THWIP!
With a smooth, practiced motion, the figure in red and blue swung through the night air, landing silently on the edge of Hawk's rooftop, crouching in the classic, iconic pose.
"Wow, Spider—" Hawk started, the name forming on his lips, but he stopped short as the figure straightened up and, without hesitation, pulled off his mask. Beneath it was the familiar, earnest face of Peter Parker. "Peter?" Hawk finished, genuine surprise coloring his voice.
Peter offered a shy, slightly sheepish grin, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. He seemed to finally understand Gwen's earlier critique. "Yeah," he chuckled, "I guess Gwen was right. Your acting really isn't that good."
"Is that so?" Hawk was momentarily taken aback. He watched Peter nod with solemn conviction. First Gwen, now Peter. He shrugged, a flicker of self-reflection passing through him. "Alright. I'll keep working on it." Maybe he really was that transparent.
Peter's smile widened, but his expression quickly turned serious as he recalled the night's events. "By the way, Hawk, did you see what just happened? On the bridge?"
"Some of it," Hawk admitted truthfully. "I saw the beginning, saw the end, but just as I was about to really focus, you and that… lizard… disappeared." He wasn't particularly bothered by missing the fight itself. The New York media was a relentless machine. Helicopters had been circling the bridge within three minutes of the first explosion. He knew he'd see every gory detail replayed endlessly on the news tomorrow.
Peter, however, looked startled by Hawk's casual admission. His eyes instinctively scanned the dark, distant skyline, trying to pinpoint the Williamsburg Bridge, kilometers away across the river. From here? He looked back at Hawk, his expression a mixture of shock and dawning realization.
Hawk just smiled faintly. "My eyesight's pretty good," he said, deliberately understating the truth. "But isn't yours just as good?"
Peter subconsciously nodded. He could see the bridge clearly if he focused, his newly mutated eyes processing light and distance with superhuman clarity. It was still a shock, however, to have someone else acknowledge such an ability so casually. His eyes lit up with sudden hope. "Then did you see where the lizard went?"
"No," Hawk shook his head. "Lost him when he hit the water."
Peter sighed, a wave of frustration washing over him. "Damn. I didn't expect him to be so strong. He just… threw me. Like I was nothing. By the time I recovered, he was already gone."
"How strong?" Hawk asked, his curiosity piqued. He needed data.
Peter glanced at Hawk, his brow furrowing as he replayed the brief, violent encounter in his mind. "His raw strength is definitely greater than mine," he said thoughtfully. "Significantly. But he's slower, less agile. Clumsier. Except in the water. Once he hit the river, his speed was… incredible. Way faster than I could follow."
Understood, Hawk thought. A brute. High power, low finesse. One-punch type. He wouldn't even need to burn his Cosmo. He nodded, satisfied with the assessment, and mentally filed the information away. He was ready to call it a night.
But Peter wasn't finished. He seemed troubled, searching for a specific memory. "There was something else, though," he said, looking intently at Hawk. "That lizard monster… it felt familiar. I couldn't place it during the fight, it kept nagging at me right before he tossed me."
Hawk waited, his expression neutral.
"So," he prompted after a moment of silence. "Have you figured it out now?"
"Hmm," Peter nodded slowly, his gaze still fixed on Hawk, a strange mixture of confusion and certainty in his eyes.
Hawk waited for him to continue, but Peter just kept looking at him. The silence stretched. Then, the implication hit him. "You mean… me?"
"Hmm."
"How is that possible?" Hawk felt a genuine surge of absurdity. How could the Lizard carry his aura? He'd met Connors exactly once, shaken his hand briefly. Even if some trace of his presence had lingered, that was months ago. "It's been over two months," Hawk argued. "Any residual scent would be long gone."
Peter, however, shook his head, his senses providing a truth that transcended logic. "No, it's different," he insisted, struggling to articulate the strange sensory data. "When we… uh… interacted in the old gym, your aura, your scent, whatever it is… it left a really strong impression. It's unique. Powerful." He paused, searching for the right words. "The lizard monster had it too, but it was incredibly faint. Almost gone. Like an echo. If it hadn't been your specific signature, I wouldn't have even registered it."
Hawk stared at Peter, whose confidence in his senses was absolute. He frowned, running through the possibilities. It made no sense.
Peter, seeing his skepticism, tried again. "It was like… like he had recent contact with something that had been in contact with you. Does that make sense? Like how Gwen also carries your scent, but hers is much stronger, more recent. His was like a copy of a copy."
Gwen.
The comparison was the key. Suddenly, the puzzle pieces clicked into place. Hawk let out a soft chuckle of understanding. "Then I think I know who your lizard is."
Peter's eyes widened. "Who?"
"Dr. Curtis Connors," Hawk stated. "From Oscorp's Regeneration Lab. Gwen went back there yesterday morning. And his research involves lizard DNA."
If Peter had simply said the Lizard smelled like him, Hawk would have dismissed it. But comparing the faint trace on Connors to the stronger, more direct imprint on Gwen… it created a logical chain of transmission. Gwen carried his aura from their recent proximity. Gwen had interacted with Connors yesterday. Connors, therefore, carried a faint, second-hand trace of Hawk's unique energy signature.
Peter's mouth dropped open. "Dr. Connors? It's him?" He searched his memory. "Wait… I think I met him once. Years ago. With my dad."
Hawk nodded, relieved to have solved the sensory riddle. The absurdity was replaced by a grim confirmation of Connors's fate. He stretched, a loud yawn escaping him. "Alright. Mystery solved. It's late. I'm going to bed."
Peter looked like he wanted to discuss the implications further, the danger the Lizard now posed, but seeing Hawk's clear exhaustion, he reluctantly let it go. "Okay. Good night, Hawk."
"Good night, Spider-Woman," Hawk replied, a teasing glint in his eyes.
Peter stiffened. "Uh, I'm not Spider-Woman."
"Are you sure?" Hawk turned, already halfway to the fire escape, and gave Peter a knowing, half-lidded smirk. "Come on. Tell me again. Where does that web shoot from?"
Peter opened his mouth, then closed it, his cheeks flushing slightly under the mask he hadn't put back on. He adjusted his stance, his expression turning serious. "Good night, Hawk."
"Good night, Peter," Hawk replied, finally letting him off the hook.
He watched Peter leap from the rooftop and swing away into the night, a silent, fleeting shadow against the city lights. Then, Hawk descended the fire escape, returned to his apartment, finished his cold fried chicken, took a quick, cold shower, and collapsed into bed, the day's events—supervillains, superpowers, and the burgeoning complexities of his relationship with Gwen—fading as exhaustion claimed him.
Meanwhile, deep beneath the streets of Queens, in the labyrinthine tunnels of the city's ancient sewer system, a monstrous, beast-like roar echoed through the darkness. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated rage and pain. Slowly, agonizingly, the roar began to change, the guttural, reptilian quality softening, morphing.
Until, finally, the roar subsided, replaced by a low, human groan of profound suffering.