The red warning light in the Quinjet cabin reflected on Natasha Romanoff's face. "Smith Squat Enthusiast"? The corners of her perfectly sculpted mouth subconsciously curved into a slight arc.
Hawk's next message immediately popped up:
[Tell me once you find it.]
[As for S.H.I.E.L.D.'s party... the only attendees are probably going to be themselves.]
....
The Foot Headquarters, Shadowy Dojo.
Cold metal walls reflected the pale blue light. Shredder, the absolute ruler of the Foot Clan, clad in his signature spiked armor, knelt in a near-motionless posture on the frigid dojo floor, like an oppressive statue made of steel.
Several screens hovered before him, silently playing footage of the battle that had occurred in a deserted sewer project outside New York. The video was intermittent, constantly sputtering static. But amid the chaos, and despite the absurd yet formidable fighting skills of the four Turtles, Shredder's focus was on one individual.
This person seemed to possess a superhumanly powerful physique, rendering many energy attacks completely ineffective. Even the high-heat, high-impact energy wave he unleashed at the end caused Shredder a sense of deep fear, even through the screen.
Who is this person?
Unfortunately, the video was too blurry to grab a clear facial capture, and due to the intensity of the fight, many of the combatants' recording devices had gone offline.
A subordinate, dressed in high-tech ninja attire, knelt on one knee, his voice trembling despite his best efforts to conceal it. "Master, our reinforcements will arrive momentarily."
Shredder's masked head turned slightly, his cold gaze focused on the blurred figure.
"Have you identified him?" Shredder's voice, delivered through a voice modulator, was deep and smooth, yet colder than steel.
"The energy signature… is very unique, Master," another tech ninja nervously operated the control panel. "It doesn't match any known enhanced individual or technological weapon in our database. However…" He paused, pulling up a comparative waveform graph. "The core frequency… has partial congruence with the residual energy from the Busan incident."
"Busan…" Shredder chewed on the name. No one could see his expression beneath the mask, but the temperature of the entire dojo seemed to drop another few degrees. "The Bonbu's Project Witch." Even he had been impressed by the power that blew up that organization's most important base.
....
Abandoned Factory, New York.
Meanwhile, the truck carrying the group pulled into the interior of a dilapidated factory warehouse. The three people and four turtles disembarked.
Hawk waved away the slightly stale air and addressed the Turtles. "You should settle down here for now. I'll handle things on the outside."
The four Turtles had no objections. Their appearance certainly wasn't suited for open investigation. With the assistance of a powerful figure like Hawk, they were happy to take a break.
Raphael, the second oldest, stepped forward and spoke with great earnestness. "Mr. Hawk, thank you very much for your help. We have a serious score to settle with Shredder. If you find anything out, we're ready to be the vanguard. After this is over, if we're still alive, if there's ever anything you need us for, just say the word."
The other three Turtles nodded solemnly. The meaning was clear: Shredder killed their mentor and father figure, and their hatred was absolute. Having been saved by Hawk today, he was now their benefactor. If Hawk told them where Shredder was, they would charge in without a thought for their own lives.
Hawk chuckled. "Don't worry, they've pissed me off, too. I already have people looking into the Foot Clan headquarters."
After saying goodbye to the four Turtles, Hawk told Goo Ja-yoon to head back, instructing her to inform Won-bin that an important mission was pending and to be on standby. After Goo Ja-yoon nodded and vanished into the night, Hawk was about to climb into the truck to take the two women away when April O'Neil's knowledge-hungry blue eyes immediately locked onto him.
"Mr. Hawk! Wait a minute!" She reached out, her fingertips nearly touching his arm before she demurely pulled back, her face beaming with the persuasive smile characteristic of a reporter. "Look, tonight was incredibly exciting, and I was there for all of it. This is definitely a global exclusive. So, can I come with you? I promise not to get in the way—I'll just record! And that exclusive interview…" She clasped her hands together in a pleading gesture. "Please! Just once. I know you're low-profile, but your story is absolutely worth telling…"
Hawk paused, his gaze fixed on her vibrant face. He was silent for a few seconds, the invisible pressure making the smile on April's face almost freeze.
"An operation?" Hawk's voice was low and steady. "April, that's not news reporting, that's a battlefield. Bullets and energy beams don't check press credentials."
Hawk's refusal was clear. He had been a street-level hero for a few years and knew well that operating with a liability was a death wish. For instance, in the battle they just had, even he found it hard to single-handedly carry the fight while watching the two women; he needed the Turtles to cover part of the defense. If he hadn't had the two liabilities, he would have sliced through the opposition long ago—why would he have needed to retreat?
April wasn't easily deterred. She took a deep breath and switched tactics. "Then… an exclusive interview? That's fair game, right? I swear! Strictly commercial topics! Your investment philosophy, your business strategies, your take on the global economy… the public has a right to understand the thinking behind a figure like you who's shaping the era. Look, I've even thought of a few headlines: Hawk: A Trillion-Dollar Vision, Hawk: The Lane Family's Business Philosophy…"
She rattled off several impressive, "respectable" business-magazine-style titles, her eyes flashing with cunning and anticipation.
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