My blood?
Hawk raised an eyebrow at Anna's cautious tone on the other end of the line.
So… Hydra, huh?
His mind turned, recalling that faint sense of being watched from the sky when he left Quantico after killing that mercenary.
And then he chuckled inwardly.
He'd said it before—he didn't care about factions. He cared about attitude.
That was all.
"As long as it's just a vial, fine," Hawk said casually.
"Ah—" Anna sounded surprised, as if she hadn't expected him to agree so quickly.
"But don't tell me you want a whole barrel," Hawk added dryly. "Even if you drained me dry, it wouldn't be enough."
"No, no," Anna said quickly, "just a single vial."
"A vial?" Hawk smirked. "That won't be enough. I'll give you 200 milliliters. When the iron meteorite arrives, send someone to draw it."
Generous for generosity. He didn't lose out on trades with friends.
After all, his true power came from the Cosmos—his awakened Microcosmos, his Phoenix constellation. As long as his small universe burned, Hawk wouldn't die. Even if he was killed, he would resurrect in the flames of the Phoenix's starfire.
What was blood, compared to that?
Still, he warned:
"Anna, with friends, I'm always generous. But don't get any ideas about cloning me. If you make a copy, that's the day this friendship ends."
Anna hurried to assure him. "Never, Hawk. You have my word."
Satisfied, Hawk hung up, saved her number into his phone, and labeled it simply: Anna – Hydra?
His contact list was pitifully short:
Gwen.
Mrs. Snow, his counselor.
Peter (labeled "Spider Freak").
Anna, Hydra?
That was it.
If Gwen ever peeked at his phone, she'd instantly know Spider-Man's real identity. Hawk hadn't bothered to hide it.
But he pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the satellite map still open on his laptop.
The Hulk.
Back in those long days of 10,000 punches, Hawk had always prepared two paths.
First: pray his "cheat" worked—that the Cosmos was real, that his Phoenix constellation would ignite. If so, he could avenge Anya with his own hands.
Second: the lawyer's path. Study, work, become a judge. Find a way to bring justice through the system if his "cheat" failed.
A long, uncertain path. But at least it was something.
Now, though, he didn't need it. His strength was real. His Cosmos burned. He could strike with his own hands.
The only problem had been finding Hulk. Banner was slippery, a master at hide-and-seek. Even General Ross, with the full weight of the U.S. military, had failed to track him down.
But now, Anna had given him exactly what he needed:
This Christmas, Bruce Banner and Betty Ross at Lake Calver, New Jersey.
Perfect.
He remembered seeing Hulk during the Battle of New York, feeling that urge to rush in and avenge his sister. But back then, he'd just awakened the Cosmos, hadn't ignited the Phoenix, and Hulk had been surrounded by Avengers—Thor among them.
Charging in then would've been suicide.
He'd waited over a thousand days. What were a few more months?
But now?
This time, there would be no escape.
"Anya…" Hawk whispered, staring at the glowing map. His eyes narrowed, burning with promise.
"This Christmas, I'll send Hulk to hell to keep you company. And tell Mephisto—if he dares lay a hand on you there, the day I set foot in Hell, I'll burn it down around him."
…
(End of Chapter)
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