The morning commute on the subway was a descent into chaos, but Hawk's mind was a universe away, methodically planning a war. He stood, holding a rail for balance, his eyes unfocused as he ran through the brutal calculus of his next mission: the heist at Quantico Military Base.
He had already figured it out. There was only one way to succeed. A single, overwhelming, and decisive strike. He had to get in, secure the Gammanian, and get out before the full, terrifying weight of the American military and intelligence apparatus could be brought to bear against him. This wasn't a bank in Queens; this was the nerve center of a superpower. The Federal Police Academy was there. The FBI's headquarters was a stone's throw away. Langley and the CIA were practically neighbors.
To attack Quantico was not just theft; it was a declaration of war. It was the equivalent of stepping on the heads of the military, the FBI, and the CIA and taking a dump.
And yet… he had to go. The Gammanian was the key to his Saint Cloth, the key to his ultimate survival. His resolve was absolute.
But success comes from preparation, he thought, his mind a whirlwind of maps and strategies. I need to scout the area first. A preliminary on-site investigation was crucial. He needed to map the blind spots, learn the patrol routes, and, most importantly, establish at least three viable escape routes.
He was so lost in his planning that he almost missed his stop. He swiped his card, walked into the gleaming lobby of the Oscorp tower, and made his way to the Bio-Electric department, his mind still half in Virginia. He had barely set his backpack down when he was called into his supervisor's office.
Max Dillon was already there, standing awkwardly, his usual quiet diligence replaced by a nervous tension. The supervisor, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and the defeated eyes of someone trapped in middle management, sat behind his desk, his expression grim.
After a long, heavy silence, he spoke, his words landing like stones. "Max," he said, not even looking at him. "Starting today, you're transferred to the maintenance team."
Max flinched as if struck. "Supervisor, I—"
"I haven't finished," the supervisor cut him off, his gaze finally lifting to land on Hawk. He sighed, a sound of profound weariness. "Hawk. You've been dismissed. You'll receive this week's salary in full."
Hawk blinked, his expression remaining perfectly calm. He wasn't as surprised as Max. He had already guessed this was coming. "May I ask why?"
"The accident in Dr. Connors's lab yesterday."
As expected, Hawk thought. Max, however, surged forward in a panic. "Supervisor, what does the power outage have to do with us? Our department supplies the building's daily electricity. The power for the specialized lab equipment is on a completely separate grid—"
"Alright!" the supervisor snapped, rubbing his temples. "This isn't a discussion, it's a decision. You can go, Max. Hawk, stay here."
Max froze, his face a mask of disbelief and betrayal. He looked at Hawk, lost.
Hawk just gave a slight, almost imperceptible shrug. "It's fine, Max."
Max seemed to deflate. He opened his mouth as if to say more, but then just lowered his head and walked out of the office, a loyal company man being punished for a crime he didn't commit.
After the door closed, the supervisor's professional mask crumbled. He sighed again, a sound filled with genuine regret. "I'm sorry, kid. I tried. I managed to keep Max in the company, but they wanted you gone completely. You're good, Hawk. Really good. If there's anything you need, a reference, anything, just ask."
Hawk smiled, a calm, easy expression that seemed to unnerve the older man. "It's fine. Just do me one favor: explain the situation clearly to Mrs. Snow."
His primary mission here—to identify and locate Gammanian—was complete. He had been planning to ask for a leave of absence anyway. Being fired was a far cleaner, more convenient outcome. Mrs. Snow, who had pulled strings to get him this job, was the only loose end he cared about.
The supervisor's shoulders slumped in relief. "Of course. That's a given. In fact, I just got off the phone with Selena. I made it clear to her that this wasn't your fault, or that other guy's…" He frowned, trying to remember the name.
"Max," Hawk supplied quietly.
"Right, Max," the supervisor said, his brow relaxing. "This whole mess came from an executive upstairs who thought he knew better than the engineers and demanded we reroute more power than the system could handle. Now that there's a body and a multi-million-dollar centrifuge in pieces, he's not about to take the fall."
It was a classic tale of corporate cowardice. Blame flows downhill. Hawk just nodded, picked up the envelope containing his final eight hundred dollars, and walked out of the office without another word. A few minutes later, he was walking out of the Oscorp tower for the last time, a carefree shrug on his shoulders.
"Hawk, wait!"
He was about to cross the street towards the subway when Gwen's voice called out. He turned to see her running out of the building, her lab coat flapping behind her.
"Mrs. Snow called you?" he guessed as she caught up to him, her hands on her knees as she caught her breath.
"Mm-hm," she gasped. "I just got off the phone with her. The guys in your department said you'd already left. I was afraid I'd missed you." She straightened up, her expression a mask of genuine concern. "Are you… are you alright?"
Hawk shrugged, a wide, honest grin spreading across his face. "Pretty good, actually."
She stared at him, bewildered. He'd just been fired, made a scapegoat for a fatal accident, and he was grinning?
He was. He hadn't betrayed Mrs. Snow's favor, he had been honorably discharged. He was now completely free to pursue his mission in Quantico. And he had just been handed a week's salary for a single morning's work. He felt great.
"Don't worry, I'm really fine," he reassured her. "The supervisor even said that when winter break comes, I can come back and work here again." He had no intention of doing so, but leaving the door open was always a sound strategy.
Gwen, seeing the unfeigned calm in his eyes, finally accepted that he was, impossibly, okay. "So, what are your plans now? There's still over a month of summer vacation left."
"Stay home, read some books," he said with another shrug. "It's too late to find another decent summer job now."
"Okay," she nodded, accepting his answer. "Well, if you're free, we should go to the library to read together sometime."
Hawk was slightly taken aback by the direct invitation.
But Gwen, having learned her lesson, didn't give him a chance to refuse. She just gave him a bright smile, turned, and with her hands in her pockets, walked back into the Oscorp building, giving him a small wave over her shoulder.
Hawk watched her go, a frown touching his lips for a moment. Then, he turned and left. The budding complexities of his social life could wait.
Important matters first.
Quantico, he thought, his eyes burning with a cold fire. I'm coming for you.
Let go of my Gammanian.