After exchanging a glance, Catherine and her partner decided that Catherine would make the first move. However, as soon as the class bell rang and Hawk gathered his things, a figure darted forward faster than she could move.
"Hawk!" The blonde, blue-eyed, smoking-hot cheerleader Emily Chen bounced up to him like a happy bird and intimately looped her arm through his. "We have practice this afternoon. Will you come watch me?" She batted her curled lashes, her voice sickly sweet.
This scene left the approaching Catherine momentarily speechless.
Before Hawk could reply, a light cough came from nearby. Student body president Olivia Dunn stood there, holding a folder, impeccably dressed in a sharp business suit with a coolly beautiful demeanor.
She pushed up her gold-rimmed glasses, glanced at Emily's arm hooked around Hawk's, and spoke in a professional but subtly sharp tone: "Hawk, regarding the sponsorship details for the annual New York Charity Gala, my father would like to discuss them with you personally. Are you free this afternoon?"
Olivia was the daughter of New York Mayor Elliot Duncan.
Emily immediately pouted, clinging tighter. "I asked Hawk first!"
Olivia's gaze behind her lenses flashed. "Business takes priority, Chen."
Hawk, caught in the middle, wore a faint, ambiguous smile, like a spectator at a play. He raised his hand, his long fingers discreetly giving Emily's side a gentle squeeze, which made her gasp and instantly deflate her challenging demeanor. At the same time, he looked at Olivia with a playful note: "Of course, I must oblige Mayor Dunn. This afternoon works."
Olivia curled her lips in satisfaction, gave Emily a dismissive glance, and turned, her heels clicking loudly.
"Hmph!" Emily huffed, annoyed. "Then tonight, same place!" She stomped her foot and ran off.
Hawk shook his head. Just as he walked out of the academic building, his phone rang. It was a message from Professor Emilia:
[Hawk, I accept your offer to serve as Lane Capital CEO. I'm submitting my resignation to the university soon. Also, regarding the dynamic game model you proposed last time, would you be free to discuss it in my office after class? There are some details I'd like your input on.] A small flame emoji followed the text.
Hawk raised an eyebrow and tapped on the screen: [My pleasure.]
Send.
....
Meanwhile, at the Triskelion, Nick Fury's office.
Outside the thick, bulletproof window, the blinding morning sun of Washington D.C. failed to penetrate the solidified gloom in Nick Fury's single eye. The office was filled with an invisible tension and a chilling silence, far heavier than the explosion of the night before.
Fury stood with his back to the door, a silent black statue before the enormous floor-to-ceiling window. His gaze seemed to pierce time and space, fixed on the orange-red mushroom cloud—symbolizing his shame—that still played on a loop in the news reports about Manhattan last night. His fingers unconsciously tightened; the muscles in his black face were taut as steel.
He'd been made a fool of! He'd been brazenly challenged! The moment he, the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., announced protection to Alexander Pierce and the entire intelligence community, Hawk Lane used a spectacular explosion to blast his promise, along with the Bates family, into dust. This wasn't a failure; it was a slap in the face so loud the whole world could hear it.
"Hill," his voice was hoarse.
"Sir." Maria Hill immediately appeared behind him, her face equally grave, holding a freshly received report.
"Casualties confirmed?"
"Seven core members of the Bates family, three Bates Capital executives, and four of our field agents assigned to the escort… all confirmed dead in the blast." Hill's tone was flat, but deep in her eyes were anger and self-reproach. "The site was precisely destroyed with high-grade explosives, leaving no valuable traces. It was textbook clean, but Hawk Lane's entire day's movements are traceable. He likely didn't do it himself."
Fury slowly turned around. "Given the power of the Lane Group, finding a few professionals isn't hard, but doing it without a trace right under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s nose is indeed impressive."
He walked to the massive holographic console, his fingers quickly sliding across it, bringing up the identifiers for several highly classified global projects. "Implement maximum priority surveillance. Target: Hawk Lane, codename 'King,' internal designation: 'Traveler.' Collect all existing combat records for 'King' in Brooklyn and any other known sightings—videos, photos, witness statements—for immediate S.H.I.E.L.D. analysis and archiving. All relevant intelligence, regardless of clearance, reports directly to me. Activate the S.W.O.R.D. contingency channel. I need their support in low-Earth orbit, targeting any non-standard energy burst, especially those with similar frequency to the Busan explosion."
He paused, his single eye growing even deeper. "Also, immediately cross-reference all research results and data from Project Witch with existing Super Soldier programs, and accelerate the human trials."
Hill rapidly noted the instructions, then hesitated. "Understood. But Director, is there truly nothing we can do about Hawk Lane?"
Fury looked up at Hill, replying without hesitation: "Yes, the world is that brutally realistic. Even if we are the most powerful intelligence agency in the world, there are still quite a few things we can't handle."
"His father, John Lane, is like a modern-day Howard Stark—he can walk in and out of the White House at will..."
"Remember the human trials we investigated at the Oscorp Group?"
"Or the major disaster caused by the biological experiments at the Roxxon Energy Corporation."
"In the end, didn't they all just fade away?"
"Even if we gather irrefutable evidence against Hawk Lane, the most likely final outcome will be the execution of some terminally ill scapegoat, willing to exchange his last few days for a few hundred thousand dollars."
"But regardless, I want you to remember this: We are always humanity's last barrier, burdened with the heavy responsibility of protecting mankind. That will never change!"
Hill's gaze was steady and determined. She immediately snapped to attention. "Yes, sir!"
"There's one more thing," Hill spoke again, looking at Fury. "Pierce..."
Hearing the name, Fury instantly seemed to deflate. His lip twitched, and he could only wave his hand wearily. "Prepare to receive a storm."
As if to confirm his words, Fury's highly encrypted private line on his desk let out a sharp, continuous, alarm-like buzzing. The name "Alexander Pierce" flashed across the screen.
Fury took a deep breath. All emotion instantly vanished from his face, leaving only a bottomless indifference. He signaled Hill to monitor the communication, then pressed the answer button.
"NICK FURY!!!"
The voice that roared from the other end wasn't a rational human voice, but a wounded, raging, utterly out-of-control beast. The sound was hoarse and distorted, crackling with high-voltage static, clearly coming through an unstable encrypted channel and possibly accompanied by the background noise of destroyed communication equipment.
"What the hell did you do?! You promised me! You gave me your word! A worthless piece of garbage promise!!"
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