After sending off Natasha and Steve, Hawk reappeared in Zola's server room.
He hadn't heard their conversation.
If he had, he would've clarified at once: that massive crater on Mars, larger than even Valles Marineris, was caused when he punched Thor so hard the god smashed into the planet's surface.
Of course—
If Thor were here, he'd say Hawk was the one who made the crater.
The truth? Likely a secret that would never be solved.
Now back in front of Zola's old monitors, Hawk smirked at the electronic face flickering on the screen.
"I take back what I said earlier. You're not smart. You thought a steel bulkhead could block them? But stop me?"
"No. But I had to try."
"You're brave, Zola."
"You can't threaten me, Phoenix."
"True."
Hawk nodded. "You've got no family, no descendants. I can't use anyone against you. And you're not even human anymore—you're a relic, a logic-bound machine. You know I'm here to pull your plug, yet you feel no fear."
He had to admit—Zola was a genius.
Back in 1972, he'd managed to transfer his consciousness into an electronic form. Not exactly "advanced," but certainly science fiction for the time.
But genius had its limits.
Yes, Zola could access networks across the globe. But his core—his "body"—was bound here. He wasn't like modern AIs that could exist anywhere the internet reached.
So destroying him was simple: blow up the servers, and Zola was gone forever. No escape route down the wires.
Still…
Before pulling the switch, Hawk asked the question that had nagged him since he came: "One thing puzzles me. Logically, you should've known provoking me meant certain punishment. Yet you did it anyway. Why?"
Zola didn't hesitate.
"My calculation was wrong."
"What?" Hawk arched a brow.
"I miscalculated. According to my models, you shouldn't have returned to New York so quickly."
The data cascaded across the screen. "I calculated that when your friend Peter went missing, you would focus on rescuing him. You did. But I didn't predict you'd be back so soon."
Hawk's eyes narrowed. "Wait. Are you saying Peter and Felicia's disappearance—that was you?"
"Yes. I ordered the attack on their sea lab."
"So you planned to lure me away from New York from the start?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because of the Insight Algorithm."
"That big-data model you built to identify future threats to Hydra's victory, so you could eliminate them in advance?"
"Yes."
"So I was flagged as one of those threats?"
Hawk chuckled. "Then your algorithm's broken. If I really hated Hydra, I wouldn't have befriended Anna. If you hadn't tested me, I would've just sat home and watched to see if you or S.H.I.E.L.D. won."
Zola's digital voice remained flat. "Because of Sharon Carter. The closer you grew to her—and to Maria Hill—the lower our projected odds of victory became."
Hawk laughed.
"All because of that?"
"Yes."
"And now? Is this the outcome you predicted?"
"When you returned to New York, our odds dropped to 10%. But once you sent Rogers and Romanoff back without placing them directly in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hands, our odds rose again to 60%."
"Is that so?"
Hawk stroked his chin. "And how do you get these numbers?"
Zola explained without hesitation.
"Upon your return, you had a 90% probability of intervening against us. But when you spared Washington by not sending them directly to S.H.I.E.L.D., my algorithm recalculated: after you destroy me, you have a 90% probability of not interfering with Project Insight."
"Correct?"
Hawk chuckled. "Your algorithm's got something to it, I'll give you that."
"Thank you."
"So sealing this place off—that was just to test whether I'd let Washington be?"
"Yes."
"Alright."
Hawk shook his head, amused. "But tell me—Pierce betrayed you. You know that. And yet you still follow him?"
Zola's reply was calm.
"For Hydra's rebirth."
"Fair enough."
At that, Hawk lost interest. He was ready to pull the plug and get home to Gwen's late-night cooking.
He'd gotten what he wanted—confirmation that Zola's algorithm had pegged him as a threat only because of Sharon and Maria. And because Zola miscalculated his timing, Hydra's "Second Rising" had already failed.
But Zola wasn't really Zola anymore. Even knowing Pierce had sold him out, he followed his original command: Hydra above all.
Hawk's gaze swept over the humming servers—the "body" of this digital ghost. His eyes glowed crimson.
"Last question. Are you just a program, or the real Arnim Zola from 1972?"
"I am Arnim Zola. But Arnim Zola is not me."
"I see."
Hawk's eyes burned brighter. He prepared to finish it—
Then paused.
Something was coming.
His gaze pierced the ceiling. High above, a short-range ballistic missile was streaking down.
Hawk smirked. "So this is your final move? Hoping to take me with you?"
"No."
On the glitching monitor, Zola's electronic face twisted into the faintest, strangest smile.
"It's not meant to take you. It's meant to erase me."
"Hail Hydra!"
With that final, screeching cry, the missile struck.
Boom!
Light and fire consumed the room. Zola went offline forever. At the last instant, Hawk vanished.
The explosion tore the entire base apart, incinerating everything above and below ground. A blazing inferno rose dozens of meters into the sky, lighting up the abandoned facility. Shockwaves cracked and shattered even the reinforced bunkers.
High above, Hawk reappeared. He looked down at the smoking crater where Zola's lair had been, remembering his last words:
Not meant to take you. Meant to destroy me.
So…
An internal purge?
Or just a way to shut Zola up?
Hawk pondered.
Then the flashing sirens of police cars appeared in the distance. He sighed, turned, and streaked away toward 521A Palm Street.
Thunk.
In the house, Gwen was just setting out the midnight snack. Hearing movement from the back yard, she peeked out, smiling as Hawk stepped in through the glass doors.
"You're back. Perfect timing—food's ready."
Hawk smiled and headed to the kitchen. He reached for fries—
"Hey. Wash your hands first."
"Alright, alright."
He shrugged and went to the sink. As the water ran, he pulled out his phone—Anna had sent a video.
He tapped it.
On screen, under the bright midday sun in Japan, the so-called national shrine was engulfed in roaring flames.
Hawk's lips curved with satisfaction as he slipped the phone away.
But—
As he reached for the faucet, his mind jolted like a live wire. He froze.
Japan was thirteen hours ahead of New York.
…
(End of Chapter)
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