Marvel: The Awakened One

History would remember this day.

The moment Hawk’s Phoenix’s Winged Ascent shattered Wakanda’s Vibranium energy shield, Wakanda’s dream of getting rich in secret while begging for relief aid from the United Nations was shattered along with it.

But—

None of that was Hawk’s problem anymore.

Just as he’d told Maria Hill, he was there to help. And now that he had, it was time to go home.

He had been away long enough.

...

It was nine o’clock at night by the time Hawk returned to New York City.

He walked out of JFK International Airport and straight to the long-term parking garage.

His black Audi A8 was right where he had left it.

After paying the exorbitant parking fee, Hawk started the car and pulled out of the airport. As he drove, a thought occurred to him.

The last time he’d left New York, on his way to Quantico, he’d been met with an unexpected robbery.

This time, on his way to Africa, his flights had been grounded by a series of sudden rebellions.

”...” Was it a rule now? Every time he left New York, something had to go sideways?

Hawk mused on the strange pattern. Just then, his phone rang.

It was Anna.

He glanced at the number and answered.

”Good evening, Anna.”

”It’s almost morning here.”

”...What time is it on your end?”

”Five AM.”

Hearing the time, Hawk smiled. ”You’ve made it to Wakanda, then?”

Anna’s laugh came through the line. ”Hawk, you should have told us. We’re supposed to be friends.”

Hawk laughed out loud. ”The reveal was my gift to you, Anna. Don’t you think this is better? Saves your people the trouble of fabricating a source for their intel.”

It was the truth.

He’d been thinking of Anna when he decided to tell Maria Hill the truth about Wakanda.

Anna paused, processing his explanation.

”A gift... for me?”

”Of course.” Hawk’s tone was warm but firm.

”You’ve helped me a lot. And as I’ve said, I’m always generous with my friends. I don’t care what side you’re on. You’re my friend. And because of you, I told Maria Hill the truth. So, you go tell your superiors that this was my doing, and that they should give you a promotion and a raise.”

Anna’s laugh returned, brighter this time.

”Alright, Hawk. I’ll be sure to tell my boss.”

”That’s the spirit. I only took a small amount of Vibranium for myself. There’s plenty more where that came from. How much you can get is up to you. But you’re the experts in that field.”

”Thank you for the gift, Hawk. I love it.”

”Glad to hear it.” Hawk’s tone shifted, becoming all business. ”By the way, I need you to keep an eye on Jane Foster for me. Let me know the second she goes to London.”

He couldn’t remember the exact date the Reality Stone—the Aether—had appeared on Earth.

The movie had never specified a year, month, or day.

But Hawk remembered one thing very clearly: the Aether had shown up around the time Jane Foster went to London.

And so—

Sticking close to Jane Foster was the key to finding the Reality Stone. There was no doubt about it.

Anna agreed without hesitation.

...

After another thank you and a joke about the bonus she was going to demand, she hung up.

Hawk ended the call and focused on the road, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face as he drove toward his home in the East Village.

He had just thrown the world’s superpowers a much juicier, more profitable target than himself.

His reasons were threefold.

First, it truly was a gift for Anna and, by extension, HYDRA.

Second, he despised the hypocrisy of Wakanda, a nation playing the victim while sitting on a mountain of wealth, taking aid that could have saved lives elsewhere. If they didn’t want to act like decent human beings, then they didn’t deserve to be treated as such.

And third, and most importantly, it was a strategic misdirection. With the entire world now focused on Wakanda, he would be free to move without scrutiny. Before this, his battle with the Demon Hulk would have put him under a global microscope.

But now?

The choice was simple. Monitoring Hawk was a high-risk, low-reward venture. Piss him off, and you might get another Quantico.

But monitoring Wakanda? The potential profits were astronomical. The sheer volume of Vibranium, the advanced technology... any nation that could get its hands on even a fraction of it would leapfrog its rivals.

That included the parasites growing within them—HYDRA.

Staking a claim in Wakanda was in everyone’s best interest.

And Wakanda’s opinion on the matter?

Irrelevant!

The moment they had chosen to lie, to deceive the world and take what wasn’t theirs, they had forfeited their right to an opinion.

Their actions were an order of magnitude more egregious than anything someone like Gaddafi had ever done.

The world’s superpowers didn’t even need a pretext for war this time.

Wakanda had handed it to them on a silver platter.

Their Panther God couldn’t save them now. Only the World Security Council would decide their fate.

But none of that had anything to do with Hawk anymore.

...

An hour later, Hawk pulled into the garage of his house.

It was ten o’clock at night.

He walked inside, immediately stripped off the S.H.I.E.L.D t-shirt, and headed straight for the shower.

The cold water was a welcome shock, washing away the grime and fatigue of the long journey.

Within his Cosmo—

Every corner of his inner universe now pulsed with the essence of the Phoenix. At its very center, the Phoenix Armor rested, slowly growing stronger as it bathed in that power.

Because the true Phoenix had decided to go all-in on him, Hawk’s Cosmo was now at the absolute peak of a Bronze Saint’s.

But it still wasn’t enough to get to Hell. First, he needed the Reality Stone. With its power to reshape reality, he could elevate his Cosmo to the level of a Gold Saint.

Only then would he be ready.

But that was a problem for another day. The Reality Stone hadn’t appeared yet. All he could do now was wait.

After his shower, Hawk walked out of the bathroom and saw his phone, which he’d left on the bed, ringing.

He walked over, looked at the caller ID, and answered with a smile. ”Hey, Gwen.”

”You’re back in New York?”

”Yeah.”

”Then I’m coming back tomorrow.”

”Tomorrow? Wait.” Hawk pulled back the covers and lay down, propping himself up on his elbow. ”I thought you were there for two months. It’s only been two weeks.”

Her study program at Berkeley was supposed to last the entire break.

On the other end of the line, Gwen’s voice was bright. ”It was for two months, but I never said I had to stay for the whole two months. MJ was asking when I was coming back a few days ago. And you forgot—we’re graduating this semester. We need to get the yearbook and the alumni directory ready, so I’m going back to school to help out.”

The yearbook—a photo album with an individual picture of every graduate and a class photo.

And the alumni directory, a magical little book containing the contact information of every successful person who had ever graduated from Midtown Tech—the school’s parting gift to its students.

Hawk remembered that Gwen was the student aide for their grade and smiled. ”Alright, then. What time tomorrow? I’ll pick you up from the airport.”

”You can come around ten-thirty.”

Hawk agreed.

After they talked for a while longer, they finally hung up.

Hawk looked at the phone, then tossed it aside, turned off the light, and closed his eyes.

...

The next day.

Hawk drove to JFK International Airport once again.

At ten-thirty in the morning.

Gwen, pulling her suitcase, emerged from the arrivals gate. She headed toward the parking garage, her eyes scanning the crowd, searching for Hawk, a hint of worry and nervousness in her expression.

Just then, she felt a light tap on her hand.

She looked to her side and saw him, standing right next to her, as if he had appeared from thin air.

Hawk smiled faintly.

”Welcome home.”

”Yeah.” Gwen looked at him, her lips pressed together in a tight line.

The worry that had been clouding her features vanished, replaced by a radiant, relieved smile.

--

Gwen hadn’t come back from Berkeley for the graduation yearbook or the student directory.

She had come back for one reason only. She needed to see with her own eyes that Hawk was unharmed.

After all—

A video had been leaked online yesterday.

Though the camerawork was so shaky it looked like it had been filmed by someone with Parkinson’s, the footage clearly showed a massive, monstrous creature on the African savanna, built like a black mountain.

It looked just like a blackened version of the Hulk.

And fighting it was another figure, so small in comparison it was like a mouse squaring off against an elephant.

The user who uploaded the video was supposedly a Japanese blogger, an adventurer who traveled between remote African tribes. He claimed to have stumbled upon the scene on his way to Wakanda.

The video was taken down in less than ten minutes.

Shortly after, the blogger posted a tearful apology, admitting he had faked the whole thing for clicks.

But—

Anyone with a brain knew better.

Gwen was certain. The blurry figure fighting the Demon Hulk in that video was her boyfriend.

So, even though Hawk had sounded perfectly fine on the phone, she couldn’t rest until she saw him for herself.

And now, seeing him, the knot of anxiety in her chest finally loosened. She smiled, took his arm, and they walked toward the airport parking lot.

...

A little while later, Hawk had stowed Gwen’s luggage in the trunk and was starting the car. He glanced at her in the passenger seat, already buckled in and watching him.

”So, how was Berkeley? Did you like it?”

”Honestly, not really.”

Gwen shrugged as Hawk pulled out of the parking garage. ”I used to think the crime rate in New York was bad. Turns out, Berkeley is even worse.”

She told him she’d been nearly mugged three times—in broad daylight—all within just a few days in Berkeley.

But then, a relieved smile touched her lips.

”Good thing Kara was there.”

”Kara?”

”The bodyguard you hired for me. Don’t tell me you don’t know her name.”

”Oh, right. Her.”

Hawk remembered.

Kara Palamas. Long brown hair, pretty face. She was the one Anna had recommended.

He hadn’t paid her much attention. The process didn’t matter—only the result.

Good or bad, it all fell on Anna’s head.

If Gwen was safe, he was grateful to Anna.

Likewise, if anything happened to Gwen, he’d only be looking for Anna, since she was the one who had vouched for Kara.

It was that simple.

He glanced at Gwen. ”So, you still want to go to Berkeley?”

”Of course. I’ll be living in the dorms. I just won’t go off campus.”

The crime in the city of Berkeley wasn’t the university’s problem. She was going there to study, not to live.

Gwen smiled, then changed the subject. ”Okay, I’m done. Your turn. How was Africa?”

Hawk’s own lips curved into a smile. ”Perfect.”

Though this trip had been plagued with even more complications than his first one to Quantico, delaying him by half a month—

Good things come to those who wait.

His gains this time had been immense.

He had reforged his Cosmo into the Phoenix Cosmo, a power system more in line with the Marvel Universe.

He had also forged his Phoenix Armor.

And she was safe. As long as he was alive, until the day he went to Hell to bring her back, she would be fine.

Hawk glanced at Gwen and added with genuine satisfaction, ”Couldn’t have been better.”

”So what was the deal with that black Hulk?” Gwen’s question was immediate, perfectly timed.

”That was the Dem—” Hawk caught himself, a flicker of surprise in his eyes as he looked at her.

His brow arched. ”You saw something?”

”You guess.”

Gwen turned in her seat to face him, a gentle, knowing smile on her face. But she didn’t make him guess. She told him about the video, the one the Japanese blogger had posted and then been forced to retract.

Hawk listened, and it all made sense. Especially the part about the blogger.

It was a well-known fact, even in the Marvel Universe: Japanese tourists are everywhere. You can find one in every corner of the globe.

Hawk thought to himself, then met Gwen’s curious gaze and shrugged. ”Alright. It was just like you saw in the video.”

”So it really was the Hulk? But I thought you killed him.”

Gwen’s brow furrowed as she remembered the battle at Culver Lake, just before last Christmas.

”Did Bruce Banner really find a way to bring him back?”

”Not exactly...” Hawk paused, then shook his head. ”It would be more accurate to say the one who brought him back wasn’t Bruce Banner, but Mephisto.”

Bruce had wanted to trade his life for the Hulk’s. But that deal would have been meaningless if Mephisto hadn’t agreed to it. After all, a soul that enters Hell belongs to Mephisto.

Gwen’s eyes widened at the name. ”Mephisto? Is that the same Lord of Hell you were talking about in front of Anya’s grave?”

Hawk nodded. ”The one and only.”

He then explained the whole story: how Mephisto had taken the dead Hulk, given him a demonic upgrade, and sent him back to Earth to test his strength.

Gwen listened, her expression a mixture of shock and awe. ”So you knew Bruce was coming for you. That’s why you went to Africa? Because it’s so remote, no one would see you fight?”

Hawk shook his head.

”No. I was looking for Vibranium.”

”Vibran—”

As the realization dawned, Gwen was once again left speechless.

Hawk just laughed. ”Wakanda. I was in Wakanda. That’s where the Vibranium is.”

Gwen said nothing. She just pulled out her phone and with a few quick taps, brought up the public information on the nation of Wakanda.

...

”Wakanda: a small, underdeveloped nation with a fragile, resource-poor economy, ruled by a tribal coalition.”

”UN Approves New Round of Food Aid to Wakanda to Avert Famine.”

”UN Calls for Calm as Wakandan Tribal Conflicts Escalate, Warns of Refugee Crisis.”

”Wakandan King T’Chaka Addresses UN, Pleads for Increased Economic Aid.”

...

Gwen scrolled through the articles, then looked up at Hawk with complete bewilderment and skepticism written all over her face.

This place? You’re sure this is where the Vibranium is?

Hawk just smiled and, just as he had with Maria Hill, he revealed the truth about Wakanda: A secret, high-tech nation, sitting on a mountain of Vibranium, all while playing the part of a starving third-world country to milk the international community for aid.

Gwen was still scrolling through her phone. ”You said Wakanda was exposed yesterday. I don’t see any news about it...”

”It’s not going to be that fast.”

By now, they had arrived at Gwen’s apartment building. Hawk parked the car, got her luggage from the trunk, and they walked inside.

”It only happened yesterday. The World Security Council are probably still in meetings, figuring out how to carve it up. But one thing’s for sure....”

”What?”

”Oil has a funny way of attracting the U.S. military. What do you think a mountain of Vibranium will attract?”

”...”

Gwen didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

The answer was obvious.

Oil brings soldiers. Vibranium brings the whole damn world.

...

Ten days later, a headline dominated the international news.

UNITED NATIONS — Citing escalating tribal conflicts and the deaths of hundreds of civilians, the UN Security Council has unanimously voted to deploy a joint peacekeeping force to Wakanda to restore peace and stability.

The uninformed masses, seeing the news, could only shake their heads with admiration.

The five most powerful nations in the world, all coming together to help one small, struggling country.

Wakanda must be the luckiest nation on Earth!

Their ancestral graves must be smoking with good fortune.

And they were.

...

Smoke was rising from Mount Bashenga, Wakanda’s sacred mountain that contained vast Vibranium reserves.

A S.H.I.E.L.D scientist stared at the readings on his tablet, his face flushed with an almost manic excitement.

”Commander.”

”What have you got?”

”The reserves are... astronomical.”

”Excellent.”

The commander of the joint ”peacekeeping” force let out a booming, unrestrained laugh, then immediately relayed the initial estimates of the Vibranium reserves back to his superiors.

Maria Hill was there as well.

She stood on the summit of Mount Bashenga, her gaze fixed on the futuristic, breathtaking capital city of Wakanda in the distance.

And outside that capital—

The roar of armored vehicles.

The rumble of tanks.

A squadron of fighter jets, formed by the joint forces of the five great powers, screamed in from the distance. A few air-to-ground missiles detonated in the sky above the Wakandan capital.

With the explosions, a golden dome of energy materialized over the city.

--

Logically, even with its existence revealed to the world, Wakanda should have been able to stand its ground. With an arsenal of Vibranium tanks and jets, they should have been more than a match for any ”peacekeeping” force the Five Great Powers could muster.

But not this time.

The Demon Hulk had torn through their country, and the full might of the Wakandan army had been powerless to stop it.

They had suffered catastrophic losses, and the entire River Tribe’s district had been reduced to a smoldering ruin.

Most importantly—

King T’Chaka had collapsed again. Wakanda was a nation without a leader, forced to adhere to their king’s last command: retreat to the capital and activate the city’s Vibranium energy shield.

As everyone knows, the larger the area, the greater the energy consumption. The smaller the area, the more concentrated the power.

T’Chaka had been confident that while Hawk might have been able to shatter the shield protecting their entire nation, he would never be able to break the one defending their capital.

...

Inside the royal command center of Wakanda, the atmosphere was thick with tension.

”It’s been ten days. What’s the plan?”

”Has the king awakened yet?”

”I say we fight them! Drive the thieves from our land!”

”Fight them with what?”

”That is the combined might of the Five Great Powers out there.”

”This is our land!”

The chieftains of Wakanda’s various tribes were gathered, their voices rising in a cacophony of dissent as they stared at the holographic projection of the UN peacekeeping force massed outside their capital.

Just then, King T’Chaka appeared, pushed in a wheelchair by a sharp-looking man.

The arguments ceased instantly. All eyes turned to their king.

”My king!”

”Shuri.”

T’Chaka, his hair now completely gray, his face a mask of weary defeat, looked to his daughter, who was standing quietly by his side. ”Contact S.H.I.E.L.D. Invite them in.”

The moment he had seen Hawk shatter their energy shield with a single punch, the shock had overwhelmed him, and he had collapsed.

He had seen this coming—the inevitable consequence of their exposure.

If it had been possible, he would have chosen to reveal Wakanda to the world himself.

After all—

Choosing to reveal yourself and being forcibly exposed are two very different scenarios, with two very different sets of consequences.

But there’s no medicine for regret.

Wakanda’s technology might be centuries ahead of the rest of the world, but they were now facing the collective will of the planet’s five superpowers.

If they refused to cooperate, the Five Great Powers might not be able to get in, but they would make damn sure that no one in Wakanda ever got out.

Their isolation had left them vulnerable. They had no strategic reserves, not even enough food to last a prolonged siege.

If the standoff continued, it wouldn’t be long before they destroyed themselves from within.

And so, there was only one path left for them.

Princess Shuri heard her father’s command and nodded grimly.

The other tribal chieftains’ expressions changed, and they all turned to T’Chaka.

”My king, you can’t!”

”They are not peacekeepers! They are thieves! Vibranium has always been ours—”

”Do you have a better plan?”

King T’Chaka cut them off. He pointed a trembling finger at the holographic display, at the massive army that had assembled in just ten days, at the five flags fluttering in the wind.

”Do you know what those five flags represent?”

”The last nation they ’helped’ in this way... do you know what happened to its leader? To his country?”

”If you do not agree with my decision, you are free to leave. Your tribes can declare their independence. But the Golden Tribe will surrender.”

King T’Chaka’s voice, though hoarse, echoed with the last vestiges of his royal authority.

The other chieftains looked at one another, stunned into silence by his words.

”Shuri.”

”Yes, Father.”

”Contact them. Now. Before I draw my last breath, I must ensure the safety of our capital. I will not die in peace otherwise.”

”Father...”

”Yes, sir.”

Princess Shuri looked at the fading light in her father’s eyes, and her own voice trembled as she opened a secure channel to S.H.I.E.L.D.

Standing behind the wheelchair, T’Challa placed his hands on his father’s shoulders. He could feel the life force draining from him. He looked around the command center, at the faces of his people, and a wave of grief and rage washed over him.

He had left Wakanda as the prince of a hidden kingdom. He’d come home to find it being carved up by the world’s superpowers, his father on his deathbed...

And it was all because of one man.

An image of the man he had seen on the holographic projections flashed in T’Challa’s mind. He instinctively held his breath.

”Hawk.”

...

”Achoo!”

In the school library, Hawk, who was helping Gwen with the senior yearbook, let out a sudden sneeze.

Gwen, sitting cross-legged on a sofa nearby, completely absorbed in editing photos on her laptop, glanced over at him. ”Catching a cold?”

Hawk rubbed his nose. ”I think someone was just talking about me.”

It wasn’t a guess. It was the Sixth Sense.

Gwen tilted her head.

”Peter?”

”Why would Peter be talking about me?”

”Because you’re obsessed with where his webs come from.”

”Aren’t you?”

”I was,” Gwen said with a sly smile. ”But I already got the answer out of Mary Jane.”

Hawk’s eyes lit up.

”And?”

”Not telling.”

”What?”

Gwen just shrugged. ”You never told me he was Spider-Man. I had to figure that out on my own. So, I’m not telling you his secret. You’ll just have to ask him yourself.”

The corner of Hawk’s mouth twitched. ”Gwen, you’re being petty.”

”You’re just now figuring that out?”

She was completely immune to his goading.

Just then—

Speak of the devil.

Mary Jane and Peter walked into the library.

”Gwen, is the yearbook layout done?”

”Yep.” Gwen looked up. ”Just sent it to the printer. What about the contact list?”

Mary Jane nodded. ”All done.”

Hawk’s eyes were fixed on Peter.

Feeling the intense stare since the moment he walked in, Peter’s Spider-Sense made the hairs on his arms stand up.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. ”What is it?”

Hawk just shrugged, his eyes drifting down to Peter’s wrists. ”So, where do the webs come from?”

Peter’s eye twitched. Seeing the two girls talking, he quickly changed the subject. ”By the way, Gwen, did you see the latest news today?”

Gwen looked up from her laptop. ”I’ve been here since seven this morning, helping Hawk with the yearbook. What happened?”

Peter didn’t drag it out. ”The UN just declared Wakanda a permanently neutral state. And to ’ensure peace and stability in the region,’ the Five Great Powers have unanimously agreed to send in a joint peacekeeping force.”

Gwen blinked.

Mary Jane, who was now leaning on Peter’s shoulder, chimed in. ”Didn’t they already send troops to some African country like a month and a half ago?”

”This is different. Africa’s been a mess for years. The Five Great Powers have never done a joint operation like this before.”

While the girls gossiped, the boys talked politics.

Peter shook his head, then looked at Hawk. ”Right, Hawk?”

Hawk shrugged. ”Africa is a long way away. I couldn’t care less.”

As he spoke, he stood up. ”I’m going to go make a call.”

Gwen just nodded.

The moment he was outside, Hawk pulled out his phone and dialed Anna’s number.

Okay, so he’d lied. He was actually quite interested in what happened next in Wakanda.

The call connected instantly.

”Hawk.”

”Anna.”

He got straight to the point. ”The negotiations with Wakanda are over? What’s this about a ’permanently neutral state’?”

Anna chuckled.

”You saw the news?”

”Yeah. Is it a done deal?”

”It was finalized five hours ago. The press release went out immediately.”

”Give me the details.”

Hawk’s eyes lit up. He walked down the library steps and sat down cross-legged on the lawn.

Women loved gossip. Men did too, they just called it ”geopolitics.”

Hawk was no exception.

On the other end of the line, Anna organized her thoughts.

”Wakanda requested recognition of their capital as a sovereign city-state, the status of a permanently neutral nation, and the preservation of the Golden Tribe’s authority.”

”The Five Great Powers agreed, in exchange for access to Wakanda’s technology and the right to establish a permanent, joint military presence to ’protect’ them.”

Hiss.

Hawk drew in a sharp breath. ”So they’re disarmed?”

Anna’s voice was laced with irony. ”Why would a permanently neutral country need an army?”

An African nation with that many Vibranium weapons? What are you going to do, start a rebellion against the rest of the world?

Hawk’s eyebrow arched. ”And Wakanda agreed to that?”

”The Golden Tribe agreed.”

”Uh...”

”This morning, right after the treaty was announced, the River Tribe, the Jabari Tribe, and the Border Tribe all declared their independence and attacked the peacekeeping forces. The joint command is... not pleased.”

”So...”

”The UN is about to make an example of them.”

Of course they were.

It looked like the situation in Wakanda wasn’t going to be resolved anytime soon.

”Alright. Thanks.”

”Any time.”

Just as Hawk was about to hang up, Anna spoke again. ”Oh, and Hawk? Congratulations.”

He paused, the phone still at his ear.

”For what?”

”Happy graduation.”

”...”

--

The next day.

June 12th, 2013.

A Wednesday.

And the day of Midtown School of Science and Technology’s graduation ceremony for the senior class.

The school’s lawn, bordering the East River, was already bustling with proud parents. With the ceremony yet to begin, they were all busy pulling their children aside for one last round of keepsake photos.

Hawk and Gwen were no exception.

Dressed in their caps and gowns, they were being expertly orchestrated by Helen Stacy, striking one pose after another, much to her delight.

Hawk and Gwen stood under a large oak tree, hand in hand, looking at each other. Gwen offered him an apologetic smile.

”Sorry about this.”

”Sorry for what?”

”My mom’s a little... enthusiastic.”

”I think it’s nice.”

Hawk smiled, glancing over at Helen, who was a short distance away, scouting for the perfect angle.

Helen, peering through the camera lens, suddenly had an idea. Her eyes lit up, and she looked up at Hawk.

”Hawk.”

”Yes, ma’am?”

”On the count of three, you kiss her.”

”Okay.”

Hawk didn’t need to be told twice. He looked at his smiling girlfriend, and as Helen’s count reached three, he leaned in without hesitation.

Gwen met him halfway.

Click, click, click!

Helen, now in full professional photographer mode, held down the shutter button, capturing the perfect moment.

...

A little while later, seated in the audience, Helen was scrolling through the photos on her camera, an unstoppable smile on her face.

It was a good thing George had a case today and couldn’t make it.

Otherwise...

The look on his face would not have been a happy one.

Sitting in the front row, Gwen glanced back at her mother, who was still admiring her handiwork. The corner of her mouth twitched. She leaned over to Hawk and whispered, ”Don’t come upstairs to the apartment tonight.”

Hawk looked at her, confused.

”Why not?”

”Because if my dad sees these pictures, I’m pretty sure he’ll shoot you.”

”...”

Hawk blinked. He looked back at Helen, who was completely lost in her own world of photography, and then thought about the series of poses she’d had them do—poses perfectly designed to give a doting father like George an aneurysm. He nodded slowly. ”Good point. I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

They had plans to meet Mary Jane and Peter at a new restaurant near Times Square tonight to celebrate their graduation.

Sitting on Gwen’s other side, Mary Jane let out a sigh. ”At least you guys get pictures. I’m not even sure my date is going to show up.”

Gwen, hearing the resentment in her best friend’s voice, turned to her.

”Is Peter still not here?”

”Nope.”

”What’s he doing?”

”Don’t know, don’t care. All I know is that if he’s not here in the next ten minutes, he’s going to be my ex-boyfriend.”

”...”

Gwen listened to the aura of resentment coming off her friend and immediately shot a look at Hawk.

Hawk got the message. He pulled out his phone and dialed Peter’s number.

After a few rings, he finally picked up. The moment the call connected, Hawk could hear the frantic sound of sirens in the background.

Clearly, New York’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man was either fighting crime or on his way to fight crime.

Amidst the wail of the sirens and the rush of the wind, Peter’s voice came through.

”Hello?”

”Forget ’hello.’ You’ve got ten minutes to get here, or Mary Jane is breaking up with you.”

Hawk kept it short and sweet. He hung up, then gave Gwen a nod. Message delivered.

Nine minutes later, as Hawk was watching Gwen—this year’s valedictorian—deliver a brilliant and moving speech, he saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye.

Peter, still in his cap and gown, was stealthily making his way from the portable toilets near the stage. He slid into the seat next to Mary Jane, fending off her furious, whispered attacks as he tried to explain.

Mary Jane, true to her word, hadn’t broken up with him yet. But she was making sure he felt the full force of her wrath.

Hawk, meanwhile, sat in his seat, his eyes meeting those of his girlfriend on stage, who was radiating a confident smile as she spoke.

...

That evening.

Gwen emerged from her apartment building and saw the black Audi A8 parked across the street. She smiled, crossed the road, and slid into the passenger seat.

As Hawk pulled away from the curb and headed for Times Square, he glanced at her.

”So, how bad was George’s face?”

”I wouldn’t say bad...”

Gwen looked at Hawk with a serious expression, then her smile bloomed. ”I’d say very bad. He even asked when you were coming up. Good thing you didn’t.”

Hawk looked at Gwen’s bright smile but didn’t smile back.

His voice was somber.

”Gwen, you do realize that I can’t just avoid him forever, right? I can’t spend the rest of our lives meeting you on the street.”

”Uh...”

Gwen’s smile froze. ”So, what do we do? Turn back?”

”No.”

Hawk shook his head. ”We’ll just have to trust in the wisdom of our future selves.”

Gwen blinked.

”What does that mean?”

”It means that’s a problem for Future Hawk.”

”...Hawk.”

”Yeah?”

Gwen looked at him, her expression now as serious as his had been. ”If future Hawk ever thinks about today, he’s definitely going to call past Hawk an asshole.”

Hawk just shrugged. ”So what? What’s he going to do, travel back in time and kick my ass?”

Gwen just shook her head, a smile playing on her lips as she changed the subject.

”Are Mary Jane and Peter there yet?”

”They are.”

”Good. That place is always packed. Hopefully they got us a table so we don’t have to wait.”

”Already done.”

...

Half an hour later, they were at a French restaurant right on the Hudson River.

As Hawk parked the car and they got out, Mary Jane, who was sitting at one of the outdoor tables, spotted them and waved.

They walked over. Hawk pulled out a chair for Gwen, then sat down next to her. He looked at Peter. ”So how late were you guys stuck at school taking pictures?”

Peter didn’t answer right away. He just looked at Hawk, his expression pained. ”I feel like my legs are going to fall off.”

Hawk just laughed.

Mary Jane rolled her eyes. ”I told you yesterday, Peter. Graduation day is picture day.”

Peter just gave a weak, apologetic smile.

Gwen, seeing his distress, just shook her head and jumped in, changing the subject and asking Mary Jane about her plans for the summer.

Mary Jane’s eyes lit up.

”What if we all went on a trip? Somewhere international.”

”Like where?”

”London. What do you think?”

Mary Jane’s face was alight with excitement.

”I was also thinking Paris, but we can do London this year and Paris next. What do you think, Gwen?”

”I’m in.”

Gwen said, then turned to Hawk. ”Are you going?”

Hawk didn’t say anything. He just looked at her, a small, unreadable smile on his face.

Gwen smiled back, then looked past him to Peter. ”Peter, what about you?”

Peter opened his mouth.

London...

The plane tickets alone are going to be insane.

He was already mentally calculating the cost, trying to figure out if his savings could...

Just as he was about to decline, Hawk answered for him.

”He’s in.”

”...”

Peter looked at him, stunned. ”I am?”

”You are.”

Hawk looked from Peter to Gwen and nodded. ”Yep. He’s in.”

Gwen just smiled at Peter, waiting.

”Okay.”

Peter gave up. He’d just have to max out his credit card. ”I’m in.”

Gwen and Mary Jane exchanged a triumphant look.

The next second, they both had their phones out, already searching for flights and hotels.

By the time their dinner arrived, they had a rough itinerary planned out.

Gwen was a student aide, after all. She was known for her efficiency.

And Mary Jane... well, she was just happy to be going.

After dinner, they decided to take a walk through Times Square. Gwen and Mary Jane walked ahead, excitedly discussing their trip.

Hawk and Peter followed behind.

Hawk glanced at Peter, who had been quiet and distracted ever since he’d heard the estimated cost of the trip. ”I’ll cover you.”

Peter looked at him and shook his head.

”No, it’s fine. I’ll figure something out.”

”What are you going to do? Sell more Spider-Man selfies?”

”Uh...”

Peter scratched the back of his head. ”I took too many this year... The Bugle’s not paying what they used to.”

Hawk just shook his head. ”Have you ever thought about switching papers? Why are you so determined to stick with the Daily Bugle?”

Peter looked just as exasperated.

”The problem is, besides the Bugle, all the other tabloids pay even less.”

”...Fair enough.”

Hawk fell silent for a moment. ”Just save your money, Peter. It’s on me. It’s not like I had to sell my soul for it.”

Peter was curious.

”So where did your money come from?”

”It fell out of the sky.” Hawk just smiled.

Just as he’d said before, of the three versions of Spider-Man, this one was his favorite.

Peter opened his mouth to say something else to Hawk when a massive explosion erupted from Times Square ahead. Amid the chaos, a silver-white arc of electricity tore through the sky and slammed into one of the giant screens.

The screen flickered, then went dark, crashing to the street below.

Hawk and Peter froze, then looked at each other.

In the next instant, they were gone.

--

Hawk in the lead.

Peter right behind him.

With a gasp from Gwen and a cry from Mary Jane, the two women felt their vision blur as a wave of weightlessness washed over them.

The next second, the massive screen torn from the face of the Times Square tower slammed into the plaza below, obliterating itself in a shower of glass and electronics.

Miraculously, it didn’t hit anyone.

But—

The flying shrapnel from the screen still managed to injure several people in the crowd.

”HOLY SHIT!”

Mary Jane stumbled as she landed, catching herself just before she fell. She stared at the panicked crowd fleeing the square, then at the smoking crater where the screen had impacted.

”Wait, where’s Peter?”

Hawk, who had already moved Gwen to a safe alcove, pointed. ”Over there.”

Mary Jane followed his gaze.

Somehow, in the span of a few heartbeats, Peter had already changed into his Spider-Man suit. He swung through the air on a strand of webbing, executed a flashy mid-air twist—and landed perfectly on the roof of a police car.

The corner of Mary Jane’s mouth twitched.

Gwen put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ”Look on the bright side. At least he got you to safety before he ran off to play hero. It’s obvious he really cares about you.”

Mary Jane paused, then looked at Gwen. After a moment, she nodded. ”Okay. You have a point.”

Gwen let out a small sigh of relief, then her expression shifted as she turned to look at Hawk.

He met her gaze, an eyebrow slightly arched.

”What?”

”Nothing.”

Gwen smiled and changed the subject. ”What happened over there?”

Hawk followed the fleeing crowd’s path, his gaze settling on Times Square. A strange expression crossed his face.

”Max Dillon.”

”Who?”

The name sounded vaguely familiar to Gwen, but she couldn’t place it.

”Oscorp,” Hawk said with a small smile. ”Bio-Electricity department. He’s the guy who came with me to your lab that day.”

The image of a quiet, unassuming man with glasses and a gentle face flashed in Gwen’s mind.

”I remember him. What happened?”

”He mutated.”

Hawk shrugged.

He couldn’t be bothered to figure out why, in a world where Peter Parker and Harry Osborn were from the original movie trilogy, the villains were from The Amazing Spider-Man.

It was a waste of brainpower.

Wait a minute.

The Green Goblin last year was the original version too.

So... is this universe just a mashup??

...

Hawk blinked, then shook the thought from his head. He looked at Gwen and Mary Jane. ”Alright, we should get out of here.”

Gwen didn’t hesitate. She saw the tide of screaming people heading their way and nodded. ”Okay.”

She had no desire to be a spectator.

As the daughter of a police captain, she’d been taught one rule above all others: when trouble starts, you go the other way.

But Mary Jane’s eyes were still on Peter.

”Peter...”

”Don’t worry,” Hawk said with a short laugh. ”He’ll be fine.”

It was just Electro.

If the Andrew Garfield Spider-Man could beat him, the original version would have no problem at all.

After all, this was the Spider-Man who could shoot organic webs without any tech, the one who was durable enough to fall a dozen stories, stand up, and just complain about his back. The kid was a walking, talking cheat code.

Gwen added, ”It’s not safe here. If you stay, Peter will have to worry about you. The right thing to do is leave.”

Hawk said nothing more. He took Gwen’s hand and started leading her toward where they had parked the car.

Gwen, in turn, pulled Mary Jane along.

Soon, the lights of his black Audi A8 flashed in the distance.

Hawk pulled the keys from his pocket and handed them to Gwen.

She paused, looking from the keys in her hand back to his face.

Hawk just smiled.

”You take MJ and get out of here. I’m going to go take a look.”

”Hawk?”

Gwen’s brow furrowed, her expression mirroring the worry that had been on Mary Jane’s face moments before.

Mary Jane, for her part, just looked back toward Times Square.

The screams were louder now, punctuated by the sharp crackle of arcing electricity. The fight had clearly started.

Hawk saw the fear in Gwen’s eyes and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. ”Don’t worry. He’s definitely not tougher than the Hulk.”

Gwen remembered Hawk’s victory over the Hulk, and the worry on her face lessened slightly, but she still looked at him with a hint of doubt.

”Really?”

”I swear on my sister’s name.”

”...Alright.”

Seeing Hawk swear on his sister’s name, Gwen’s worries vanished.

As far as Hawk was concerned, an oath sworn on God’s name might be negotiable, but one sworn on his sister Anya’s was unbreakable.

With that thought, she was at ease. She hurried Mary Jane into the car, then got into the driver’s seat. She rolled down the window and called out to Hawk one last time, ”Then you be careful.”

Hawk nodded.

Gwen said nothing more. Before the streets became a complete parking lot, she slammed her foot on the gas and drove away with Mary Jane.

Hawk watched the Audi disappear, then turned his gaze back to Times Square.

He hadn’t planned on getting involved.

At his current power level, dealing with Electro would be a one-punch affair.

Besides, his opponent was the original Spider-Man—a version whose physical abilities and combat sense were leagues ahead of the other two.

Two-on-one, it was no different from bullying a kindergartener.

But—

That was Times Square.

The place that had haunted him, the source of his deepest regrets since September 10th, 2009.

...

Five minutes later.

On the rooftop of the Times Square building.

Hawk stood at the very edge of the roof, looking down at the chaos and the flashing arcs of electricity below.

Peter was in the air, shooting web after web, swinging between billboards and flashing neon signs.

Electro’s electric arcs chased him relentlessly, striking the signs and billboards and setting off a chain of explosions.

The next second, Peter grabbed two web lines, kicked off a wall with the force of a battering ram, and slammed his feet into Electro’s chest.

Electro was sent flying, crashing hard into a statue in the center of the Times Square fountain.

The statue crumbled on impact.

Hawk’s gaze shifted from the enraged Electro, who was already climbing to his feet, to the scene around him.

The fleeing crowds.

The innocent bystanders lying motionless on the ground, caught in the crossfire.

And finally, a young boy, shielding his little sister as he tried to pull her out of the line of fire.

A flicker of something passed through Hawk’s eyes. He looked at Spider-Man, who was still dodging Electro’s lightning whips. ”Peter. Get him in the air.”

He spoke softly, at a normal volume.

But Hawk was confident Peter would hear him.

And he did.

Peter, who was trying to find an opening to subdue Electro, heard the voice in his ear and instinctively glanced up at the top of the Times Square building.

He saw Hawk standing on the edge of the roof, gave a slight nod—and then turned his attention back to Electro, who now had his arms spread wide, unleashing arcs of high-voltage electricity like a mad god.

An idea seemed to strike him.

Peter shot two webs, latching onto a nearby police car. With a powerful heave, he ripped the car from its moorings and sent it hurtling through the air.

Electro just laughed, making no move to dodge. He spread his arms wide, unleashing a torrent of electricity that met the car in mid-air.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The police car exploded in mid-air.

Just then, Electro caught something out of the corner of his eye. He looked down and saw Peter, skimming just above the ground, two webs already latched onto his body.

The next moment, Peter yanked hard. As Electro was pulled toward him, Peter’s body shifted in an instant. He planted his hands on the ground, coiled his legs, and as Electro stumbled toward him, he unleashed a vicious kick.

BAAAAAAAAAANG—

Electro was launched into the sky.

This was it.

On the rooftop overlooking Times Square, Hawk spotted the man curled into a ball as he flew through the air, and his eyes lit up. With no wind-up, no warning, he clenched his fist.

A simple punch from Hawk was more than enough.

His fist moved, and the air itself seemed to part before it. In an instant, the invisible wave of force crossed the distance and slammed into Electro.

A second later—

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM.

Electro, still suspended in mid-air, simply detonated. The immense electrical energy he had absorbed from the city’s power grid was unleashed in a single, blinding flash, a storm of rogue lightning that lashed out in all directions.

In an instant, every light in Times Square, and for blocks around, went dark.

Thwip!

Peter shot a web and launched himself to the rooftop.

He looked at the empty space where Electro had been, then back at Hawk.

”You and that guy...”

”Max Dillon?”

”Yeah. Weren’t you two friends?”

”And?”

”Did he do something to piss you off?”

”No.”

”Then...”

”Let’s just say, Times Square doesn’t allow anyone this badass to exist.” Hawk said.

--

Hawk stood at the edge of the Times Square building’s rooftop, his hands in his pockets, and spoke calmly as he looked at Spider-Man.

Peter figured Hawk was just showing off.

But—

On second thought, he immediately understood the real reason Hawk had intervened.

And it wasn’t just Peter.

Later, after Peter and Mary Jane had reunited and headed for the subway, Hawk was driving Gwen home when she, too, figured out why he had suddenly decided to get involved.

Gwen glanced over at him, a curious look in her eyes.

”If it hadn’t happened in Times Square, would you still have done something?”

”...”

Hawk met her gaze, gave the question some serious thought, then laughed and shook his head. ”I don’t know.”

The only reason he had acted was because it was Times Square.

It was the single most unforgettable place from his memories of this life.

Bar none.

Because here, on September 10th, 2009, he had lost his sister, Anya—the girl he had grown up with, the girl who, despite her congenital heart condition, had been brilliant and sweet and wonderful.

Electro’s appearance in Times Square, regardless of the reason, was an act of desecration.

He was pouring salt on an open wound.

Times Square would not be the site of another tragedy. Not on his watch.

And so, Electro died.

There was no other reason. He had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

That was all.

...

The next day.

As expected, the story of Spider-Man’s battle with Electro in Times Square was once again front-page news.

The Daily Bugle, in particular, ran a stunning 4K, high-definition photograph.

Hawk stared at the picture of Spider-Man, contorted in an acrobatic mid-air maneuver, then looked up at Gwen. ”I don’t know how good Peter’s photography skills are, but his selfie game is getting better and better.”

Gwen, who had been rinsing the sink, released the retractable faucet and let it snap back into place. She walked over to the kitchen island and glanced at the newspaper in Hawk’s hands. ”That one earned him a five-hundred-dollar bonus from Scrooge.”

Everyone knew the owner of the Daily Bugle was a modern-day Scrooge.

Hawk drew in a sharp breath. ”Five hundred? Seriously? What got into him?”

”That’s what Mary Jane said.”

Gwen shrugged, then remembered her earlier call with MJ and told Hawk with an amused expression, ”Speaking of which, Peter let Mary Jane down again.”

Hawk raised an eyebrow.

”What happened?”

”Peter said that with Spider-Man back in the headlines, he needed to get out there and take more pictures. Said he wanted to, and I quote—’squeeze a few more bucks out of Scrooge.’”

”...”

After a moment’s thought, Hawk laughed and put the paper down. ”His Uncle Ben is gone. It’s just him and his Aunt May now, and the property taxes on that house are no joke. He’s probably just trying to help her out. Besides, Peter’s not like me.”

Hearing this, Gwen leaned her hands on the island and smiled at Hawk.

”How is he different?”

”He’s a genuinely good person.”

Hawk drained the hot chocolate Gwen had brought from home and looked at her. ”Anyone else with Peter’s abilities would have been financially independent by now.”

Gwen blinked, watching him. ”So that’s why you offered to pay for his trip to London?”

Hawk just shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. ”I’m financially independent now.”

”Hawk...”

”Yeah?”

”You’re very kind.”

Gwen’s gaze was direct, unwavering.

Hawk met her eyes.

The next second, Gwen smiled, clapped her hands together. ”Alright, Mr. Kindness, finish cleaning up breakfast and get out to the backyard. We’ve got a lot to do today.”

She had grown up in an apartment, but she’d always had a dream.

That after she got married, her home would have a backyard, filled with flowers she had planted and cared for herself.

And now—

It seemed her dream had come true a little early.

A little while later, Hawk slid open the glass door and stepped onto the back porch. He looked over at Gwen, who was already holding a small trowel. ”I don’t think I can help you with that.”

Gwen turned. ”What’s wrong?”

Hawk shrugged. ”Harry just called. He invited me to his estate, asked if I had time.”

”Harry?” Gwen was surprised, her expression curious. ”He has free time now?”

Ever since Norman Osborn had died, Harry had been completely swamped with Oscorp business—so busy he’d even missed prom a few days ago.

He hadn’t even had time to attend graduation yesterday.

”Are you and Harry that close?”

”We’re alright.”

”Well, then you should go.”

”You’re not coming?”

”No.”

Gwen shook her head, her eyes scanning the yard. ”I’m going to stay here and work on a design for the garden. I’ll make a 3D model on my computer. You’re going to love it.”

”If you’re the one doing it, I’ll love it no matter what.” Hawk replied, then said to Gwen, ”Alright, I’m heading out”

Gwen waved him off.

Hawk smiled, turned, and left the backyard, heading for the garage.

He didn’t really want to go to the Osborn estate.

But if he had to choose between yard work and the Osborn estate, he’d take the Osborn estate.

...

Two hours later. The Osborn Estate.

Just as Hawk drove up to the main gate, he saw a familiar face standing just inside.

”Peter?”

”Hawk.”

Peter, who had been about to walk up to the house, saw the Audi A8 approach. His eyes lit up, and he walked over, opening the passenger door and getting in.

Peter was surprised.

”What are you doing here?”

”Harry called and invited me.” Hawk said, then, as if realizing something, he glanced at Peter as he drove onto the estate grounds. ”Did he call you too?”

Peter nodded. ”Yeah, this morning.”

Hearing that, Peter seemed to put two and two together and glanced back at Hawk.

Hawk smiled.

As the main house of the Osborn estate came into view, he already had a good idea of what was going on.

Sure enough, after a brief, awkward greeting, Harry led them into a private study and played a video file from the Oscorp archives—a video about the original spider-serum.

But—

He was still confused.

Hawk watched the video, already knowing what Harry was going to say next. But he didn’t understand why Harry had invited him.

Harry needed Spider-Man. Peter was all he needed for that.

It was a well-known secret in the media world that the Daily Bugle’s Peter Parker had an exclusive deal for photos of Spider-Man. He obviously had a way to contact him.

But him? What did he have to do with it?

Harry handed him a photograph. Hawk took it.

Peter leaned in to look.

It was a picture of the two of them, standing on the edge of the rooftop in Times Square, just before the fight with Electro.

Hawk raised an eyebrow and looked at Harry.

”You’re having me followed.”

”No.”

Harry sat down on a nearby sofa and shook his head. ”I hired a private investigator to follow Spider-Man. I was trying to find out who he really is.”

Hawk nodded and handed the photo to Peter.

Peter stared at it, then looked at Harry. ”Harry, why are you looking for Spider-Man?”

Harry didn’t hesitate. ”The Osborns have a genetic disease. My father had it, and now, so do I. Spider-Man… his blood… it might be the only thing that can cure me. So, I’m asking you both. Tell me who he is, or give me a way to contact him.”

Peter opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Hawk cut in.

”We just happened to be in the same place at the same time last night. That’s all. If you want to get in touch with Spider-Man, you should talk to Peter. He’s his personal photographer.”

He had no interest in getting involved.

This was between Peter and Harry.

After speaking, Hawk got up from the sofa and began to wander around the estate’s living room.

He thought he smelled something… familiar. Something almost chemical.

But he couldn’t quite place it.

He walked toward a connecting room, following the faint scent.

Harry, seeing him leave, turned his full attention to Peter.

”Peter?”

”Harry…”

Peter met his friend’s desperate gaze. ”I… I’ll send him a message. I’ll ask him to meet with you.”

A relieved smile spread across Harry’s pale, drawn face.

”Thank you.”

”Don’t mention it.”

Peter smiled back, but his own smile was strained.

...

Half an hour later.

As Hawk drove Peter away from the Osborn mansion, Peter finally broke the silence. ”He wants Spider-Man’s blood.”

Hawk glanced at him. ”So?”

Peter’s brow furrowed. ”He thinks it can cure him. But I found some old video logs my parents recorded before they disappeared. The original spider-serum… it was fused with my DNA. It’ll only work for me. If anyone else injects it, it could kill them.”

Hawk said. ”Peter, do you remember what I told you in the sewer, back when we found Connors’s lab?”

”Uh…”

Peter’s frown deepened.

Hawk let out a short, cold laugh. ”My choice is whether or not to give it to him. His choice is what he does with it. The consequences… are his alone.”

Peter fell silent.

--

A few days later.

Hawk was in the backyard, taking directions from Gwen on some landscaping project, when a flash of red and blue swung over the fence.

Peter, in full Spider-Man suit, landed in the middle of their garden, startling Gwen.

Before she could even react, Peter had pulled off his mask, his voice low and heavy.

”Harry’s dead...”

”...”

The news hit Hawk like a physical blow.

Gwen, still recovering from the shock of his sudden arrival, just stared, her own expression turning to one of stunned disbelief.

After a long moment, she finally found her voice. She looked at Peter, who had collapsed onto the porch steps with his head in his hands, completely overcome with grief.

She moved to Hawk’s side, her voice a whisper. ”What happened?”

Hawk’s voice was quiet.

”It’s about what happened at Oscorp the other day.”

”...Oh.”

Gwen remembered. She looked back at Peter who was still cradling his head and asked gently, ”Peter... was it because of your blood?”

Peter looked up at her and nodded, his face etched with guilt.

Another deviation from the original story.

In that version, Peter had refused to give Harry his blood, which had led to Harry becoming the Green Goblin, and eventually, to his tragic death at Peter’s own hands.

But this time, Peter had given it to him.

And the result...

Was the same. Harry was still dead.

Hawk’s brow furrowed. He looked at Peter, a note of genuine confusion in his voice. ”That doesn’t make sense. Didn’t you warn him? Didn’t you tell him your blood could be poison to him?”

”I did.”

”And?”

”He called me yesterday. He was so happy. He said it worked.”

”Wait.”

Hawk cut him off. ”Harry injected himself yesterday?”

Peter nodded. ”Yesterday afternoon. He said it was a success.”

”And he died this morning?”

”Yes.”

”Then what does that have to do with you?”

Hawk processed the timeline and shook his head, a look of frank disbelief on his face. ”Peter, listen to yourself. If he had died the second you gave him the blood, I could understand the guilt. But he died a full day later. How is that on you?”

Peter froze, still hunched on the porch floor with his head in his hands.

He looked up at Hawk, his eyes wide and unblinking.

Hawk just shrugged. ”Am I wrong?”

”But... if it wasn’t the serum, then how did he die?”

”You’re asking me?” Hawk let out a short, humorless laugh, then his expression turned curious. ”Who found him?”

Peter pushed himself to his feet.

”Felicia.”

”The assistant?”

”Yeah.”

Peter nodded. ”Felicia lives at the mansion too. She noticed he hadn’t come down for breakfast this morning, so she sent a maid to wake him up. When the maid opened the door... she found him. Dead in his bed.”

Hawk caught the keyword.

”Found him dead?”

”I didn’t ask for the details. I was just calling to see how he was doing, and Felicia answered. She told me not to say anything yet, but... I didn’t know what to do. I came here.”

”She’s right. You can’t say anything.” Gwen, who had been listening quietly, spoke up. ”Harry just took over Oscorp and stabilized the stock price. If news of his death gets out now, it’ll be a massive blow to the company.”

And it would be a disaster of epic proportions.

The Osborn family had a history of a rare, genetic disease that even modern medicine couldn’t explain. And the Osborn line had always been thin.

Norman Osborn had been the one to build the empire.

And Harry was his only son.

But…

Harry had never married. He had no children.

Now that he was dead, the future of the company, whether it would even remain ”Oscorp,” was in question.

...

And sure enough, three days later, when the news of Harry Osborn’s death from a ”sudden illness” finally broke, Oscorp’s stock plummeted.

But with three days to prepare, the board had managed to implement a series of damage control measures that slowed the freefall. The stock was still dropping, but it was no longer in a nosedive.

At the same time, Harry Osborn’s funeral was held at the family’s private cemetery, just behind the Osborn mansion.

Hawk and Gwen, as friends of the deceased, had received invitations from Felicia.

The service was presided over by Felicia herself.

Because, as the world had learned just yesterday, thanks to the tireless efforts of the paparazzi, Felicia Hardy was Norman Osborn’s adopted daughter.

And according to a leaked detail from Harry’s Will, in the event of his death, she was to inherit his entire estate.

”It’s not just a rumor.” Peter, who was standing with them, whispered, ”It’s true. I knew about it.”

Gwen looked at him.

Peter explained, ”After Norman died, Harry was in a really bad place. He told me he didn’t trust anyone at Oscorp, that he felt like someone was trying to kill him. So he made a will. He left everything to Felicia.”

Gwen’s voice was a whisper. ”So, Felicia is really his sister?”

Peter nodded. ”Yeah. Norman adopted her when she was a kid, but he never made it public. Harry told me a long time ago. He made me promise not to tell anyone.”

Gwen nodded in understanding, then looked over at Hawk.

But Hawk’s attention was elsewhere.

Gwen followed his gaze to the open casket at the front of the service. She gently nudged him.

”Hawk?”

”Hm? Yeah.”

Hawk snapped back to the present and looked at Gwen. ”What’s up?”

Gwen just blinked. ”What are you looking at?”

”The coffin.”

Hawk was thinking about his last visit here, about the strange yet familiar scent he’d picked up. He had followed it through the mansion to the family cemetery and brushed it off.

The trail had led to Norman Osborn’s grave, and at the time, he’d figured it was just the smell of death.

But now, here it was again...

And this time, it wasn’t coming from Norman’s grave. It was coming from the coffin that held the body of Harry Osborn.

Hawk looked at Peter.

”Do they know what killed him?”

”Yeah.”

Peter nodded, his voice low. ”Retroviral hyperplasia. The Osborn family disease. Felicia said that after he took my blood, he was fine. Cured. But then...”

After a few days, Peter’s guilt had faded.

Because Harry hadn’t died from his blood.

His blood had cured him.

That was a fact.

As for why the disease had suddenly returned, and with such a vengeance… that was a question science couldn’t answer.

Just then, Mary Jane, who had been silent, whispered, ”It’s starting.”

Hawk and Peter looked up and saw the other guests rising from their seats. They stood as well, preparing to see Harry one last time.

Harry lay in the casket, dressed in a black suit, his eyes closed, looking as if he were just asleep.

But—

As Hawk walked up to the coffin and looked down at Harry, his gaze fell on a wisp of black energy gathered between Harry’s brows. And in that instant, he finally realized why this scent felt so familiar.

It wasn’t Norman Osborn.

It was Mephisto.

Back on the African savanna, after he had killed the Demon Hulk, the lingering projection of Mephisto had carried this exact same scent.

It had been months, and the scent was so weak, so subtle, that he hadn’t placed it at first.

But now, looking at the wisp of black smoke on Harry’s brow, Hawk finally understood.

This was the scent of a demon.

Hawk’s expression didn’t change. He followed Peter past the coffin, took one last look at Harry, and then walked away.

Half an hour later.

The coffin was closed and lowered into the ground. The funeral was over.

Hawk and Gwen, along with Peter and Mary Jane, didn’t stay for the reception. They chose to head home instead.

It was already getting late.

Hawk and Gwen dropped Peter and Mary Jane off at the subway station in Queens, then started the drive back to Manhattan.

...

As they crossed into Manhattan, Gwen finally broke the silence. ”Okay. Spill it.”

Hawk just smiled. ”Was it that obvious?”

Gwen shrugged. ”Please. If I didn’t know you, how would I have found you all alone in Maryland? What did you figure out?”

Hawk didn’t hide it from her.

”A demon.”

”What?”

”I suspect the Osborn family’s genetic disease isn’t a disease at all. I think it’s because of a demon.”

”...”

Gwen was quiet for a moment, then understanding dawned on her face. ”Peter said that at first, Harry was cured. But then the disease came back fast and violent. If you’re right... it sounds like the demon got pissed off and decided to finish the job.”

Hawk just shrugged.

--

If the Osborn family’s genetic disease wasn’t a disease at all, but a demonic curse... then it all made perfect sense.

Harry had used Peter blood to cure himself.

The demon lurking in the shadows wasn’t having it. That very night, it renewed the curse, leaving no room for error, and took Harry off the board for good.

The more Gwen thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. Her eyes lit up as she looked at Hawk.

”So, what’s next?”

”Next...”

Hawk looked at Gwen, who seemed to be enjoying the chaos a little too much, and a small smile touched his lips. ”I take you home. Then I go home. And we both go to sleep.”

Gwen’s face fell.

”Hawk!!”

”It’s a demon, Gwen. I still haven’t found the entrance to Hell yet. You think I can find a demon that’s probably already gone back there?”

Hawk shook his head, a hint of genuine frustration in his voice.

After the funeral, he had opened his senses completely, hoping to catch a trace of the creature, to pinpoint the demon.

If he’d gotten lucky, he might have been able to force the location of Hell’s entrance on Earth out of it.

Then, once he had the Reality Stone, he could go straight there. And bring his sister Anya home for Christmas.

But it was a grand plan, and reality was a harsh mistress.

He hadn’t found any trace of the demon at the funeral. If the Osborn family curse was its handiwork, then with Harry’s death, the Osborn line was effectively extinguished.

Odds were, the demon had already returned to Hell.

He just couldn’t figure out what the Osborns had done to bring such a curse down on their family in the first place.

...

After dropping Gwen off, he headed back home.

Hawk took a shower, but instead of going to bed, he went to the study. He sat down at the computer the previous owner had left behind and, with the Osborn curse still on his mind, began to search.

The history of the Osborn family’s rise to power was well-documented.

Norman Osborn had sold his family’s herring cannery, converted the factory to produce munitions, and gotten rich off the profits of war.

But Norman had already been afflicted with the family’s ”genetic disease” by then.

So, it had to have started earlier.

But online, there was almost nothing about the Osborn family before Norman.

After a fruitless search, Hawk stroked his chin, then pulled out his phone, scrolled to the third contact in his list—Peter’s—and dialed.

The call connected almost instantly.

”Hello?”

”The Osborns aren’t originally from New York, are they?”

”No, they’re... thwip, don’t move!!”

”...”

Hawk heard the commotion on the other end and glanced at the time in the corner of his screen. ”It’s eleven o’clock. You’re still out?”

Peter’s voice came back, a little breathless. ”I was on my way home, but I got a weird feeling. Figured I’d take a little detour.”

Hawk grunted in acknowledgement, then got back to the point.

”Where did the Osborns move here from?”

”London.”

Peter shot another web, pinning a late-night mugger to a wall as he talked. ”The Osborns are from London. Why do you think Harry went to boarding school there?”

London?

Not Texas? I thought that was demon central.

Hawk thought to himself.

”Do you know when their genetic disease first showed up?”

”Genetic... why are you asking about this?”

”Couldn’t sleep.”

”Right.”

Peter, who couldn’t really argue with that logic, thought for a moment. ”I don’t know exactly when it started. Harry never really talked about it. But I do remember him saying that the symptoms started appearing after his family moved from Massachusetts to New York.”

”Wait, Massachusetts? I thought you said they were from London.” Hawk’s brow furrowed.

”The Osborns came over on the Mayflower. The first settlers all landed in Massachusetts.” Peter explained, then thought for a moment. ”I remember Harry said where they settled... right, Salem. Yeah, that’s it. I remember because I looked it up afterward. The Osborns moved to New York City after the Salem Witch Trials.”

The Salem Witch Trials??

Hawk’s brow furrowed. He suddenly had a feeling he had just found the reason why the Osborns were cursed by a demon.

But—

He needed to be sure.

He ended the call and immediately started searching for information on the Salem Witch Trials.

The Mayflower had landed in Massachusetts in 1620.

The Salem Witch Trials had taken place in 1692.

The trials had been a national sensation. At least nineteen accused witches had been executed, and countless others had been imprisoned or had died in custody.

As one of the most infamous events in American history, the Salem Witch Trials were a far more popular topic online than the Osborn family history.

Every year, amateur historians and conspiracy theorists posted new findings, new theories.

It didn’t take long. On a forum dedicated to the trials, Hawk found a scanned image of a yellowed, historical document. And on it, a familiar name.

[On April 22, 1692, Magistrates Hathorne and Osborn did preside over the examination of twelve accused witches. In the end, Osborn did absolve one of the accused, but did condemn the others to be punished by fire.]

In plain English... They had bound eleven women to stakes and burned them alive.

Hawk knew he had his proof.

Suddenly—

”Holy sh...”

”What the hell!”

”Hawk, get down here! Under the Manhattan Bridge!”

Beep, beep, beep.

Hawk snapped back to reality, his eyes drawn to the phone, which had just cut out. He raised an eyebrow, then stood, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone from the study.

...

Under the Manhattan Bridge.

Peter, in his Spider-Man suit, was suspended in mid-air, his limbs spread-eagled, held in place by an invisible force.

His phone lay on the ground nearby.

He strained against his bonds, the muscles in his arms bulging, but it was no use. The suit began to tear at the seams, but he couldn’t break free.

He stared, wide-eyed, at the impossible scene before him.

A woman, wreathed in an aura of ethereal blue fire, stood on the ground below. Her right hand was outstretched toward him, and as she slowly rotated it, he spun in the air.

She spoke in a low, haunting whisper.

”Those who help the Osborns... must die.”

”Is that so?”

Hawk’s voice immediately followed.

The Witch’s glowing blue eyes snapped toward the sound. She whipped her hand in his direction.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The blue fire exploded against Hawk’s clenched fist.

Hawk stepped out of the dissipating flames.

Peter was released. He shot a web, swung to the ground, and landed at Hawk’s side.

”Hawk, what the hell is this thing?”

”A Salem Witch.”

Hawk’s gaze was fixed on the fiery figure before them. ”We didn’t know the Osborns were cursed by you. You don’t have to come after us.”

Peter was completely lost.

Hawk quickly gave him the short version—that the Osborn family’s genetic disease was likely a curse placed on them by the Salem witches they had executed centuries ago.

Peter was even more confused. ”The Salem Witches... weren’t they all fake?”

”Most of them were probably innocent. But this one... this one’s the real deal.”

And a powerful one, at that.

A witch who could claw her way back from Hell to get her revenge was not to be trifled with.

Peter still didn’t get it.

”But why is she after me?”

”Your blood cured Harry. She’s holding a grudge.”

Hiss.

Peter drew in a sharp breath. He looked at the witch, who was just standing there, wreathed in blue fire, watching them. He remembered the feeling of being completely helpless, unable to break free from her power.

”How do we kill her?”

”We can’t.”

”What?”

”Do you know any magic?”

”No.”

”Then we can’t.” With his senses wide open, Hawk could easily tell that the witch before them had no physical form.

To be more precise, she felt like a soul that had been pieced back together, making her naturally immune to physical attacks...

But—

As everyone knows, the Phoenix Illusion Demon Fist wasn’t a normal attack. It was a psychic one. Most importantly, was he really going to don his Phoenix Armor just to deal with a vengeful ghost?

He couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Peter took another deep, shaky breath.

”So what do we do?”

”Let’s see if we can talk to her. Even a weakened giant is still dangerous. Harry still has a few uncles left, right?”

”Didn’t you see them at the funeral? They were the ones making a scene, claiming the Will was a fake, before Felicia threw them out.”

If Harry hadn’t left a will, his uncles would have inherited everything.

But Harry had left a will. His uncles got nothing.

Capitalism has no room for humanitarian concerns or consolation prizes.

”As long as they’re still named Osborn, it’s enough.”

Hawk turned his attention back to the Witch. ”We didn’t know. Now we do. We promise we won’t interfere with the remaining Osborns. You can continue your revenge.”

The Witch’s blue flames flickered.

After a long moment of silence, with a soft whoosh, the blue light vanished.

And the Witch was gone.

--

With the Hell Witch’s departure—

Instantly, The space beneath the Manhattan Bridge was plunged back into darkness.

But whether for Hawk or for Peter, the darkness was irrelevant. They could both still see as clearly as if it were day.

Peter stared at the spot where the witch had vanished, his mouth slightly agape.

”She’s gone?”

”Yes.”

”So...”

”Leave it,” Hawk cut in. ”It’s Osborn family business.”

”Right...” Peter thought back to how easily the witch had bound him, a shiver of lingering fear running through him as he looked at Hawk. ”Thanks, Hawk.”

”Don’t mention it. I’m heading out. You sticking around?”

”Nah,” Peter shook his head. ”I’m heading home.”

Hawk gave him a nod and a small wave, then vanished in an instant.

Peter watched him go, then shot a web and swung off into the night, leaving behind nothing but a single, gibbering madman pinned to the bridge’s stone support.

...

A short while later, Hawk was home.

He took another quick shower, then lay down on his bed, staring at the ceiling as he replayed the image of the Hell Witch vanishing without another word.

He had been planning to get her talking, to see if he could learn the location of Hell’s gate from her.

But—

Witches, as it turns out, are predictably aloof.

Whatever. It’s too soon to be thinking about Hell anyway. The Reality Stone has to be the priority.

With that thought, Hawk closed his eyes, sinking his consciousness back into his Cosmo, continuing the slow, arduous process of reaching for the Sixth Sense.

...

When Harry Osborn first passed away, the news had dominated the headlines of every major media outlet in New York.

But the world moves on.

It was just like with Tony Stark. Since his dramatic battle last Christmas, news about him had all but vanished from the papers.

Harry Osborn was no different.

After the initial media frenzy, after the funeral and the public reading of his notarized will, the stories had dwindled.

Wall Street’s attention had shifted to his successor, the new CEO of Oscorp Industries: Felicia Hardy.

Interestingly, the moment the news of her inheritance broke, Oscorp’s stock not only stopped its freefall but began to rapidly rebound.

As one Wall Street analyst put it, ”Felicia Hardy is a known quantity. She started as Norman Osborn’s executive assistant, effectively ran the company during his illness, and then continued to manage it alongside Harry. Now, she’s in charge. Investors like that kind of stability.”

Her career trajectory reminded many of another famous executive.

The CEO of Stark Industries—Pepper Potts.

A few days later, the investors had even given Ms. Hardy a nickname.

”The Black Cat.”

”Where did that come from?”

It was the day before their trip to London. Hawk, Gwen, Peter, and Mary Jane were gathered at a cafe, finalizing their plans and catching up on the latest gossip.

Mostly, it was Mary Jane doing the talking. After all, her title of ”Gossip Queen” wasn’t just for show.

MJ explained. ”Apparently, Felicia owns a black cat. A really beautiful one. The name just kind of stuck.”

”A black cat...” Gwen’s eyes widened in recognition. ”You know, when I was an intern at Oscorp, I remember seeing a black cat around the labs. I always thought it belonged to the security department.”

After all, their lab was full of mice. It had seemed logical.

She’d often seen it prowling the hallway outside their lab, a sleek, silent shadow. She had just assumed it was there for pest control.

She never imagined it belonged to Felicia.

”Oh, right.” Mary Jane smiled, her eyes lighting up as she turned to Gwen. ”Do you remember at the funeral, those guys Felicia had thrown out? The ones who were probably Harry’s uncles?”

Gwen nodded. ”Yeah, what about them?”

”They sued to have the Will overturned. The court refused to hear the case.”

”It’d be weird if they did,” Gwen said, rolling her eyes. ”Harry was of sound mind when he wrote it. He had a video recording, and a lawyer from a major firm was present. No judge in their right mind would even hear that case. They’d be a laughingstock.”

Mary Jane shrugged. ”That’s not even the best part. Apparently, the second uncle, the one who was making the most noise? He was just diagnosed with the family’s genetic disease.”

Gwen’s eyes widened.

Across the table, Hawk and Peter exchanged a quick look.

Hawk gave a subtle shake of his head.

It was the same as before. This was a private matter between the Hell Witch and the Osborn family. There was no need for them to get involved.

If Harry were still alive, Peter might have stepped in.

But Harry was gone.

And besides Harry, Peter didn’t really know any of the other Osborns, and it wasn’t likely they’d appreciate his help anyway.

Peter understood Hawk’s signal and said nothing.

Time flew by as the girls finalized the itinerary. By the time Hawk and Gwen got back to the Stacy’s apartment, it was already six o’clock.

Helen had dinner ready.

The scene was a familiar one.

The same people.

The classic lemon sea bass was on the menu.

Helen, with her ”I just love my son-in-law” smile—and George, with his ”I’m going to kill my son-in-law” scowl.

Gwen’s two little brothers were as energetic and mischievous as ever.

Hawk looked at the scene, then at Gwen, who was watching her family with a happy, contented smile of her own. And in that moment, an image flashed in his mind:

Electro, the man he had killed with a single punch.

The power plant...

It finally clicked. He finally understood the source of the immense, overwhelming relief he had felt in that moment.

...

After dinner, Hawk drove back to his house.

He parked in the garage, walked into the living room, and immediately saw it: a ball of blue flame, hovering in front of the fireplace.

The next second, the flame coalesced into a familiar form. The Hell Witch.

Hawk tossed his keys into the decorative fruit bowl Gwen had bought and walked toward the sofa.

The witch’s voice was the same ghostly whisper as before.

”Thank you.”

”...”

So, she finally realized I could have killed her back then.

Hawk thought to himself. He just smiled and got straight to the point. ”Can you tell me where the entrance to Hell is?”

The witch paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was a strange, layered chorus of different women—some old, some young, their personalities clashing and merging.

”The gateway to Hell has been sealed.”

”It happened a while ago.”

”We heard Mephisto... got his ass kicked.”

”And then he sealed the entrance.”

”...”

Hawk listened to the cacophony of voices, a curious look on his face.

The Witch’s voice returned to a single, calm whisper. ”I apologize. We were all burned together. Our souls are intertwined. We cannot forgive, so we seek vengeance.”

”Understood.” Hawk nodded. ”An eye for an eye. Your revenge has nothing to do with me. I won’t interfere.”

The Hell Witch thanked him again.

Hawk steered the conversation back to the main topic. ”You said the gateway to Hell is closed?”

Well, I’ll be damned.

So Mephisto is all talk?

The Hell Witch explained, ”Apparently, Mephisto came to Earth a while ago, but he was discovered by the guardian of the Kamar-Taj, who beat him senseless. After he went back, Mephisto sealed the gate.”

Kamar-Taj.

Guardian.

The Ancient One??

Hawk drew in a sharp breath. ”The Ancient One didn’t kill him, did she?”

The witch shook her head. ”Mephisto is the sovereign of Hell. As long as Hell exists, he cannot truly die.”

Hawk let out a breath of relief. ”Can you tell when the gateway will reopen?”

”Yes.”

”Then do me a favor. Let me know when it does. I have business in Hell.”

”I will.”

”Thank you.”

”You are welcome.”

The Witch held his gaze for a long, silent moment, then dissolved back into a ball of blue flame and disappeared into the fireplace.

With a soft poof, the flame vanished, and the living room was plunged into darkness.

Hawk turned and started up the stairs to his bedroom.

Wait.

He suddenly stopped, blinking.

Mephisto got beaten up by the Ancient One?

That doesn’t seem right. Mephisto is a God. As powerful as the Ancient One is, she’s not a god.

Oh, right.

The Ancient One has the Time Stone.

Hawk let out a short, surprised laugh and shook his head.

Whatever. Right now, the Reality Stone is what matters most.