The slimy walls, the damp chill, and the rancid stench of rust, sludge, and rot hung in the underground air. Hawk wrinkled his nose and promptly shut off his sense of smell.
He could endure heat, and he could endure cold—but stink? No way. Especially this kind of stench that seeped into every pore.
Ahead, Spider-Man led the way.
"How'd you even find this place?" Hawk asked, watching his companion with curiosity.
"Followed the lizards," Peter answered, his voice muffled through the mask. The stink was too much, even for him. "We're almost there. One more turn."
He explained: back during the school battle, he'd noticed lizards crawling out of the sewers. Yesterday, with nothing better to do, he'd explored the maze of tunnels beneath New York. Hours later, he had stumbled on Connors' makeshift hideout.
Now, he had dragged Hawk along to see it for himself.
They rounded a corner, and the space opened onto a platform crudely lit by dangling wires glued to the walls with some unidentifiable muck. A few bulbs flickered, illuminating scattered lab equipment and a pair of laptops.
"Where's the video you mentioned?" Hawk asked.
"Here."
Peter tapped the keyboard, and the screen flared to life.
"This blood… it belongs to Hawk."
"I should call him… no, he won't give it to me…"
"…Gwen. Yes, if I take Gwen, I can force Hawk to give me his blood!"
The footage showed Connors, filthy and sweat-soaked, muttering to himself like a man possessed. Finally, he seized three last vials of serum and plunged them into his arm. His screams warped into roars as the Lizard reemerged, the screen dissolving into static.
The video ended.
Hawk's expression twisted into something unreadable.
So that was it. Connors hadn't targeted Gwen out of logic, but because in his broken mind she was the leverage to reach him.
"The serum fried his brain," Hawk muttered.
Peter glanced at him. "If Connors had actually called you—asked for your blood—would you have given it to him?"
Hawk frowned, thought about it, then nodded. "If it wasn't much, yes."
Peter's eyes widened. "Why?! You know your blood was probably the key that triggered his transformation. Even knowing that, you'd still hand it over?"
Hawk's gaze was steady. "What he does with it is his business. Whether I give it or not—that's mine."
Peter shook his head. "I don't get you. You and I… we're not the same. You had parents, an uncle and an aunt. I grew up alone. That's why you can be the hero, and I… I never could. I'm not that kind of good."
A smile tugged at Hawk's lips. "I'm not a saint either. But I live by one rule—repay kindness, and exact revenge. When I got fired from Oscorp, Connors didn't have to, but he gave me a recommendation letter anyway. No strings attached. Worthless now, sure, but back then, he helped me. So if he asked, one vial of blood? I could give it. I'd lose nothing. And whatever he chose to do afterward—that was on him, not me."
Peter fell silent, thoughtful.
Then Hawk glanced at him. "What about you? You want a sample of my blood? I'll give you one."
Peter jolted, shaking his head like a rattle drum. "No! No, I don't want it."
"Suit yourself." Hawk chuckled, then glanced around the platform. "Connors really lost it. He could've just asked. Instead, he made a mess of everything. Let's go."
Peter frowned. "What about all this?"
"Burn it," Hawk said without hesitation. "Connors is dead. Leaving this behind is asking for another Lizard to pop up. I don't care either way—but burning it is smarter."
"…You're right," Peter admitted after a pause.
"Then it's yours, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man," Hawk said with a half-smile, already turning to leave.
Peter sighed. Once Hawk disappeared into the tunnels, he scanned the platform again. He'd need tools to torch it properly.
He swung away.
Unnoticed, in the corner of the platform, a faint red light blinked… and slowly faded to black.
…
(End of Chapter)
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