Marvel: The Enlightened One#92+93: Anna, Top-Tier Off-Site Support, S.H.I.E.L.D Protects World Peace, Not One Family’s Peace

What is New York City like at night?

Manhattan, a glittering jewel of light?

Brooklyn, a sprawling constellation of homes?

Queens, a silent, sleeping giant?

Most New Yorkers make it a habit to be home before dark, but this was still the city that never sleeps, a global metropolis with a nightlife all its own.

In the bars of Manhattan, a chaotic free-for-all was in full swing.

On the empty streets, street racers tore down the asphalt, their engines roaring.

Near Morningside Park, a luxury sedan pulled up to the curb. A woman in revealing clothing standing under a streetlight smiled and walked over to the car, getting in quickly before it drove away.

In a nearby apartment, three thugs who'd been looking for easy targets were slumped on the couch.

...

Splat.

Dirty water splashed up.

Just before it could touch him, Hawk took a step forward, appearing at the mouth of the alley. His nose twitched, and without pausing, he crossed the street.

Across the road was a six-story building with a peeling facade.

Hawk stood below, his gaze lifting and locking onto a window on the third floor.

The conversation of the three people inside was perfectly clear.

“Shit. Fuck. Shit!”

“Stop cursing. I just asked around. Roy’s dead.”

“...For real?”

“Yeah.”

“So what now?”

“What do you think? Maybe we just take a potshot at the girl. We’d still get the five hundred K for a kill. Split three ways, that’s enough.”

“Are you crazy? Why take five hundred K when we can get a million?”

“You’re the one who’s crazy! How are we supposed to grab her now?”

“...”

Hawk listened to their hushed, frantic debate and smiled.

Found you...

He glanced at a nearby security camera, which was hanging uselessly from its mount, then walked into the six-story apartment building. He took the stairs to the third floor and stopped in front of a door.

The next second, he kicked.

BAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!

The deadbolt shattered, and the door flew open.

The three men inside—smoking, drinking, and plotting—jumped to their feet, their eyes wide with shock as Hawk stepped into the room.

And then, It was over.

The heads of two of the men were separated from their shoulders. Their headless bodies crumpled to the floor, blood fountaining from their necks.

The metallic tang of it filled the small apartment.

The sole survivor was paralyzed, staring in horror at the two heads that had rolled to a stop on the floor, their expressions still frozen in shock.

He began to shake uncontrollably, forgetting to control his own bladder.

A soft trickling sound echoed in the quiet room.

Hawk glanced at the man, who was now just a heap on the floor, his face ashen.

“Hold it.”

The trickling stopped.

The man looked up, his pale, bloodless lips trembling.

“Don’t... don’t kill me.”

“The name.”

Hawk pulled out a handkerchief and began to wipe his hands, his gaze flat. “Who hired you?”

The words seemed to snap the man out of his daze. A single thought flashed through his mind.

Don’t talk.

If I keep my mouth shut, I might live.

If I talk, I’m dead for sure.

The man was a criminal, not an idiot. He knew better than anyone what happens when you’re no longer useful.

His two partners were dead. That made him valuable.

And so, with a new sense of purpose, he took a deep breath. The color returned to his face, his legs stopped shaking. With leverage came courage.

“...” Hawk watched, a look of genuine surprise on his face, as the man who had been a trembling mess just a second ago now pushed himself up from the floor and met his gaze.

The man sneered. “You want to know who hired me? Fine. Let me walk, and I’ll—”

SQUELCH!

The man’s words were cut short. He felt the world spin, and then he saw it.

A headless body, standing on the floor, gushing blood.

Wait a minute.

Those clothes look familiar...

As the thought registered, a searing pain shot through his brain, and then an endless darkness consumed him.

Thump.

The headless body crumpled to the floor.

Hawk looked down at the corpse and shook his head.

An idiot so stupid he belonged in a museum.

...

An hour later, Hawk was back at his apartment.

He pulled out the second phone Gwen had given him—the replacement for the one he’d “lost”—and dialed a number. As it rang, he glanced at the driver’s license in his other hand.

Daven Simmons.

The name of the museum-grade idiot who thought he had the leverage to negotiate.

The call connected quickly.

Anna’s voice, tinged with a pleasant surprise, came through the line. “Hawk!”

“Good evening, Anna. Hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Good morning.” Anna, dressed in a lace nightgown in her Parisian mansion, pulled back the curtains and smiled. “It’s seven AM here in Paris.”

Hawk registered this, then got straight to the point. “I need you to run a name for me. Check his bank accounts for a recent deposit of one hundred thousand dollars. If you find it, I need the information of the person who sent it.”

“Of course. The name?”

“Daven Simmons. From New York.”

If that idiot Daven had just kept his mouth shut in the apartment, Hawk probably would have let him live. But Hawk had been standing right outside, and he'd heard him mention the hundred thousand dollars in operational funds.

The advance payment was all he needed.

It didn’t matter that Daven wouldn’t talk. He could just trace the money.

...

In Paris, Anna jotted down the name.

“No problem. I’ll have my people look into it. When do you need it?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Alright. I’ll let you know the moment I have something.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Anna smiled. She waited for Hawk to hang up before ending the call herself.

Ever since the Quantico incident, Hawk had become a high-priority asset for her organization. And as his primary contact, her own status had risen accordingly.

She had been trying to think of an excuse to call him, just to maintain the connection.

A relationship, after all, needs to be maintained. If you let too much time pass without contact, even the strongest connections can fade.

And now, he had called her.

This is good.

Anna thought to herself. She glanced at the name on the notepad, then picked up her phone and made another call.

If Hawk was placing this much trust in her, she couldn’t let him down.

...

The next morning, Hawk took the school bus.

Gwen wasn’t there.

After yesterday’s kidnapping attempt, not only Gwen, but her two younger brothers had also taken a leave of absence from school to stay home.

Until the case was solved and the motive was clear, it was safer to stay home.

Gwen had called him that morning to tell him not to pick her up. She had also mentioned that her father had spent the entire night at the Queens precinct, working the case.

But even though Gwen wasn’t there, someone else was.

Mary Jane.

She must have been waiting in the parking lot. The moment she saw Hawk get off the bus, her face lit up, and she dragged Peter over to him.

Mary Jane’s eyes were gleaming with gossip. She lowered her voice and fired off a series of questions. “Hawk, what happened? A kidnapping? For real? Who did it? Do you know?”

Hawk was stunned by the machine-gun-like barrage of questions. He looked at Peter.

Peter just gave him an embarrassed smile.

The message was clear: She handles the small things, I handle the big things. Of course, she gets to decide what counts as 'big.'

The Spider has been completely domesticated.

Hawk sighed internally. He looked at Mary Jane. “I thought you and Peter took a leave of absence at the start of the semester. Don’t you have to work today?”

Mary Jane had gotten a job at a restaurant.

Peter was back at the Daily Bugle, selling pictures of himself to save up money for college.

Mary Jane rolled her eyes. “Gwen was almost kidnapped. Of course we came.”

Hawk nodded and then quickly answered her questions. “Alright. It was an attempted kidnapping. They haven’t found the person responsible yet. Gwen’s at home for now. Anything else?”

Mary Jane shook her head.

Hawk smiled faintly. “Good. I’ve got to go see my counselor.”

He had no time for this. He needed to get his leave of absence approved. Once this business with Gwen’s kidnapping was settled, he was heading straight to Africa.

Hawk had no trouble getting the time off. His counselor, seeing that he had enough credits and had already gotten into college, happily signed off on it.

And that wasn’t the only good news.

Just as he was leaving the counselor’s office, his phone buzzed.

It was a text from Anna.

“...” Hawk opened it, and as he read the name she had sent him, his brow furrowed, and a single thought came to mind.

You have to pull the weeds out by the roots.

Or else...

They’ll just grow back.

<><><><><><><><>

The text message from Anna was brutally simple.

It contained only a name.

Betty Ross.

The moment Hawk saw the name, he knew exactly who it was.

Thaddeus Ross’s daughter.

Bruce Banner’s wife.

Yes.

His wife.

He remembered seeing it at the beginning of the semester.

The Daily Bugle, in its infinite dedication to gossip, had run a story, complete with a photo of Bruce Banner and Betty Ross registering their marriage at New York City Hall.

Peter had brought him the paper. It was one of the few perks of his part-time job at the Bugle—a free copy every day.

Hawk had only glanced at it at the time, not giving it a second thought.

His war was with Thaddeus Ross, not his daughter.

Just as it had been with the Hulk.

He had killed the Hulk, but he had spared Bruce Banner.

He went after the one responsible, not the entire family. Hawk didn't believe in collective punishment. At least, that’s what he used to think...

Now?

He understood!

Just then, his phone rang. It was Anna, following up on her text.

He answered. “Hello.”

“Hawk, sorry, this took a little while. The account that paid Daven Simmons belongs to a well-known information broker on the black market. It took our people some time to find him, but he gave up his client.”

“Betty Ross...”

Hawk didn’t care how Anna had gotten the information, only about the result. “Are you sure it was her?”

“Positive. Betty Ross’s bank account shows a transfer of two hundred thousand dollars to the broker five days ago. The broker then contacted Daven Simmons. My people also recovered the call recording between Betty Ross and the broker. Do you need it?”

“No. As long as you have the right person.”

“There’s no mistake. It was easy to track. I’ve sent you Betty Ross’s address.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

Hawk thanked her again and hung up. He glanced at the address in the text, then put his phone back in his pocket, his expression calm.

He was a fast learner.

And this was a hard lesson.

Before, he'd lived by a simple rule: an eye for an eye. And the result? Betty Ross trying to have Gwen kidnapped.

If he hadn't just awakened the Draco constellation, if his Cosmo hadn't been strengthened by both the Dragon and the Phoenix, if he hadn't finally found the door to his Sixth Sense—which had blazed to life the moment Gwen was in danger.

If his Sixth Sense hadn't warned him, what would have happened?

Hawk couldn't bear to think about it.

Even if the worst had happened, he would have stormed Hell itself to bring Gwen back.

But what if he couldn't?

And so, a lesson learned from a critical mistake. Better late than never to fix the problem after damage is done.

From now on, this would never happen again.

...

The old philosophy was dead.

In his mind, he replaced "I only hold the guilty responsible" with a new, colder, and far more absolute creed.

An attack on my family is a war on theirs.

He walked out of the administration building, his mind clear, his purpose set.

Peter, who was waiting outside, was about to go up to him, but then he felt it—a wave of pure killing intent washed over him. His Spider-Sense screamed, every hair on his body standing on end.

Hawk saw him and reined in his aura. “Peter? You’re still here? Where’s Mary Jane?”

Peter snapped out of it. “Mary Jane went to find Gwen.”

"And you?" Hawk descended the steps and fell into pace beside him, walking toward the school gate.

“I was going to ask if you needed my help. But... it looks like you don’t. You already know who was behind the kidnapping, don’t you?” Peter asked.

Hawk grunted in affirmation.

Peter nodded. “Alright then. I’ve got to go find Harry. He called me yesterday. He didn’t sound right.”

Hawk was curious. “Harry? I thought he had successfully taken over his father company”

Harry Osborn had shown up at the beginning of the semester too, but only to request a leave of absence. With his father Norman dead, he needed to take over the company. Hawk remembered him mentioning that with Felicia Hardy's help, the transition had gone pretty smoothly.

“Who knows.” Peter shook his head. “I’m going to go. Call me if you need anything.”

Hawk smiled and nodded. “Alright. We'll talk soon.”

“Yeah.” Peter waved goodbye, then ran toward a small grove of trees. A few moments later, Spider-Man shot out, swinging on a web, and disappeared from sight.

He didn't even ask what Hawk was planning to do. He didn't need to. Hawk was going to kill someone.

It was inevitable. And Peter got it. If anyone had tried to kidnap Aunt May, he would have killed them too.

No exceptions.

Just like he had killed the man who murdered his Uncle Ben.

Once again, this was the original Spider-Man, the Bully Maguire version. He might be a good person, but he was no naive idealist!

Hawk watched the Spider disappear and smiled. He walked out of the school gate and hailed a cab.

“Jersey City.”

“Lincoln Park.”

“You got it." The cab driver glanced at Hawk in the rearview mirror, his face lighting up when he heard the destination. He nodded and hit the meter.

In the back seat, Hawk watched the scenery fly by, his eyes narrowed.

...

About forty-five minutes later, they arrived at Lincoln Park, on the easternmost edge of Jersey City.

Hawk paid the driver and got out. He stood at the entrance to the park for a moment, then turned, his gaze instantly locking onto an apartment building across the street. It wasn’t flashy, but it was clearly high-end.

The next second, his phone rang.

Hawk pulled it from his pocket, glanced at the caller ID, and put it to his ear.

The moment he answered, a crisp, authoritative female voice came through the line.

“Hawk, this is Victoria Hand from S.H.I.E.L.D. We need to—”

“FUCK OFF.”

Hawk didn’t let her finish. He cut her off and hung up, then started walking toward the Lincoln Park Apartments.

According to Anna, after marrying Bruce Banner last month, Betty Ross had moved from Washington D.C. and settled here.

Bruce Banner had apparently joined a lab at Stark Industries.

As for Betty Ross?

She didn’t seem to be working. She had been living a quiet, reclusive life in her new apartment.

...

S.H.I.E.L.D. Command, New York.

Victoria Hand, dressed in her S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform, stood with her hands on her hips, staring at the glaring red "CALL TERMINATED" message on the main screen. The corner of her mouth twitched. She pulled out her personal phone and dialed Maria Hill.

"Yes?"

"We have a problem. Hawk has found Betty Ross."

"That fast?"

Maria Hill's voice, coming from the Triskelion, was laced with a mixture of shock and frustration. "Weren't you supposed to be watching her? Keeping her from doing something stupid?"

Victoria Hand sighed. "We thought she'd given up. It's been two months. She's been a model citizen since she moved to Jersey. And her bank accounts are with Stark. Tony's still in recovery, we haven't gotten the updated authorization codes yet."

Maria Hill felt a headache coming on. “Where is Hawk now??”

“He’s already on his way up to her apartment.”

Hiss.

Maria Hill drew in a sharp breath and shot to her feet, her voice cracking slightly. “Betty?”

“She’s home.”

“And Bruce?”

“He’s at the lab.”

“...”

Maria Hill was silent, not knowing what to say.

Victoria Hand frowned. “What do we do now? Just stand by and watch him kill her?”

Maria Hill just laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. “Can we stop him? Besides, since he found her, it means he already knows. Betty made the first move.”

“But he killed Thaddeus Ross...”

“And Ross made the first move then, too.” Maria Hill took a deep breath. “This is just an endless cycle of revenge. There's no point in getting involved."

She decisively cut off that line of thought and, after a moment, made her decision.

"Stand down. Let it happen. S.H.I.E.L.D is not to intervene."

"Ma'am...?"

“S.H.I.E.L.D protects world peace, not one family’s peace. Hawk has been living a normal life since he returned from Quantico. Betty Ross started this. I am not going to risk S.H.I.E.L.D by picking a fight with a powerful being who lives by a code of—don’t tread on me.”

“...”

Victoria Hand listened to Maria Hill’s reasoning and, after a moment, had no counterargument.

No matter how you spun it, Betty had started this.

...

While the two female heads of S.H.I.E.L.D were on the phone, Hawk reached the tenth floor of the apartment building and stopped in front of Betty's door.

He raised his hand, about to force it open.

In the next instant, the door swung open from the inside.