Is it hard to get a driver's license in the Federation?
Not really.
Compared with getting a license back in the East—where you have to pass tests like reverse parking into a bay, hill starts, and right-angle turns—the Federation's licensing is hilariously easy.
Put bluntly:
If you can shift gears, turn, and hit the brakes, you can get a license.
Of course—
First you need a car, because in the Federation you bring your own vehicle. The examiner sits in your passenger seat and decides if you pass based on your habits and proficiency.
So…
Outside the Manhattan DMV, Gwen waited at the entrance. When she saw the yellow Corolla turning in from down the street, her eyes lit up and she hurried over.
Hawk unbuckled and got out.
The examiner who'd overseen his test climbed out of the passenger seat as well.
Gwen stepped to Hawk's side and, eyeing the examiner scribbling on his evaluation sheet, asked in a low voice:
"How'd it go?"
"Should be fine," Hawk murmured back.
He wasn't totally sure. When he'd made a U-turn on Nineteenth Avenue, a reckless guy had run a red light.
Hawk had hit the brakes.
Truth be told, he'd wanted to stomp the gas and send that idiot flying.
But…
He hesitated, then glanced at the examiner's expression—oddly enough, it looked like the examiner would've preferred he did run the guy over.
Maybe Hawk was imagining it.
While Hawk and Gwen whispered, the bearded white examiner finally stopped writing, then looked up at Hawk.
"Mr. Hawk."
"Hello."
"People who follow the rules should yield to those who don't."
"…"
Figures.
Hawk thought, then met the examiner's eyes—eyes still faintly regretful that he hadn't "sent the guy flying"—and nodded firmly. "I'll remember that."
Catching the meaning in Hawk's eyes, the examiner smiled and handed over the sheet.
"Congratulations, Mr. Hawk."
"Thank you."
Hawk's eyes brightened as he took the evaluation.
With this paper, he could walk into the Manhattan DMV branch next door and get his license.
Gwen was even more enthusiastic than he was.
Don't ask why.
Because usually it's the boyfriend driving the girlfriend out on dates.
So—
If others have it, she wants it, too.
Sure enough—
When they came out of the DMV with his brand-new license—still warm from the printer—Gwen practically shoved Hawk into the driver's seat.
Before Hawk had a license, she drove.
Now Hawk had a license; if she still drove, what did he get the license for?
So declared Gwen, righteously.
Hawk had no comeback.
By the time he opened the door and got back in, Gwen was already buckled into the passenger seat, smiling sidelong at him.
"Drive, Mr. Chauffeur."
"…"
The corner of Hawk's mouth twitched. She was clearly happier about his license than he was. He said nothing, buckled up, and eased the car from the curb.
"Where to?"
"Weren't you going to St. Mark's Church?"
"Mm."
"Then let's go."
"Okay."
Hawk merged into traffic.
"Huh."
"Looks like today's the last day of the break."
Gwen had just pulled out her phone to take a photo of Hawk holding his new license when she blinked at the date.
Winter break always feels shorter than summer. It didn't seem like they'd done much of anything, and yet—blink—it was gone.
It had been almost half a month since she'd picked Hawk up at the airfield on New York's outskirts.
He'd come back on December 27th.
It was now January 7th.
Not January 7th, 2012, but January 7th, 2013.
A week earlier, Hawk and Gwen had both turned eighteen—the legal marriage age in New York City.
Sadly, neither of them dared go.
Gwen might have.
Hawk didn't.
He worried that if they walked out of City Hall together, George "Sharpshooter" Stacy would appear behind him and empty eight rounds into his back.
Of course—
Hawk wouldn't die, but George might.
So…
To avoid tragedy, Hawk didn't elope with Gwen on the very day they officially became adults.
Half an hour later.
St. Mark's Church.
Near Second Avenue in Manhattan, founded in 1799, St. Mark's was steeped in history—a well-known New York landmark.
But Hawk wasn't here to sightsee. He was here to move his sister.
Calvary Cemetery was no longer an option.
It had been nearly half a month since the military wrecked the place, and the grounds were still a mess—shattered tombstones everywhere.
Crowds kept showing up to protest.
Too noisy.
Besides—
The night he returned, Hawk had already decided to find a new resting place for his sister Anya.
After all, he had money now.
And since Gwen lived in Manhattan—and NYU was in Manhattan—he'd be moving there sooner or later himself.
No reason for him to move to Manhattan while leaving his sister in Queens.
So he'd spent the past days searching online for cemeteries in Manhattan.
Eventually, he found the St. Mark's Church graveyard.
It was small, but quiet and shaded by trees.
New York's first mayor was said to rest there.
So it was a good place.
Unfortunately, like Trinity Churchyard, St. Mark's had limited space. To avoid packing the dead in shoulder-to-shoulder, they'd essentially stopped taking new burials.
But this was New York City.
Where money clears the path and rules step aside.
"Ding!"
"Thank you for your generous donation, Mr. Hawk. God bless you."
"I hope He blesses my sister."
"He will."
The priest, all smiles, stood with a POS terminal on a patch of open ground in the cemetery, shaking Hawk's hand warmly.
After agreeing on a time to go to Calvary tomorrow, Hawk left the church with Gwen.
The beaming priest stood at the entrance, waving as they got in the car and drove off.
Watching him in the rearview mirror, Gwen's mouth twitched.
"That priest sure is… warm."
"He'd better be."
Having found a new home for his sister, Hawk was in a great mood. He chuckled. "Believe it or not, if I donated five million, that priest would pry up the first mayor's grave and give the spot to my sister."
Faith?
Long gone.
After the Vatican led by example in its… tastes, what faith was left?
God had already run off with His heaven dimension.
Gwen couldn't help laughing—then remembered she was still a believer and thumped Hawk with a small, mock-angry fist.
"Don't talk nonsense. God can hear you."
"Didn't you say you'd go to Hell with me last time?"
Hawk glanced over with a smile. "What, regretting it?"
Gwen rolled her eyes, turned to face him, and said seriously, "I'll go to Hell with you—but I'll also drag you back out and up to heaven."
Hawk cut her a sidelong look, said nothing, and shrugged.
He decided not to tell her the cruel truth that, in this world, a heaven dimension might exist somewhere, but not on Earth—die here, and Hell is where you end up.
Seeing he stayed quiet, Gwen just smiled and looked forward again.
Then—
She blinked as Hawk turned into the streets of a neighborhood near the church.
"What are we doing here?"
"Buying a house."
Hawk parked by the curb and nodded toward a middle-aged woman in a sales suit standing before a For Sale sign. He glanced at Gwen, who looked a little stunned.
If his sister was moving, he'd be moving too.
And right now was a good time to buy.
Because of last year's Battle of New York, prices—especially in Manhattan—had been trending downward. By year's end, they'd fallen nearly thirty percent.
Since the start of this year, prices were still slipping, but the drop had clearly slowed. Give it three months and they'd likely rebound.
The house Hawk was eyeing was classic American suburban style.
A broad lawn on either side of the front walk; sturdy, non-slip stone slabs forming a path from the door to the street.
On the right, a garage big enough for two cars.
The garage connected directly to the first-floor hall.
Beside it stood a small shed for lawn tools.
Mm.
From the outside, it was a bit like the white house in Mr. & Mrs. Smith.
Only this one had orange exterior walls.
Inside, the space wasn't just big—it was huge.
A massive, open living area.
A fully outfitted kitchen with a large island.
An expansive primary bedroom with a walk-in closet.
A luxurious primary bath.
After touring all three floors with the agent, they returned to the first-floor living room with its giant fireplace.
Gwen stared at the hearth, imagining a snowy night, a roaring fire, and the two of them falling asleep wrapped in a blanket on the rug.
Hawk noted her expression and looked to the agent.
"How much?"
"As we discussed on the phone—twelve million, paid in full."
"Alright."
Hawk nodded at the price, took out his Stark Bank card, and handed it over.
"Charge it."
"…"
(End of Chapter)
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