Marvel: The Enlightened One#82+83: Money Falls Silent—Ross, Dead! Abomination, Dead!

Buildings were coming down everywhere.

Across the entire Quantico base—black streaks of energy carved through structure after structure, sending concrete and steel crashing to the ground.

In the family housing district, screams echoed as men and women scattered in panic. The sky itself seemed to weep, the fires from below painting the clouds a hellish red.

The earth was trembling, the collapsing buildings slammed into the ground with a deafening roar.

In the half an hour since Hawk had arrived, this heartland of federal power had been transformed into a warzone more brutal than any battlefield in Afghanistan.

Armored vehicles, worth millions of dollars, lay scattered across the ground, burning wrecks of twisted metal.

Tanks, worth tens of millions, had their cannons ripped off, smoldering where they stood.

Even the fighter jets, each a marvel of engineering worth hundreds of millions.

Well, there were no more fighter jets. Every last one of them had been turned into an exploding pile of scrap, no different from the tanks and armored cars.

When violence begins to speak, money falls silent.

“Oh, God!”

"Fire! Fi—"

CRACK!!!

With an emotionless backhand, Hawk sent a soldier, who had been screaming in terror while firing at him—flying.

Hawk glanced down at the white marks the bullets had left on his skin, then looked up at the other soldiers before him. Or rather, at the soldiers who were dropping their weapons and turning to run.

Hawk watched them for a second, then felt the sting of bullets on his back. He turned, and his figure vanished.

“Aaargh!”

Hawk’s right hand shot out.

With a slight squeeze, he crushed a soldier’s head, ignoring the blood that splattered across his body. His eyes were devoid of emotion as he watched another group of soldiers throw down their weapons and flee.

He didn’t chase them.

Though he was on a rampage, in the last thirty minutes, he had inflicted billions of dollars in economic damage. But Hawk could, with a clear conscience, say that he was holding to his principles.

He only killed those who tried to kill him.

After half an hour of carnage, the soldiers on the base had clearly figured this out. After the armored vehicles were torched, the tanks exploded, and the jets fell from the sky, it was their turn.

Aside from a few who hadn't gotten the memo and opened fire on Hawk, most of them just stood there with their rifles, some without even taking the safety off.

So when Hawk appeared before them, they saw their out. They dropped their weapons, screamed, and ran.

Surrender, and you live.

And it was true. Hawk didn’t bother with the soldiers who dropped their weapons and fled. He had no desire to cause a needless massacre.

This arrangement suited him just fine.

He had come to Quantico for three things.

Thaddeus Ross.

The Abomination.

And to make a statement.

Now, After killing another dozen or so soldiers who had fired on him, the sound of gunfire on the base had completely ceased.

The statement had been made. That left two things on his list.

Hawk ripped the uniform from a dead soldier’s body and used it to wipe the blood from his face as he walked toward the base’s command center—his steps as calm and unhurried as a leisurely stroll through the burning, ruined landscape.

Nearly every building on the base was a wreck.

Only the command center remained untouched.

In fact, a fighter jet had spiraled out of the sky, on a collision course with the building. Just as it was about to impact, Hawk had appeared, kicking the multi-ton aircraft aside as if it were a toy.

It wasn't an act of mercy.

It was a simple matter of culinary preference. The main course is always served last.

The people inside the command center weren't idiots. They'd seen what he was capable of. They knew he was saving them for last.

So they tried to run.

But they couldn't.

With his senses fully open, Hawk gave the VIPs in the command center no chance to flee. The wrecked tanks and armored vehicles littering the ground less than fifty meters from the building were a testament to that.

Even so, the command center was not an isolated island.

Quite the opposite.

...

In front of the building, dozens of soldiers had formed a human wall, aiming their rifles at Hawk.

Thump.

Thump.

In the chaotic silence of the military base, Hawk’s footsteps were perfectly clear as he walked toward them, wiping the blood from his face, leaving a trail of bloody footprints with every step.

The footprints drew closer, and then the footsteps stopped.

Hawk stood before the military command center.

He finished wiping the blood from his arms, then casually tossed the blood-soaked uniform to the ground.

The sound of the uniform hitting the ground made the soldiers at the door flinch.

They raised their rifles at the man standing before them—unarmed, shirtless, hands casually in his pockets, his build radiating pure strength.

But they couldn't bring themselves to pull the trigger, even as panicked VIP voices screamed desperately through their earpieces, ordering them to shoot.

They had brains... If they weren't the unlucky bastards told to stick around and guard the bigshots, they would've been long gone with everyone else.

They hadn’t fired a shot. And they had seen it with their own eyes—as long as they dropped their guns, the man before them would leave them alone.

So... fire?

For what? The shitty paycheck they got every month? It wasn't worth dying over. They were soldiers, not martyrs. They just needed an excuse to get the hell out of here—

Hawk looked at the wall of soldiers blocking his path, their weapons all mysteriously still on safety by some unspoken agreement. He let out a quiet chuckle. “Heh.”

“Aaargh!”

“Oh, God!”

“Help me!”

The moment Hawk's laugh escaped his lips, it was like a dam burst. The soldiers dropped their weapons as one, screaming and shouting as they scattered in every direction, disappearing in seconds.

A gentle breeze drifted through the now-empty courtyard. The path to the command center lay wide open.

Hawk just smiled. It was a genuine, unrestrained smile. “Hahaha!”

...

“...”

Inside, the VIPs watched the main screen, their faces pale as they stared at the image of Hawk, standing before their building with a backdrop of burning tanks and dead bodies, laughing. They began to tremble.

It wasn’t from anger. It was from fear.

Because in that moment, they understood one thing. Their lives were no more valuable than the lives of the soldiers outside. They were no more valuable than the multi-million-dollar armored cars, the tens-of-millions-of-dollars tanks, or the hundreds-of-millions-of-dollars jets.

At least, not to Hawk.

As Hawk’s laughter subsided, he looked up, his eyes cold as he stared directly into the command center’s security camera—as if making eye contact with the men inside.

The next second, his voice, devoid of all emotion, reached their ears. “Either you give me Thaddeus Ross...”

“Or I’m coming in to kill all of you!!”

“You have one minute.”

“Sixty.”

“Fifty-nine.”

“...” He didn’t give them a chance to react. He immediately began the countdown.

Killing was one thing.

But killing them wasn't enough—he had to break their spirit. More importantly, he needed to justify this to himself.

Once the minute was up, if they hadn't turned over Ross, he could convince himself they were protecting him.

Then their blood would be on their own hands.

...

Soon, as he stood before the command center, his hands in his pockets, he began the final twenty seconds of his countdown. From inside the building, he could hear screaming, crying, and the sounds of a struggle.

Hawk raised an eyebrow. A small, cruel smile touched his lips.

He didn’t stop his countdown, but he paused at the eight-second mark.

Not because he had made a choice, but because the men inside had made one for him.

THUMP!

Thaddeus Ross—the once-mighty general who had turned Manhattan into a battlefield chasing the Hulk—was thrown out of the command center by the very VIPs who used to kiss his ass.

Ross, his gray hair disheveled, tripped and went sprawling down the front steps. He cried out in pain as he rolled to a stop right at Hawk's feet.

Ross struggled to get up.

Just then.

STOMP.

"Aaargh!"

Hawk lifted his foot from the tattered uniform and brought it down on Ross’s head. With a slight pressure, Ross was pinned to the ground once more.

He leaned down, his eyes narrowed as he looked at the gray-haired man beneath his foot.

“Thaddeus Ross...”

“Aargh!”

Ross's face turned bright red with rage as he roared and pushed against the ground, struggling to get out from under Hawk's boot.

But it was useless.

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

“You know, I almost forgot about you.”

Hawk’s voice was a low, contemplative murmur, yet it cut through the tense silence. He stared down at the man thrashing uselessly beneath the sole of his shoe.

“If you hadn’t been so obsessed with hunting the Hulk, the Abomination never would have come to New York City.”

“If the Abomination hadn’t come to New York City, then the battle between him and the Hulk never would have happened...”

“And if that battle hadn’t happened...”

“My sister wouldn’t have died.”

His words built methodically toward an inevitable conclusion—cold, calculated, and absolutely damning.

A slow, chilling smile spread across Hawk's face.

“Thank you for reminding me that you were a part of this, too.”

General Ross, who had been struggling beneath his foot, suddenly went still, as if he finally understood.

Hawk’s eyes were like ice.

“Wait—”

SQUELCH!

Hawk brought his right foot down. A spray of red, like crushed watermelon, spread out from under his blue sneaker—a shoe that had cost less than thirty dollars, but one he had worn and cherished for years.

General Thaddeus Ross.

Dead.

No more words. Hawk had no intention of listening to Ross’s bullshit, nor did he feel the need to give him the chance to speak.

He just needed to be dead.

...

Behind him, Maria Hill, who had just arrived on the scene after rushing from the Triskelion, froze—her gaze fixed on the blue sneaker that had just crushed General Ross’s skull.

Hawk lifted his foot and wiped the sole on the tattered uniform on the ground. He then turned from the headless corpse and faced the newcomer.

A face with sharp, clean lines. Ice-blue eyes. A perfectly tailored S.H.I.E.L.D. combat uniform.

A name came to Hawk’s mind—

“Maria Hill.”

“...” Maria Hill snapped back to the present, meeting his gaze. She took a deep breath.

“That’s me...”

Hawk slipped his hands into his pockets and gave a slight smile to the woman who had the balls to approach him alone after that display. “Can I help you?”

“You’ve killed General Ross. What—”

“He got what he deserved.” Hawk’s eyes narrowed, cutting her off. “Tell me, Ms. Hill, if it was your sister who had died, what would you do?”

Maria Hill paused, not answering the question. She simply looked at him. “Ross is dead. What are your plans now?”

“My plans?”

“Yes.” Maria Hill nodded, holding his gaze.

Internally, she was cursing Nick Fury.

She and everyone else at S.H.I.E.L.D had a clear view of Hawk destroying tanks with his bare hands and kicking fighter jets out of the sky.

Logically, Nick Fury should have been the one to come here, not her.

But the moment the situation had escalated, Fury had gone dark.

No calls, no texts, no satellite tracking. He had simply vanished.

Which left her, the Deputy Director, to clean up the mess.

And she was now almost certain of one thing:

Fury’s sudden reinstatement and Ross’s uncanny ability to track Hawk down were connected. Fury must have traded Hawk’s location for Ross’s political support.

Unfortunately... Ross was now dead.

Maria Hill's eyes flicked for a split second to the headless corpse at Hawk’s feet before quickly looking away.

Hawk listened to her question and just shook his head with a small smile. “Ms. Hill, what happens next isn’t up to me. It’s up to you.”

Maria Hill processed his words.

“Ross is dead. You can leave.” It was an offer. An unofficial truce. S.H.I.E.L.D. would look the other way.

“Not enough.”

“What?”

“The Abomination. Hand him over.” Hawk’s expression was flat, his voice leaving no room for negotiation.

He understood what she was offering.

Ross was dead, so he could walk away and everyone would pretend this never happened. But the Abomination was still breathing...

Hawk's eyes shifted to the command center, where the VIPs were frozen at the doorway—afraid to step outside. “You know the drill. One minute. Either you give me the Abomination, or you're all dead.”

...

The moment he spoke, the VIPs erupted into a panic. “Dammit, where’s the Abomination?”

“He’s in the underground cell!”

“Let him out! Let him out now!”

“Hurry! We’ve only got thirty seconds!”

Hawk listened to the tearful, panicked screaming and snorted in disgust. He turned back to Maria Hill and shook his head with something like pity.

“I guarantee you those are the same guys who backed Ross when he came after me. Probably thought I was just some nobody they could squash. Now that I'm standing here, they're shitting themselves because they know I could crush them like the insects they are.”

Maria Hill watched him. “Are you going to kill them?”

“Depends.”

“On...?”

“I don’t start fights, but I finish them.”

Hawk looked at Maria Hill and smiled. “See, Ms. Hill? You’re standing right here, perfectly fine.”

As he spoke...

THUD!

The ground shook violently. A section of the earth shattered, and a monstrous creature, even uglier than the Hulk, clawed its way to the surface.

It was the Abomination.

But...

The second his cell's electronic locks failed, he'd smashed his way out without hesitation. Breaking through to the surface, he was ready to roar and announce his return to the world—but the sight in front of him stopped him cold.

Burning vehicles, exploded tanks, downed fighter jets, and nothing but destruction and bodies as far as he could see.

What the hell happened?

Is it the end of the world??

The Abomination was completely baffled. After a moment, his gaze was drawn to the small ant of a man standing with his back to him.

A cruel smile spread across the Abomination’s face.

If the Hulk was a creature of reluctant self-defense, the Abomination was a creature of wanton destruction. The man he had been was a soldier, obsessed with power. The monster was no different.

And so, the Abomination attacked.

...

“ROARRRRRRRRRRR!”

With a roar of pure fury, the Abomination charged forward. After a few thundering steps, it launched itself skyward, its massive frame blocking out the sun, a twisted grin spreading across its face as it plummeted down to crush the tiny figure into paste.

Hawk didn’t move. His gaze was still locked on Maria Hill.

Hill, out of the corner of her eye, saw the monster descending like a living meteor. The sheer pressure of its descent sent a shockwave across the ground, cracking the already shattered concrete.

She stood her ground, refusing to back down or look away from the man in front of her. Her eyes stayed locked on Hawk's.

Hawk looked at Maria Hill, felt the storm about to break, and smiled. Then he turned and threw a punch.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The Abomination's chest caved in.

A thunderous crack split the air as it was launched backward like a cannonball of flesh and bone. It crashed into a burning tank.

CRASH!

The Abomination's massive body finally came to rest in a pile of rubble, and the three burning tanks that had been dragged along with him crashed down on top.

Fire doesn't discriminate.

The Abomination's hulking frame was instantly swallowed by flames, and the sickening sound of burning flesh filled the air.

The Abomination.

Dead.

He had appeared and died in the same instant. Just one punch, and the fight was over.

He'd already taken down the Hulk. If some creature that couldn't even beat the Hulk had actually given him trouble, what would that say about him?

Would it be an insult to the Hulk? Or an insult to his Cosmo?

Unlike the Hulk, the Abomination's body didn't change back to human form as the flames devoured it. After all, Bruce Banner had been transformed by gamma radiation exposure.

Emil Blonsky had injected the gamma serum straight into his bloodstream. Simply put, the Abomination and Emil Blonsky were permanently fused—there was no going back.

...

After throwing the punch, Hawk didn’t give the Abomination another glance. He turned back to Maria Hill.

To him, she was the far more interesting creature here.

Maria Hill’s mind was replaying the image of Hawk killing the Abomination with one casual punch, but she kept her expression perfectly calm.

“What now?”

“What do you think?” Hawk stuffed his hands back in his pockets, his gaze level with hers.

Maria Hill met his gaze, her mind spinning as she recalculated everything she thought she knew. “The Hulk is dead, the Abomination is dead, and Ross is dead. The three people responsible for your sister's death are all gone now.”

“They are...”

“Go home.”

“HAHAHAHAHAHA.” Hawk burst out laughing at her words. It was a laugh filled with derision.

Maria Hill’s heart skipped a beat.

Nearby, the VIPs, still frozen in the doorway began to tremble at the sound of his laughter.

...