base itself, but on a mountain trail right next to it.

Hawk wasn't worried about his morning run attracting any unwanted attention.

He wasn't the only one out. Several other residents from Quantico Town were also jogging along the same path.

Hawk kept a steady pace behind a group of runners, blending in perfectly.

Soon, the trail came to a sharp bend.

Hawk saw the group ahead of him disappear around the corner. He glanced back, the next group of runners was still a ways behind. Without a moment's hesitation, he accelerated.

With a nearly silent whoosh, he shot off the trail and into the woods. By the time the next group of joggers rounded the bend, Hawk was gone.

The only sound was the rustling of leaves in the forest.

...

It was late afternoon when Hawk finally returned to the motel.

Back in his room, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket.

He smoothed it out.

On it was a simple, hand-drawn map of the inside of the Quantico Military Base.

Barracks.

Admin buildings.

Motor pool.

Airstrip.

And...

The abandoned lab. Hawk had spent the entire morning getting the lay of the land. He'd spent the afternoon scouting the surrounding forest, mapping out three separate exfiltration routes.

He hadn't decided which route he would take yet.

But it didn't matter.

Having options was enough. He would adapt on the fly once the job was done.

Hawk studied the map one last time, his eyes tracing the symbols only he could understand. Then, he methodically tore the paper into tiny, irretrievable pieces and threw them in the trash.

Soon, the sun began to set.

Hawk went back down to the front desk, returned his key, and checked out of the motel.

It was a motel, after all. The clerk had seen people check in with a date and check out ten minutes later.

An early checkout didn't even raise an eyebrow.

After leaving, Hawk found a nearby pizza place, ordered a pie, and sat by the window to eat.

Never go into battle on an empty stomach.

It would be a pathetic way to go—getting caught because he ran out of energy halfway through a fight or was too weak to escape.

...

Night fell completely.

Fed and ready, Hawk moved under the cover of darkness. He became a phantom in the woods, his speed so great that he was on the verge of creating sonic booms with every step. Soon, he arrived at the base's perimeter fence, a chain-link barrier topped with high-voltage wire.

He didn't rush in. He looked up, his eyes scanning the tall guard towers.

On top of each tower, a powerful searchlight cut through the darkness, sweeping slowly across a predetermined path.

As the beam swung toward him, Hawk pressed himself into the shadow of a large tree, his black hoodie blending into the night.

The baseball cap was out. He'd already worn it this morning—too risky.

But the black hoodie was perfect.

He'd found it in the trunk of the taxi before he'd sent it to its watery grave.

Soon, the searchlight passed.

The next second, Hawk moved. He exploded from behind the tree, his right knee bending as the ground beneath his foot compressed. He launched himself upwards like a silent projectile, soaring effortlessly over the fence that was meant to be impassable, and landed softly inside the base.

Now that he was in, the hard part was over.

All that was left was to find the lab, get the goods, and get out.

One minute later.

He saw it. The abandoned lab, surrounded by a temporary corrugated metal wall. The only entrance was guarded by two soldiers.

Hawk stopped about a half-mile out, using a stray shipping container for cover. He watched the two guards.

"Hah..."

"Time to go."

Hawk closed his eyes, exhaled a slow, steady breath, and then opened them, his gaze locked on his target.

The next second.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The grass beneath his feet ripped apart as a sonic boom thundered through the night. Hawk shot forward like a cannonball.

The two soldiers on guard duty were laughing and talking, expecting another uneventful night.

Until—

They caught a blur of motion out of the corner of their eyes. A split second later, the sound of the sonic boom hit them like a physical blow.

Thump.

Thump.

The two soldiers didn't even have time to cry out. Their eyes rolled back in their heads, and they collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Hawk still hadn't used lethal force. He had knocked them out in an instant and was already inside the metal perimeter.

The next second.

"SHIT!"

"WHO'S THERE?"

"..."

After slipping through a gap in the fence, Hawk saw them. Standing in front of the dilapidated lab building—its outer walls still scarred from the original explosion—were two more soldiers. His brow furrowed.

Seriously?

Was this necessary?

They already had guards at the outer gate, why put two more inside?

He had only been able to see the outside of the perimeter during his recon.

The two soldiers, after a moment of shock at his sudden appearance, reacted.

The next second, they raised their rifles.

"CONTACT!"

"SOUND THE ALARM!"

"WEE-WOO! WEE-WOO! WEE-WOO!"

In an instant, a piercing alarm shattered the night's silence, blaring across the entire Quantico base.

The moment the soldiers pulled their triggers, Hawk's figure vanished.

He reappeared a split second later, directly in front of them.

The soldiers outside hadn't pulled their triggers. They got to live.

These two...

Hawk's expression was a mask of cold fury. His right fist lashed out at the two stunned soldiers before him.

Chapter Text

"BEEP!"

"BEEP!"

"BEEP!"

The moment the piercing alarm blared across the Quantico military base, every soldier—whether on duty, in the barracks, or on leave in town—froze, their faces a mask of pure shock.

The next second, reality kicked in.

"Holy shit!"

"Battle stations!"

"We're under attack!"

"Jesus Christ, what's happening?"

"Did the Japanese attack again? Wait, this is Quantico, not Pearl Harbor."

For a moment, there was chaos. But these were Marines. They snapped into combat readiness in an instant.

This was Quantico, after all—home of the United States Marine Corps. The FBI Academy and CIA headquarters were right down the road.

Less than three seconds after the alarm sounded, the first soldier was on the scene. Then a second, a third...

"GO, GO, GO!"

"What's the target?"

"The old gamma lab!"

"Fuck!"

A lieutenant colonel, hearing the location of the attack, swore viciously. He threw on his fatigues, grabbed his phone, and started running.

The call connected instantly.

"Yes!" a deep, gravelly voice answered.

"GENERAL, THE GAMMA LAB HAS BEEN BREACHED."

"..."

On the other end of the line, General Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross, who had just left the Pentagon and gotten into his car, went rigid.

What did he just hear?

The gamma lab has been breached?

How is that possible? The lab is on the Marine base at Quantico. Who the hell could get in there?

Still reeling from the news, General Ross's voice was sharp.

"Say that again. What's been breached?"

"The gamma lab, sir."

"Shit!"

Ross's heart sank.

"What's the situation?"

"The Quick Reaction Force is on-site. I'm on my way now."

"..."

General Ross took a deep breath, loosened his tie, and slapped the back of the driver's seat. "QUANTICO. NOW!"

The driver nodded and slammed his foot on the gas, peeling out right in front of two stunned Capitol police officers.

The two cops just stared at each other, speechless.

...

Meanwhile, back at the base, the Quick Reaction Force had arrived at the fenced-off perimeter of the gamma lab.

From inside, they could hear a series of thunderous crashes. A moment later, a group of panicked, terrified scientists burst out of the entrance.

The soldiers immediately swarmed them, grabbing them and pulling them to safety.

"What's going on in there? How many intruders? What do they want?"

"I don't know! I don't know anything!"

"ONE! There's only one! He's after the gamma stones!"

"..."

The Quick Reaction Force Captain stared at the scientist who had spoken.

The other soldiers looked at him in disbelief.

"Did you just say... one?"

"Yes, just one."

The scientist's face was still pale with terror. "He's not human. He shattered a concrete wall with a single punch. Bullets don't even touch him. All the guards who shot at him... they're dead."

The soldiers exchanged stunned looks.

Just then, another soldier, leaning on a scientist for support, his leg clearly broken, spoke up. "He's telling the truth. There's only one of them."

The Captain's attention immediately snapped to him.

"Soldier, report."

"It's just like he said. One intruder. He seems to be after the gamma stones. Our bullets couldn't hit him. He killed every soldier who opened fire on him, almost instantly."

"What about you?"

"Weren't you listening?"

The injured soldier, on the verge of a breakdown, screamed at the Captain, "He killed every soldier who shot at him!"

The truth was, he had shot at him too.

But—

The moment he'd pulled the trigger, his rifle had jammed.

And for that reason, and that reason alone, Hawk had spared his life, shattering his leg instead and taking him out of the fight.

The other soldiers and armed scientists in the lab had not been so lucky.

Just as Hawk had predicted:

Once the valve of killing was opened, it was no longer a choice. It was just a matter of numbers.

But he was still holding back.

By now, Hawk had reached the basement of the gamma lab.

The first thing he saw was the gaping hole that had been dug into the floor.

Thump.

Hawk, still in his hoodie and mask, leaped down into the pit.

At the bottom, a rough-hewn tunnel stretched out before him. Pickaxes and shovels lay scattered on the ground.

How primitive.

No, wait.

This was probably intentional. The military is not a monolith.

Hawk thought to himself, his eyes scanning the walls of the tunnel.

There they were.

The walls were made of the same strange, dark stone he had seen in Dr. Connors's lab.

Just then, a phoenix cry echoed through his Cosmo, and a message was delivered to him. "Devour."

"So I just need to let you absorb it?"

"That simplifies things."

Hawk processed the new information.

He had thought he would have to play miner and dig out all these stones himself.

But...

All he had to do was place his hands on the walls, burn his Cosmo, and let the Phoenix constellation within him absorb the Gammanium stored inside.

This was perfect!

A wide grin spread across Hawk's face. He was about to begin.

But just as he raised his hands, his gaze snapped back to the hole he had just jumped through.

He threw a punch at the ceiling, a blast of pure force shooting from his fist.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The entrance to the basement collapsed, sending a cloud of dust and debris raining down into the tunnel.

The shockwave washed over him, but he stood firm, unaffected.

He just didn't want to be disturbed.

There. Now I can work in peace.

Without another moment's hesitation, Hawk placed his hands on the tunnel walls.

The next second, he unleashed his Cosmo.

BOOOOOOM!

BOOOOOOM!

BOOOOOOM!

Chapter Text

How long does it take for a building to collapse?

There's no single answer.

But here, on the military base at Quantico, the old gamma lab—already structurally compromised from Bruce Banner's little accident—finally gave way. A massive explosion from underground was the final straw.

In less than five seconds, the three-story building imploded, becoming a heap of rubble and twisted steel.

A thick cloud of dust billowed outwards, slamming against the surrounding metal fence with a deafening clatter.

The Quick Reaction Force that had been about to storm the building scrambled backward. They stared at the ruins, then collectively swallowed hard.

If they had gone in just a few seconds earlier, they would have been buried along with it.

After the initial shock and relief, the soldiers all looked to their captain.

"Coyote One, what are your orders?"

"...How the hell should I know?"

The captain, after a moment of stunned silence, finally found his voice. "Pack it up. We're done here."

His men stared at him.

"Sir?"

"What part of 'we're done' did you not understand? The building's gone. What are we supposed to do, dig the intruder's body out of the rubble?"

The captain rolled his eyes. He had been expecting a firefight.

Instead... he got this. A complete and utter anticlimax.

Just then, a Jeep screeched to a halt nearby. The lieutenant colonel who had called General Ross jumped out.

"Coyote Two, stand down your men," the captain ordered his second-in-command.

"Yes, sir!"

The captain slung his rifle over his shoulder and walked over to the colonel.

The colonel didn't even wait for a salute. He was staring at the still-settling dust cloud over the ruins. "What happened?"

The captain shook his head. "To be honest, sir, we're not entirely sure. But we can confirm, there was only one intruder."

He then repeated what the scientists had told him, and how the building had collapsed just as his team was about to make entry.

Hearing that there had only been one intruder, the colonel's face went blank.

"Are you sure? Just one?"

"Yes, sir."

"Mother of—"

The colonel bit back the curse, a look of sheer disbelief on his face. "One man? What kind of maniac pulls something like this?"

It wasn't that Quantico had never been attacked before.

But...

Even foreign agents came in teams. And most of them never even made it past the main gate.

Everyone knew that Quantico was a raid boss, a team effort.

And this guy—

This guy tried to solo it??

What was he thinking?

The colonel couldn't wrap his head around it.

The captain just shrugged. He glanced back at the rubble. "Maybe it was a suicide mission, sir. Maybe the building was his only target. He never planned on getting out."

The colonel considered it for a moment, then nodded.

"It's the only explanation that makes any sense."

"Shit."

"I can't believe I called the General for this. I should have waited."

The colonel's face fell as he remembered his frantic call to General Ross.

If he had known it was just a suicide bomber, he never would have made the call.

Well...

At least, not in such a panic. Now he had to call back.

The colonel sighed, told his aide to have the base control room stand down the alarm, and pulled out his phone again.

The call connected instantly.

"Report!"

"General, the intruder is dead."

"Dead?"

General Ross, who was still urging his driver to go faster, was taken aback.

"What happened?"

"We don't have an ID on the intruder yet, sir, but he was working alone. The gamma lab has collapsed. We're currently assessing it as a suicide mi—"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

"HOLY SHIT!"

Just as the colonel was briefing General Ross, a thunderous explosion erupted from the ruins of the gamma lab.

The next second, he saw it. In the glare of the searchlights now focused on the rubble, a figure shot out from the dust and smoke.

The colonel froze.

The Quick Reaction Force Captain let out a cry of disbelief. But his training kicked in instantly.

"Contact!"

"Light him up! Light him up!"

"BRRRRRRT! BRRRRRRT!"

The rest of the Quick Reaction Force, who had been about to stand down, snapped back into action. They raised their rifles and unleashed a hail of automatic fire at the figure standing in the wreckage—a dark silhouette against the swirling smoke.

At the same time, the base-wide alarm, which had just been silenced, began to shriek once more.

The soldiers, who had just been dismissed, looked around in confusion.

What the hell?

Didn't they just turn it off?

Just as they were starting to wonder if someone in the control room had hit the wrong button, the sound of gunfire reached them.

"Shit!"

"Another one?"

"Move, move, move!"

"BRRRRRRT! BRRRRRRT!"

Hawk's figure flickered in and out of existence on top of the rubble.

Deep beneath the ruins, the last of the Gammanium had been absorbed into his Cosmo.

He looked up at the soldiers firing at him, and at the reinforcements now swarming the area.

And—

The low rumble of tanks rolling into position, and the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of attack helicopters lifting off the ground.

Yep.

He had officially kicked the hornet's nest.

But my work here is done. Now I just need to find a quiet place to digest this meal.

Hawk thought to himself. As the smoke around him began to clear, he raised an eyebrow, then turned, bent his knees, and with a final, explosive CRACK of shattering concrete, launched himself into the sky.

The next second, with the searchlights struggling to track him, he carved a perfect arc through the night sky and disappeared into the forest outside the base.

Right.

Phase one, the lightning raid, was complete. Time for phase two.

Run like hell.

Chapter Text

By the time General Thaddeus Ross arrived at the Quantico military base, the alarms had been silenced.

For real, this time.

But the crisis was far from over. The base's command center was a hive of activity, buzzing with controlled panic.

This was a major embarrassment.

Someone had not only breached their base with ridiculous ease and destroyed a building, but had also managed to get away completely clean.

And the worst part?

They had lost him.

"What do you mean, you lost him?"

"We lost visual in the forest, twenty miles south of the base."

"What about our air support?"

"Sir, it's a dense forest, at night. The choppers couldn't get low enough for a clear shot."

"Shit!"

The lieutenant colonel slammed his fist on the table. "Scramble everyone. Get those birds back in the air. I want this son of a bitch found."

His aide snapped a quick "yes, sir" and hurried out of the room.

The colonel stood with his hands on his hips, staring at the live feeds from the helicopters and ground teams on the main screen. Just then, a deep voice came from behind him.

He flinched, then spun around to see General Ross, his face as black as thunder.

"Ge-General..."

"One intruder, Colonel, and you lost him. Impressive."

Ross said, his voice dangerously calm.

The colonel opened his mouth, then closed it. Instead, he had a tech pull up the surveillance footage of the intruder's escape.

Ross turned his attention to the main screen.

He saw the figure, a silhouette in the smoke and searchlights, then a blur of motion as the intruder launched himself into the air and disappeared into the forest.

Ross was stunned.

A moment later, he looked at the colonel. "You said the gamma lab was the only target?"

The colonel nodded quickly. "Yes, General. He breached the perimeter, and moments later, the building collapsed. We thought he was a suicide bomber. But then, right as I was updating you, he just burst out of the rubble."

"..."

Ross said nothing. He just watched the footage of Hawk's impossible leap on a loop, his mind racing.

One man. A clear objective. Inhuman evasion. Superhuman strength.

Ross's eyes glinted.

"Did any other cameras get a look at him?"

"The tech team is reviewing all footage now."

"Have you got a location on him?"

"...No, sir."

The colonel glanced at his aide, who had just returned and was shaking his head. He braced himself. "We lost him in the woods, twenty miles south. We're still searching."

Ross just nodded.

The next second, without another word, he turned and started walking out. "Get a crew. I want that lab dug out. Now."

The colonel snapped to attention. "Yes, General!"

But by the time the heavy machinery had been brought in, the rubble cleared, and the bodies of the fallen soldiers recovered, the sun was rising.

The helicopters, which had been flying all night, returned to base.

The pilots were exhausted, but the machines weren't. With fresh crews and a full tank of fuel, the choppers took off again, fanning out in all directions, a dragnet searching for the man who had, for all intents and purposes, taken a dump on the United States Marine Corps and walked away.

The ground troops were just as relentless.

The soldiers who had been out all night were replaced by a fresh wave, who were now sweeping through the forests surrounding the base.

They were in it for the long haul.

Ross hadn't slept either. He was sitting in his car, parked near the ruins of the gamma lab, his eyes closed.

Just then, his aide, sitting in the driver's seat, answered a call. After a few grunts of acknowledgement, he turned to Ross.

"General, it's Director Fury."

"...Hmph."

Ross slowly opened his eyes, took the phone from his aide, and put it to his ear.

"Ross."

"General Ross. I hear things got a little lively at Quantico last night."

"..."

The smug, self-satisfied tone on the other end of the line made Ross's head throb. "What do you want, Nick?"

In his office at the Triskelion, Nick Fury, clad in his signature black trench coat and eyepatch, leaned back in his chair. He was also watching the footage of Hawk's escape. He chuckled.

"A joint operation. What do you say?"

"You can kiss my ass." Ross scoffed. "This is a military matter. I'm warning you, Nick, stay out of it. And if I remember correctly, your operational authority has been suspended, hasn't it?"

With that, Ross hung up. He didn't bother to wait for a reply. It would have just been more bullshit anyway. He handed the phone back to his aide, sat up straight, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Any sign of him?"

The aide shook his head.

"No, sir."

"Heh."

Ross didn't seem surprised. He let out a dry, humorless laugh and changed the subject.

"Have they dug out the lab yet?"

"ETA ten minutes, sir."

"Let's go."

Ross pushed open his car door. "I want to see for myself."

His aide scrambled to follow.

By now, the bodies of the soldiers who had died in the lab had all been recovered. They were laid out in a neat row nearby.

Their deaths...

Were all different, but the expressions on their faces were the same: shock, terror, and utter disbelief.

Ross's gaze swept over them. He turned to his aide. "File a report. Maximum death benefits for all of them. I'll sign off on it personally."

The aide nodded and made a note.

Soon, the ten minutes were up. The entrance to the underground tunnel had been cleared.

A team of base scientists, who had been on standby, descended into the pit.

"It's gone."

"IT'S ALL GONE."

"Unbelievable. Did he... absorb all of it?"

"Jesus Christ. But why didn't he turn into a monster like the Hulk or the Abomination?"

A series of shocked, disbelieving cries echoed up from the tunnel.

Ross's eyes lit up with a terrifying intensity.

"Aide!"

"Sir."

"FIND HIM. AT ANY COST."

"Understood!"

Chapter Text

General Ross kept his expression stone-cold, but inside his mind was racing.

The reports from his scientists had just confirmed his deepest suspicions. An image coalesced in his mind.

Captain America. Steve Rogers.

To this day, the only successful recipient of the Super Soldier Serum. The peak of human potential.

The military had never given up on recreating the serum.

But ever since Dr. Abraham Erskine was assassinated, the true formula had been lost to history.

One thing, however, was certain.

The real Super Soldier Serum required gamma radiation.

That was the root cause of the Hulk's creation. Bruce Banner had been a military scientist, working on that very project, when the accident happened.

And that accident had given General Ross hope. Even if the Hulk was uncontrollable.

But now—

A human, with no discernible non-human characteristics.

Inhuman reaction time.

Superhuman strength and agility.

And the complete absorption of all gamma radiation.

Ross was now certain. The intruder had come for one thing: the gamma.

And when he put the pieces together, the conclusion was inescapable.

This was the Super Soldier he had been searching for.

"Find him."

"At any cost."

Ross's right hand clenched into a fist. He stared at the ruins of the gamma lab, not with anger, but with a terrifying, all-consuming excitement.

...

Hawk had no idea he had just become the new obsession of General Ross, the man who had once chased Bruce Banner across the globe.

But even if he knew, he wouldn't care.

Because Hawk was already gone. He wasn't just out of Quantico, he wasn't even in the D.C area anymore.

Right now, Hawk was at the bottom of a waterfall.

ROOOOAR!

The water thundered down, a relentless, liquid avalanche. It crashed onto the figure of Hawk, who was sitting cross-legged in the churning pool, wearing only a pair of shorts, his eyes closed.

But as the water, heavy as falling rock, slammed into his body, it seemed to vaporize on impact, shrouding him in a cloud of white mist.

He was in Cunningham Falls State Park, deep in the mountains of Maryland.

It was a place few people ever ventured.

Hawk had been here for over twenty days.

And for twenty days, he had been doing only one thing.

Burning his Cosmo.

Within his inner universe, the star chart of the Phoenix constellation now blazed with a brilliant light, the phantom image of a fiery bird shimmering within it.

He wasn't in a rush to return to New York.

For one thing, the school's summer session hadn't started yet. For another, he wanted to let the dust settle.

Hawk was curious to see if the military, after the mess he'd made at Quantico, could actually find him here.

If they couldn't, he would head back to New York.

And if they could? He wasn't worried.

He had chosen this spot for a reason. Five miles in any direction was nothing but dense, primordial forest.

It was the perfect place for a battle. The perfect place to kill.

Some people only respect force. You can't reason with them, you can only beat them into submission. You have to break them, instill a fear so deep that obedience becomes their only option.

You know what they say.

When the U.S. military accuses you of having weapons of mass destruction, you damn well better have them.

Why??

Because if you truly have them, no one will risk laying a hand on you.

But if you're just bluffing, well, then they're going to come at you with everything they've got.

So—

Hawk had deliberately chosen this remote location as his potential battlefield. If the military found him, the war would start here. He would break them, crush their will to fight, and then casually head back to New York.

But twenty days had passed.

He hadn't seen a single soldier. He hadn't seen a single person at all.

It didn't matter.

His primary reason for being here wasn't to wait for the military.

It was the waterfall itself.

Hawk was using the relentless, crushing force of the water to push himself past his limits, to finally and completely ignite the Phoenix star chart within his Cosmo.

For the past twenty days, his routine had been simple.

During the day, he would throw his ten thousand punches against the crushing resistance of the waterfall. At night, he would shut down his five senses, sit cross-legged in the pool, and let the 24/7 torrent of water hammer against his body, while he reached inward, searching for the door to the Sixth Sense.

Technically, a Bronze Saint wasn't considered a true Saint.

The legendary five were the exception, of course.

Only a Saint who had awakened and mastered the Sixth Sense was worthy of the title.

Hawk wasn't expecting to master it now.

That was unrealistic. But he had time. And if he was lucky, he might just brush against the edges of it.

The Sixth Sense was a game-changer!

A Saint with the Sixth Sense and a Saint without it were on completely different levels of existence.

It was the gateway to True power.

With it, a Saint could manipulate the elements, see the future, move objects with their mind, fly, create illusions... the possibilities were endless.

But alas.

Forget awakening it. He hadn't even found the doorknob.

Hawk slowly opened his eyes. He rose from the water, his body as immovable as a mountain, the crushing weight of the waterfall having no effect on him.

His blood was boiling, a furnace of heat radiating from his skin, turning the surrounding water into a cloud of steam.

And within that cloud, the fiery, spectral image of a phoenix shimmered into existence behind him.

Yes.

The Phoenix.

In the twenty-plus days he had been here, the military hadn't come, and he hadn't found the gateway to the Sixth Sense.

But he had accomplished his main objective.

Hawk had successfully ignited his first constellation.

One of the forty-eight Bronze constellations.

The Phoenix!

The next second, Hawk looked at the curtain of falling water before him and threw his first punch of the day.

Chapter Text

One punch.

Then another.

And another.

Standing at the base of the waterfall, Hawk braced himself against the crushing torrent of water, his fists lashing out against the immense resistance.

With every punch, the wall of water would momentarily buckle, freezing in place for a fraction of a second.

But it wasn't enough.

He didn't just want the waterfall to pause for him. He wanted it to tremble. He wanted it to reverse its flow.

Hawk didn't think he was asking for much.

This wasn't Niagara Falls. Compared to the great waterfalls of the world, this one was a trickle.

So, was it too much to ask?

No. Not at all.

But clearly, the waterfall disagreed—

Do you think you're Poseidon?

And even if you were, what good would that do? He's the god of the sea. What jurisdiction does he have over a freshwater waterfall?

And so—

The waterfall, enraged by Hawk's relentless assault, began to flow with even greater fury, its speed visibly increasing.

Hawk felt the shift, the raw anger of the water, but his expression remained unchanged.

Deep within his Cosmo, the fully ignited Phoenix star chart pulsed with light. A fiery phoenix was slowly, majestically, taking form.

He had made his decision.

He would leave this place when this waterfall reversed its course—and not a moment sooner.

He only had a few days left before school started.

A burning, defiant light ignited in Hawk's eyes.

"Come on!!"

...

"...Was that thunder?"

Miles away, on the northern edge of Cunningham Falls State Park, Gwen, who had just entered the forest, heard the distant roar and looked up at the sky.

But the dense canopy of the ancient trees blocked her view, allowing only dappled sunlight to filter through. The shifting patterns of light and shadow gave the already quiet forest an eerie, almost mystical quality.

Unable to see the sky, Gwen looked back down.

Dressed in a bright white windbreaker and a pair of hiking boots, Gwen pulled out her phone and looked at the screen.

A tracking map was open.

Two pulsing dots, far apart, but now close enough to be seen on the same screen.

One was her current location.

The other...

Gwen took a deep breath, tightened her grip on the hiking pole she had bought in Thurmont the day before, and steeled herself. She started walking again, heading directly for the second dot.

At first, Gwen had just assumed Hawk's phone had been stolen. She tried not to worry.

She had been busy with her own summer internship after all.

The next day, Dr. Connors had asked if she had given Hawk the "Gift," and she'd realized something was wrong. After work, she'd gone back to Hawk's apartment.

And the envelope she had left on his table was still there, untouched—

But for reasons she couldn't explain, a sudden, cold panic seized her heart.

She had immediately called her father and asked him to use his resources at the NYPD to find Hawk.

At first, her father hadn't been too concerned, but seeing the genuine fear in Gwen's eyes, he had agreed to make a call to his colleagues in the Queens precinct.

He was the captain of the 19th Precinct in Manhattan. Technically, a missing persons case in Queens was out of his jurisdiction, but a friendly call to a fellow captain was all it took.

The result: nothing...

It was as if Hawk had vanished from the face of the earth.

He had no credit cards, no driver's license, and his phone was either stolen or dead. There was no way to track him.

To put it bluntly, Hawk was a ghost living in the modern world.

No family.

No social life.

He didn't even seem to have any friends. Even after opening a case file, the Queens precinct had no idea where to even begin their investigation.

No one could provide a last known location. When they questioned a few of his classmates, no one seemed particularly concerned that he was gone.

Well...

Except Gwen.

Two nights ago, her father had come home to find her just getting back, looking exhausted from another day of searching. He had finally asked the question he'd been holding back. "Gwen, are you in love with this boy?"

Gwen, who had just come from a cemetery in Queens, froze, then gave him her answer.

"Dad, Hawk and I are just friends."

"..."

By the time her father had processed her words, she was already halfway up the stairs.

George had blinked, then looked at his wife, Helen, who had been standing quietly by.

"Friends? Do you believe that?"

"It doesn't matter if I believe it or not."

Helen, ever the wise and gentle mother, had smiled at her daughter's retreating back. "But one thing I know, she’s no longer just a little girl."

George was speechless.

...

Up in her room, Gwen had thrown herself onto her bed, her mind filled with a gnawing, nameless feeling as she thought about Hawk, who had now been missing for over a week.

Just then, her phone had buzzed.

She had glanced at it, expecting another spam text.

But then, her eyes had gone wide.

It wasn't spam. It was another security alert from her phone provider.

She had frantically clicked the link.

This time, it wasn't a general location. It was a precise GPS coordinate.

Cunningham Falls State Park, Maryland. At the base of a waterfall.

...

And that was why Gwen was here now.

Soon.

As the roar of the water grew louder, a surge of adrenaline cut through her exhaustion. Drenched in sweat, Gwen pushed herself, quickening her pace.

Back at the base of the falls.

Hawk had just thrown his nine-thousand, nine-hundred and ninety-ninth punch. He drew his fist back one last time. The fiery silhouette of the Phoenix behind him solidified, becoming almost real.

The next second, he unleashed his ten-thousandth punch. The fiery phoenix behind him spread its wings and soared.

"SKREEEEE!"

"Flow... BACKWARDS!"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!

The waterfall no longer plunged downward. It roared to a halt, then surged upward—reversing its course into the sky.

In that moment, it was as if time itself had frozen.

But a single sound cut through the impossible silence.

A voice.

Clear.

And trembling.

"HAWK!!!"

"..."

Chapter Text

Countless shattered droplets of water hung in the air around Hawk, spinning and orbiting him as if paying homage.

The world was utterly silent.

The only sound was a single voice, calling his name from behind.

"HAWK!!!"

The word sent a jolt through him, and his bare chest, which had been rising and falling steadily, hitched for a second.

Hawk instinctively turned.

And saw her.

She emerged from the forest, dressed in a windbreaker. Her blonde hair was a mess, her face beaded with sweat, but her blue eyes, when they locked with his, were filled with a brilliant, overwhelming joy.

"Gwen?"

Hawk froze.

He couldn't believe it.

Somehow, the first person to find him here wasn't the United States military. It was Gwen.

How was that even possible?

His mind reeled.

And in that moment, time, which had been frozen, lurched back into motion.

ROOOAR!!

The inverted waterfall collapsed, crashing down once more. But this time, the sound was softer, more subdued.

It was as if the waterfall itself was afraid of making too much noise and inviting another cataclysm.

After all, Hawk had proven he could make it bend to his will.

At the same time, Gwen, seeing him standing there, began to run.

She didn't know why she was running—she had already found him—but her body just took over...

In the blink of an eye, she had reached the edge of the pool, and without hesitation, she plunged into the water, wading toward him.

The next second.

She threw her arms around him, holding on tight.

Hawk's arms instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her into his embrace, his body shielding her from the punishing force of the waterfall.

And then, he remembered. With a nearly silent whoosh, they vanished from the pool, reappearing an instant later on the grassy bank.

A thick cloud of steam, like a pillar of smoke, rose from Hawk's body and from Gwen's now-drenched clothes.

In a single, breathtaking moment, the immense heat radiating from Hawk's body vaporized the water, leaving them both completely dry.

Hawk looked down at Gwen, who was still clinging to him tightly.

He opened his mouth, wanting to ask how she had found him when the entire United States military couldn't.

But—

He saw that she had fallen asleep, a faint, soft snore escaping her lips. He closed his mouth, then slowly sat down on the ground, cradling her in his lap.

He didn't speak. He just watched her sleep, his gaze soft. He reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of blonde hair from her face.

...

About half an hour later.

Gwen's eyes slowly fluttered open. Still groggy, she thought she was in her bed and instinctively started to stretch.

The next second, she saw Hawk, looking down at her.

Their eyes met.

Gwen blinked.

Hawk smiled.

"Hello."

"HOLY SHIT!" With a gasp, Gwen scrambled out of his lap, her pale cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink.

Hawk rose to his feet, stretching his limbs, which had gone stiff from holding still for so long.

Gwen, after a quick, disoriented glance at her surroundings, focused her attention back on him.

He stood before her, wearing only a pair of shorts, his body like that of a Greek statue. His sharp, intelligent eyes were framed by a pair of strong, confident brows.

They were the same brows she had always known.

But before, they had been like a sword in its sheath. Now, they were like a newly forged blade, drawn and ready.

Gwen stared, momentarily captivated.

The next second, she snapped out of it. A playful, knowing smile spread across her face. "The library. Studying. Hah."

"..." Hawk's brow twitched. He heard the gentle accusation in her teasing tone. After a moment, he said, "Sorry."

Gwen's smile widened.

She had heard the note of complaint in her own voice, and she had heard something new in his apology.

Before, when he had said he was sorry, it had been a dismissal, a way to end a conversation.

But this time?

A corner of her mouth turned up. She held out her hand.

Hawk looked at it, confused.

Gwen said, "Why didn't you answer my calls?"

Hawk walked over to where he had left his clothes, picked up the phone that had been sitting on his neatly folded t-shirt, and handed it to her. "I've been out here for over twenty days. The battery's been dead for weeks."

Gwen paused, then took the phone.

Sure enough.

The screen was black.

But—

She blinked. An idea struck her. She pulled out her own phone, still holding his, and clicked on the link from the security alert.

Link has expired.

Gwen stared at the screen, momentarily stunned. The link that had been active just a moment ago was now gone.

At that moment, Hawk finally asked the question that had been burning in his mind.

"By the way, Gwen, how did you know I was here?"

"..."

Gwen snapped out of her thoughts. She casually put her own phone back in her pocket, handed his back to him, and smiled. "My dad's a police captain, Hawk. If I want to find you, I'll find you."

Hawk just blinked.

That line—was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. He'd have to be crazy to believe that.

But looking at Gwen, who was trying so hard to look confident, a faint blush still dusting her cheeks, Hawk's expression softened into one of dawning realization. He gave a slow nod.

He decided to let it go.

A moment ago, he had been desperate to know how she had found him. But now, he realized he didn't care.

No.

The moment he'd seen her lying asleep in his arms, the question had ceased to matter.

Maybe it was just as she said.

She was the daughter of a police captain. If she wanted to find him, she could.

That was her story.

And Hawk decided to believe it.

Chapter Text

Five o'clock in the afternoon.

New York, John F. Kennedy International Airport.

George Stacy of the NYPD's 19th Precinct was pacing back and forth near the arrivals gate, feeling like he was about to lose his mind.

This was it. The day he'd always dreaded.

His little girl, the precious daughter he had raised so carefully, was finally being snatched away by some animal.

And a wild one at that.

But that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was that, from the looks of it, his daughter was the one who had gone looking for the animal.

George couldn't understand it. But at this point, it didn't matter.

Right now, only one thought consumed him.

He wanted to put a bullet in the punk who had stolen his little girl.

Just then, the passengers from the flight from Hagerstown, Maryland, began to deplane.

George stopped his pacing, took a deep breath, and stood by the gate, his eyes fixed on the passengers emerging from the jet bridge.

A moment later.

His breathing hitched, sharp and ragged in his chest.

Jesus Christ.

What was he seeing?

His baby girl was walking out, hand-in-hand with some handsome, wild animal.

George's face went dark.

The other people waiting nearby felt a sudden, inexplicable chill in the air. They glanced at George, then instinctively took a few steps away.

...

Finally, the new couple—fresh off the plane and still in the early days of their relationship—felt a wave of pure hostility crash over them.

Gwen looked up, saw the source of the cold front, and immediately let go of Hawk's hand. "Shit. It's my dad."

Hawk had already seen him. George Stacy, standing at the gate, dressed in a black suit, his normally stoic face radiating a dangerous cold.

Their eyes met.

Hawk could feel the captain's gaze on him—suspicious, analytical, and utterly hostile.

It was to be expected.

Hawk figured that if his own daughter had run off without a word and come back with some guy, he'd probably be even angrier than George Stacy.

Breaking the punk's legs would be letting him off easy.

What's that?

He's the punk in this scenario?

Oh.

Right. Never mind.

Hawk thought to himself.

To be honest, Hawk was still a little fuzzy on how he and Gwen had ended up holding hands.

The memories were a blur.

But he was happy.

It was just like he'd thought before.

Hawk had never been against the idea of a relationship, especially with Gwen Stacy, the undisputed number one girlfriend in all of comics.

He had always felt out of her league.

But now, he wasn’t.

And once he got his hands on that meteorite, got the Vibranium from Wakanda, and forged his Phoenix Armor, he'd own the whole damn league.

So—

Hawk watched as Gwen ran ahead to her father, grabbing his arm. His own expression remained calm. He walked right up to Captain Stacy, met his glare without flinching, and extended his right hand.

"Mr. Stacy. I'm Hawk. I'm sorry for worrying you."

"..."

George didn't speak. He didn't shake Hawk's hand. He just glanced at it, then completely ignored him and looked at Gwen.

"Let's go. Your mother's waiting."

"Dad!"

"It's okay, Gwen." Hawk smoothly retracted his hand, his expression unchanged. "You should go with your father."

He understood. He didn't blame George for not shaking his hand. Right now, even if the man had tried to punch him, he would have just dodged. He wouldn't have fought back.

Hawk gave Gwen a small, reassuring smile, said a final "Goodbye, Mr. Stacy," and then walked away, not wanting to make things any more difficult for her.

...

Hawk was back at his apartment near Queensbridge Park.

He flipped on the light.

He had expected to find the place covered in a thick layer of dust after being away for over twenty days.

But it was clean. Even the shorts he had left hanging in the window were now neatly folded on the sofa.

And on top of them was an envelope.

This must be the gift from Dr. Connors that Gwen had mentioned on the phone.

Hawk sat down on the sofa, picked up the envelope, and pulled out a handwritten letter.

It was a letter of recommendation to New York University, written by Dr. Connors himself.

Hawk had forgotten. Dr. Connors was an NYU alumnus.

Hiss.

"Damn. This is a pretty big deal."

Hawk blinked.

Honestly, the letter was impressive.

A recommendation from a scientist of Dr. Connors's stature was more than just a nice gesture, it was the kind of thing that could open doors. Other students would kill for something like this.

A letter of recommendation was a form of social currency, a personal endorsement.

So, If Hawk had received this letter before he had awakened his Cosmo, he would have been ecstatic.

But now?

He didn't really care if he got into NYU or not.

He wasn't planning on dropping out of school, but his perspective had shifted.

If it happens, great. If not, that's fine too.

He could see a different, more brilliant future laid out before him now.

However—

He still owed Dr. Connors a thank-you call.

Hawk turned the envelope over. Gwen had written Dr. Connors's number on the back.

He pulled out his phone, saw the black screen, and chuckled. He stood up and walked into the bedroom.

Hawk plugged his phone into the charger and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for it to power on.

As he waited, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that the picture frame on his nightstand had been moved slightly.

Hawk raised an eyebrow. He reached over and carefully adjusted the frame, angling it back toward his pillow.

It was a habit.

He slept on his side, and with the frame positioned just so, there was a seventy percent chance it would be the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes in the morning.

There. Perfect.

Hawk smiled, then looked at his now-powered-on phone and dialed Dr. Connors's number.

The call connected quickly.

"Curtis Connors speaking."

"Dr. Connors, it's Hawk."

Hawk introduced himself, then apologized for the delay, explaining that he had been out of town and had just gotten back and seen the letter.

Dr. Connors sounded genuinely pleased to hear from him.

After a few minutes of pleasantries, Hawk asked casually, "You sound like you're in a good mood, Doctor. Did the experiment finally succeed?"

Dr. Connors laughed.

"Almost. One of the test mice showed me the breakthrough is within reach."

"...Well, congratulations in advance, Doctor."

"Thank you, Hawk. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work."

"Of course. Take care."

"..."

Chapter Text

"For real?"

"It was a success?"

Hawk hung up the phone after his call with Dr. Connors, a feeling of genuine surprise washing over him.

After all, he had assumed that in a world with the Tobey Maguire Spider-Man but no Andrew Garfield version, Dr. Connors's regeneration experiment was doomed to fail.

But it seemed…

Hawk stood up and walked out of his bedroom, his mind replaying the conversation.

Dr. Connors had been ecstatic, so he’d shared a few more details with Hawk.

During the latest trial with the lab mice, they had expected the same result as all the previous attempts: failure.

But then, something unexpected happened.

One of the lab mice, after being injected with the lizard serum, had flatlined. But a few minutes later, its life signs had reappeared. Not only that, but the tail it had lost during an escape attempt last month began to regrow at a visible rate.

The discovery had left Dr. Connors absolutely thrilled.

Hawk thought it was fascinating.

But the feeling only lasted for a moment.

He sat down at his folding table, opened the secondhand, "gently-used-by-a-pretty-girl" laptop he'd bought from Skye for five hundred bucks, and pushed the thought of Dr. Connors's success to the back of his mind.

He was far more interested in the situation at Quantico.

Soon, after a quick search online, Hawk's expression grew strange once again.

No intrusion...

Only a training exercise.

A D.C. newspaper had reported on the alarms at the Quantico base.

But in the article, a base spokesperson denied any such intrusion, stating that it had simply been a routine training exercise. Unfortunately, during the exercise, a building had unexpectedly collapsed, and a dozen soldiers had been tragically killed.

Yep. Quantico was covering it up.

It was to be expected.

This was Quantico—home of the US Military, right next door to the FBI Academy, a stone's throw from the CIA's headquarters in Langley. Under those circumstances, there was no way in hell the military would ever admit that one of their most secure bases had been breached.

As for anything else—

Hawk searched, but found nothing.

There were no reports about the body of the young driver he'd killed.

Either he hadn't been found yet, or his death simply wasn't newsworthy.

After all, a lot of nobodies died for a lot of reasons every single day. A nameless, faceless punk disappearing without a trace wasn't going to make the headlines.

Hawk shook his head, closed the laptop, and went back to his bedroom to sleep.

...

The next morning, Hawk was woken up by his phone.

He opened his eyes, saw the familiar picture frame on his nightstand, and then reached for the phone, which was still charging.

"Hello?"

"Come downstairs."

"..."

Hawk's brain took a second to reboot. He sat up, pulled on a t-shirt, and walked to the living room window. He looked down and saw her, standing across the street next to her yellow Corolla, waving up at him.

Gwen.

Oh, right.

His girlfriend, Gwen!

It still felt unreal.

Let me say that again.

Gwen Stacy is my girlfriend!!

Hawk thought to himself, a slow smile spreading across his face. He waved back, then hung up and headed for the door.

A few moments later.

He emerged from the building, crossed the street, and walked up to her.

"What's up?"

"Are you free tonight? My mom wants you to come over for dinner."

"Uh..."

Hawk's mind raced. He looked at the hopeful, expectant look in Gwen's eyes and, after a moment, nodded.

"Okay."

"So, what are you doing now?"

"Um, probably head to the library. Do some reading."

"..."

Hawk saw the look on Gwen's face—a gentle, knowing smile—and let out a small laugh. "No, for real this time. I'm actually going to the library."

School started tomorrow after all.

Senior year. The last year of high school. If things went according to plan, the admissions officers from NYU would be coming by this semester for final interviews and to confirm scholarships.

He might have acted like he didn't care if he got into NYU or not.

But if he could, he still wanted to go. It had been his dream, before all of this, to study law at NYU, to become a prosecutor, maybe even a judge.

And he had worked his ass off for the past three years to make it happen.

Gwen studied his face for a moment, then her own broke into a brilliant smile.

"Then let's go."

"Where?"

"To the library, right? I have to go too. We can study, and then I can give you a ride home. But first, you have to come with me to Oscorp."

"Get in."

Hawk watched as she walked around to the driver's side, opened her door, and gestured for him to get in. He didn't hesitate, pulling open the passenger door and sliding into the seat.

Just as he'd said, he really was going to the library to study today.

It was all about work-life balance.

Deep within his Cosmo, the Phoenix star chart glowed, a spectral phoenix shimmering within it. The brilliant, chaotic energy of the Gammanium he had absorbed from Quantico swirled through the constellation.

The Phoenix was still working, improving the raw power.

They spent the entire day together. After a quick stop at Oscorp, they went to the library and studied in comfortable silence.

He was aiming for NYU.

She was aiming for Berkeley.

They were both working toward their futures.

Chapter Text

Manhattan, the Goring Building.

Helen Stacy, who had been a devoted wife and mother ever since she married George Stacy, was in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

Her two sons, nine-year-old Howard and eight-year-old Simon—Gwen's younger brothers—were in the living room, watching TV as if their lives depended on it.

Yes. Because the moment their mother was free, she would march them off to do their homework.

As Helen often said, "Your sister Gwen is so smart. You all came from the same place, you should be smart too."

In reality, Howard and Simon weren't bad students, but they were perpetually hovering right on the edge of a passing grade, and sometimes, they slipped.

Case in point: their final exams this year had been a disaster. As a result, Helen had cut their daily hour of screen time in half.

Just then.

The doorbell rang.

"Howard, Simon, time to go to your rooms and study," Helen called out from the kitchen.

"...Okay."

Helen walked into the living room, gave her two sons a pointed look, and then watched as they trudged upstairs to their rooms. She went to the front door and opened it.

Standing on the other side, Hawk smiled at the woman who opened the door—a woman whose first impression was one of pure, gentle warmth. "Good evening, Mrs. Stacy."

Helen's eyes widened in a welcoming smile. "Good evening, Hawk. Please, come in."

Hawk said his thanks and was immediately pulled inside by Gwen.

This was the first time in this life that Hawk had ever been a guest in someone else's home.

Gwen's apartment was on the top floor, a two-story duplex. It wasn't massive, but every corner of it exuded a sense of warmth and tidiness.

Hearing the voices downstairs, George Stacy descended from his second-floor study, his face a mask of stern disapproval.

Gwen, who had been introducing Hawk to her mother, heard the footsteps on the stairs. "Dad."

Hawk looked up and gave a respectful nod. "Mr. Stacy."

George's expression was severe, his posture rigid. He looked like a man who had forgotten how to smile.

But at least this was better than yesterday.

This time, he actually grunted in acknowledgement before walking past them to the dining table without another word.

Helen just shook her head with an amused smile. "Hawk, please, have a seat. Dinner's ready."

Hawk said his thanks again and followed Gwen to the table. He gave another slight nod to George, who was now seated across from him, and took his own seat.

Helen then called upstairs.

"Howard, Simon, dinner!"

"Coming!"

The two boys, who had been waiting for this moment, came thundering down the stairs. They stopped short when they saw the stranger at their dining table, then slowly took their seats, their eyes fixed on Hawk.

Hawk met their gaze and extended his right hand to the older boy.

"Hi, Howard. I'm Hawk."

"I'm Howard."

"I'm Simon."

Eight-year-old Simon stood up, shook Hawk's hand with his own small one, and then looked up at him, his eyes wide with curiosity. "Are you my sister's boyfriend?"

"..." Hawk's eyes flickered to George.

Yep. The captain's face had gone several shades darker.

Hawk smiled and nodded at the young, blonde-haired boy. "I am."

At that, George's face went even darker.

Gwen, however, just smiled and ruffled her little brother's hair.

Nice one, little bro.

She decided she'd give him ten bucks before bed as a reward.

Howard, on the other hand, would get nothing.

The dinner was served in typical American fashion—individual plates, not family style.

This was probably George's doing.

After all, Hawk was an outsider. Unless you were a lifelong family friend, the first time you came to dinner, it was always formal.

Hawk understood.

But regardless of how it was served, the food was excellent.

This was, without a doubt, the best meal he had eaten in this life.

The school cafeteria food didn't even count. And when he was alone, Hawk never cared about flavor or presentation. He just ate to fill his stomach, because just surviving was hard enough.

...

At the dinner table, George presided like a silent, watchful patriarch, eating his meal without a word.

Helen was occasionally asking Hawk if he was enjoying the food and making light, easy conversation.

Gwen acted as a buffer between her mother and her boyfriend, while also keeping a wary eye on her father, half-expecting him to explode at any moment.

Howard and Simon just happily ate their food.

Just then, George picked up his glass of whiskey, took a sip, and cleared his throat.

In an instant, all eyes were on him.

Here we go again...

Hawk thought to himself, his own gaze shifting to meet the captain's, who had been watching him out of the corner of his eye the entire meal.

Just as George was about to speak, Helen caught the desperate, pleading look in Gwen's eyes. She hid a smile and cut in first.

"So, George, tell us about work. That Spider-Man, have you caught him yet?"

"..."

George shot a look at his wife, then at Gwen, and finally, his eyes settled on Hawk. "Not yet. But we will. He's an amateur, and he's leaving clues everywhere."

With that, without giving Helen or Gwen another chance to interrupt, he turned his full attention to Hawk. "So, Hawk, what's your take on this new Spider-Man? Do you think he's some kind of vigilante?"

Under the table, Gwen's hand gently squeezed Hawk's thigh.

Hawk got the message. He just smiled and shook his head.

"Sir, I've been in Maryland for the past few weeks. I just got back yesterday, and I spent all day at the library."

"Honestly—"

"—I'm just a student. My only concern right now is getting a scholarship to NYU so the bank will approve my student loan application."

"As for this Spider-Man... I don't really care if he's a vigilante or just some idiot looking for attention."

"..."

Chapter Text

After Hawk spoke, he could feel Gwen’s hand tighten on his leg again.

He had gotten her signal.

It was a trap.

George's question was a trap...

Who was George Stacy? The Captain of the NYPD's 19th Precinct.

If Hawk were to call Spider-Man a vigilante, in George's eyes, it would be no different from defending a criminal.

Gwen's signal was a warning: don't fall for it. Answer the question in a way that would satisfy a police captain.

But...

If Hawk had called Spider-Man a criminal, he would have come across as a pathetic suck-up.

So, the question wasn't really a question. It was a no-win scenario. Whichever answer he chose would be the wrong one.

So between A and B, Hawk had chosen C.

He'd sidestepped the trap entirely!

He was just a student. He didn't care if Spider-Man was a hero or a villain. He only cared about getting his scholarship to NYU.

That's it.

If anyone else had given that answer, it might have come across as evasive.

But coming from Hawk, it was perfect.

Why?

Because Hawk was betting that George Stacy had already run a full background check on him.

And he wasn't afraid of what he'd find.

Because he hadn't just said it, it was how he lived.

He practiced what he preached.

The only inconsistency was that, after a lifetime of pinching pennies and never leaving New York City, he had suddenly taken a trip to Maryland.

But that was easy enough to explain.

He was a kid. He went on a vacation. It's not like he was out committing crimes.

Well, at least during his intensive training in Maryland, he hadn't done anything illegal.

Besides, every state had its own jurisdiction. What he did in Washington D.C had nothing to do with him now that he was back in New York.

After his answer, the look on George Stacy's face shifted from surprise to something else—a grudging respect. He nodded, and with that, the dinner was effectively over.

...

Nine o'clock that night.

Gwen walked Hawk to the door of her building. She smiled. "Get home safe. I'm sorry I can't drive you."

She was grounded.

Not by George, but by Helen. It was her punishment for running off to Maryland without telling anyone.

Normally, Gwen was free to come and go as she pleased before ten. But yesterday, Helen had moved her curfew up to nine.

"It's fine. The subway's fast enough."

"Okay. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah. See you tomorrow."

Hawk watched her go back inside, then turned and walked toward the subway station.

If the New York City subway was a chaotic circus during the day...

Then at night, it was a zombie apocalypse.

You couldn't expect a transit system where fare evasion was a city-wide sport to be particularly well-managed.

As a general rule, New Yorkers avoided the subway at night unless they had no other choice.

But Hawk wasn't too worried.

On the ride back to his apartment, he only had to knock out one tweaker and scare off two wannabe rappers who decided to perform in his face. All in all, he made it home without any real trouble.

When he got home, Hawk saw a text from Gwen. He replied, then went straight to bed.

School starts tomorrow.

He wanted to get up early to catch the free school bus.

Gwen had offered to pick him up on her way.

But he had refused.

If he accepted, Hawk felt like it would create the impression that he was only dating Gwen so he could bum a ride from her.

He knew that wasn't the case.

But he couldn't control what other people thought. And while he didn't care what they thought about him, he had to consider how it would look for Gwen.

...

The next morning, Hawk was waiting at the bus stop when the familiar orange school bus pulled up.

The driver was the same as always: the burly, bearded Mr. Hall, who looked like a biker but had the heart of a teddy bear.

"Morning, Mr. Hall."

"Morning, Hawk. Ready for your last semester?"

"I won’t graduate until next year, Mr. Hall."

"You might get that NYU acceptance letter this semester. I've got faith in you, kid."

"Alright. Thanks, Mr. Hall."

"Don't mention it."

Hawk made his way to his usual seat in the back.

The bus continued on its route, picking up a student or two at every stop. When it reached the Forest Hills stop, a familiar face got on.

The moment he stepped on the bus, Peter Parker's Spider-Sense must have tingled. He immediately looked toward the back and saw Hawk, sitting alone by the window.

At the same time, Hawk looked up and saw Peter… and the boy standing next to him, who had a distinctly melancholy aura about him.

Is that...

Harry Osborn?

And not just any Harry Osborn. The James Franco version, the one who had beaten Peter to the punch with Mary Jane.

Peter said something to his friend, who had just transferred to Midtown from a school in England, and then led him down the aisle toward Hawk.

"Hawk."

"Peter."

"Hawk, this is Harry. He was studying in England, but he just transferred here. He's a senior, like us."

"Harry, this is Hawk."

Harry Osborn, not yet the Green Goblin, just a handsome kid in a blazer, smiled and extended his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Hawk."

"Likewise, Harry."

"..."

Chapter Text

On the bus ride to Midtown Tech, Hawk learned how Peter and Harry had met.

Not that he didn't already know.

Peter's parents, back when they were still alive, had been scientists at Oscorp Industries.

Both of them.

Because of their work, they often had to bring Peter with them to the lab.

That's where he had met Harry. They had become fast friends.

After Peter's parents died in a plane crash, he had stopped going to Oscorp, but Harry, who already considered him a close friend, would still come to visit whenever he could.

They had never lost touch. Even in high school, when Harry was away at boarding school in England, they had kept in constant contact.

And now, here he was.

Today was Harry's first day at Midtown, and the first thing he'd done was go and find his best friend.

Harry was thrilled to be reunited with his old friend, and even more thrilled that they would be going to school together.

Peter was just as happy. This was the best news he'd had in the two months since his Uncle Ben had passed away.

Yes.

Ben Parker was still dead. He had been killed just a few days into summer vacation. And because of that, New York City had gained a new, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

When Hawk heard the news, he paused for a moment, then offered his condolences.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"It's okay."

Peter managed a small smile.

His Uncle Ben's death had taught him one thing.

With great power comes great responsibility.

So—

These days, whenever he was out there, doing what he did, he could almost feel his uncle by his side. And that made the pain a little easier to bear.

The bus continued on its route.

...

About half an hour later, now packed with students, it pulled into the parking lot of Midtown Tech.

The doors opened, and students began to file off.

"Hey, morning, Gwen."

"Morning, Liz."

"Gwen, long time no see."

"You too."

"Gwen, please tell me we have a homecoming dance."

"We do. It's tradition, Mark."

Gwen was already in the parking lot, leaning against her car. She smiled and greeted her classmates as they got out of their cars or off the buses arriving from all over the city.

Just then.

Hawk, following Peter and the new kid, Harry, stepped off the bus, his backpack slung over one shoulder.

Gwen's eyes lit up.

She was about to walk over to him, but then, in a flash, someone else appeared in front of him.

A girl with a waterfall of long, dark hair.

Jennifer Check. (From Jennifer's Body, played by Megan Fox.)

The captain of the cheerleading squad. Seductive, beautiful, with a pair of captivating, fox-like eyes that drew everyone's attention.

Gwen instinctively stopped, her brow furrowing.

"Hey, Gwen." Mary Jane Watson, who had just gotten out of her own car, walked up and tapped her on the shoulder. "What are you staring at?"

Mary Jane followed Gwen's gaze.

She saw Jennifer, dressed in a revealing outfit that showed off her perfect figure, standing directly in front of Hawk.

"Ugh."

"Jennifer."

"Wow, she really hasn't given up, has she?"

Mary Jane rolled her eyes. "Is she really trying to get the 'Asked Hawk to Every Dance for Four Years, Every Semester' achievement?"

Standing next to her, Gwen's voice was cool. "It's not just every semester."

"Huh?"

Mary Jane looked at her, confused.

Gwen's voice was low and dangerous.

"She asked him to prom in June too. He said no."

"Like he would ever go to a dance anyway," Mary Jane shot back. Then she paused, a look of realization dawning on her face. She turned to look at Gwen.

Gwen didn't say anything. She just narrowed her eyes, her gaze fixed on Hawk—and Jennifer Check, who was now smiling brightly at him.

...

"Hey, Hawk. Happy new semester~"

"You too, Jennifer."

Hawk smiled back at the girl who had materialized in front of him the second he'd stepped off the bus.

He had a pretty good idea of what she wanted.

After all, she did this at the start of every school year, asking the same question.

But he wasn't going to jump the gun.

What if he guessed wrong, and that wasn't what she was here for?

Jennifer fixed him with her captivating gaze. "Hawk, you said no in ninth grade, you said no in tenth grade, and you said no in eleventh grade. This is twelfth grade. Our last year. You can't say no again."

As the captain of the cheer squad, Jennifer had no shortage of admirers.

And she never missed a dance.

But none of her dates had ever been Hawk.

Maybe, back in ninth grade, she had just been drawn to his handsome, brooding loner vibe.

But after he had rejected her that first time, it had become an obsession.

She knew he would probably say no.

But what if? If he said yes, it would be the ultimate validation of her own desirability.

After all, for the past three years, it was a well-known fact that Hawk never, ever went to parties.

Unfortunately for her, there was no "what if—"

Hawk shook his head.

"Jennifer, you know I don't go to dances."

"But if you did, you'd ask me to be your date, right?"

"Yes, if I went... But I'm not going."

"That's all I needed to hear, Hawk."

"Goodbye."

That was the answer Jennifer had been looking for.

What I can't have, no one else can have either...

That was enough. As long as he wasn't going with someone else, her reputation remained intact.

Having gotten what she wanted, Jennifer leaned in, gave Hawk a quick, lingering kiss on the cheek, and then, with a cheerful wave, walked away.

"..." Hawk watched her leave in a whirlwind of perfume and confidence, then shook his head. He turned to Gwen, who was still standing by her car, and started toward her.

Gwen watched him approach, a small, unreadable smile on her face.

"She asked you to the dance?"

"Yep."

"Did you say yes?"

"Nope."

"Oh."

"..."

Chapter Text

Hawk and Gwen exchanged a few more words.

Their voices carried no tension, expressions perfectly at ease. They walked side-by-side toward the main hallway, leaving a trail of stunned silence in their wake.

Behind them, Mary Jane's jaw was on the floor.

Holy shit. What the hell did I miss this summer?

Peter was just as dumbfounded.

He felt like he understood what was happening, but at the same time, he felt like he understood nothing at all.

Harry, on the other hand, just saw an opportunity. He turned to Mary Jane, a charming smile on his face.

He remembered her as Peter's neighbor from back before he'd left for the UK. He'd seen her around whenever he came to visit Peter.

He tapped her on the shoulder.

"Hey, Mary Jane. Long time no see."

"...Hey, Harry." Mary Jane turned, gave him a distracted glance, and then immediately looked back at Peter. "Peter, did you know about this?"

Harry froze.

Wait, that's not the right reaction.

Is that how you greet an old friend you haven't seen in years? A little cold, don't you think?

Peter was just as taken aback. He met Mary Jane's intense, searching gaze.

"Know about what?"

"Gwen and Hawk!!"

Mary Jane was practically vibrating with the need to gossip, struggling to keep her voice down. "Aren't you, like, Hawk's only friend at this school? You have to know something. When did this happen?"

Peter was completely lost.

"Since when am I Hawk's onl—"

"Ugh, forget it. You're useless."

Mary Jane, frustrated by his cluelessness, gave up. She was going to get the scoop, one way or another.

The next second, her face lit up.

"Oh my God!" Mary Jane shrieked as recognition finally dawned. She rushed over and threw her arms around the still-gloomy Harry. "Harry! When did you get back?"

Harry's face lit up.

He smiled as she pulled away, ready to catch up. But Mary Jane just gave him another quick hug. "I have to go right now, I'll talk to you later, bye!"

Clearly, at this moment, catching up with an old friend from overseas was nowhere near as important as getting the dirt on her best friend and the school's number one ice king.

With that, Mary Jane spun around and took off at a jog, chasing after Gwen, who was about to disappear into the lounge.

Obviously, she wasn't about to go interrogate Hawk.

And so—

For the rest of the morning, Mary Jane followed Gwen around like a lost puppy.

Her plea was simple and relentless.

"Please, just tell me. A little more. The details. I'm begging you, Gwen."

"..."

Since it was the first day of the new semester, the schedule was relaxed. No actual classes.

Students were busy picking up their new schedules or meeting with their guidance counselors for last-minute advice.

Which meant Gwen was stuck dealing with Mary Jane's relentless pestering all morning.

Finally. On their way to the cafeteria, Gwen looked at her friend, who was still giving her the most pathetic, desperate puppy-dog eyes, and she broke.

Gwen sighed.

"Seriously, is it really that weird that Hawk and I are together?"

"Yes!"

"Why? We've sat next to each other in physics since ninth grade. We have the same counselor."

"Gwen, please. It's Hawk!!"

"So?"

"You really don't know what people say about him?"

"What?"

Now it was Gwen's turn to be curious.

Mary Jane looked around, then lowered her voice. "Everyone says he's either a complete, hopeless straight arrow, or he's... you know... gay."

Gwen rolled her eyes. "That's ridiculous."

An image flashed in her mind—of Hawk, at the waterfall in Maryland, standing in the water wearing nothing but a pair of shorts.

Gay?

He's straight as a nightstick.

Wait...

What am I thinking?

Gwen shook her head, mentally batting away the image of the police baton. She looked at Mary Jane, her expression serious. "He's not gay."

Mary Jane paused, then a sly, knowing look crossed her face.

She wiggled her eyebrows.

"So, I take it you've... sampled the goods?"

"..." Gwen froze. She looked at Mary Jane's lewd, knowing smirk and took a deep breath.

The next second, she turned and walked away without another word.

Her mind is in the gutter.

Mary Jane watched her walk away, then hurried to catch up.

"I'm sorry, Gwen! Forgive me!"

...

By the time Hawk got to the cafeteria, Mary Jane was still trying to pry information out of Gwen.

But Gwen was ignoring her completely.

Finally, seeing that she wasn't getting anywhere, Mary Jane sighed, then spotted Harry walking in with Peter. Her eyes lit up. "Fine. If you won't tell me, I'll just ask Peter."

With that, she grabbed her tray and, before Gwen could stop her, ran over to their table.

By the time Hawk sat down with his tray across from Gwen, Mary Jane was already gone.

"Mary Jane done eating already?"

"Apparently, she figured she wasn't going to get any gossip out of me, so she went to interrogate Peter."

Gwen glanced over at Mary Jane, who was now pulling up a chair at Peter's table, and shook her head in exasperation.

Hawk looked confused. "What does Peter have to do with anything?"

Gwen shrugged.

"Probably because you two were seen together in the old gym last semester. Now everyone thinks he's your friend."

"...Right."

Hawk just laughed. He didn't bother to correct her. He just picked up his burger and started eating.

Gwen had already finished her lunch. She sat with her arms folded on the table, watching him.

"By the way, did you call Dr. Connors to thank him?"

"Yeah, I did."

Hawk nodded, swallowing a bite of his burger. "He said he had some kind of breakthrough with his experiment. He sounded really happy."

Gwen blinked. "A breakthrough?"

"No way..."

"..."

Chapter Text

"What's wrong?"

"You know I was at the lab yesterday morning, right?"

"Yeah."

Hawk nodded. It had been right before they'd gone to the library. He had assumed she was just there to clear her summer work schedule with Dr. Connors.

But now?

"Is there a problem with the experiment?"

"Not with the experiment, but with the investors. You know Dr. Connors's project is a joint venture between Oscorp and the military, right?"

"You mentioned that."

"The military pulled their funding."

Gwen leaned in, lowering her voice. "And his research has been going on for almost two years with no results. The board at Oscorp is starting to get impatient."

Capital is a fickle beast.

It will back you, fund you, and give you everything you need based on the promises you make.

But if you fail to deliver the expected results, they will abandon you without a second thought.

Cutting losses is the first lesson in the corporate playbook.

And Dr. Connors's regeneration project was a prime example.

To make matters worse, the military had already pulled out last month, citing budget cuts.

They had said it was temporary, that they would reinvest once the next fiscal year's budget was approved, and had told Oscorp to just hold on.

But—

Things at Oscorp weren't exactly stable either.

Rumor was that Norman Osborn, who had been secluded in his mansion for the past year battling a mysterious illness, was on his last legs. His time was running out.

And it wasn't just an empty rumor.

The fact that Harry Osborn had returned from the UK this summer and was now being integrated into the company's affairs—with the help of Norman's own executive assistant, Felicia Hardy—was a clear signal.

The Osborn family might hold a majority stake in the company, but in this era of a dying king and a rising prince, there were always those looking to profit from the chaos of a changing of the guard.

And a new king always lights a few fires to announce his reign.

So, someone had proposed "streamlining" the research division, cutting any labs that weren't producing profitable results.

Dr. Connors's lab was first on the chopping block.

The military might have promised to restore funding once the Pentagon's next budget was approved, but who could guarantee that?

The Department of Defense wasn't exactly known for its reliability.

...

"They've downsized the lab."

"They laid off five researchers."

"And I was supposed to be on that list."

"I saw Dr. Connors at the lab, and he didn't seem happy. That's why I was so surprised when you said he sounded excited on the phone."

Gwen finished explaining the situation.

Hawk wasn't really invested in whether the experiment succeeded or not. He just listened, and when she was done, he shrugged. "Well, that's what he said on the phone. Who knows if it'll actually work."

Gwen nodded. "I hope it does."

The two of them continued their small talk.

But the conversation was over as quickly as it had begun. After Hawk finished his burger, they both stood up and cleared their trays.

The subject of Dr. Connors’s lab was closed.

Others could move on, but Dr. Connors himself could not—

...

—Because at that very moment, Dr. Connors was living the reality of being abandoned by his investors.

He stared at the man standing in his office, the man who had just delivered the board's latest decision.

"Have you made your decision, Doctor?"

"I don't understand."

"Doctor, I think you do."

The man, a handsome, middle-aged executive in a tailored suit, smiled a warm, friendly smile. "The military has pulled its funding. They used the word 'temporarily,' but we both know what that means... The board's initial recommendation was to suspend all funding to your lab. But, Doctor, your latest results have bought you a reprieve. But only a reprieve."

Dr. Connors's latest breakthrough—a single lab mouse that had successfully regenerated a limb—had given the board a glimmer of hope.

But only a glimmer.

Dr. Connors frowned.

"So what is the board's decision?"

"Human trials."

"WHAT??"

Dr. Connors's eyes went wide. "I have only just extracted a potentially viable serum from that one mutated mouse. It hasn't even been properly tested yet. To move to human trials now is reckless. Besides, where would we even find volunteers?"

The executive shrugged. "The military hospitals are full of potential subjects. We'll just tell them it's a new vaccine."

He said it so casually...

After all, it was standard procedure.

Running human trials overseas cost money. But if you used your own underclass for experiments, you didn't have to pay them a dime.

Bottom line:

Are the poor even people?

No...

Capital chases profit. It demands maximum return for minimum cost.

But Dr. Connors was horrified. "I won't do it."

"Time is not on our side, Doctor. You're running out of it. We all are."

"...We?"

"You don't need to know the details. You just need to know that the board is doing this for your own good. We'll have someone else handle the... logistics. If it fails, you can just plead ignorance."

"I'm not here to negotiate with you, Doctor."

"This is a notification."

With that, the executive turned and walked out of Dr. Connors's lab.

The rumor among the higher-ups was that Norman Osborn didn't have long. And Connors's regeneration project had been started for one reason: to find a cure for Norman's illness.

The executive hadn't been lying. By pushing for human trials, they weren't just helping Dr. Connors; they were helping themselves.

After all, a new king means a new court.

Who knew what Harry Osborn would do once he took over?

Everyone knows capitalism craves stability. Only in a stable environment can it reliably generate profit.

But Dr. Connors was not a capitalist. He was a scientist.

After the executive left, he sat down heavily in his office chair.

And he didn't move for a very long time...

Chapter Text

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Dr. Connors's eyes.

He sat motionless in his office chair, his face calm and composed, while inside a storm raged.

One part of him was desperate to proceed with the human trials.

This was his life's work. What was the point of all the research if not to benefit humanity, to ensure no one would ever have to suffer from a debilitating injury again?

But the other part, the rational scientist, knew the truth: the regeneration serum was still unstable.

To date, only one test subject—a single white mouse—had achieved the miraculous results he dreamed of after being injected.

And that was the crux of the problem.

They didn't know why it had worked.

Yes, they had succeeded. But they couldn't replicate the success because they couldn't identify the variable that had made it possible.

Medicine is a discipline of precision. It leaves no room for error.

Especially when it comes to human trials. You don't proceed when you have a single question, let alone a complete mystery. Every doubt must be resolved.

So—

Emotionally, no one wanted this to succeed more than he did.

But logically, he knew that what the board was proposing was nothing short of monstrous. They were asking him to gamble with the lives of wounded soldiers.

An angel and a devil materialized on his shoulders.

The angel warned him that this was wrong, that if something went horribly awry, he would never be able to forgive himself.

But the devil whispered that scientific progress demanded sacrifice. If this worked, his legacy would be eternal. He would save millions.

"..." Dr. Connors sat in his office, unmoving.

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across his face.

He sat there for hours, long after the sun had set and the city had gone dark.

A text message chimed on his phone, jolting him from his trance.

He grabbed the device and opened the new text message.

It read:

Doctor. I'm on my way to the hospital now. We believe in you.

He read the words, and his focus dissolved.

The next second, he shot to his feet.

A new, terrible resolve had taken hold. He strode out of his office, his face set in grim determination.

The security camera in the corner of the lab watched silently.

Its red light blinked rhythmically.

With a soft chime, the lab's 'Bio-Engineering Splicer' powered on. Dr. Connors removed a vial of green-hued serum.

I may not be an angel... but I will not be a devil.

Dr. Connors stared at the vial in his hand—a fusion of the mutated serum extracted from that one successful mouse and the core reptilian DNA—and muttered the words to himself. His eyes hardened. He took the vial and sat down.

A moment later.

Sitting on the stool, Dr. Connors looked at the syringe in his hand. He took a deep, shuddering breath, then, without another moment of hesitation, plunged the needle into the stump of his right arm—the arm he had lost in an accident years ago. He pushed the plunger all the way down.

The instant he pulled the needle out, a wave of vertigo slammed into him without warning.

Thud.

Dr. Connors collapsed forward onto the lab table.

At the same time, beneath the skin of his right stump, something began to stir, writhing as if it were trying to claw its way out.

...

Manhattan, the Goring Building.

"Was that a bug?"

"No, a tiny lizard." Gwen, who had finished dinner and was back in her room, was on the phone with Hawk, telling him a funny story about how her eight-year-old brother had just been terrified by a lizard that had crawled in from somewhere.

Hawk listened to her laugh. "You're not scared of them?"

"Hawk," Gwen said, her voice mock-serious. "Have you forgotten? My entire summer internship was based on lizards. Our lab has more of them than it has lab rats."

She was no damsel in distress.

She was a scientist who could draw blood from a lizard without flinching and dissect a mouse without a second thought.

"Right," Hawk chuckled.

Gwen laughed with him, then changed the subject. "So, what about you? Have you eaten yet?"

"Not yet."

Hawk looked at the bucket of fried chicken he'd just bought. "I was about to go up to the roof and train. I'll eat after."

The old gym had been torn down to make way for the new swimming pool. And the new gym was always packed, especially now at the start of the semester with all the new freshmen.

So Hawk had decided to just train on his rooftop at night, then eat, shower, and sleep.

Gwen listened to his plan, then a thought occurred to her.

"Hawk, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why do you still train every day? You're already so strong."

As she spoke, an image flashed in her mind: Hawk, standing in the pool at the base of the waterfall, his body radiating a palpable heat.

The inverted waterfall.

She still didn't know for sure if he had been the one to do that.

But she had no doubt that he could kill a bear with a single punch.

She had seen it with her own eyes. That day, after she had found him, as they were hiking out of the forest, a bear had charged them. Hawk had killed it with one blow. The memory of it, the sheer, brutal power, still sent a shiver down her spine.

As Gwen was lost in thought, Hawk considered her question.

"Why do I still train?"

"To—"

He paused. An image flashed in his own mind.

"—To protect myself. And the people I care about."

"Does that include me?"

Gwen's voice was soft, but clear.

Ever since that day, ever since she had forced him to take her phone and he hadn't refused, she felt like she had finally cracked the code, finally figured out how to talk to him.

Hawk was taken aback by her directness.

A small laugh escaped him, and then he nodded, his voice firm.

"Of course."

"..."

Chapter Text

Hawk's answer was immediate. No hesitation.

Gwen was clearly happy with his answer, the sound of her voice became lighter, more cheerful.

A little while later, the new couple finally finished their call, reluctantly hanging up.

It was mostly Gwen who was reluctant to hang up.

Hawk was... well, alright. He was a little reluctant too.

But Hawk understood why, despite having a crush on Gwen since freshman year, he had waited until now to finally acknowledge it.

In a word:

Before, he hadn't been worthy. Now, he was.

Whether it was to keep getting stronger, or just to hold on to the feeling of being worthy, Hawk knew he couldn't afford to get complacent. He had to work even harder than before.

He might be strong now, but if he slacked off, how long would it last?

A year?

Two or three?

The curtain on the Marvel Universe had been raised. Hawk didn't just feel a lack of desire to relax, he felt a pressing, urgent need to push forward.

So, after he hung up with Gwen, he began his ten-thousand-punch routine for the day.

At this point, hitting a heavy bag was pointless.

But he wasn't really hitting the bag. He was using the repetitive, meditative motion to quiet his mind, to find a stillness in which he could search for that elusive Sixth Sense—the one he knew was there, but could never seem to grasp.

...

On the rooftop of his apartment building.

The heavy bag, hanging from a clothesline pole, swayed gently with each of Hawk's punches.

Hawk's eyes were unfocused, his mind adrift, feeling as if he were searching for a single grain of rice in an infinite, starless void.

Until—

He heard it. Faint, distant screams.

His focus snapped back to reality. He turned, his eyes automatically locking onto the source of the sound: the Williamsburg Bridge.

Whoosh.

Whoosh.

Whoosh.

Space itself seemed to contract before his eyes. In the blink of an eye, Hawk, standing several miles away, could see the scene unfolding on the Williamsburg Bridge with perfect clarity.

The Williamsburg Bridge, connecting Manhattan and Brooklyn, was a major artery.

Every day, thousands of people crossed it to get to their jobs in the city and back to their homes in the outer boroughs.

Except now, something had gone terribly wrong.

Countless white-collar workers, their cars trapped in a massive traffic jam, were now running for their lives, their screams mixing with the sound of cars being overturned behind them.

And then Hawk saw it.

A massive, hulking creature, covered in grayish-green scales, with the head of a lizard, was leaping from car to car.

As it moved, its long, powerful tail whipped out, grabbing cars and flinging them into the air as if they were toys.

It seemed to be looking for something.

"Is that..."

"The Lizard?"

Hawk's brow furrowed.

And then, another thought hit him.

Well, shit. There goes my letter of recommendation.

NYU might accept a letter of recommendation from a respected scientist like Dr. Connors, but they sure as hell weren't going to accept one from the Lizard.

In the span of a few seconds, the letter of recommendation in his apartment had gone from a priceless asset to a worthless piece of paper.

Not even the stock market crashed that hard.

Soon.

The Lizard, making its grand debut on the bridge, seemed to have found what it was looking for.

Its tail shot out and snatched a man in a business suit from his car.

The middle-aged man, clutching a briefcase that likely contained the serum meant for the military hospital, trembled as the Lizard's cold, green eyes stared him down.

He managed to stammer out a single word.

"You—"

"Aaargh!"

SQUELCH!

Before the man could finish his sentence, the Lizard swiped the briefcase from his hands. With a flick of its tail, it sent the man flying into the bridge's guardrail.

The next second.

A support cable caught the man at the waist, slicing him in two. His bisected body rained blood as it tumbled into the river below.

But just then.

Spider-Man...

No—

The Spider made his grand entrance.

Swinging on a web line, Peter Parker maneuvered his body in mid-air, brought his feet together, and shot forward like a cannonball, slamming into the Lizard just as it was about to turn and leave.

The Lizard staggered from the impact. It regained its footing, turned, and let out a guttural roar at Peter, who was now crouched atop a car, his green tongue lashing through the air.

Peter shot a web, snagging the briefcase.

The Lizard roared with rage and began to hurl cars at him.

The battle between the Spider and the Lizard had begun.

...

Standing on his rooftop, Hawk watched, thoroughly entertained.

But then, he remembered something. He turned back to his heavy bag, his body becoming a blur as a storm of phantom fists rained down upon it.

Thirty seconds later. His ten-thousand punches for the day were complete. He let out a breath, then turned back to the bridge, ready to enjoy the show.

However.

"Where's the Lizard?"

"Where's the Spider?"

"Where did they go?"

Hawk stared at the now-empty bridge, confused.

Then he noticed a disturbance in the water below.

Beneath the surface, a dark shadow was moving with incredible speed.

Peter, swinging through the city in pursuit, finally lost track of the Lizard somewhere near Roosevelt Island.

It was too dark, and the Lizard was simply too fast underwater.

Peter came to a stop on the roof of a skyscraper, shaking his head as he stared at the spot where he'd lost the trail.

Just as he was about to head home, his Spider-Sense tingled. He moved to the edge of the roof.

And saw him.

Standing on the roof of a ten-story building not far away.

Hawk.

He smiled and gave the crouching figure of Spider-Man a little wave.

Chapter Text

With a single, graceful swing, Peter landed squarely on the rooftop of Hawk's apartment building.

"Whoa, Spider—"

Hawk, who had been about to speak, stopped short as the hero ripped off his mask, revealing his true face. A look of mock surprise crossed Hawk's features.

"Peter?"

Peter just gave him a shy smile. He finally understood what Gwen had been talking about. "Hawk... you're a terrible actor."

"Am I?"

Hawk blinked, then saw the dead-serious nod from Peter and just shrugged. "Alright, I'll work on it."

If one person says you're a bad actor, it might just be their opinion. But if two people say it...

Hawk made a mental note to practice his surprised face in the mirror.

Peter chuckled, then his expression turned serious as he brought up their recent encounter. "So, did you see what happened back there?"

"Parts of it. But by the time I got a good look, you and that lizard guy were already gone."

Hawk was telling the truth. He had seen the beginning and the end, but he had missed the middle.

No big deal. It would be all over the news tomorrow.

Everyone knew how fast the New York media worked. Less than three minutes after the Lizard had first appeared on the Williamsburg Bridge, Hawk had already counted three different news helicopters circling overhead.

"...." Peter's eyes widened at Hawk's words. He glanced around, then looked toward the Williamsburg Bridge, which was barely a speck in the distance.

From this far away??

Peter looked back at Hawk, his expression one of pure shock.

Hawk just smiled. "My eyesight's pretty good. But then again, so is yours."

Peter nodded slowly. It was true. If he really focused, he could probably make out the details on the bridge from here.

A thought suddenly struck him. "Then did you see where he went?"

"Nope."

"Damn." Peter sighed. "I didn't expect him to be so strong. He just threw me off. By the time I recovered, he had already jumped into the river."

Hawk's curiosity was piqued. "What's your take on him? Power-wise."

Peter looked at Hawk, thought for a moment, and then frowned. "He's stronger than me, but not as fast or agile. But in the water... he's way faster."

Got it.

One-punch material...

I wouldn't even need to burn my Cosmo.

Hawk processed Peter's assessment, gave a slight nod, and was about to head back inside.

But then, Peter seemed to remember something and said to Hawk, "Actually, that lizard felt familiar somehow. I was trying to figure out what that feeling was when he threw me..."

Hawk paused and looked at Peter.

"And did you figure it out?"

"Yeah."

Peter nodded, then just stared at Hawk.

Hawk waited, but when Peter didn't continue, it finally clicked.

"You're saying me?"

"Yeah."

"That's impossible."

The idea was absurd. How could the Lizard have his "scent" on him? He had only been to Dr. Connors's lab once.

And even if some trace had been left behind from a handshake, that was over two months ago. There was no way it would still be there.

He wasn't a goddess, and Dr. Connors wasn't some simp who'd refuse to wash his hand for a month after shaking mine.

But Peter was insistent. "The last time I was this close to you was in the old gym. I remember your presence... your scent or whatever. It's distinct. The trace on that lizard creature was faint, almost unnoticeable. If it wasn't, I wouldn't have taken so long to place it."

Hawk frowned. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

Peter nodded, then thought again. "It was like he had been in contact with you, so a trace of you was left on him. Kind of like how Gwen has a trace of your presence on her, but the one on Gwen is way, way stronger."

That description cleared everything up.

He had been wondering what Peter was getting at.

So that was it.

Hawk let out a small laugh. "Okay. In that case, I think I know who he is."

Peter's eyes went wide. "Who?"

"Dr. Curt Connors. He's the head of the regeneration lab at Oscorp. Gwen was just there yesterday. And his entire research is based on lizard DNA."

If Peter had just said the Lizard smelled like him, he would have been stumped.

But using Gwen as a comparison was the key.

If his own presence was as a "1," then Gwen, who spent so much time with him, would probably carry around a '0.5.' And since Gwen worked at Oscorp, that would explain how such a faint trace ended up there.

Peter's jaw dropped as Hawk revealed the Lizard's identity.

"It's him?"

"You know him?"

"Yeah, I think I met him once with my dad, a long time ago."

"Right."

Now that the mystery of the lingering trace was solved, Hawk was completely at ease. He let out a yawn.

"Well, it's getting late. I'm going to bed."

"...Okay."

Peter had wanted to discuss the threat the Lizard posed, but seeing Hawk's dismissive attitude, he let it go.

"Goodnight, Hawk."

"Goodnight, Spider."

"Uh, I'm not a spider."

"You sure?"

Hawk, who had already started to walk away, turned back, a playful, smartass grin on his face. "Go on. Tell me where the webs come from."

Peter's mouth opened, then closed. His expression turned serious. "Goodnight, Hawk."

"Goodnight, Peter."

Hawk didn't tease him any further.

...

A moment later, Peter was gone, swinging off into the night.

Hawk went back inside, finished his fried chicken, took a cold shower, and collapsed into bed.

Meanwhile, deep beneath the streets of Queens, in the labyrinthine network of sewer tunnels that served as a winter home for the city's homeless, a sound echoed.

A primal, bestial roar echoed from the darkness. Gradually, the roars grew weaker.

Until finally.

The roaring stopped.

And in its place, a human groan of agony could be heard.

Chapter Text

Unsurprisingly, the next day, the lizard monster from the Williamsburg Bridge was the only thing anyone was talking about.

"Holy shit, did you guys see the news this morning?"

"Yeah. Thank God I live in Queens. My family could never afford a place in Brooklyn or Manhattan."

"You know, I'm starting to think we should all just leave New York after graduation."

"Why?"

"Think about it. A few years ago, it was the Hulk and the Abomination. Last year, that Stark Expo disaster. This year, we get aliens. And now, before the year's even over, we've got a giant lizard monster."

"Damn..."

"He's got a point. What the hell is wrong with New York these days?"

"It's been cursed ever since 9/11, man."

"Okay, but am I the only one who wants to know how that Spider-Man guy does the web thing?"

"..."

Sitting in the back of the bus, Hawk heard the quiet question and raised an eyebrow. He glanced at Peter sitting next to him.

See?

Peter felt the teasing look and just sighed. "I don't want to talk about it."

Hawk just shrugged, then smoothly changed the subject, glancing at the empty seats around them. "Where's Harry? He's not riding with you today?"

"He had to go to Oscorp this morning. Said there was a break-in last night."

Peter lowered his voice, scanning the other students on the bus. "I asked him about it. It was Dr. Connors's lab that got hit. He said the lizard guy cleaned the place out, took all the equipment."

Hawk nodded. "I'm surprised New York's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man wasn't on the scene."

Peter's jaw tightened. "Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man needs to sleep."

He was suddenly very grateful for the mask.

Look at this... The one person who knew his secret, a guy who was just as introverted as he was—was already dissing him.

Imagine if anyone else found out.

Besides, he was trying to do good. Uncle Ben would be proud of him.

With great power comes great responsibility.

But—

Even with great power, you still need to sleep. Even actual spiders needed to rest every now and then.

He couldn't be on patrol twenty-four-seven.

Peter pushed the thought aside and leaned in, continuing their conversation from the night before in a low whisper. "So, what do you think Connors is trying to do?"

"Don't know. Don't care. Not my problem."

Hawk replied with a dismissive three-part combo.

Peter watched as Hawk, having said his piece, returned to his usual stoic silence, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery. He opened his mouth to say more, but then closed it.

He wasn't about to ask Hawk to join him on his crusade.

Just because it was his passion didn't mean it had to be anyone else's. Peter understood that much.

...

At school, the buzz about the Lizard was even more intense.

Gossip and rumors flew through the halls, fueled by the overactive hormones of a thousand teenagers.

At lunch, Hawk, who had gotten his usual burger and Coke, was just starting to eat when Gwen, late from class, sat down across from him.

"Just got the news. I don't have to go in to Oscorp for a while. Dr. Connors's lab was robbed by the lizard-man, and Dr. Connors himself is missing."

"Uh..."

Hawk looked up. He thought for a moment, then leaned in, his voice low. "It wasn't some lizard-man who robbed the lab, Gwen. It was Connors."

He had been planning to tell her this morning. But Mary Jane had been with her, and Hawk hadn't wanted to say anything in front of her.

Now was as good a time as any.

"..." Gwen's eyes went wide. She gasped, her chest rising and falling in a sudden, sharp breath.

She quickly remembered they were in the crowded cafeteria and kept her voice down, her eyes wide as she stared at Hawk, who had already gone back to eating his burger.

"What? Dr. Connors is... Are you serious?"

"Ninety-nine percent sure. Spider-Man said the Lizard had my scent on him, but it was faint."

"Spider-Man?"

"Yep."

Hawk nodded casually.

Gwen stared at him, her mind reeling. If her eyes could have gotten any wider, they would have. "You know Spider-Man?"

"Yep."

"Who is he?"

"Can't say." Hawk shook his head. He wasn't about to give up Peter's secret.

Telling Gwen about Connors was one thing. The Lizard was a direct threat to her. But Peter was different.

Especially this version of Peter, the original one. The one whose idea of "going dark" was getting a bad haircut, asking for a raise—and putting some dirt in his rival's eye.

Besides, Peter hadn't told anyone about his powers.

So, he was going to return the favor.

...

Hawk met Gwen's unblinking stare with a small smile. "You can stare at me all you want. I'm not going to tell you."

Gwen finally looked away.

Fine. I'll just figure it out myself.

Again, she knew Hawk's social circle was practically non-existent. If Hawk knew Spider-Man, chances are, she knew him too.

She was confident she could solve this.

As her mind began to race through a list of potential candidates, she leaned in again, her voice a whisper.

"But... how did Dr. Connors become that... thing?"

Hawk shook his head. "Only God knows. The last time I talked to him, he told me his regeneration serum had worked on a mouse."

He only bothered to think about it because it was Gwen asking.

If it had been Peter, he wouldn't have wasted the brain cells.

Even if the Lizard tore New York City in half, it wasn't his problem. There were other people who would be far more concerned about it than him.

He looked up and saw Gwen's eyes go wide with a new, dawning horror.

Chapter Text

"What did you just say?"

"Uh, I don't know?"

"No, you just said the experiment succeeded with what?"

"A mouse with a severed tail. Didn't I tell you about that last time?" Hawk frowned, looking at Gwen's stunned expression. "What's wrong?"

Gwen didn't answer. Her brow was furrowed in thought.

A successful experiment.

A mouse with a severed tail.

For some reason, an image flashed in Gwen's mind: two months ago, after the lab accident, a small white mouse had escaped its cage and licked up the drops of blood Hawk had left on the floor.

If her memory served her correctly...

That mouse was missing its tail!

Hiss.

Gwen drew in a sharp breath. She glanced at Hawk, then pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed a number.

Sitting across from her, Hawk's eyebrows shot up.

A moment later, the call connected.

"Hello, Elsa."

"Gwen? Are you calling to ask what happened? I'm sorry, the company made us all sign NDAs."

"No, that's not it, Elsa. I wanted to ask... the Doctor's successful experiment, was it on a mouse with a severed tail?"

"Uh... yeah, it was."

Elsa, who was still at Oscorp having just signed her non-disclosure agreement, nodded on the other end of the line. "But you can't really call it a success. It only worked that one time. We've been trying to replicate it ever since, but we keep failing."

Gwen pressed on, her voice urgent.

"Was it the mouse that escaped its cage that day?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

I knew it.

Gwen thought to herself. She exchanged a few more pleasantries with Elsa and then hung up.

Hawk watched her, his curiosity piqued. "Was there something special about that mouse?"

Gwen put her phone away and looked at Hawk.

She considered her words carefully.

"Do you remember the accident in the lab?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"Your hand was injured. You were bleeding, right?"

"No."

Hawk shook his head without hesitation.

Gwen said nothing. She just stared at him.

Hawk met her gaze, held it for a moment, and then sighed. "Okay, fine. Let's say I was bleeding. Go on."

Gwen's stare was intense.

"The drops of blood you left on the floor... that mouse licked them up."

"..." Hawk's brow furrowed as he looked at Gwen.

Gwen looked right back at him.

Their eyes locked.

Hawk broke the gaze first, drawing in a slow breath. "You think the successful test subject... was the same mouse you saw that day?"

Gwen shrugged. "It's the only variable. Otherwise, why would the Doctor run so many animal trials, with only that one mouse surviving?"

She didn't understand the connection, not really.

But—

In her mind's eye, she saw it again: the image of a waterfall in the deep Maryland woods, raging in reverse, defying gravity.

And Hawk, standing at the center of it all, the cause of the impossible.

Hawk remained silent. He quietly set down the large soda cup he'd been holding and folded his hands on the table, leaning forward slightly.

He thought about what Peter had told him on the rooftop last night.

The Lizard has your scent...

At the time, Hawk had assumed it was just because Gwen had been near Dr. Connors.

But now, it seemed he was wrong.

The lab accident... he'd bled.

The escaped mouse with the severed tail had ingested his blood and become the sole survivor of an experiment that had killed every other subject.

Dr. Connors had then used that mouse to create a new serum.

And then...

Dr. Connors became the Lizard.

Hawk frowned, staring at Gwen, who was watching him with an unblinking gaze. He opened his mouth to speak, then just shook his head, a look of disbelief on his face.

"My blood can't be that special, can it?"

"There's one way to find out."

"What?"

"The School's Stark Hall has a blood analyzer. We could get the results in half an hour."

"..."

Stark Hall was the nickname for the School's Building Three, the experimental science wing donated by Howard Stark. Most of the equipment inside was state-of-the-art, also donated by Stark Industries.

That included the fully automated, rapid blood analysis machine—a device that looked like it cost a hundred thousand dollars but was actually worth over a million, complete with a gleaming Stark logo.

Hawk stuck his finger in his mouth. When he pulled it out, the small pinprick had already healed over.

Gwen had already booted up the machine.

It whirred to life.

As they waited, Gwen turned to him, her curiosity finally getting the better of her. "Are you... a mutate? Like Dr. Banner?"

She had wanted to ask for a long time. But she'd never had the chance.

Hawk met her curious gaze and let out a short, incredulous laugh. He shook his head. "I can guarantee you, I am one hundred percent, pure human."

He had just awakened his Cosmo...

That's all.

A mutate? He would never admit to that.

Mutation was a crutch for the weak.

He was strong because he had made himself strong. He had earned his power through a thousand days of relentless, back-breaking effort.

The sweat from a thousand days of ten thousand punches had finally watered the flower of his potential.

Hawk paused for a moment, then looked at Gwen and added, "I'm definitely not a mutate like the Spider-freak. And don't lump me in with Bruce Banner."

"..."

Gwen's eyes lit up, seizing on the key part of his statement. "The Spider-freak... you mean Spider-Man? He's a mutate, too?"

Hawk just blinked, then raised a hand to his mouth and mimed zipping his lips.

"My lips are sealed, Gwen."

"Fine, don't tell me. I'll figure it out myself."

Gwen rolled her eyes.

Just then.

Beep, beep, beep!

The half-hour analysis was complete. The machine chimed, signaling it was finished.

Gwen hurried over and took the printout from the machine.

Hawk leaned over her shoulder to look.

He saw it immediately.

Red blood cell count, white blood cell count, platelet count... every value was completely off the charts.

Hawk blinked.

The results... were about what he'd expected. The path of the Saint was the path of perfecting the self.

Gwen scanned the report, then took a deep breath and looked up at him. "Hawk... do you have any idea what would happen if the outside world ever found out about this?"

Hawk just smiled.

He looked her straight in the eye.

"Gwen."

"No one else is going to get a sample of my blood that easily."

"..."

Chapter Text

Why had Hawk worked so hard to become this strong?

Wasn't it for this? The power to control his own destiny.

And now, some random person thinks they can just take his blood?

Heh. In their dreams...

That had been Gwen. If it had been anyone else, Hawk would have blasted their head clean off their shoulders the instant the needle came near.

But Gwen ignored Hawk's quip. Her eyes were glued to the analysis report that had just printed out.

Others might not have been able to make sense of it, but she could.

And because she could, she drew in a sharp, astonished breath.

Hawk's blood work was completely off the charts.

His white blood cell count was maxed out on the machine's display, which meant the real number was probably even higher.

And that meant one thing: Hawk's immune system was terrifyingly powerful and efficient. It could likely identify and eradicate any foreign invader—viruses, bacteria, parasites—almost instantly.

It also explained his incredible Healing Factor.

Gwen thought back to the day of the lab accident, how she had seen Hawk's hand bleeding, only for the wound to vanish moments later.

And the other metrics...

To put it simply:

If Gwen hadn't drawn the blood from Hawk's finger herself, she would have assumed the data was fabricated.

These were not the numbers of a human being!

"I saw Captain America's blood analysis once, leaked online." she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Hawk..."

"Your numbers are even more insane than his. Did you... did you take the Super Soldier Serum?"

Gwen looked up at him. Having ruled out mutation, it was the only other logical explanation.

But, unfortunately for her theory...

Hawk just shrugged.

"Nope."

"Okay then." Gwen didn't press. She decisively took the report, tore it into tiny pieces, and then began to methodically wipe down the entire machine, inside and out. She rinsed the test vial under running water three times, then took the soaking, pulpy shreds of paper and buried them at the bottom of the trash can.

She was making absolutely sure that no trace of the report or the blood sample could ever be found.

Hawk watched her work, a small smile playing on his lips.

"A little paranoid, aren't we, Gwen?"

"Not paranoid enough."

Gwen's expression was dead serious. "If anyone ever saw these numbers, Hawk, I have no doubt that they would put you on a dissection table."

Hawk's eyebrow arched. "That's assuming they could catch me."

They were welcome to try.

Because Hawk wouldn't mind turning their "try" into a "die."

He had already crossed that line.

Killing wasn't a question of 'if' for him anymore. It was only a question of 'how many'.

But Hawk's confidence didn't seem to reassure Gwen. Her expression remained grave. "Hawk..."

"Yeah?"

"Never, ever let anyone else get a sample of your blood."

"...Alright." Seeing the genuine fear and concern in her eyes, Hawk relented and nodded.

The stern look on Gwen's face softened slightly. As they started walking out of the lab, she changed the subject.

"So, what now?"

"About what?"

"About Dr. Connors."

"Not our problem."

Hawk shrugged. "We didn't cause him to turn into a giant lizard. For all we know, he's already halfway to Mexico by now."

Gwen considered it, then nodded.

"That's possible."

"Let's drop it. What class do you have this afternoon?"

"French. You?"

"Geography."

The two of them walked out of the Stark Industries research building, chatting about their schedules.

...

And just like that, three days passed.

The media frenzy over the "Lizard Monster" had started to die down.

After that one appearance on the Williamsburg Bridge, the creature hadn't been seen again.

The general consensus was that it had either been secretly captured by the military or had fled the city.

New York's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man thought so, too.

But In reality, the Lizard had never left.

At this very moment, he was holed up in a maintenance tunnel just five blocks from Midtown Tech.

The New York City sewer system had service platforms at regular intervals.

The Lizard had made one of them his temporary lair.

But right now, he was no longer the Lizard. He was just Dr. Connors again.

Yet, after experiencing what it was like to be whole, to be immensely powerful—a hulking, monstrous beast—how could he be content to revert to a frail, crippled man once the dose wore off?

Maybe, at first, his only intention had been to stop the board of directors from experimenting on those poor, wounded soldiers.

But now, Dr. Connors had seen the light.

Being human was fine. But being the Lizard... being stronger, faster, and more powerful than any human... that was true freedom.

And so, Dr. Connors made a decision.

He wasn't going to be a man anymore. He was going to be the Lizard. Permanently.

To do that, he first needed to figure out why that one mouse had been a success.

For three days, he had been re-watching the security footage from his lab.

And finally...

As the hypnotic, low-frequency hum of the sewer's power conduits buzzed in his ears, Dr. Connors, covered in sweat and grime, saw it. His eyes widened as he froze the frame on his laptop screen.

On the screen was the mouse, licking a drop of blood from the floor.

Connors frantically rewound the footage. He found the moment. It was right after Hawk had pulled his hand away from Gwen.

"HAWK!"

"IT WAS HIM!"

A tremor ran through Dr. Connors's body—not of fear, but of manic excitement.

He had been on good terms with the boy. He had given him a letter of recommendation. Surely, if he just called and asked, Hawk would give him a small sample of his blood for research.

That was his first thought. That was what he would do.

But just as he reached for his phone, a voice... a voice that was both inside his head and echoing in the darkness around him—hissed into his thoughts.

"No. He will never give it to you. A man with blood that powerful would never share it."

"..." Dr. Connors's eyes glazed over as the whisper slithered through his mind. "Yes... he'll never give it to me... he would never... what do I do?"

"Gwen—"

"Take the girl. She is his weakness. Take the girl, and force him to give you the blood!"

"You're right, take Gwen, force him!" Dr. Connors's eyes now completely vacant, He muttered the words to himself as his hand closed around the three remaining vials of the regeneration serum.

Chapter Text

"It's Peter, isn't it?"

"..."

In the middle of physics class.

Hawk glanced at the words on the note that had been slid onto his desk, a single eyebrow arching. He looked over at Gwen, who was sitting next to him.

Gwen just gave him a pointed look, her eyes flicking to the note.

Hawk offered a small, noncommittal smile and slid the note back to her.

He wasn't confirming anything.

Gwen figuring it out on her own was one thing. Him admitting it was another.

Just as he'd said before: he wasn't going to betray Peter's secret, just as Peter hadn't betrayed his.

...

After class ended, Gwen walked with Hawk down the hall toward their lockers, her mind still turning over Spider-Man's identity.

It had to be Peter.

Hawk's social circle was practically nonexistent. And then there was Peter's own transformation—from a perennial victim to someone who could suddenly stand up for himself.

Most of the students just assumed it was because he had started training with Hawk.

That was how the rumor that Peter was Hawk's only friend had started.

But Gwen knew better.

She knew for a fact that Peter's newfound strength hadn't come from training with Hawk, and that was precisely why she was still hesitant.

It felt too simple.

It was like a slacker and a genius taking the same test.

The slacker sees a question, thinks, 'Oh, I know this one, it's A,' and fills in the bubble without a second thought.

But the genius looks at the same obvious answer and pauses, thinking:

Is this a trick question?

That was Gwen's dilemma.

She was almost certain Spider-Man was Peter, but without seeing it with her own eyes, she couldn't be 100% sure.

A moment later, Hawk opened his locker, tossed his physics book inside, and pulled out his backpack.

"I'm heading to Mrs. Snow's office."

"Okay."

Gwen, who had just grabbed her own bag, nodded. "I'll go to the library and wait for you there."

Hawk grunted in agreement, slung his bag over his shoulder, and headed for the administration building.

The weekend was tomorrow, but Monday was the 10th. If he wanted to take the day off, he had to request it today. Asking for it on Monday morning would be asking for forgiveness, not permission.

Gwen, meanwhile, walked toward the library.

Tomorrow was the Homecoming dance. She had to meet with the planning committee and finalize the details.

She wasn't actually going to the dance herself.

For her, studying had always been more important. But as the grade's student aide, she was still responsible for making sure it all went smoothly.

Although she and Hawk hadn't made their relationship public, she found herself wanting him to be her prom date this year.

She just didn’t know if he would say yes.

He might. Maybe. Hopefully?

She thought, a hint of uncertainty in her mind.

Just as Hawk and Gwen went their separate ways in the crowded hallway—one heading for the offices, the other for the library—something was stirring deep beneath their feet.

...

Down below.

In the filthy, reeking, slime-coated sewers, the sound of reptilian hissing grew louder. A massive, lizard-like creature surged through the wastewater like an Olympic swimmer, then, with a great splash, launched itself out of the muck and onto a concrete platform at a four-way intersection of pipes.

"Midtown High."

"Gwen Stacy."

"Capture her. Use her against Hawk."

"Hsssssssss."

The words burned into his mind like a demonic whisper. The Lizard, now fully transformed, swept its reptilian eyes across the area while its forked, scarlet tongue flicked out to taste the air.

It caught a scent.

With a guttural roar, it shot forward like a blur, diving into another sewer pipe. It scrambled on all fours like a true reptile, racing through the filthy tunnel toward Midtown High... and the student bathrooms.

...

A freshman, new to the trials of high school, was sitting on a toilet, scrolling through his phone.

Suddenly—

The kid, his face dotted with the acne of adolescence, felt something wrong.

The ground was trembling. An inexplicable, cold draft was rising from below, chilling him in a place the sun didn't shine.

The freshman was confused.

"What the hell?"

"An earthq—"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

A powerful force erupted from below, launching him and the entire toilet upwards and out of the stall.

CRASH!!!!

The kid, still attached to his porcelain throne, landed in a heap on the bathroom floor, completely stunned.

The few other students in the bathroom stared, frozen, at the boy who had just been shot out of the stall like a cannonball.

But their shock quickly turned to terror.

In the now-doorless stall, the floor was cracking apart. A green, scaled claw shot up, its talons striking sparks against the ceramic tiles.

The next second.

HIIISSSSSSS!

The Lizard hauled itself out of the hole in the floor. It stood tall, spread its arms wide, and let out a triumphant roar, announcing its arrival.

"Thwip!"

...

"Huh?"

Peter, who had just finished his chemistry class and was back at his locker, suddenly looked down at his arm. The hairs were standing straight up.

Before he could even process what was happening, a series of terrified screams shattered the calm of the hallway.

"AAAAH!"

"OH MY GOD, IT'S THE LIZARD!"

"RUN!!"

"MOMMY, I DON'T WANNA GO TO SCHOOL ANYMORE!!!"

The bathroom door burst open. The students from inside came sprinting out, their faces masks of pure terror, shouting warnings as they fled in Peter's direction.

Bringing up the rear was the kid from the stall, still fumbling with his unfastened pants.

He was too scared to even notice.

It was clear he was traumatized. He probably wouldn't be able to use a public restroom alone for a very long time.

Just as the other students in the hall turned to look at the commotion—

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

The entire wall of the bathroom exploded outwards.

And the Lizard's monstrous form was revealed to everyone.

"Holy shit!"

"It's the Lizard!"

"..."

Chapter Text

After a few days of quiet, the Lizard—a topic that had already started to fade from student gossip, made a dramatic return.

Most students had been fascinated by the news reports, eagerly discussing every detail about the creature. But now, with the Lizard standing right in front of them, their reaction was universally, predictably, the same.

Screams.

Panic.

In an instant, the peaceful quiet of the student lounge was shattered.

But...

A short distance away, in the main administration building, it was still a picture of tranquility.

The staff here were completely unaware of the chaos unfolding outside.

Especially in Mrs. Snow's office.

Mrs. Snow wasn't surprised by Hawk's request to leave early. He took a personal day on September 10th every year.

This time was no different.

Hawk, having gotten his absence excused, was about to leave when Mrs. Snow called out to him.

He stopped at the door and turned back.

Mrs. Snow was smiling.

"So, I hear you and Gwen are together now?"

"Yeah."

"That's wonderful. I'm so glad you finally listened to your heart."

Her voice was filled with genuine happiness.

If Gwen could see the invisible wall Hawk used to put up, then of course Mrs. Snow—who had seen more of life than Hawk had seen of the world, could see it too.

But unlike Gwen, Mrs. Snow saw the whole picture. After all, she knew Hawk just as well as she knew Gwen. Otherwise, she wouldn't have thought to look for Gwen whenever Hawk went missing.

So, her tone became wistful. "I was starting to think you two would never get past that awkward stage before graduation. But I'm curious, who made the first move?"

Hawk looked at his suddenly gossipy, but clearly caring, guidance counselor. He thought for a moment.

"Gwen did."

"That's what I figured." Mrs. Snow nodded, then smiled warmly at Hawk. "Hawk, there's some advice I've been wanting to share with you. I was saving it for your graduation."

She paused, her expression kind. "There is no shame in a humble beginning. True strength lies in being able to bend without breaking. I was going to give that to you at graduation if you hadn't changed, but it seems you don't need it anymore."

Just as she'd said, she understood Gwen, and she understood Hawk.

Hawk listened to her words and gave a sincere nod. "Thank you."

Mrs. Snow then added, "Can I offer you one more piece of advice, Hawk?"

He nodded. "Of course."

He couldn't speak for other students, but his guidance counselor was one of the best. Her concern for him was real, and he always took her advice seriously.

Mrs. Snow smiled.

"Prom."

"Huh?" Hawk raised an eyebrow.

"I know you don't like those kinds of things," she said, "but prom is different. If you can, you shouldn't miss it. And of course, take your date. That way, years from now, when you look back on your high school experience, it won't just be an empty space. Right?"

Going to prom with Gwen?

That actually sounded...

Pretty good.

As Mrs. Snow spoke, an image of the prom flashed in Hawk's mind.

A handsome couple.

Music and dancing.

Limos and champagne.

Ugh...

Hawk snapped back to reality, pushing the thought aside. He gave Mrs. Snow a genuine smile. "Okay, Mrs. Snow. I'll think about it."

Satisfied with his answer, she smiled back.

Hawk was about to leave for good.

But just then.

BAANG!!!

The office door flew open. A staff member poked his head in, his voice frantic. "There's an emergency! We have to go, now!"

Mrs. Snow froze.

Hawk's brow furrowed.

...

One minute later.

Hawk emerged from the administration building and stopped, staring at the scene unfolding in the distance. Students were pouring out of the emergency exits of the main school building in a panicked flood.

What the hell?

Is there a school shooting at Midtown now?

"Run!"

"It's the Lizard! He's here! Run!"

"Students, this way!"

The Lizard?

Hawk caught the words of the fastest runners. He immediately opened up his senses, which he normally kept suppressed.

If he didn't, the constant sensory overload would drive him insane.

The moment he did, the sounds from inside the school building flooded in—screams, guttural roars, the sounds of fighting, and the telltale thwip of a web-shooter.

...

"Thwip!"

"CRASH!"

In the middle of the chaos, Peter, who had quickly changed in a bathroom, was in the thick of a fight. The Lizard caught him with a vicious swipe of its claws, hurling him across the hall. The claws also snagged Peter's backpack, ripping it from his shoulders.

"Peter!"

"Parker!"

The Lizard's eyes fell on the name tag on the backpack. A flicker of recognition crossed its reptilian face. It looked up at Peter, who was already getting to his feet after crashing into a wall. "Peter Parker? The boy with no mother, and no father?"

Peter didn't answer. He just charged forward again.

But the Lizard's tail shot out, wrapped around a row of lockers, and swung them like a club, slamming into Peter and sending him flying.

Thump!

Thump!

Thump!

Peter hit the ground and tumbled hard, smashing through the main entrance doors and rolling out onto the lawn.

With a furious roar, the Lizard's massive frame tore the rest of the doorway apart as it burst outside.

The next second.

Before the Lizard could even steady itself, Peter planted his hands on the grass, launched himself into the air, and delivered a powerful kick that slammed into the creature's side like a cannonball, sending it flying back into the school building.

The sounds of fighting and shattering walls erupted from inside once again.

Hawk was already running toward the library.

He didn't know why the Lizard had shown up at Midtown, but it wasn't his problem.

Peter was on the scene. He could handle it.

As Hawk entered the library, he immediately spotted Gwen, who was hurrying down from the second floor with a crowd of other students.

"Gwen!"

"Hawk!"

She saw him and rushed to meet him at the bottom of the stairs. "What's happening?"

Hawk was about to answer.

CRASH!

He instinctively looked up.

The Lizard crashed through the second-floor window with Peter clinging to its back, webs wrapped tight around its massive frame. It paid him no attention.

And then, with its claws outstretched, it lunged straight down at Hawk and Gwen.

Chapter Text

The monstrous Lizard.

A dangling Spider-Man.

And a dumbstruck Gwen.

Hawk didn't have time to think. He grabbed Gwen, but in that same instant, a realization hit him. He yanked her back, pulling her into his arms and spinning on the spot, turning his own back toward the Lizard.

CRACK!

The Lizard’s claws slammed into Hawk's back with the force of a falling boulder, knocking him clean off the staircase.

In mid-air, Hawk twisted again, taking the impact as his back crashed into a bookshelf below.

The shelf splintered into pieces.

It all happened in a flash. By the time anyone else reacted, the library was filled with a new wave of screams as students scrambled for the exit.

"Hawk!"

The Lizard, perched on the stairs like a true monster, let a low growl rumble in its throat as it stared down at Hawk, who was already getting to his feet. "Blood... Give it to me!"

Okay.

So he's here for me.

Hawk, who felt nothing from the blow other than some dust on his now-disheveled clothes, made a mental note. He instinctively glanced at Gwen, who was also snapping out of her shock. "Are you okay?"

He was curious about something, though.

If the Lizard was after him, why did that last attack seem like it was aimed directly at Gwen?

It wasn't just a feeling. It was an instinct. If the Lizard had been aiming for him, it wouldn't have even come close. To think otherwise would be an insult to the two and a half years of brutal training he'd endured.

Hawk's first impulse had been to grab Gwen and exit the scene at supersonic speed.

But the moment he considered it, a series of consequences flashed through his mind.

Gwen's body wouldn't be able to withstand the sudden g-force. The g-force would crush her like an invisible hand.

Or the fatal air resistance would have torn her apart.

His body was built for supersonic movement—Gwen's wasn't. That was why he had changed his plan in that split second, choosing to absorb the Lizard's attack instead.

It had nothing to do with not wanting to expose his powers in front of his classmates.

He wasn't afraid of being exposed.

And he certainly wasn't interested in playing dumb to get the upper hand.

Even when he robbed the Quantico base, the most he'd done for a disguise was wear a hoodie and a surgical mask. He hadn't even worn gloves. If the military had done a thorough investigation, they probably could have found him.

After all, he hadn't worn any disguise when he'd scouted the place during the day. A simple check of security footage and some motion tracking would be enough to get a match.

In short:

If he wasn't afraid of being exposed to the United States military, he sure as hell didn't care about a bunch of students.

He just didn't want Gwen to get hurt.

Gwen, who had now fully recovered from the shock, instinctively shook her head.

"I'm fine," she said, before her eyes suddenly widened in alarm.

"Look out!"

WHOOSH!

Hawk threw a punch.

The sheer force of the air pressure slammed into the desk the Lizard had flung with its tail, and the desk disintegrated in mid-air.

"Be careful. He's incredibly strong!" The warning came from Peter, who was now clinging to the wall like an actual spider.

To be more precise, the Lizard was absurdly strong.

If the Lizard's strength on the Williamsburg Bridge had been a 1, its strength now was a 3.

Fortunately, Peter healed fast. But while he knew Hawk was strong, he'd never actually seen him fight. Seeing that Hawk was about to jump in, he had to give him a warning.

The voice Peter was using wasn't his own. Compared to his normal voice, this one was deeper, more guttural.

The change was enough to make Gwen glance up for a second, but she quickly turned back to Hawk and nodded.

"You be careful."

"I will."

Hawk gave her a reassuring smile.

Gwen turned, ready to run for cover.

But the instant she turned her back, the Lizard's pupils contracted. It kicked off the stairs, launching itself through the air—once again, straight at Gwen.

"Holy shit!"

"You're dead!"

The first line was from Peter. Seeing the attack, he dug his hands and feet into the wall and fired two streams of webbing, which latched onto the airborne Lizard's back, halting its forward momentum for a fraction of a second.

The second line was from Hawk.

Seeing the Lizard try to kill Gwen right in front of him, his voice turned to ice.

The next second.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

A sonic boom ripped through the library. Hawk vanished from his spot, reappearing in the air directly in front of the Lizard. He threw a single, almost casual punch that landed squarely on the creature's chest.

CRACK!

The Lizard's chest caved in, instantly exposing the mutated heart within. His body shot backward like a kite with its string cut, a brutal shriek tearing from its throat.

Peter was sent flying with him.

His two web lines were still attached to the Lizard's back. The force of Hawk's punch pulled him from the wall, and he let out a startled yell as he was dragged along for the ride.

Luckily, he reacted instantly, severing the web lines. He did a quick flip in mid-air, and all four limbs slapped against the library ceiling, absorbing the momentum.

The Lizard was not so fortunate.

CRASH!

CRASH!

CRASH!

It flew backward, plowing through an entire row of bookshelves on the second floor. With a final, thunderous series of impacts, its back slammed into the far wall. The wall spiderwebbed with cracks, finally stopping its momentum.

It had all happened in the blink of an eye.

After sending the Lizard flying, Hawk reappeared next to Gwen. "Are you okay?"

Gwen just stared, shaking her head numbly. Her mind was stuck on the image of the airborne monster lunging at her.

Peter dropped from the ceiling, landing on the wrecked second floor amidst the shattered bookshelves and cracked floorboards. He saw the state the Lizard was in.

He stared.

The Lizard's chest was completely caved in. Shards of its own ribs were embedded in its exposed, mutated heart.

The heart was still beating—thump-thump—but the rhythm was slowing, and the creature's green scales were visibly fading back to pale skin.

One punch...

Chapter Text

By the time Hawk and Gwen made it to the second floor, the Lizard was gone.

In its place was Dr. Connors, reverted to his human form. But the wound in his chest remained—a gaping, irreversible injury.

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but as he saw Hawk approaching, he forced a painful smile.

"Thank you!"

"..." Hawk said nothing, just raised an eyebrow as he looked at the dying man.

Gwen, however, was still trying to understand. "Doctor, why did you try to kill me?"

She couldn't make sense of it.

If Connors was angry about what happened on the Williamsburg Bridge, he should have been after Spider-Man.

If he was after blood, he should have gone after Hawk.

Why her?

Leaning against the wall, completely drained of strength, Connors let out a weak, wheezing laugh.

The movement made his chest heave, and a flush of red spread across his pale face. He coughed up blood, his breathing growing dangerously shallow. As his eyes began to flutter shut for the last time, Dr. Connors whispered his final words.

"I don't know."

"I think..."

"The devil made me do it."

"I'm... so..."

"...sorry."

Thud.

With that final, strained apology, his eyes closed completely. His lone left arm slapped against the floor with a hollow, final sound.

Dr. Connors was dead.

Hawk's gaze shifted from the body to Peter standing nearby.

"Are you going to leave or what?"

Peter, who was still reeling from the shock of seeing Connors killed with a single punch, snapped back to reality. "What about you?"

"The Spider-freak killed him. What's that got to do with me?"

"I'm not a 'spider-freak.'"

"Then the webs..."

"I'm leaving."

Peter cut the conversation short. He turned, fired a web, and swung through the air, shattering the glass of the skylight with the tip of his boot before disappearing from sight.

Just then, Gwen's eyes went wide. "The security cameras!"

She grabbed Hawk's arm and started pulling him toward the library's security office downstairs.

"Don't worry. They didn't see anything."

"Huh?"

"The angle where I hit him was a blind spot. They'll only see the Lizard flying backward, not who did it."

It was probably just a coincidence.

He honestly didn't care if he was exposed or not—he hadn't known it was a blind spot when he threw the punch. He only realized it afterward.

Maybe, just maybe, God—if he existed—had decided it wasn't his time to be revealed.

...

Half an hour later.

The NYPD had arrived and were carrying out the body of Dr. Connors, which was already cold to the touch.

Captain George Stacy of the 19th Precinct was on the scene.

"Gwen!"

The moment he got out of his car, he rushed over and pulled her into a tight hug. "Thank God, you're okay."

"Dad."

Gwen eased out of his embrace, glanced at Hawk, then took his hand. "Hawk saved me,"

George's eyes turned to Hawk.

Hawk gave a polite, familiar greeting.

"Mr. Stacy."

"Thank you." This time, George didn't ignore him. He looked him straight in the eye and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod of gratitude.

Hawk smiled. "I just did what I had to."

George said nothing, but his eyes darted for a split second to where his daughter's hand was firmly intertwined with Hawk's. He looked back at Gwen. "Call your mother. She was worried sick when she saw the news about the attack at Midtown."

Gwen gasped, realizing she'd forgotten. She quickly pulled out her phone and stepped away to call her mom.

Once she was gone, George stood beside Hawk, looking toward the body bag being loaded into the coroner's van. "So, the Lizard was Dr. Connors. But what was he doing at the school?"

Hawk's expression didn't change. "I don't know."

But he was thinking about Connors's last words.

The devil made me do it.

What kind of devil would convince Connors to ignore Spider-Man, the one he had a grudge against, and ignore Hawk, whose blood he supposedly needed, just to make a beeline for the completely harmless Gwen Stacy?

It made no sense.

Unless this devil wasn't playing by the usual rules.

A moment later, Gwen returned, visibly relieved after talking to her mother. She walked right up to Hawk and naturally looped her arm through his. "All clear with Mom."

George's eye twitched almost imperceptibly at the casual gesture. He decided it was time to leave.

If he stayed any longer, he might just shoot the kid.

...

Another half hour passed. After the NYPD and Captain Stacy had cleared out, Midtown Tech announced that school was dismissed for the day.

The students, who had still been buzzing with the aftershock of the Spider-Man vs. Lizard battle, immediately erupted into cheers. Praising the school's wise decision, they bolted for the parking lot like wild horses breaking free from a pen.

Hawk just shook his head, deciding to stop wasting time thinking about Connors's motives.

The man was dead. Dwelling on it was pointless.

That weekend, Hawk was in his apartment, surfing the web on the laptop he'd bought from Skye, connected to the hotspot from the phone his girlfriend had given him.

He finally had some downtime and decided to look for a way to sell the five Chitauri weapons he had stashed under his bed.

He had to...

He needed to make some money. Otherwise, he wouldn't even be able to afford a tux for prom.

Theoretically, he didn't need to worry about money anymore.

But—

When the original Spider-Man had been corrupted by the symbiote, the darkest thing he did was buy himself a cheap suit.

Hawk knew he wasn't as morally upright as Peter, but he couldn't be that much worse, could he?

As he was searching for a black-market connection...

A soft thump sounded at his window.

Hawk looked up.

Clinging to the fire escape outside his window, peering in, was the very Spider-Man he had just been thinking about.

Chapter Text

The sewer walls were slick with a sticky, unidentifiable slime, and the stench—a foul mix of rust, raw sewage, and rot—filled the tunnel.

Hawk shut off his sense of smell entirely. Heat was manageable. Cold was nothing. But this kind of stench, this was his kryptonite.

He looked at the masked figure leading the way through the muck, a genuine curiosity in his voice.

"How in the world did you find this place?"

"I followed the lizards," Peter explained, his own voice muffled by his mask, likely a welcome filter against the overwhelming stench. "It's just up ahead. Around this corner."

During their fight at the school two days ago, he'd noticed some of the smaller lizards scrambling out of the sewer grates.

With nothing better to do on his weekend, Peter had decided to investigate. He'd spent the better part of a day navigating the labyrinthine sewer system until, finally, he had found it:

Dr. Connors's temporary lab.

His first thought had been of Hawk, figuring he would be interested. And so, he had swung by his apartment and invited him on a "Weekend Adventure into the New York Underground."

Soon, They rounded the corner and saw it.

A bird's nest of spliced wires, held in place by gobs of some unidentifiable slime, ran up the wall, powering a few bare light bulbs. The weak light illuminated a makeshift lab—two laptops and an assortment of scientific equipment scattered across a table.

Hawk stepped onto the platform, his eyes scanning the setup. "So where's this video you were talking about?"

"Here."

Peter was already at one of the laptops. He typed a few commands, and a video file opened on the screen.

[STATIC]

"That blood... it has to be Hawk's."

"I should call him..."

[STATIC]

"No... no, he'd never give it to me."

[STATIC]

"Wait... Gwen."

"I can take Gwen. Force Hawk to give me his blood."

[STATIC]

"Yes... that's it. I'll take the girl. Then he'll have no choice."

"Get Gwen..."

On the screen, Dr. Connors looked like a man possessed. His clothes were filthy, his hair matted to his head with sweat. He paced and muttered to himself, his image flickering with static.

In the final moments of the video, his eyes wild with a feverish desperation, Connors grabbed the last three vials of the regenerative serum and plunged them into his own body.

A series of guttural, inhuman roars ripped from his throat, and in a final, agonizing transformation, the Lizard was born.

The video ended there.

A strange, almost amused expression crossed Hawk's face.

So, this was the reason the Lizard had been hunting Gwen. It was all to capture her and force him to hand over his blood?

The logic was so twisted, so utterly insane, that Hawk could only come to one conclusion.

"The lizard serum completely fried his brain."

"Would you have given it to him?"

"What?" Hawk looked at Peter.

Peter's question was genuine. "If Connors had just called you and asked for your blood, would you have given it to him?"

Hawk's brow furrowed slightly.

Would he have??

Hawk considered it for a moment, then gave a slow, deliberate nod. "A small amount, yes."

"Why?"

Peter's eyes widened behind his mask. "I don't know what's so special about your blood, but it was obviously the key to him becoming the Lizard. Knowing what would happen, you'd still give it to him?"

Hawk looked at Peter, his voice calm and even. "Him using my blood to become the Lizard would have been his choice. Me giving it to him would have been mine."

Peter just shook his head. "I don't get it."

"You and I... we both grew up without parents. But yours existed. You had them, and you still have your aunt and uncle. Me? I'm an orphan. Always have been. That's why you can be a hero, Peter. And why I never can be."

"Why not?"

"I'm not as good a person as you are," Hawk said with a small, self-aware smile. "But I'm not evil, either. I just live by a simple code: a kindness must be repaid, and a wrong must be avenged."

"When I was let go from Oscorp, it had nothing to do with Dr. Connors. But he still wrote me that letter of recommendation."

"Even though the letter is useless to me now, when he wrote it, he had nothing to gain from it. That was a favor, freely given. So..."

Hawk's smile returned, this time with a hint of irony. "A vial of blood? It's nothing to me. I would have given it to him. What he does with it... if he saves the world or burns it to the ground... that's on him. My conscience would be clear."

Peter listened to Hawk's explanation, a thoughtful look on his face as he nodded slowly.

A thought then occurred to Hawk. He looked at Peter. "What, are you interested in my blood now, too? I can give you a vial if you want."

Peter's head snapped up, and he shook it vigorously. "No, no. I'm good."

"Alright then."

Hawk chuckled, then scanned the platform one last time and shook his head. "This is what I mean. His brain is fried. He could have just asked me for it. Instead, he did all this. Come on, let's go."

Now that he knew Connors's motive—as insane as it was—it was time to leave. Considering the doctor's mental state in that video, it almost made sense.

The logic of a madman. You can no more predict the thoughts of the insane than you can predict the whims of a cat.

Time to go...

He still wanted to see if he could unload those five Chitauri weapons today, and this little field trip had already taken up half his day.

Peter looked around the makeshift lab. "What about all this?"

Hawk considered it. "Burn it."

"Burn it?"

"The man is dead. Let him rest. Besides, if we leave this stuff here, who knows what kind of monster might crawl out of it next. But it's your call. I don't really care either way."

"...You're right." Peter thought for a moment, then nodded in agreement.

"Good. Then I'm leaving it to you, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man." Hawk gave him a mock salute, then turned and walked away without a backward glance, disappearing back into the darkness of the tunnels.

After Hawk was gone, Peter took one last look around the lab, then left as well.

He needed to find something to start a fire.

And after they were both gone, on the platform, the tiny, blinking red light of a hidden camera went dark...

Chapter Text

Hawk didn't dwell on the matter.

Back in his apartment, he connected the laptop to his phone's hotspot and started browsing online.

The Battle of New York had been three months ago, and by now, the internet was starting to see the first trickles of its fallout. Photos and videos of scavenged Chitauri weaponry were beginning to surface in the darker corners of the web.

He could even find a rough market value.

Hawk was on one such site now, a low-level trading forum he'd stumbled upon by accident. At first, he'd thought it was just another online marketplace, until he saw a live-streamed auction for a young Western European woman.

Hawk glanced at it for a second, then moved on.

First, as he had just told Peter, he wasn't a good person. He certainly wasn't the type to go soft and jump in to help every time he saw someone suffering.

When he was the one who needed help, when he was the one who needed someone to stand up for him, nobody had been there.

Hawk lived by a simple, brutal philosophy: Everyone fights their own battles.

So he didn't keep watching the auction. Out of sight, out of mind.

...

After a little while.

After browsing a few other posts selling Chitauri tech on the forum, Hawk had a rough estimate of what his five trophies were worth.

The standard Chitauri rifles—the ones from the four grunts—were going for somewhere between one hundred fifty and two hundred thousand dollars.

Each.

As for the spear he'd taken from the Chitauri squad leader, there was nothing comparable on the forum. But in his head, he'd already set a floor price.

Minimum four hundred thousand.

At an average of one hundred sixty thousand per rifle, the four of them would be six hundred forty thousand. Add the captain's spear, and the total came to one million and forty thousand.

He'd settle for an even million.

Hawk opened a new, encrypted connection and created an anonymous post. His fingers flew across the keyboard.

FOR SALE: Four (4) Chitauri energy rifles, 99% condition. One (1) Chitauri captain's energy spear. Package deal, $1,000,000. Serious inquiries only.

He hit 'enter'.

Hawk had expected to wait for hours, maybe even days, for a response. But by the time he had stood up, walked to his small kitchen, and poured a glass of water, his computer was already dinging.

Ping.

Hearing the notification, Hawk carried his glass back to his folding chair and clicked on the message.

["Can I see a photo?"]

Hawk stroked his chin.

["...Sure, one sec."]

He got up, went into his bedroom, and pulled the sheet-wrapped bundle out from under his bed. He unwrapped the weapons, laid them out, and took a quick, clear photo with his phone before heading back to the living room.

He uploaded the image.

The reply was almost instantaneous.

["Received. They look nice."]

["Thanks. Interested?"]

["Of course."]

Hawk raised an eyebrow.

Well, that was easy. Is my luck finally turning?

It seemed almost too easy.

But then he remembered—this was alien tech. You couldn't get it anywhere else on Earth. It was a rare commodity, and with each one sold, there was one less in circulation. It made sense that anyone who saw the listing would want to jump on it immediately.

Just then, another message came through.

["One million is fine. I'll take them. But the deal has to be face-to-face."]

"..."

Hawk read the message and felt that flicker of suspicion again. He remembered something about law enforcement—the FBI, the CIA—loving to run sting operations on these black market sites.

So, was the guy on the other side of this chat an excited federal agent who thought he'd just hooked a big one?

He hesitated for a second, then a cold smile touched his lips.

So what if it was?

He'd already stormed a military base in Quantico. Was he really going to be afraid of the FBI? If it was a sting, so be it. It would just force his hand, and then he could go completely off the rails with a clear conscience.

With that thought, he replied.

["No problem. Your place or mine?"]

["You pick. I see your IP is in New York. I'm here as well. Anywhere in the city works for me."]

"..."

Hawk's eyebrow shot up again.

He immediately dismissed the possibility of this being a federal agent.

His own tech skills were average at best, tracking his IP would be child's play for a real pro. If this was a Fed, they wouldn't be chatting with him. They'd be kicking in his door, screaming, "FBI! OPEN UP!"

Hawk instinctively glanced at his front door.

Nothing. No dramatic entrance. The hallway outside was silent.

For some reason, he felt a little disappointed. He turned back to the screen, thought for a moment, and typed his reply.

["How about the old Calvin warehouse in Glendale."]

["Works for me. Time?"]

["Tomorrow morning?"]

["Good. You want cash or a check?"]

"Heh." Hawk couldn't help but laugh at that question. "Cash, obviously. I'd have to pay taxes on a check."

Especially not the exorbitant windfall tax the IRS levied on "unexpected income." If he took a check, the government would just swoop in and legally steal thirty-seven percent of it—three hundred and seventy thousand dollars—for doing absolutely nothing.

It was legalized theft.

["You're not worried the IRS will notice and come knocking when you file next year?"]

["They can try."]

This was money he had earned with his own power. Why the hell should he pay taxes on it?

There was no way in hell he was giving them a dime...

Anyone else with his abilities would already be living in a mansion. He was already being a model citizen—just trying to make a little money to improve his life. If the IRS still wanted to rob him after all that, then they shouldn't be surprised when he got pissed.

The reply on the other end took a moment.

["Okay. I've already dispatched someone to gather the funds. One million in cash is confirmed. That just leaves one last question."]

["What?"]

["When I get there tomorrow, how do I contact you?"]

["I'll find you."]

["Deal."]

["Deal."]

"..."

Chapter Text

The next morning.

Monday.

Hawk was up before the sun. He had already requested the day off last Friday, but he didn’t head straight for the cemetery.

Instead, he packed the five Chitauri weapons into a brand-new golf bag he’d bought the day before—and took a cab to a small burrito shop near a local orphanage.

The owner, a Mexican man who seemed to recognize him, looked genuinely surprised when Hawk walked in.

"Hawk..." the owner began, then a flicker of understanding crossed his face. "Is it the tenth already?"

Hawk nodded, pulling a few crumpled bills from his pocket and handing them over.

The owner took the cash with a familiar nod. "Just a minute."

A short while later, two freshly made burritos were packed and ready to go.

Hawk took the bag, offered a quiet "thanks," and left, the golf bag heavy on his shoulder.

...

An hour later, after a long, meandering walk through the surrounding neighborhoods, Hawk hailed another cab. He was now carrying nearly a dozen bags of takeout from various local restaurants.

His destination: Calvary Cemetery.

Sprawling across the border of Brooklyn and Queens, Calvary Cemetery was a historic landmark, founded in 1848.

Logically, after more than a century, it should have been completely full. And it was. But in 1984, the cemetery was purchased from the city by a private corporation.

And just like that, Calvary became a for-profit enterprise.

The new owners began a "cleanup." Three months later, the cemetery reopened, with thousands of new plots suddenly available.

No one asked where the old occupants had gone.

And no one protested.

To keep up with the times, the new owners even developed a special section on a pristine, north-facing hill—prime real estate with beautiful views and peaceful surroundings to attract discerning clientele. They also kept their government contracts for state-funded burials.

It was nine in the morning by the time Hawk arrived.

The guard at the gate inspected the paperwork Hawk provided, gave a curious glance at the golf bag, but waved him through without a search.

The cemetery was massive, a quiet kingdom of the dead spanning two boroughs.

Hawk had been here many times before. He knew the way by heart. A fifteen-minute walk along a winding stone path brought him to a small, simple headstone.

A photograph was affixed to the marble, showing a young girl with a sweet, radiant smile.

Below it, her name was engraved.

ANYA

May 20, 1995 – September 10, 2009

Hawk set the golf bag down on the grass. He crouched in front of the grave and carefully, almost reverently, arranged the bags of food on the small stone ledge before it—a feast for two. He then looked up at the photograph, at the smiling face frozen in time.

Hawk didn't speak.

He just watched, and as he stared at her smile, a genuine, unguarded smile of his own slowly formed—the same one that appeared each morning when he first saw the matching photo on his nightstand.

After a moment, he pulled his phone from his pocket—already turned off so he wouldn't be disturbed—and set it aside. He shifted, leaning his back against the cool stone of the headstone, and looked out at the view.

From a distance, it was as if he and the girl in the photograph were sitting together, their gazes fixed on the same horizon, sharing the quiet beauty of the morning.

...

Far across the city.

Midtown School of Science and Technology.

"Gwen, have you seen Hawk??"

"Uh..."

Gwen, who was just about to put her backpack in her locker, paused as a call from Mrs. Snow, the guidance counselor, came through.

"Didn't he ask you for the day off?"

"He did, but I just got off the phone with NYU. Their admissions officers are coming to the school today."

"...They're here for Hawk?"

"Yes. But I can't reach him. God, when he didn't have a phone, I couldn't reach him. Now he has one, and he keeps it turned off!" Mrs. Snow sounded like she was at the end of her rope. This was somehow worse than him not having a phone at all.

"I thought maybe he told you where he was going. Do you have any idea?"

"Well..."

Gwen hesitated. She had a pretty good idea of where he was, but she didn't know if he wanted her to know. She knew today was important to him, a private day.

"The NYU reps are finalizing their early admissions list today. If Hawk doesn't show up, he could miss his chance. It would be such a shame."

"Okay."

Hearing that, Gwen made her decision. She knew how much preparation Hawk had put into his NYU application. This was his future on the line. She couldn't let him miss it. "Alright, Mrs. Snow. I'll go find him. But I might need to take the rest of the day off."

A wave of relief washed over Mrs. Snow's voice. "Sure."

After hanging up, Mrs. Snow shook her head, then a small smile touched her lips.

Of course.

It had to be Gwen.

...

On the other end, Gwen ended the call, stuffed her textbooks back into her locker, grabbed her bag, and headed for the parking lot. Within minutes, her yellow Corolla was pulling out of the school and heading for the highway.

She drove straight to Calvary Cemetery.

She parked outside the main gate and explained the situation to the staff, who let her in without any issue.

Gwen seemed to know her way around. She followed the stone path, and as she rounded a familiar corner, she saw him. He was leaning back against a small headstone, one leg stretched out, the other bent, his arm resting casually on his knee.

Hawk, lost in his own world, heard the soft crunch of footsteps on the gravel. His focus snapped back to the present, and he turned to see Gwen walking cautiously toward him.

Seeing the small, unsurprised smile that formed on his face, Gwen felt a wave of relief. She walked over, her steps slowing as she approached.

She walked over, but she didn't ask him about NYU. Instead, her eyes fell on the tombstone, on the photograph of the girl—the same one from the frame on his nightstand. She looked from the photo to Hawk, who was still leaning against the stone, and her voice was soft, gentle.

"Can you tell me about her?"

Hawk smiled faintly, his gaze turning back to the picture on the headstone.

"Anya."

"My..."

"Sister."

"..."

Chapter Text

"My sister."

"We were found on the steps of St. Paul's Community Church in Queens."

"The only thing we had on us was a slip of paper with our birthdates."

"Hawk and Anya. The priest at the church gave us our names."

"Anya always loved her name."

Hawk, leaning against his sister Anya’s headstone, didn’t bother asking Gwen how she had found him. He knew it would have been a pointless question.

He spoke softly. "Anya was always happy."

"She lived her life happily. Even when the hole in her heart kept her in and out of the hospital, she never stopped smiling."

Fortunately, because they were orphans, he never had to worry about medical bills, no matter how many times she was admitted. The state and federal government covered everything.

He glanced at Gwen, who was now sitting beside him, her back resting against the same headstone. "Sometimes I wonder if that's why they left us. If they knew that by making us orphans, they were guaranteeing we'd get the best care, free of charge..."

Gwen's expression tightened, and she just shook her head.

"Weren't there any birth records when they found you?"

"None."

Hawk shook his head. "The church checked with all the hospitals in the city, but there were no matches. A doctor later suggested we were probably born at home, not in a hospital."

Home births weren't uncommon.

Especially among families with strong religious convictions. The more extreme ones wouldn't go to a hospital even if it meant both mother and child dying during a complicated birth.

"But it doesn't matter."

"I never wanted to find them. They chose to abandon us, so we owe them nothing." Hawk shrugged, then continued his story.

"At first, there were people who wanted to adopt us."

"But because of Anya's heart condition, most of them backed out."

"Father Moses was a good man. He didn't want to separate us, so he became our legal guardian, and we stayed at the church until we were four."

"But then he passed away, and Anya and I were sent to a group home."

"We grew up there."

A group home—a residential facility designed like a large family, where a dozen or so orphans were cared for by staff from a nonprofit.

Gwen frowned. "No one ever took you in? Not even a foster family?"

"Who would want us?"

Hawk let out a short, humorless laugh. "The moment Anya left the system, her medical bills would have become their responsibility. And I was never going to leave my sister. Foster care was an option—they wouldn't have to pay for her treatment—but the foster system... heh."

Adoption and foster care were two different worlds.

One was usually about love. The other, more often than not, was about the check.

Many foster families took in kids just to collect the government subsidies, using the money for themselves while providing the bare minimum for the children in their care. As long as the kids didn't die, no one looked too closely.

Gwen had heard enough stories from her father to know this was true. She simply nodded, acknowledging the bitter reality in his words.

"So, what happened...?" Gwen's voice trailed off. She glanced at the dates on Anya's headstone.

1995.5.20 - 2009.9.10

Her gaze lifted, and she looked around at the other graves in this section of the cemetery.

"I remember this section. Most of the people buried here were the ones who died during the fight between the Hulk and the Abomination..."

"..." A flicker of something cold and hard passed through Hawk's eyes. It was there and gone in an instant. He looked at her and nodded.

"That's right..."

"Anya didn't die from her illness. She was killed by the collateral damage from that battle."

The pieces clicked into place. Gwen finally understood. "So all these years, all your training... it's for..."

"VENGEANCE!!!"

Hawk turned to face her, the word forced from between his teeth, the flames of vengeance finally burning free in his eyes. "I repay every kindness, and I avenge every wrong."

He had been an orphan in his past life, and he was an orphan in this one. But here, he had a sister, someone who had been with him from the very beginning.

So even when he was thrust into this new world—the Marvel Universe—without any powers, he had never felt lost.

Hawk had always been content with what he had.

He never had any grand ambitions of changing the world. His dreams were simple: Find happiness in what he had.

No powers? Fine. Life goes on.

He worked hard in school. He maintained his grades, even in the underfunded public system, until he caught the eye of a recruiter from Midtown Tech and was offered a scholarship.

His plan had been simple: study hard, get a good job, and make enough money to pay for his sister's treatment.

On that day—September 10th, 2009—during his first weekend as a Midtown student, he took his sister to Times Square. They took a picture, a snapshot of a moment Hawk believed would be the turning point in their lives, a memory they would cherish forever.

And it was a turning point.

Just not the kind he had imagined.

After their day out, as they were waiting for the bus to go home, the unthinkable happened.

The Abomination appeared. Then the Hulk.

The two monsters began to tear the city apart.

When Hawk had watched it in the movies, he had thought the fight scene was spectacular. But being in the middle of it, he saw the carnage hidden behind the spectacle.

The screams.

The agony, the terror—in the face of that battle, normal people were utterly helpless.

Hawk was there, in the chaos, pulling his sister through the stampeding crowd, trying to escape.

And then...

The Hulk smashed the Abomination into the side of a building. The facade crumbled, and a wave of concrete and steel rained down from the sky, directly on top of them.

That night, Hawk lost his sister.

And in that same moment, his power awakened.

A Blessing?

Hardly...

It was a curse, bought and paid for with his sister's life!!

The ones responsible for her death... they shared the same sky as him, but not for long.

A debt of blood has been incurred. And Hawk would see it paid in full.

...

Chapter Text

A cold fury settled over Hawk's features. His normally calm blue eyes now burned with the inferno of vengeance as the memories of that night—September 10th, 2009—resurfaced.

Gwen watched the inferno in his eyes, her own expression unreadable.

She didn't seem surprised by his reaction.

In fact, she already knew. She had asked her father, George, for a small favor and found Anya’s name on the list of victims from the Hulk's battle with the Abomination.

The photograph had been taken right after Hawk started at Midtown.

But Hawk had never once mentioned the girl in the picture. That silence led Gwen to suspect the worst. Combined with the undeniable family resemblance between Hawk and Anya...

She was a smart girl, and with a police captain for a father, finding the records had been tragically easy.

But.

...

"Abomination is dead, Hawk."

Hawk didn't answer.

He thought of the movies, where Abomination was still alive and well—even getting sprung from prison for some underground fight club. He hadn't seen what came after, but if things followed the usual pattern, Abomination would eventually get a redemption arc.

If it weren't for what had happened that night, he wouldn't have cared. Redeemed, unredeemed—it was all the same to him. But now, the thought of it filled him with a visceral, gut-churning revulsion.

It was sickening. Utterly, fucking, sickening.

The fire in his gut churned, but he forced it down. He rubbed his face, erasing the rage, and when he looked back at Gwen, his expression was calm once more. "So, what's up, Gwen?"

The inferno in his eyes was gone, as if it had never been there.

Gwen looked from the avenger of one second ago to the easygoing friend before her now, a flicker of worry in her eyes. But she could tell he was shutting the door on the topic, so she didn't push.

She offered a small smile of her own. "The recruiters from NYU are at the school today. Mrs. Snow couldn't reach you, so she called me."

"NYU?"

"Yeah." Gwen nodded. "Mrs. Snow said today's the day you have to make a decision. We should go."

Hawk was about to agree, but his eyes fell on the golf bag he had left on the ground nearby. He looked back at Gwen. "You go ahead. I have a meeting. I'm selling something."

Gwen, who had already started to stand up, followed his gaze to the golf bag, then looked back at him.

Their eyes met.

Gwen’s smile was soft, understanding.

"Alright. I'll wait for you by the trail, and we can walk back together."

"...Alright."

Hawk held her gaze for a moment longer, then nodded. He watched as she turned and walked back down the small, wooded path.

Only when she had disappeared from view did he let his gaze fall away, his eyes drawn back to the smiling face of his sister in the photograph on the headstone. For some reason, it seemed to him now that her smile was tinged with a hint of worry.

Hawk smiled faintly, as if speaking to her, or perhaps just to himself. "Don't worry. I'll be fine."

"And so will you... Wait for me—"

"It won't be long. I'm going to tear open the gates of Hell itself and bring you home."

After speaking the words, Hawk took a deep breath, exhaling the last of his turmoil. His expression settled back into its usual calm resolve. He got to his feet, hooked the golf bag with his foot, and caught it smoothly in his hand. He turned and walked away without looking back.

Abomination. The Hulk.

He wouldn't spare either of them. And when he was done with them, he would find a way to get his sister back.

...

After leaving the cemetery, he saw a woman standing a short distance away.

She had a wild, untamed grace, her blonde hair in an elegant chignon. Her ice-blue eyes seemed to dissect everything they saw, set in the face of a woman with a statuesque figure.

As he looked at her, she seemed to sense his gaze and turned.

A silent, instantaneous understanding passed between them.

Hawk gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod.

The woman's eyes lit up, and she walked toward him, extending a hand as she approached. "Anna."

Hawk took her hand, feeling the calluses on her palm. "Hawk."

He released her hand and swung the golf bag from his back, setting it down in front of them. Under Anna's watchful gaze, he unzipped it.

Anna's eyes widened as she saw the five Chitauri energy weapons nestled inside, their power cells still glowing with a faint, eerie light.

She instinctively reached for one.

Hawk zipped the bag shut before her fingers could touch them.

"Money."

"One moment."

Anna didn't miss a beat. She smiled, then pressed a hidden earpiece, murmuring a command in flawless French.

A minute later.

A tall, imposing man in a black suit and sunglasses appeared, pushing a 20-inch carry-on suitcase.

Anna held up a hand, stopping him from approaching. She walked to him, took the suitcase, dismissed him with a nod, and returned to Hawk. She pushed the case toward him. "One million."

Hawk took the suitcase with one hand while passing the golf bag to Anna with the other.

With a sharp click, he opened the case.

The sight of it—a million dollars in crisp, neatly stacked hundreds—was staggering. He'd been poor for so long that the sheer, physical reality of that much cash made his breath catch in his throat.

But he recovered quickly. He didn't bother checking for counterfeit bills. He figured she wasn't stupid enough to try and cheat someone who had a source for Chitauri weaponry.

Hawk snapped the case shut, stood up, and looked at Anna, who had just finished her own inspection.

"Well then..." Hawk spoke first, extending his hand again. "Pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Anna."

Anna smiled, a genuine, dazzling smile, and shook his hand. "Please, just Anna."

Hawk's own lips curved into a slight smile.

"Alright. Pleasure doing business with you, Anna."

"And you, Mr. Hawk. And by the way, this makes us friends now, doesn't it?"

"Sure." Hawk said, the word dripping with indifference.

Anna's smile only widened. "Excellent. As a friend, I've prepared a little gift for you, Mr. Hawk. I do hope you'll like it."

"..."

Chapter Text

Gwen sat in her car across the street from the cemetery gates, a worried expression clouding her features as she stared at the entrance.

She knew that Hawk's sister had died during the battle between the Hulk and the Abomination back in 2009. She had even guessed that this was the driving force behind his relentless, almost desperate need to become stronger.

The method itself was absurd—getting stronger just by throwing punches every day, to the point where he could kill the Lizard with a single slap. It defied all logic and science.

But that didn't matter anymore.

What mattered was that guessing the truth and hearing Hawk confirm it himself were two entirely different things.

But—

This was the Abomination and the Hulk she was talking about.

The Abomination was one thing, he was already dead. But the Hulk? Could Hawk actually beat him? And besides, the Hulk had fought alongside the Avengers. If Hawk went after him, the Avengers would almost certainly try to stop him.

Could Hawk win against all of them?

Gwen's mind was filled with a gnawing anxiety.

She wasn't worried about trying to convince him to let go of his anger. She wasn't going to preach about love and peace.

This was his sister, the only family he had in the world.

If he was supposed to just give up on revenge, then why did the U.S. government launch a full-scale retaliation after being attacked? Weren't they all about love and peace? So why strike back?

And if love and peace were the actual goals, would the government still be stirring up trouble and starting conflicts all over the globe?

Gwen scoffed internally, rolling her eyes.

She wasn't some naive idealist brainwashed by the public school system, she was a product of an elite private school education, a pragmatist who had earned every scholarship she'd ever received.

Just as her thoughts began to spiral, a figure emerged from the cemetery gates: a tall, stunningly beautiful woman with a regal bearing, her face hidden behind dark sunglasses.

It was Anna.

But she looked nothing like the woman who had been smiling and chatting warmly with Hawk just moments before. Now, her perfect face was cold as ice, and she walked with an aura of raw power.

Behind her, a bodyguard in a black suit followed, carrying a golf bag that clearly wasn't for golfing.

A moment later, the roar of an engine echoed down the street. Anna’s flame-red Porsche peeled away from the curb and vanished like a streak of light.

The bodyguard got into a black Chevy SUV and drove away from the cemetery.

...

A little while later, Hawk appeared at the cemetery gate.

Gwen tore her eyes away from the rearview mirror, where the Chevy had just disappeared, and got out of her car as Hawk approached, pulling a rolling carry-on suitcase behind him.

Hawk opened the trunk and lifted the suitcase inside.

Gwen watched as the car's suspension dipped noticeably under the weight. "What is that?"

Hawk stepped aside. "Take a look."

Gwen glanced at Hawk, then reached in and unzipped the suitcase.

Instantly, her eyes went wide.

She drew in a sharp, audible breath. "Hiss..."

"Yeah," Hawk said with a small smile. "That was my reaction too."

Gwen quickly zipped the suitcase shut and shot a nervous look around the street. Seeing that no one was watching, she turned back to Hawk, her eyes wide.

"Where did you get this?"

"I traded five weapons for it."

Hawk shrugged, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "You should know which five."

Gwen froze for a second, then blinked rapidly. "I have no idea what you're talking about..."

"Gwen."

"Hm?"

"My acting might be bad, but your tidying-up skills aren't much better."

"..."

The photo of him and his sister, Anya, on the nightstand.

The weapons under the bed, wrapped in a bedsheet that was clearly not folded the way he'd left it. She must have found the weapons, opened the bundle in shock, and then forgotten how he'd wrapped it in the first place.

Gwen's mouth opened, then closed. She looked completely busted.

The next second, she slammed the trunk shut, her expression suddenly all business. "The people from NYU are here. We need to get back to school. Now."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and marched toward the driver's side door, refusing to even look at him. But as she turned, Hawk noticed the tips of her ears were a faint shade of pink.

It was kind of cute.

Hawk watched her hasty retreat with a small smile. He didn't press the issue, just opened the passenger door and got in.

Gwen stomped on the gas, and the car peeled away from the curb.

On the way back to school, Gwen was a silent, focused driver, still stewing in her embarrassment. She kept her eyes on the road, refusing to look at him or give him an opening to speak.

Hawk, for his part, just sat in the passenger seat, thinking about what Anna had said before she left.

A gift?

What gift??

...

The forty-five-minute drive was completed in a record thirty, thanks to Gwen's uncharacteristically aggressive driving. As they pulled into the school parking lot, she hung up a call with Mrs. Snow.

"The NYU rep is already in the office."

Hawk nodded and got out of the car.

Gwen got out as well and called after him, giving him a quick thumbs-up. "Good luck, Hawk."

"Thanks."

He walked toward the administration building. Gwen didn't follow. This was his NYU interview, not her Berkeley one. It was a formal process, and it wouldn't be appropriate for her to be there.

Knock, knock.

"Come in."

"Mrs. Snow."

Hawk entered the office. His eyes immediately fell on a man in a perfectly tailored suit sitting on the sofa, then shifted to Mrs. Snow. "You wanted to see me?"

Mrs. Snow waved him in. Once the door was closed, she introduced the man, who had just stood up. "Hawk, this is Mr. Gary Cooper. Mr. Cooper is an admissions officer from New York University."

The man stood up as Mrs. Snow continued, "Gary, this is the young man I was telling you about. Hawk."

Hawk quickly extended his hand.

"Mr. Cooper."

"Hawk."

Gary Cooper shook his hand, a brief, professional smile on his face that quickly faded back into a neutral, evaluative expression. "I've reviewed your scholarship application. I have a few questions for you today. Please, have a seat."

Hawk nodded and sat on the sofa opposite him.

Gary sat back down and picked up a notepad. He looked at Hawk, ready to begin.

This was both an evaluation and an interview. If he made a good impression, an admissions officer with Gary's seniority had the authority to give him an on-the-spot acceptance.

Of course. That was only if you were exceptional.

...

An hour later.

Gary Cooper closed his notebook. He looked at Hawk, then at Mrs. Snow's hopeful, expectant face. A genuine smile finally broke through his professional demeanor. He stood up and extended his hand again.

"Congratulations, Hawk. Welcome to NYU."

"Oh! That's wonderful!"

Mrs. Snow gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.

Hawk was stunned for a second, then quickly stood and shook the man's hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Cooper."

"You can thank my colleague, Anna," Cooper said with a knowing look. "She's the one who put your file on my desk."

"..."

Chapter Text

Gary Cooper didn't stay long.

He explained that he had another potential scholarship candidate to evaluate at Trinity School in Manhattan that afternoon.

Mrs. Snow enthusiastically walked him to the door.

Hawk followed, though his mind wasn't on the departing admissions officer. It was replaying Gary Cooper’s parting words...

"Don't thank me. It was my colleague, Anna..."

Hawk connected the dots in an instant, remembering the woman from the cemetery.

"I have a gift for you. I hope you'll like it."

So... this is the gift?

Hawk thought to himself.

...

As soon as Gary Cooper was out of sight, Mrs. Snow returned to her office, her face beaming with pride for Hawk. "This is fantastic, Hawk! I honestly thought they'd take your file back to committee for review. I never imagined he'd offer you a spot for next September on the spot!"

Hearing the joy in Mrs. Snow's voice, Hawk momentarily pushed his thoughts of Anna aside and offered a smile.

"I didn't expect it either."

"This is huge. You know how competitive NYU Law is this year. They have so many exceptional students to choose from. That's why I wanted you to be so prepared. For him to make a decision after the first interview is incredible."

Mrs. Snow let out a visible sigh of relief, then looked at Hawk. "But this isn't the time to relax just yet. Gary said he's going to prepare the paperwork when he gets back. We can't truly celebrate until that official invitation is in your hands."

Despite her words of caution, her expression was completely relaxed.

A college recruiter backing out at this stage was virtually unheard of—

The relationship between private high school counselors and university admissions officers was a symbiotic one, built on professional trust.

Counselors identified promising students and connected them with the right recruiters. It was a system of mutual benefit.

For a recruiter to give their word and then break it would be professional suicide. No counselor would ever recommend a student to them again.

So Mrs. Snow's warning was merely a formality.

But—

Hawk had a feeling that whether or not his invitation actually arrived depended on a phone call with the new "friend" he'd made this morning.

There's no such thing as a free lunch.

What did this Anna want??

As he left Mrs. Snow's office, Hawk's mind was racing. He didn't feel threatened, as if she were holding his future hostage.

The fact that she could influence the scholarship selections at NYU was a testament to her power. It was how the world worked. He didn't see it as some dark conspiracy. The real world was far darker than this.

Hawk preferred to see it for what it was: A Transaction.

It was no different from the parents of those rich kids using their money or connections to buy a letter of recommendation for a prestigious university.

There was no fundamental difference. At the end of the day, it was all just a deal.

But a deal had to be a two-way street.

He would hear out his new friend Anna's terms, and then he would decide whether or not to accept the transaction.

...

Stepping out of the school building, Hawk pulled out his phone. He looked at the most recent number in his call history—unsaved—then slid the phone back into his pocket. He'd deal with it tonight.

A smile touched his lips as he saw Gwen walking toward him.

She had clearly already heard the news. She rushed forward and wrapped him in a joyful hug.

"Wow, that's amazing, Hawk! Congratulations!"

"Thanks." Hawk returned the hug briefly. As they separated, he said, "Mine came through. Yours should be here any day now, Gwen."

Gwen beamed. "Berkeley already called. I had my virtual interview yesterday. They said my official invitation should arrive in the next few days."

Hawk was genuinely stunned. "And you didn't tell me!"

"You weren't at school today," Gwen retorted with a grin, then added, "Besides, that was yesterday. This is your day. It's obvious Anya is looking out for you."

Hawk raised an eyebrow.

Gwen explained, "Think about it. Why would NYU, after all this time, suddenly call Mrs. Snow on the very day you go to see Anya? It's a sign. You were thinking of her, and she was thinking of you!"

Could that be it?

...

That afternoon.

Because of the suitcase full of cash, Hawk didn't bother with the school bus. He got a ride with Gwen back to his apartment.

On the way, Gwen asked curiously, "So, you have a million dollars now. What are you going to do with it?"

Hawk looked at her. "Get my license, buy a car, and then get a suit to take you to the prom."

Gwen stared at him, surprised by his immediate, unhesitating answer. After a moment, she asked, "And...?"

Hawk smiled. "My whole plan was to sell that stuff for the prom. I didn't want you to have any regrets about it."

Call him old-fashioned, call it chauvinistic if you want. But that was exactly what he was thinking—and it was his plan.

As for everything else?

The penthouse apartment, the meteorite he was still hunting for, the Vibranium in Wakanda—a million dollars wasn't going to be nearly enough for any of that.

Gwen met his gaze, her sky-blue eyes shimmering. "Hawk..."

"You're not mad that I sold those weapons?"

"Weapons don't kill people, Hawk. People do."

Gwen's expression turned serious as she met his gaze. "Besides, they were your spoils of war. You have every right to decide what to do with them."

Hawk listened to her words, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

Soon. They arrived at the Queensbridge apartment building.

Hawk stood on the curb, watching as Gwen's yellow Corolla drove away. Only then did he turn, rolling the suitcase inside.

But just as he was about to enter, a voice called out from behind him.

A young man in a courier's uniform was jogging across the street, waving to get his attention.

"Mr. Hawk, wait a second!!"

"..."

Chapter Text

When Hawk got home, he was pulling a twenty-inch carry-on suitcase, but he also had a courier envelope in his left hand.

The delivery driver had just given it to him, explaining it was an overnight delivery sent from New York University that afternoon.

NYU??

Hawk pushed the suitcase aside, sat down on the sofa, and examined the envelope. A moment later, he ripped it open.

Inside was an official acceptance letter to the NYU School of Law.

With a full-ride scholarship.

Hiss.

Hawk drew in a sharp breath. He stared at the document—fully accredited and stamped, valid for enrollment next September—and blinked, a deep frown creasing his brow.

So, this really was a ‘gift with no strings attached, huh?

He thought to himself, his eyes still on the freshly printed letter. He pulled out his phone, went to his recent calls, and dialed the last number.

The call connected almost immediately. The voice on the other end was tinged with a pleasant surprise. "Mr. Hawk!"

"I received your gift."

"Excellent—wait, Mr. Hawk, the letter from NYU wasn't the gift. That was merely a... professional courtesy."

"Oh?"

"I've just checked my records. It seems you haven't viewed the actual gift yet."

Hawk raised an eyebrow.

Anna's voice continued, “Have you not logged back into the secure forum to view my message, Mr. Hawk?”

“One moment,” Hawk said. He stood, walked over to the folding table, activated his phone’s hotspot, and opened his laptop.

It was the same encrypted forum, the same chat window. But now there was a new message, timestamped just after eleven o'clock from Anna.

Hawk's eyes narrowed as he read the new line of text.

["New Jersey. Culver Lake. Bruce Banner and Betty Ross will be spending their Christmas holiday there."]

"..."

HULK!!!!

The name hit him like a physical blow. After processing the information, Hawk's breathing became noticeably heavier.

"Is this information accurate?"

"As of this moment, their itinerary has not changed. The cabin was booked by Ms. Betty Ross herself, and the reservation is still active."

Anna's voice was still laced with a smile. "Do you like your gift, Mr. Hawk?"

"Call me Hawk."

Hawk's voice was low, his eyes still fixed on the message. "I like it very much. Now, what do you want from me?"

Anna smiled. "Mr. Haw—"

"Just Hawk."

"Alright, Hawk."

Her voice now held an even brighter note of delight. "The letter was a courtesy. This is the gift. And one doesn't expect something in return for a gift given to a friend... unless, of course, Hawk doesn't truly consider us friends."

Hawk slowly pulled his gaze from the screen. His voice was deep and serious. "If this information is solid, then from this moment on, you have my friendship, Anna."

He didn’t care who she was, or what organization she represented.

Whoever helps him is his friend.

It was that simple.

Besides, the most likely candidate behind her was Hydra. And so what? After what happened with the Hulk, he'd lost all respect for these so-called superheroes.

The great villain, Hydra?

Heh.

What did Alexandre Dumas say? “The difference between treason and patriotism is only a matter of dates.” Hydra had simply lost. And history is written by the victors.

Hawk's answer was deliberate, a solemn vow. This was the first time he had ever made such a promise.

"I repay my debts, Anna."

"Tell me what you want. If it's within my power to give, it's yours. As long as this intel is good."

"It is a gift. A gift between friends requires no repayment."

Even in the face of his solemn promise, Anna insisted it was nothing more than a token of friendship.

Hawk didn't press the issue.

Then, a thought occurred to him. A slight smile touched his lips. "Actually, I have a proposition. If you can help, perhaps we can make a trade."

Anna paused for a beat, then recovered smoothly.

"Please, go on."

"I require iron meteorites."

"How many?"

“As many as you can get.”

"By when?"

"Before Christmas." Hawk's tone was even. "But I have no money to give you. In exchange, you can name your price. If it is something in my possession, our deal is made."

His Phoenix constellation was still in the process of refining the Gammanium.

The process required the constellation's power to imbue the material with the potential for life. Hawk estimated it would be complete by the Christmas holiday, at which point he could move on to refining the meteorites.

His original plan had been to acquire the meteorites over the holiday, and then, after he turned eighteen and could legally leave the country, go to Wakanda and take the Vibranium he needed.

He couldn’t fly, and he had no way of getting there illegally.

But now?

An opportunity had just presented itself.

Whether Anna or whoever was backing her was trying to win favor or set a trap—it made no difference.

He was satisfied with their gift. And the more they insisted they wanted nothing, the more he felt compelled to give them something.

He didn't care who his friends were, only whether they were useful.

After Hawk stated his terms, the line went silent again.

No doubt Anna was consulting with the power behind her—the one who could actually make the decision.

Hawk didn't rush her. He put the phone on speaker and pulled up a satellite map, searching for Culver Lake in New Jersey.

A moment later, Anna's voice returned, though this time it was laced with caution, as if she were afraid of overplaying her hand and angering him.

"Mr. Haw—"

"Hawk. We're friends now, Anna."

"Alright." Hearing his interruption, Anna chuckled, some of her earlier confidence returning.

"Is anything truly on the table?"

"Of course. Anything in my possession."

"Then..." Anna paused, as if steeling herself, before she made her request. “Could we... have a sample of your blood?”

Hearing this, Hawk simply raised an eyebrow.

Chapter Text

"My blood?"

The cautious, almost timid tone in Anna's voice was all the confirmation Hawk needed. He raised an eyebrow, a cold, knowing certainty settling in his mind.

So... Hydra?

His mind instantly flashed back to the moment before the Quantico job, just after he’d dealt with the would-be robber. He remembered that faint, prickling sensation of being watched from above, a fleeting but undeniable feeling of being observed.

A slow, dangerous smile touched Hawk's lips.

Just as he'd always thought, he didn't care about factions or affiliations. All that mattered was how people treated him.

And right now, HYDRA was treating him with a proposition.

His response was immediate and disarmingly casual. "Sure."

"Ah." Anna sounded like she couldn't believe he'd agreed so readily.

Hawk smiled. "How much do you need? Don't tell me you want a bucket. Even if you drained me dry, you probably wouldn't get that much."

"No, no! Just a vial will be enough."

"A vial??"

Hawk raised an eyebrow again, then laughed. "One vial is hardly worth the trouble. Tell you what, I'll give you two hundred milliliters. You can have your people draw it themselves when you deliver the meteorite."

Whatever their reasons, if Hydra was going to be generous, he certainly wouldn't be stingy.

Besides, his true power came from his Cosmo. Especially now, with the Phoenix constellation ignited, his physical body was almost an afterthought.

As long as his Cosmo burned, he could not die. Even if he were struck down, he would be reborn from the Phoenix's embers the next.

So, what’s a little blood?

But then a thought struck him. In a light tone edged with steel, he added, "Anna, you should know, I'm always very generous with my friends..."

"Thank you!!" Anna's voice became excited, clearly surprised by his generosity and the offer to have them handle the blood draw.

But then another thought seemed to strike her, and her tone became cautious again. "Mr... Hawk, aren't you worried about what we might do with your blood?"

Hawk laughed. "What are you going to do? Clone me?"

"What? No, of course not!! We would never."

"Good."

Hawk, who had been studying a satellite map of Calver Lake, New Jersey, glanced at the phone, still on speaker. "As long as it's not cloning, I don't really care what you do with it."

It was just as Gwen had said: people are the weapons, not the tools they use.

Anna gives him a meteorite, he gives her his blood. It was a simple transaction. What she did with it afterward was her business.

Honestly, even if they did try to clone him, he wouldn't be that concerned.

It would just be... annoying. And it would be a shame to have to end their budding friendship so soon.

"Just one rule. Don't go making any copies of me. If you do, we won't be friends anymore. And you won't like what happens next."

"You have my word. You can rest assured on that point," Anna promised immediately.

Hawk grunted in acknowledgment, ready to end the call. "Just let me know when the meteorite is ready. I'm in no rush. As long as it's here before Christmas."

Anna agreed.

Hawk hung up, picked up the phone, and edited the new contact before saving it.

His contact list now contained exactly four people.

Gwen (Girlfriend)

Mrs. Snow (Counselor)

Peter Parker (The Spider)

Anna (HYDRA?)

That was it.

Honestly, if Gwen ever glanced at his phone, she’d know Spider-Man’s secret identity instantly.

Hawk saved the number, then dismissed the matter from his mind, his focus returning to the satellite map on his computer screen.

The Hulk.

Hawk's eyes glinted.

During the long days of his training, he had prepared for two possibilities.

The first was that his power-up would be the Cosmo he remembered, which would give him the strength to get his revenge on his own terms.

The second was the Lawyer Path.

If his power had turned out to be a dud, or if it had all been a dream, he would have used the legal system to pursue his vengeance. That was the path he had set for himself—from lawyer to judge.

It would have taken years, decades even, and there was no guarantee of success.

But it would have been better than doing nothing.

Now, that second path was no longer necessary. He didn't need to rely on outside forces anymore. He had more than enough power to see this through himself.

But the Hulk was damn good at hiding.

After getting the new computer from Skye, Hawk had tried to track him, but Banner was a master at the game.

General Ross, with the full might of the United States military at his disposal, had failed to find him. What chance did he have on his own?

Then again, considering Ross hadn't been able to find him either, Hawk was starting to doubt Ross's skills at the game.

But that was no longer important.

He knew where the Hulk would be this Christmas. That was all that mattered.

This time, there would be no escape.

Hawk had actually seen the Hulk during the Battle of New York three months ago. For a moment, he had been consumed by the urge to attack.

But he wasn't a fool. Back then, he had a newly awakened Cosmo, no Phoenix constellation, and no armor. And the Hulk was surrounded by the Avengers, including a literal God of Thunder.

If Hawk had made a move then, the God of Thunder would have sided with the Hulk, no question.

So, he had suppressed the urge.

Revenge is a dish best served cold...

He had already waited over a thousand days. What was a few more?

...

His original plan had been to wait even longer, to forge his Phoenix Armor first, then go after the Hulk. A suit of Celestial armor that would let him stand toe-to-toe with the God of Thunder himself.

But now, the prey had wandered out of its den before the hunter had finished preparing his tools.

And that...

Was just fine.

When an opportunity presents itself, you take it.

Since you came to me, this is where you'll be buried.

Hawk stared at the satellite map on his screen, his eyes narrowing to slits.

"Anya..."

"Just wait a little longer. This Christmas, I will send the Hulk to Hell."

"..."

Chapter Text

Time had never moved so slowly for Hawk before.

But it was now.

Christmas had always been a special time. Back at the group home, his sister, Anya, had loved it. Every Christmas Eve, a few kind-hearted staff members would hand out small, cheap gifts, and for her, it was magical.

Because of her, Hawk had come to love it too.

But after she was gone—after September 10th, 2009—he had spent that first Christmas Eve alone, having snuck into the cemetery to be with her.

Since then, he hated the holiday.

He didn't just dislike it, he found the noise and forced cheer of the holiday unbearable.

But this year, Hawk was desperately, impatiently waiting for it to arrive.

Time has a funny way of working, though. The more you watch it, the slower it goes. It's only when you're not paying attention that it seems to vanish in a flash.

Realizing this, Hawk forced himself to stop counting the days, to lock himself back into his usual, relentless routine.

And finally, the week before Christmas, Midtown Tech officially let out for the holidays.

Hawk went home with Gwen.

His plan had been to head straight to New Jersey that same day, to begin his stakeout for the Hulk. But Gwen's mother had been so insistent with her invitation that he couldn't find a polite way to refuse.

...

When they got back to the Goring Building. George hadn't returned from work yet, so Hawk went with Gwen up to her room.

He was familiar with her bedroom by now.

He walked in and sat down on the edge of her bed as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Gwen pulled her desk chair over and sat down, calling Mary Jane.

A few minutes later. Gwen ended the call with a laugh, set her phone aside, and turned to Hawk. "MJ was asking if we had any plans for the break. She suggested the four of us could do something together."

Hawk said. "Four of us?"

"Her and Peter."

"Well, I'll be damned..."

Hawk was taken aback for a second, then a grin spread across his face. "When did that happen?"

Gwen leaned in, her expression serious. "You're not going to believe this. Today. Right after Norman Osborn's funeral. And get this—MJ was the one who made the first move."

A look of genuine surprise crossed Hawk's face.

"For real?"

"I know, right?"

"Wow." Hawk nodded slowly. He really hadn't expected the Peter of this world to actually say yes to MJ.

But then, He thought back to last Sunday night, when Peter had tapped on his window, seeking him out to confess that he had just killed his best friend's father.

Just like in the original story, the Green Goblin, Norman Osborn, was dead.

And he had died in the same way—killed by his own glider after a failed attempt to stab Peter in the back, even after Peter had spared him.

But one detail was different.

In the original version, Harry had walked in on Peter returning his father's body. Here, that hadn't happened. Instead, right after it was over, Peter had come straight to Hawk's apartment and told him everything.

Hawk, who had just returned from his own recon trip to New Jersey, had been exhausted and in no mood for company.

He was ready to tell Peter to get lost, but the look on his face—haunted, lost, and heavy with guilt over his best friend’s father’s death—made him pause...

Instead, he cracked open a couple of Cokes and let Peter talk it all out.

And now, It seemed his intervention had caused a butterfly effect. Peter hadn't rejected the girl of his dreams... he had actually accepted her confession.

...

Hawk smiled and said to Gwen, "That's great. Peter's always been crazy about her."

"MJ always knew," Gwen said, then her brow furrowed. She looked at Hawk, a knowing glint in her eye. "But Peter... he's just like a certain someone I know. Pretending he doesn't care when he actually cares a lot."

Hawk met her gaze, which seemed to speak volumes.

Gwen's lips curved into a smile.

"Am I wrong?"

"No."

Hawk shook his head.

Gwen's smile widened. She blinked slowly, her eyes sparkling. "So you admit it? You've had a thing for me since freshman year?"

Hawk held her gaze, a slow smile forming on his own face. "Yes."

"I knew it." Gwen had the answer she wanted, and her happiness was radiant. She leaned her head to the side, resting it against her chair. "It was the same for me."

She understood Peter's hesitation with Mary Jane perfectly. Because she'd been through it herself.

Her smile grew more confident. "And now I'm absolutely certain Peter is Spider-Man."

"Because if he wasn't, he never would have found the courage to be with MJ."

"Right??"

"..."

Hawk looked at Gwen, who was once again trying to get him to confirm Peter's identity. He gave her the same, practiced answer. "Again, I'm not confirming anything, and I'm not denying."

Gwen shrugged. "Whatever. Now that he's with MJ, it's only a matter of time before she finds out. And when she does, she'll definitely tell me."

MJ was the biggest gossip. She might not tell anyone else, but she would absolutely tell her.

Gwen's thoughts then returned to the phone call. "So, what should I tell them? A twenty-one-day break is a long time. A couples' trip could be fun."

She looked at him, her eyes bright with anticipation.

Hawk didn't answer right away. A slight frown creased his forehead.

Gwen noticed. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure yet." Hawk thought for a moment, then gave her an apologetic smile. "I have something I need to take care of over the break. I just don't know which day it's going to be yet."

Gwen blinked. "Something you need to do?"

"Yes."

"..." Gwen watched him, then tilted her head slightly. "If I asked you what it was, would you tell me?"

Hawk met her gaze. She stared back. Their eyes locked for a long moment. He let out a soft chuckle and nodded. "If you're asking, I'll tell you."

Gwen nodded back. The next second, her expression became serious. "Okay, then. I'm asking, Hawk. Tell me."

After a long moment of silence. He spoke two words.

"Killing someone."

"..."

Chapter Text

Hawk had never intended to hide things from Gwen.

At least, not since they had made their relationship official. He had never concealed his true strength or anything else from her.

There should be no secrets between lovers.

That was his own belief, reinforced by the hard-learned lessons from countless movie characters whose lives were ruined by the misunderstandings and irreversible consequences born from concealment.

Just as he'd said.

If you ask, I'll tell you.

And so, he told her—

"Killing someone."

"..."

The smile on Gwen's face froze.

See? I told you. You're not happy.

Hawk thought to himself, a wry, internal smile touching his lips. But he felt no disappointment, no sense of loss.

Gwen, at her core, was a good person.

If she had heard him say he was going to kill someone and had reacted with anything other than shock—with excitement, even—then he would have been the one to worry.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Gwen seemed to recover from the initial shock.

Her response was just as direct.

"Who?"

"The Hulk."

"Bruce Banner is back in New York?"

"No."

"Then..."

"I have intel that he'll be spending the Christmas holiday in New Jersey."

Hawk held nothing back, laying the entire plan out for her.

Gwen was silent for a moment, then a look of realization dawned on her face. "So, those weekends you spent in New Jersey... you were..."

Hawk gave a slight, grim smile. "Reconnaissance. Pre-battle preparations."

Failing to plan is planning to fail. He had gone to the location, studied the layout, and run through a dozen different combat scenarios in his head.

He had already mapped out several escape routes the Hulk might take if he tried to run.

In a word:

This Christmas, the Hulk had to die.

His sister, Anya, was waiting in Hell for him to avenge her, and he would not make her wait any longer for her vengeance.

After the Hulk, it would be the Abomination's turn.

Hawk wasn't as rushed about the Abomination. He wasn't going anywhere. Since that night, he had been locked away and controlled by the military.

Hawk even knew where he was being held—right there at the Quantico military base. He hadn't gone after him that night because some things have to be done in order.

First the Hulk, then the Abomination.

As the final piece of his plan settled in his mind, Gwen's voice cut through his thoughts, firm and resolute. "I'm going with you!"

"..."

Hawk snapped back to reality, his eyes locking with hers. He thought he must have misheard.

"What??"

"I said, I'm going with you." Gwen's gaze was unwavering, her voice firm and absolute.

Hawk almost laughed. He shook his head, a sense of absurdity washing over him.

"Gwen, I'm going to kill someone."

"I know. And I'm going with you."

"..."

Hawk stared at her, at the absolute conviction in her eyes. He tried to reason with her, a tired, pleading smile on his face. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm serious. I'm going with you."

"Why?"

"If you're going to Hell, I'm going with you."

"..."

Hawk fell silent. He looked at Gwen.

She looked right back at him...

After a long moment, Hawk let out a short, humorless laugh. "Are you worried I'm going to die?"

Gwen shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. "I don't know. But I know I'm not going to sit here in New York and just wait."

That was so Gwen.

Hawk was silent for another moment, then shook his head again.

"No."

"This isn't a discussion, Hawk. You know me. If I want to find you, I will." Her voice was calm. "If you win, we come back together. If you die, I go to Hell with you."

She paused, a faint, bittersweet smile touching her lips. "Besides, from the moment I ran off to Maryland and found you in that waterfall... I think maybe we were damned to go to Hell together anyway."

Go to Hell together?

Hawk looked at her, at the way she spoke of damnation as if it were a casual afternoon plan, and he couldn't help but smile. "You think Hell is a place you can just decide to visit? I haven't even—"

Gwen's brow furrowed, thinking he was trying to change the subject. "Hawk, I'm being serious."

"So am I." Hawk sighed, seeing the stern look on her face. He stood up from the bed and walked over to her, looking down at her as she sat in the desk chair.

He took a deep breath.

"Alright," he said, his voice soft but clear. "We'll go to Hell together."

Gwen stood up and wrapped her arms around him, the tension in her face melting away into a radiant smile. She held him tight, their faces close.

"Okay. Then you have to hold my hand. I don't want to get lost."

"I won't let go."

"Promise me. Swear on Anya's name."

"..."

The sudden, intimate gravity of her demand shattered the mood. Hawk looked down at her, a wry, almost pained smile on his face. "You really know how to play dirty, don't you?"

Gwen gave a slight, knowing shrug, her hands linked around his waist. She tilted her head back to look up at him. "Hawk, it's clear I know exactly how to handle you, isn't it?"

Hawk looked at her upturned, smiling face and sighed in defeat. "Yes. You absolutely do."

"Then swear, Hawk."

"Do I have to?"

"Of course."

Gwen said with a smile. "Don't think I haven't seen the movies. You'll agree to anything now, and then the moment my back is turned, you'll knock me out and leave me behind."

Damn it.

Never date a girl who's smarter than you are.

Hawk looked at his girlfriend's smiling, expectant eyes, sighed one more time, and met her gaze with a serious expression.

"We go to Hell together?"

"Together."

"Alright."

Hawk took a final, deep breath. With Gwen watching him intently, he swore on his sister Anya's name. He shook his head, a resigned look on his face.

"You happy now?"

"Almost. If you'll agree to one more thing."

"What?" Gwen's smile faded, her expression becoming completely serious. "I know you don't want to be a hero. I'm not asking you to be. But Hawk, please, don't be a villain. Try to be a decent man."

"Try to be a man who can live with himself, no matter what."

"Can you do that?"

"..."

Chapter Text

In the small but cozy bedroom, Hawk and Gwen held each other in a quiet embrace.

don't be a villain. Try to be a decent man...

Gwen's words echoed in his mind like an angelic whisper.

Hawk pressed his lips together.

"I've never wanted to be a villain."

"I know." Gwen's reply was immediate and certain. She tightened her arms around him, her gaze never leaving his. "So please, keep being one of the good guys, Hawk."

The definitions of "Good" and "Evil" were often decided by public perception.

Spider-Man, for instance, was a good guy because most people loved him.

Hydra, on the other hand, was the definition of evil because most people hated them.

But perception was fickle. For everyone who loved Spider-Man, there was someone like the NYPD who despised the vigilante. And for all the hatred directed at Hydra, there were always those who secretly admired them.

But being a decent person... that didn't require a consensus. It was about being true to yourself, about being able to sleep at night without being haunted by your past.

Hawk met Gwen's gaze and gave a firm nod.

"I promise."

"Thank you." A smile bloomed on Gwen's face, radiant and pure. She hugged him tightly, burying her face in his chest...

Just then, the bedroom door, which had been left ajar, was pushed open from the outside.

"Gwen, dinner is—"

"Oh."

Helen stood in the doorway, seeing the two teenagers locked in an embrace. She blinked, and a smile spread across her face as she watched Gwen spring from Hawk's arms like a startled deer. "Sorry, carry on. But Gwen, honey, you really should put a 'Do not Disturb' sign on your door."

With a chuckle, Helen started to close the door.

Gwen's ears turned a shade of pink.

"Mom!" she groaned, chasing after her.

Hawk couldn't help but laugh at Helen's teasing. He followed Gwen out of the bedroom.

Tonight's dinner was a celebration for Hawk and Gwen finishing their semester, and an official congratulations for both of them receiving acceptance letters from their top-choice universities.

But unlike the first time Hawk had eaten here, things were different.

That first dinner had been formal, with separate plates and a tense atmosphere. Tonight was a relaxed, family-style meal.

The mood was cheerful and lively, mostly thanks to Gwen's two younger brothers, with Helen and Gwen adding to the chatter.

As the head of the family, George maintained his usual stern, serious expression, upholding his fatherly authority.

The two youngest, nine-year-old Howard and eight-year-old Simon, were excitedly discussing where they wanted to go for their winter vacation.

As the captain of the 19th Precinct, George's salary was enough to support his large family and still afford a couple of nice vacations each year.

Helen rested her chin on her hand, a warm smile on her face as she listened to her sons' chatter. Then, a thought occurred to her. She looked over at Hawk. "Hawk, do you have any plans for the holidays? If not, you’re welcome to join us. Right, George?"

George met his wife's gaze, then glanced at Hawk, his expression unreadable. "I have no objection."

His reservations about Hawk were born from the primal instinct to protect his daughter from the 'animal' who had captured her heart.

But setting that aside, Hawk was a good kid.

That wasn't just idle praise.

Being an orphan might have been a disadvantage before, but after securing a full scholarship to NYU, it was no longer a factor.

He was the classic rags-to-riches story: a kid with a hellish start who had, through sheer force of will, carved out a promising future for himself.

A full scholarship meant he wouldn't have to worry about the crushing debt of law school. Once he graduated and passed the bar, a bright future was all but guaranteed.

Of course, that was unless he had a crisis of conscience and decided to become some pro-bono crusader for the little guy. Otherwise, with the connections from NYU Law, he'd be able to afford a new car in six months, a house in a year, and achieve financial freedom in three. It wasn't just a dream.

Hawk was about to politely decline Helen's invitation when Gwen cut in. "Mom, I don't think Hawk or I will have time."

"Why not?"

"MJ invited us to go on a trip with her over the break. We just haven't decided on a time or place yet."

"Mary Jane..."

"She's dating Peter now."

"Peter? Oh, I know him. Isn't he..."

Helen's eyes widened. She remembered that Peter was Mary Jane's neighbor. The topic was successfully derailed, and Gwen and her mother were soon deep in a gossip session about MJ and Peter's new relationship.

Apparently, gossip was a timeless, ageless pastime for women.

Helen and Gwen chatted excitedly.

...

Soon, Dinner was over. Just as before, Gwen drove him home, since he had to catch the subway.

"I thought you were going to get your driver's license. Still haven't done it?"

"I'll do it after I get back." Hawk said with a smile. The Hulk was the main event of this Christmas break.

Gwen nodded. "Okay. When are you planning on going to New Jersey?"

Hawk shook his head. "I don't know yet. I'm waiting for a call."

Anna was keeping an eye on the situation for him. The fact that she hadn't called yet meant that Bruce Banner and Betty Ross were still on schedule.

In a way, no news was good news.

He hoped the Hulk would show up at Culver University as planned. The scenery was nice. It was a good place for an eternal rest. And more importantly, it was remote. The risk of civilian casualties was low.

His own sister had been killed in the collateral damage of the fight between the Hulk and the Abomination.

He knew the pain of losing someone that way.

He refused to inflict that same pain on another family.

Just then, his phone rang.

It was Anna.

Hawk raised an eyebrow, gave Gwen a quick look, and answered the call. "Hello."

"It's time? Understood. Where?"

"I'll be there."

"See you then."

"..."

Chapter Text

A few days later.

Cape Liberty Cruise Port in Bayonne, New Jersey.

Gwen parked the car, and as she stepped out, she took in the breathtaking view of the Statue of Liberty and the iconic Manhattan skyline. She let out a soft gasp of awe and turned to Hawk as he got out of the passenger side.

"I've never seen the Statue of Liberty and the Manhattan skyline from this angle before. It's beautiful, isn't it, Hawk?"

"It's alright."

Hawk gave the monument a cursory glance, his eyes sweeping over the distant city with a practiced indifference.

Gwen's mouth opened, a retort on her lips, but she just sighed. She should have known better than to discuss aesthetics with him. She quickly changed the subject.

"So, where's this friend you mentioned?"

"We're early," Hawk's voice was calm. "The meeting is at ten. It's only nine."

He had gotten the call from Anna a few nights ago, just as he was leaving Gwen's house. When Gwen had asked who it was, he had told her.

Just as he'd promised, he wouldn't hide things from her if she asked. But upon hearing that Anna was the one providing him with information, Gwen had insisted on coming along.

Hawk had agreed.

And so, here they were. Gwen had shown up at his apartment first thing in the morning, and now they were an hour early for a ten o'clock meeting.

An hour wasn't long. In what felt like the blink of an eye, ten o'clock arrived.

Right on cue, an unremarkable semi-truck rolled into the port. It gave two short blasts of its horn, catching their attention.

Hawk turned to watch as the truck slowed to a stop beside them.

The driver's side door opened.

It was Anna.

Her blonde hair was tied up in a high, neat ponytail, and she wore a pair of stylish, intellectual glasses. She hopped down from the cab, a warm smile on her face. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Hawk."

Hawk returned the smile. "For a friend, I'm a very patient man, Anna."

Anna's gaze then shifted to Gwen, and a flicker of surprise crossed her otherwise composed features. She looked back at Hawk. "And this is...?"

"Gwen. My girlfriend," Hawk said simply. "Anna. My friend."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Gwen."

Hearing Hawk's introduction, Anna's smile widened. She pulled off her driving glove and extended a hand to Gwen.

Gwen shook it, her own smile polite but measured. "You too."

She had seen this woman before.

But, Gwen thought back to that day, waiting in the car, watching the woman who walked with a chilling purpose, a cold and untouchable air about her—a walking iceberg.

She couldn't reconcile that image with the warm, smiling woman standing before her now. Gwen kept the thought to herself, pushing her curiosity down.

After shaking Gwen's hand, Anna turned her attention back to Hawk. "So, is this enough?"

"Let's see..."

Hawk nodded. Anna turned and led him to the back of the truck's trailer.

Gwen followed close behind.

As the trailer doors swung open, Hawk's eyes widened. The entire container was filled, almost to the brim, with iron meteorites.

Gwen gasped, staring at the massive haul.

Anna patted the side of the container and looked at Hawk with a satisfied smile. "Sorry, this was a bit rushed. I could only find thirty tons. If it's not enough, I can have my people find more."

Hawk felt a muscle in his jaw twitch.

Rushed? Thirty tons? Not enough?

Okay. No doubt about it now. It's Hydra!!

In the entire world, besides government-level entities, only an organization like Hydra would have the resources to gather thirty tons of iron meteorites in just three months.

The thoughts raced through Hawk's mind, but his expression remained calm. He looked at Anna and smiled. "It's more than enough. I'm very satisfied. Thank you."

How many meteorites did it take to forge a Saint Armor?

What he truly needed wasn't the meteorites themselves, but the Stardust Sand he could create by grinding them down with the power of his Cosmo.

But even so, thirty tons was a staggering amount. It was enough to forge the Phoenix Armor with plenty to spare for the next one.

Hearing his answer, Anna's smile grew even wider. She patted the container again. "So, do you want to haul it away, or—"

"..."

She didn't get to finish her sentence. Hawk was already moving.

The next second, Anna's eyes widened, her pupils contracting as she watched what happened next.

She saw Hawk walk straight up to the open trailer. He took a deep breath, and as he extended his right hand, the thirty tons of meteorites inside began to vanish, piece by piece, as if drawn by an unseen force.

From a perspective only Hawk could see.

Hawk's Cosmo had projected itself into reality, a slowly rotating black hole that was pulling the meteorites into its depths.

Within that inner universe, the Phoenix constellation flared like a star going supernova.

The meteorites, once inside his Cosmo, would be pulverized by its power, ground into a fine silver dust. This dust would then be drawn into the Phoenix constellation and refined by its ethereal flames, becoming one of the three essential materials for his Saint Armor: Stardust Sand.

But just like with the Gammanium, the process would take time. A Saint Armor was a living thing; the longer it had to mature and absorb power, the stronger it would become.

...

In the blink of an eye, the entire thirty-ton payload had vanished.

Anna could only stare in stunned silence. Beside her, Gwen was equally shocked by the bizarre, impossible scene.

Having finished, Hawk showed the first sign of strain, a flicker of fatigue in his eyes.

After all, this universe had no Saints. If the Marvel Universe was a video game, his power system wasn't part of its native code.

He could burn his Cosmo to manifest it in reality, but compared to how it would work in its home universe, it was like trying to run software on incompatible hardware. It worked, but it was inefficient—twice the effort for half the result.

But he already had a solution for that.

Just as he had an idea on how to increase the power of his armor over time.

Those were problems for later, though. First, he needed to actually forge the armor.

Hawk let out a slow breath, the weariness in his eyes vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. He looked at the still-stunned Anna and extended his right arm. "Let's do this."

Anna snapped out of her trance, a confused look on her face.

Hawk smiled. "200 milliliters isn't going to cut it this time."

Anna's eyes widened in understanding.

But before her expression could change, Hawk spoke again, his voice calm and steady.

"I'll give you 400."

"..."

Chapter Text

In the sunlight, the blood glittered like starlight as it was slowly drawn from his body and into the blood bag.

Hawk sat in the chair, squeezing a grip strengthener in his hand while gazing at the distant Statue of Liberty on Liberty Island.

Anna watched with a look of reverence, her eyes fixed on the blood pooling in the bag as if gazing upon a holy relic.

The blood inside seemed to shimmer with the brilliance of a diamond in the sun.

Just then.

A phone rang.

Anna took out her phone, glanced at the caller ID, and after a quick apology to Hawk, she stepped away to take the call.

Gwen, who had been sitting quietly to the side, shot a glance at Anna before turning to Hawk, lowering her voice.

"So, let me get this straight. You traded 400 milliliters of your blood for an entire truckload of iron meteorites?"

"Yep." Hawk nodded slightly, looking at Gwen. "Do you think I got the better end of the deal?"

Gwen opened her mouth, then closed it. From a purely monetary perspective, there was no question. Hawk had made out like a bandit. After all, how much could you get for selling blood?

According to the latest rates from New York's blood banks, 400 milliliters of blood would get you about a hundred and fifty dollars.

But iron meteorites??

Gwen had just looked it up. Just last week, a thirty-five-kilogram iron meteorite had sold for two hundred and ten thousand dollars at a New York auction house.

If you did the math, Thirty tons of iron meteorites would be worth over one hundred and seventy-nine million dollars.

Gwen’s brow furrowed as she looked at him. “Hawk, this isn’t just any blood. Yours is...”

"How about this, then?"

Hawk met her gaze with a calm smile. "I'll call off the deal, give Anna back her meteorites, and tomorrow, I'll just go... appropriate the ones Osborn and Stark have in their collections. That should be enough, and I won't have to give up a single drop of blood. How does that sound?"

Gwen stared at him, speechless for a moment.

Then, seeing the teasing glint in his eyes, she realized he was joking and rolled her own in response. “Okay, fine. But you know what your blood can do. Aren’t you worried that Anna will—”

She cut herself off as Anna finished her call and started walking back toward them.

Hawk understood Gwen's unspoken fear.

"Don't worry," he said softly. "I made a deal with Anna. No cloning. That's the only rule. Besides, this is a one-time thing. And selling my blood is a lot closer to being a 'Good guy' than being a highway robber, wouldn't you say?"

Gwen fell silent. When faced with a choice between selling his blood and becoming a superpowered cat burglar, the answer was obvious. It was better than the alternative.

...

At that moment, Anna returned, a look of excitement on her face.

"I have an update," she said to Hawk. "Tony Stark's private jet, which landed in Bangalore yesterday, has just taken off. It's scheduled to arrive at two P.M. on the 22nd at a private airfield thirty kilometers from Culver Lake."

The twenty-second. That’s today.

A sharp, intense light flashed in Hawk’s eyes. “Are you sure?”

"It's confirmed." Anna handed Hawk a small, palm-sized tablet. On the screen was airport surveillance footage. It clearly showed Bruce Banner boarding a private jet.

Hawk smiled, then glanced at Gwen. “Well, that’s a relief. You won’t have to make up an excuse to ditch your mom on Christmas Eve.”

The twenty-fourth was Christmas Eve.

He had been worried that the Hulk wouldn’t show up until the twenty-fourth. Now, with any luck, this would all be over by tonight.

Gwen didn't respond to that, instead asking, "Tony Stark's private jet? But I thought Tony Stark was missing?"

It was true. Tony Stark had vanished again. Last time it was in the Middle East. This time, it was right here in Los Angeles. And this time, his Malibu mansion was nothing but rubble—payback for publicly declaring war on the Mandarin last week.

Of course, Hawk knew this Mandarin—the one responsible for the Extremis virus—was just an actor. The real one was probably too busy trying to resurrect his dead wife to be bothered with any of this.

...

“Stark might be missing, but his company is still running,” Anna explained. “The flight was probably scheduled weeks ago. But we have a theory.”

"What is it?"

“We think Banner is coming early because he heard about what happened to Tony. He’s coming to help.”

“...That’s possible—” Hawk nodded thoughtfully.

A moment later, a dry, humorless chuckle escaped him. He handed the tablet back to Anna. “—Well, if I get the chance, I’ll have to be sure to thank Tony Stark.”

If it weren't for Stark's dramatic disappearance, Bruce Banner probably wouldn't have shown up until Christmas Eve.

But now, Iron Man was missing, and the Hulk was arriving ahead of schedule. From that perspective, Hawk really did owe him one.

Anna smiled but said nothing. She put the tablet away and, seeing that the blood bag was full, quickly and carefully removed the needle from Hawk's arm. The moment the needle was out, the puncture mark on Hawk's arm healed completely in the blink of an eye.

Hawk rolled down his sleeve and stood up from the chair.

Anna placed the blood bag into a hand-held, cryogenic briefcase with the care one would reserve for a priceless jewel.

With a soft click, she locked it, a look of profound relief on her face.

Anna then looked up at Hawk. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Hawk smiled, then glanced at Gwen. He said nothing more, instead taking her hand and leading her toward the yellow Corolla parked nearby.

Anna stood and watched them go.

Gwen got into the driver's seat, started the car, and looked at Hawk in the passenger seat. Even though she already knew the answer, she asked anyway. "So, where to now?"

Hawk turned to her, a sharp smile on his face. "Culver!"

"TIME FOR A LITTLE PAYBACK!"

"..."

Chapter Text

In the blink of an eye, the yellow Corolla was gone, disappearing down the road.

Just as it vanished, a fiery red sports car, its engine a low growl, pulled up and stopped smoothly in front of Anna. Her expression, which had softened in Gwen’s presence, now reverted to a mask of cold, efficient professionalism.

A burly subordinate in a black suit emerged from the driver's side.

"Take this to the base," Anna commanded, her voice clipped and precise.

"Understood."

She removed the sunglasses clipped to her blouse, slid them on, and handed over the reinforced briefcase containing the 400ml of Hawk's blood. Without another word, she slipped into the passenger seat of the sports car.

The engine roared to life, and the car peeled away, vanishing as quickly as it had arrived.

The subordinate, his face an impassive mask, turned and walked back toward the docks, the valuable briefcase held firmly in his hand.

A few minutes later, Anna, now clear of the port, made a call. It connected instantly.

"Anna."

"Sir. The transaction is complete. However, there was a minor complication."

"Explain."

"Gwen Stacy was present."

"Hm?" The voice on the other end was surprised, but only for a moment. "It seems his attachment to her is genuine."

"Yes, sir," Anna confirmed.

Just then, a third voice, arrogant and dismissive, cut in on the line. "Sir, if that's the case, why don't we just use the girl—"

"SILENCE."

"NO."

The superior's sharp command and Anna's firm rejection came at the exact same instant. The third man was clearly taken aback. After a curt "Get out" from the superior, the sound of retreating footsteps echoed over the line.

Once he was gone, the superior's voice returned, calm and calculating. "Anna, your reasoning."

"Sir, Hawk bringing her here means one of two things: either he's a fool, or he's supremely confident. I do not believe he is a fool... After our initial call, he must have guessed we were from..."

She trailed off, choosing her words carefully. Even on a secure line, some names were best left unspoken.

The superior chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Indeed. Issue a directive: no one is to take any action against Gwen Stacy. Our relationship with Hawk is, for the moment, beneficial."

"And besides," He continued, his voice taking on a thoughtful, almost philosophical tone, "When a Demon King puts on his own shackles, the last thing you want to do is touch them. Do that, and you're not fighting a man anymore—you're unleashing the very monster he was trying to chain."

"Let him believe he has a weakness to protect. It keeps him manageable."

"Understood, sir."

"Maintain the current relationship, Anna. Our cooperation is proving to be very... fruitful."

"Yes, sir."

With her report concluded, Anna ended the call. Her focus returned to the road, the sports car a red blur as it sped toward the distant lights of Manhattan.

...

Heading in the opposite direction, Gwen’s yellow Corolla ate up the miles, carrying them toward Culver University.

She glanced at Hawk, who had leaned his head back against the passenger seat the moment they’d gotten in. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and measured.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice soft.

"Conserving my energy," he replied without opening his eyes. "Getting into the right state of mind. The Hulk isn't an easy kill."

It wasn't just the Hulk's incredible regenerative abilities; it was the fundamental, terrifying core of his power.

The angrier he gets, the stronger he gets.

Theoretically, the Hulk was immortal. When Iron Man snapped his fingers, he died. When the Hulk did it—he just lost the use of one arm.

And "lost" wasn't even the right word. It was just injured, something that would heal with time.

Fortunately, this was the cinematic universe, not the comics. Here, the Hulk could be beaten.

Thanos had almost done it. If the Hulk hadn't been saved by the Bifrost, the Mad Titan would have finished the job. That single defeat had been so absolute, so devastating, that the Hulk had refused to emerge again, no matter how much Banner pleaded.

So, the "the angrier he gets, the stronger he gets" theory had its limits.

As Hawk reviewed his mental file on the target, Gwen was doing the same, recalling the articles and videos she had researched over the past few days.

"So, the plan..." she began.

"He has to die."

Hawk opened his eyes and turned to look at her, a small, confident smile on his face. "He's hard to kill, not impossible."

The strategy was simple, if brutally direct.

An overwhelming, lightning-fast assault from the very beginning. End the fight before it could truly start. Never give the Hulk a chance to get angry.

Gwen said nothing, but he could see the worry in her eyes.

Hawk saw it, and his smile softened. "You know, I did consider another plan."

"What?"

"Kidnap Betty Ross. Force Banner to surrender."

"...Hawk!" Gwen stared at him, horrified.

He just chuckled. "I rejected it, of course."

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Why?"

"Because those who start a cycle of evil will find it visited upon their own,"

Hawk's expression grew serious. "My fight is with the Hulk and the Abomination, no one else. They are the ones responsible for my sister's death. If I were to vent my anger on innocent people, how would I be any different from them?"

This was his line in the sand. His vengeance had a target, and he would not allow it to become a blind, all-consuming fire.

"Of course..." he added, a genuine warmth in his eyes as he looked at her, "—you asked me to be a good man, remember? I have no need for cheap tricks or dirty tactics. He will know why I have come for him. And he will know why he is about to die."

Gwen looked at him, at the absolute, unshakeable confidence in his expression, and her own fears began to subside. She smiled back.

"I believe in you, Hawk."

Hawk's smile softened. "Thanks. After I kill the Hulk, we can finally go on that trip with Mary Jane and—"

"HAWK!" Gwen cut him off, her voice sharp.

"What?"

"Don't jinx it! You said so yourself!"

"...Right. My bad."

Hawk saw the dead serious look on her face and wisely chose to concede. He raised a finger to his lips and made a zipping motion.

Gwen’s expression relaxed back into a smile. She turned her attention back to the road.

...

2:00 PM.

High above a private airfield twenty miles north of Culver University, a sleek, private jet descended from the clouds. The landing gear lowered as the aircraft, its fuselage emblazoned with the iconic STARK INDUSTRIES logo, began its final approach.

Chapter Text

The roar of the jet engines softened to a whine as the private plane touched down, its tires kissing the asphalt of the secluded airfield.

The moment it rolled to a stop, the cabin door swung open.

Leaning against the sleek lines of a sky-blue sports car was Natasha Romanoff. She was dressed in a black tactical suit that hugged her every curve, a practical yet undeniably striking choice.

A genuine smile broke across her face as she pushed away from the car, walking to meet the man who now stood at the top of the stairs, a simple duffel bag in his hand.

“Bruce.”

“Natasha.”

Dr. Bruce Banner descended the steps, and their embrace was brief but warm—the easy familiarity of soldiers who had bled together.

The Avengers, forged in the crucible of the New York invasion, were no longer just a team, they were friends.

“So, Tony’s really missing?” Bruce asked as they got into the car, his voice low.

“And Pepper...”

Natasha confirmed, her eyes fixed on the road as she expertly guided the sports car off the airfield. “The latest intel says she’s been taken, too.”

Bruce drew in a sharp breath. “The Mandarin?”

“All the evidence points to him—” she said with a slight shake of her head. “But there’s a debate within the agency about whether this is the real Mandarin of legend.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed. He settled into the plush passenger seat. “What about the others? Steve?”

“He’s in London.”

“Thor? I thought he was going to find Jane.”

“Hasn’t returned yet.”

“And Clint?”

“Tied up on a mission in Europe. Can’t be reached.”

“...”

So, I’m the only one on call, then.

A weary smile touched Bruce’s lips. He looked at Natasha, a hint of apology in his eyes. “But I made a promise to Betty. You know this was my last chance to fix things.”

After the Battle of New York, after he had willingly transformed, he had found something new: a fragile, tentative balance point between himself and the Hulk. As long as he maintained it, he could control the change.

Of course, he still couldn’t control the Hulk himself. The Other Guy was just too savage.

But it was enough...

Enough to earn him a presidential pardon for his past rampages.

Enough, with the backing of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the world’s gratitude, to finally reach out to Betty without fearing that her monstrous father would hunt him down for dissection.

This Christmas vacation was supposed to be their chance to heal.

Natasha’s expression softened. “We found traces of an unknown energy signature at one of the attack sites. You’re the world’s foremost expert in that field. And this won’t take long, Bruce. We think we’ve already found Tony’s location.”

Bruce’s eyes lit up. “Where?”

“Rose Hill, Tennessee.”

“Tenness—” Bruce paused, confused. “Then why aren’t we flying there now?”

A knowing smile played on Natasha’s lips. She gestured to the duffel bag at his feet. “I figured you might have brought gifts. I thought you'd want to drop them off at your and Betty's cabin first. If they got lost or broken on the flight over, you'd be in a pretty bad mood."

The reason was surprisingly thoughtful.

Bruce considered it, then nodded. “That’s a very good point. So, we’re stopping by the cabin in Culver first, then heading to Tennessee?”

Natasha nodded. “That’s the plan. How’s that for service?”

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Thank you, Natasha.”

“Don’t mention it.”

...

The drive from the airfield to the lakeside cabin Bruce and Betty had rented was only thirty miles. With Natasha behind the wheel of a high-performance sports car, it took them almost no time.

The engine died, and the two car doors opened in quick succession.

Natasha stepped out, removing her sunglasses as she took in the idyllic scene. The cabin was nestled between a dense forest and the calm, clear waters of the lake, which shimmered under the afternoon sun.

“This place is beautiful,” she said, genuinely impressed. “Did you find it yourself, or was it Betty?”

“Betty did.” Bruce pulled his duffel bag from the car, a shy smile on his face.

...

Natasha watched as he entered a code and disappeared inside. She was about to get back in the car to wait, ready to head for Tennessee the moment he returned.

But just as she turned, a flicker of movement at the edge of the woods caught her eye.

A young man was walking toward them, his steps calm and deliberate.

He was clearly heading for them...

It was Hawk.

He had promised to bring Gwen here, but not to the meeting itself. He had left her in a safe, concealed spot with a clear line of sight, and had approached alone.

Hawk had expected Bruce Banner to be by himself.

He hadn’t planned on the Black Widow being here too.

Hawk continued his approach, his eyes locked with Natasha’s, his mind already recalibrating.

Natasha’s relaxed posture vanished, replaced by a tense, coiled readiness. Her brow furrowed. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Bruce Banner."

“...”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, her body shifting into a combat stance. “Who are you, and how do you know he’s here?”

As she spoke, her right hand moved, resting casually but purposefully on the sidearm holstered at her hip.

Hawk glanced at her defensive posture but paid it no mind.

Because at that moment, the cabin door opened, and Bruce Banner stepped back outside.

Bruce saw Natasha, poised and ready to strike, and the calm, smiling young man standing before her. He froze, confused.

Hawk's smile widened as he looked at the man who had just emerged.

“Bruce Banner?”

“I am,” Bruce said, his eyes darting between Hawk and Natasha. “And you are...?”

“Hawk.”

“Anya’s brother.”

“...”

Chapter Text

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.

Chapter Text

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.

...

Chapter Text

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.”

“...”

Chapter Text

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.

...

Chapter Text

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!!

Chapter Text

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??

But, 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!”

“...”

Chapter Text

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.

Leaning 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, his voice a low, rambling murmur.

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, his voice a low murmur.

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.

Chapter Text

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?”