It was chaos.
The entire Washington D.C. was in complete disarray.
Just moments ago, an undetected small meteorite successfully broke through the atmosphere and, without deviation, struck the White House, instantly taking the mixed-race President.
Media reporters gathered outside the White House clearly captured images of the culprit meteorite being carried out… and a stretcher covered with a white cloth!
Immediately after, the White House held a press conference. In the presence of numerous media reporters, the Vice President, a gray-haired old man, placed his right hand on the Bible and swore in God's name to immediately assume office as the new President of the Federation.
The first order signed by the new President upon taking office was to declare the abolition of the "Superhero Act" from this moment forward, and to withdraw the treason charges against Steve Rogers, Clinton Barton, Natasha Romanoff, and Sharon Carter.
All of this happened within an hour of the meteorite striking the White House.
At the same time.
In a mansion in Arlington County, southwest of Washington D.C., as a soldier landed, he kicked open the mansion's main door. Then, expressionlessly, he walked up to a panicked mixed-race individual who was watching them enter, and slammed a rifle butt into him.
"Take him away!"
"Yes!"
The leading soldier looked emotionlessly at Harris, who was bleeding from the head from his blow, then said coldly, glanced at the time on his wrist-watch, then pulled out his phone and called Old White, the Secretary, who was currently in the Pentagon.
The call quickly connected.
"Hello."
"Dad, we found him. He's on his way back."
"Good!"
Old White, the Secretary, brightened upon hearing this, slapped the table, and after hanging up, quickly looked at Hawk, who was standing in front of them, eyes closed in meditation: "Mr. Phoenix, Harris has been captured and is on his way here."
Hawk opened his eyes upon hearing this, his gaze falling on Old White, the Secretary.
"There aren't many things I dislike, just three, Secretary. Do you know what three?"
"Uh…"
"I don't like darkness, because I'm afraid of the dark."
"I don't like ghosts, because I'm afraid of ghosts."
"I don't like squids, because I'm allergic to seafood."
"So…"
Hawk's gaze was deep: "You still have two hours and ten minutes. Just like last time with Quantico, either you give me an explanation, or I give myself an explanation."
Having said that.
He closed his eyes again.
See.
This is why he came directly to the Pentagon.
Just as Hawk had just told Old White, the Secretary.
Whether it was Harris, or the people in the White House, or the financiers behind these two groups.
The reason they had the illusion that they could test Hawk was, ultimately, due to the Military big shots here.
After all… the Federal Military projects its power globally.
In the eyes of these people, no matter how much they courted death, they felt they had the world's number one Military power as their backing, which is why they acted so recklessly.
Coincidentally.
Hawk thought the same way.
So he didn't bother with detours, directly grabbed the mixed-race individual from the White House, then came here and butchered him in front of these Military big shots.
In a word.
The Military was reckless.
Hawk was arrogant and domineering.
Ever since the Quantico incident, Hawk had become certain of one thing.
No matter who bothered him, he would bother the Military.
Either the Military gave him an explanation, or he would destroy the Military to give himself an explanation.
It was that simple.
Isn't it?
Old White, the Secretary, listening to Hawk's outrageous "three dislikes," once again couldn't help but pull out his handkerchief and wipe the sweat from his forehead. Then, looking at the Military big shots who were all staring at him, their eyes full of "sacrifice others, not myself," with some even displaying "squid has a lot of grease," he took a deep breath, and then his tone became low.
"Tell the new boss to quickly sign the emergency martial law for New York City."
"Deploy the National Guard."
"Make arrests."
As is well known.
The Anglo-Saxons are a bandit gang, like horses, land creatures, hot-tempered, and full of Military might.
Squid have ink, are like fish, marine creatures, control the four seas, and are rich beyond measure.
But!
As is well known.
When violence begins to speak, money will fall completely silent.
Soon.
As the news reached the White House, the newly appointed boss, not wanting to quickly follow in the footsteps of the old boss, once again exercised his authority, declaring a state of emergency for Manhattan Island in New York City, and ordering the National Guard to deploy.
Mr. Newsom of New York was stunned when he received this news.
He hadn't yet recovered from the shock of the old boss being taken out by a meteorite, and then he heard the new boss declare a state of emergency for their New York City.
What's going on?
What did our New York City do for you to declare a state of emergency?
Mr. Newsom, upon realizing, immediately slammed his hand on the table.
"This is outrageous!"
"This is a chaotic order!"
"This is reckless, how can this be allowed? I absolutely…"
"Boss!"
Just as Mr. Newsom, fuming, was about to announce a press conference to criticize Washington D.C.'s recklessness, an assistant ran up and whispered something into Newsom's ear.
Newsom's expression instantly froze, his eyes wide as he looked at his assistant.
"Is that true or false?"
"It's true. The Secretary's assistant just called and said this isn't directed at you, but to protect us. The Demon King is very angry, and the consequences will be severe."
"Hiss!"
Newsom gasped, subconsciously looking in the direction of Wall Street.
"How dare these squids?"
"I don't know."
The assistant also smiled bitterly and shook his head. He couldn't figure out how these squids could still think they could provoke the Demon King after the "Quantico Tragedy," the "Mystery of the Wakanda Wasteland," the "Atlantic Storm," and the "HYDRA Crisis."
Indeed.
Sometimes, there's a reason why some people wander for hundreds of years.
Rumble!
Upon receiving the order, the National Guard, without any delay, fully armed, immediately advanced into Manhattan Island.
"Quick, quick."
"Go!"
A panicked Wall Street squid, after getting into his helicopter, yelled at the pilot with a terrified expression.
The pilot quickly lifted the helicopter, took off from the rooftop, and then rapidly headed towards the federal border.
"Secretary, several squids who received the news are attempting to leave the country by plane, and several congressmen have called…"
Old White, the Secretary's assistant, walked in from outside, speaking in a low voice.
But he hadn't spoken yet.
There was another snap, the sound of bones breaking.
Hawk flicked his right hand, once again throwing the mixed-race Harris, whose neck had been snapped, onto the operations table, then looked admiringly at Old White, the Secretary's… assistant who had just reminded him.
"Thank you for your reminder, otherwise I almost forgot."
"Add another condition."
"On this matter, whoever pleads for them, I want them dead."
"Once again."
"Don't think you can hide it from me. Either you handle it yourselves, or, once the allotted time is up, you, and the Federation, can all go reunite with Wakanda."
"You have one hour and forty-five minutes left."
Hawk's voice was calm. After speaking, he closed his eyes again.
He had said he wouldn't give anyone a chance to reach out to him.
Not even thinking about it was allowed.
As long as they dared to think, Hawk dared to take their lives!
Old White, the Secretary, listening to Hawk's murderous words, visions of the ruined Quantico, the barren Wakanda, and the evaporated underwater empire flashed through his mind. He instantly looked at his assistant with a start: "Names, arrange for them to commit suicide."
The assistant gulped, his already pale face growing even paler.
He felt as if he had become an executioner.
Ten minutes later.
Boom!
Accompanying a helicopter exploding over the Mexican border, the pilot who took off from the nearest Military Base reported the mission accomplished.
At the same time.
A congressman, on his way to the Senate, was unfortunately hit and thrown by an out-of-control car while crossing the street.
After all… suicide is good, but too many suicides at once doesn't look good.
Time ticked by.
"Is it done?"
"Wait, there are two more."
"Hurry, there's no time left, only ten minutes."
"They're rushing. Damn it, two of them went hiking in a canyon."
"Wait, they're here. Are there any other choices for how they die?"
"No more. Arrange for them to go missing."
"…Alright."
"Photos, photos."
"Immediately, they're being sent back."
"Here they come."
"Quick, print them out!"
"They're printed."
"Quick!"
"Time's up!"
Hawk felt the three hours pass, and once again opened his eyes, speaking in a very calm voice.
But his voice, to those in the operations room, sounded like the King of Hell calling out names.
"Kirk Thomas, Thomas Investment Group."
"…This!"
A Military big shot held up a photo of a corpse.
Hawk's mind moved, and the photo instantly flew from his hand to his eyes.
He glanced at it, then his voice was unruffled.
"Congresswoman Rachel Bennoch."
"Here."
"…"
"Martha William."
"Here!"
"Wade Payne."
"Here."
"…"
As Hawk called out name after name, the printed photos on the operations table decreased at a visible rate.
And the photos in front of Hawk grew more numerous.
There were easily close to a hundred of them already.
Soon.
As Hawk called out the last name, about ten photos remained on the operations table.
He smiled.
Then—
Hawk looked up at Old White, the Secretary, his voice calm.
"Mr. Secretary."
"Thank you."
Old White, the Secretary, breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing this. Everyone in the operations room, who had been holding their breath during Hawk's 'King of Hell calling out names,' also let out a complete sigh of relief.
The next second.
Hawk's gaze fell on the two mixed-race corpses lying on the operations table.
"Do me one last favor."
"You name it."
"Chop them up and feed them to the dogs!"
"…" (End of Chapter)
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