Nick Fury didn't think he'd done anything wrong.
If he hadn't stopped that S.H.I.E.L.D. jet from taking off—if he hadn't tipped off Tony Stark—a nuclear warhead would've gone off over New York City.
And if that nuke had detonated, what would New York have become?
A dead city?
A ghost city?
But…
The Council didn't care about any of that.
Their line was simple:
We gave an order; you didn't obey. In fact, you led the disobedience. Yes, the outcome was good, but defying the order was still real.
So, to the World Security Council, merely freezing Fury's operational authority—without firing him—was already generosity.
Fury disagreed.
He'd been looking for a way to unfreeze his clearance.
Now he saw an opening.
Hulk was a member of the Avengers under S.H.I.E.L.D.; Hawk killing Hulk was a slap to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s face—and, by extension, the Council's backside.
Maybe the Council wouldn't bite—yet.
But that's only because the matter hadn't blown up. If it did, would the Council back Maria Hill's "peaceful contact," or his "strict containment"?
The answer seemed obvious.
As for who could help turn this into a crisis—once he learned Hawk was very likely the same mysterious figure who wrecked the Quantico base, he had the perfect candidate.
Thaddeus Ross.
A hardliner with a very hardline backer.
Any other general, after Hulk and Abomination tore up Manhattan like that, would be cooling his heels—if not dead.
But General Ross?
If anything, he got promoted.
Joke's on you: local squids lean blue, Mideast squids lean red—
and Ross is red to the bone, the hawk of hawks.
His doctrine: solve it with force.
As the saying goes—
"Gentlemen, I love war!"
That line might as well have been written for Ross. Others wouldn't dare blow this up. Ross would.
Soon, the call connected.
"Fury, I'm in the mid—"
"The perpetrator who attacked your base. Interested in a deal?"
"…"
Guarding his daughter at home to keep her from slipping out, Ross froze, then his voice turned grim.
"You've ID'd the perp?"
"Yes. Interested?"
"…Terms."
Ross didn't bite right away.
Fury sat back down, his single eye gleaming with crafty light. "My operational clearance is frozen."
Ross chuckled.
He knew. And he wasn't surprised—under him, a subordinate who defied a direct order would've been marched out and shot.
So—
"Sorry, but—"
"Latest update: he killed Hulk."
"…Hold on."
Ready to scoff at Fury's weak bargaining chip, Ross went stone still. The smile vanished.
"What?"
"You heard me. Hulk is dead. He killed Hulk."
"…"
Fury listened to the breathing on the other end. Ross said nothing, but Fury knew he'd hooked him. He went straight to it: "Unfreeze my clearance, and I'll give you the perp's identity. Then we run a joint op. After capture, he's under our joint custody—like Abomination. How's that?"
Ross alone couldn't thaw Fury's status—
But Ross's backers could; for them, it might be a single word.
And Fury wouldn't be shortchanged: joint custody meant Ross could run his research, and S.H.I.E.L.D. could run theirs.
Fury smiled to himself.
Ross's thoughts were also spinning.
Gamma absorption.
Killing Hulk.
If true, it meant the Quantico attacker was even stronger than Hulk—and more in control, not a mindless beast like Banner as Hulk.
Capture him, study him—
And…
The more Ross thought, the more excited he got—and the more he forced the excitement down.
"Name."
"No, no."
Fury laughed. "That's not how deals work. Unfreeze me first. Then we move together."
Ross snorted.
"Does Maria Hill know?"
"She does."
"Then why shouldn't I work with her?"
"Because you won't."
Fury didn't worry in the slightest. "You and Hill aren't the same breed. Neither am I."
Silence from Ross.
After a moment—
"I need to think."
"Be my guest—but do it fast. We don't have much time. If Hill makes contact first…"
"Thirty minutes."
Ross cut the call, closed his eyes, and dove into fast calculus.
Fury hung up smiling as the busy tone beeped in his ear.
Ross would say yes.
He had no doubt.
But—
You don't put all your eggs in one basket.
That sly, dangerous light returned to Fury's eye. He brainstormed, opened his computer, and pulled up Gwen Stacy's file.
Onscreen—
Her photo. In Fury's eye, the glint grew stranger—and more self-destructive.
Meanwhile—
Gwen had just helped the weakened Hawk back to their apartment near Queensboro Bridge Park.
Thunk.
After easing Hawk onto the sofa, she arched her back with a wince, tiny fists thumping at her sore waist.
Hawk, slouched on the cushions, couldn't help a chuckle at the sight.
Mid-stretch, hearing that full-bodied laugh, Gwen froze.
Uh-oh.
Hawk felt his heart skip a beat.
Sure enough—
She turned slowly, eyes narrowing at the "weak" boy whose cheeks were already regaining color.
Her look turned oddly dangerous. "Hawk?"
He coughed and made his voice frail. "Cough… cough—what is it?"
Her brow arched.
Her voice climbed a few notes.
"Hawk!"
Good thing he was just "Hawk." If he had a last name, she'd have used both by now.
Her face was very serious.
"You're fine, aren't you? You're faking it."
"I'm not—I didn't—don't say that."
He reflexively denied, shaking his head—three denials in one.
But…
That voice had plenty of strength.
Gwen smiled.
The kind that didn't reach her eyes.
Then—
She turned and headed straight for the door.
No hesitation.
…Shoot.
Too far.
In a blink, Hawk vanished from the sofa and reappeared at the door, blocking the exit.
Gwen halted, then glared up at him.
"Move."
"No."
Hawk's macro-EQ might be shaky, but his micro-EQ was online.
No way he'd move now. Buy time and soothe her down.
If he let her go now, who knew how long it would take to coax her back.
Her face frosted over.
"Is tricking me fun, Hawk?"
"It isn't. I'm sorry. My bad."
He admitted fault cleanly. "But I really wasn't lying. On the way back, I was wiped."
That was true.
Fresh out of the lake, a lone Chitauri foot soldier could've forced him into Phoenix rebirth.
He went on, "I dozed in the car and recovered a little. I meant to tell you, but you were so worried, helping me upstairs… it made me happy, so…"
Listening, Gwen's frost thawed. She shot him a sidelong glance.
"So what?"
"I couldn't bear to let you stop holding me."
Delivered deadpan.
Her cheeks colored; then she rolled her eyes.
"Childish."
"Sorry. I shouldn't have fooled you."
"So are you still weak?"
"Not—"
"Mm?"
"Weak. Weak!"
Reading her expression, he chose the correct answer, nodding gravely and dialing his voice back to "frail mode."
Gwen almost laughed, but kept a straight face as she slid under his arm again, supporting the boy who looked one breath from collapsing.
"If you're weak, then lie down properly. Come on—bed."
"Okay."
"Careful. Shoes off."
"Gwen."
"Mm?"
"Lie with me for a bit?"
"What?"
"Just lie here. You know—I'm very weak."
"Just lie?"
"Yeah."
"…Fine."
"Wait, what are you—"
"Eek!"
"…."
(End of Chapter)
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