It's chaos.
The entire Washington has turned into a complete mess.
Just now, an unnoticed small meteorite successfully broke through the atmosphere and hit the White Room precisely, taking away the mixed blood on the spot.
The media reporters surrounding the White Room clearly captured the culprit meteorite being carried out...
And a stretcher covered with a white cloth!
Soon after, the White House held a press conference. In front of many media reporters, the vice president, that gray-haired old man, placed his right hand on the Bible and swore in the name of God to urgently assume the role of the new president of the Federation.
The first order signed by the new president upon assuming office was to announce the repeal of the 'Superhero Bill' from this moment and to revoke the treason charges against Steve Rogers, Clinton Barton, Natasha Romanoff, and Sharon Carter.
And all of this happened within an hour of the meteorite hitting the White House.
Meanwhile,
At a mansion in Arlington County, southwest of Washington, soldiers landed, kicked open the mansion's door, and walked emotionlessly up to a nervous mixed-blood watching them enter. He smashed the butt of a gun at him.
"Take him away!"
"Yes!"
The leading soldier looked emotionlessly at Harris, whose head was bleeding, and said coldly, then glanced at the time on his wristwatch, took out his phone, and called the old Minister White in the Pentagonal Building.
The phone quickly connected.
"Hello."
"Dad, we've found him and we're on the way back."
"Good!"
Upon hearing this, Minister White's eyes lit up. He slapped the table, hung up the phone, and quickly looked at Hawk, who was standing in front of him with his eyes closed: "Mr. Phoenix, Harris has been captured and is on the way here."
Hawk opened his eyes upon hearing this and looked at Minister White.
"There are not many things I dislike, just three, Minister. Do you know what those three are?"
"Uh…"
"I don't like the dark because I'm afraid of it."
"I don't like ghosts because I'm afraid of them."
"I don't like squid because I'm allergic to seafood."
"So…"
Hawk's gaze was deep: "You have two hours and ten minutes left, like that time in Quantico. Either you give me an explanation, or I'll give myself one."
After saying this.
He closed his eyes again.
You see.
This is why he came directly to the Pentagonal Building.
Just like Hawk told Minister White.
Whether it's Harris or the people inside the White House or the backers behind them.
The reason why they thought they could test Hawk was fundamentally because of the confidence they had in these military bigwigs.
After all…
The Federation military, mighty worldwide.
In these people's views, no matter how reckless they are, they believe they have the world's strongest military force to back them, allowing their audacity.
Coincidentally.
Hawk also thinks the same way.
So he didn't bother with detours, captured the mixed-blood from the White House, and came here to deal with him in front of these military bigwigs.
In a word.
The military, reckless.
Hawk, flamboyant and domineering.
Since the Quantico incident, Hawk has adhered to one principle.
No matter who troubles him, he troubles the military.
Either the military gives him an explanation, or he destroys the military for his own explanation.
It's that simple.
Here it is.
Minister White listened to Hawk's 'three dislikes' rant, couldn't help but take out a handkerchief, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and looked at the military bigwigs all staring at him, their eyes filled with a 'friends may die, but we survive' look. Some of them even had eyes saying 'there's a lot of profit in squids,' and he took a deep breath, speaking in a low tone.
"Have the new boss hastily sign the emergency lockdown order for New York City."
"Deploy the National Guard."
"Capture them."
It's well-known.
The Anglo-Saxon is a gangster, horse-bred, a land creature, with intense temper and abundant force.
Squid carries ink, fish-bred, a marine creature, controls the oceans, immensely wealthy.
But!
It's well-known.
When violence speaks, money is utterly silent.
Soon enough.
As the message was relayed back to the White House, the newly appointed boss, not wanting to follow in the footsteps of the old boss so soon, once again exercised his power to declare a state of emergency on Manhattan Island in New York City, ordering the National Guard to step in.
Mr. Newsom was dumbfounded when he received the news.
He hadn't yet recovered from the shock of the old boss being taken away by a meteorite and now heard the new boss declaring a state of emergency for New York City.
What is going on?
What did we in New York City do to warrant a state of emergency?
Mr. Newsom, after regaining his senses, slammed the table and stood up.
"Outrageous!"
"This is madness!"
"This is reckless, how can this be allowed, I absolutely…"
"Boss!"
Just as Mr. Newsom heatedly expressed his intention to hold a press conference to condemn Washington's chaos, an assistant approached him, whispered in his ear.
Mr. Newsom's expression instantly froze, eyes wide open, looking at his assistant.
"Is it true?"
"Really, the minister's assistant just called, saying it's not aimed at you, it's to protect us, the Demon King is furious, and it's serious."
"Hiss!"
Newsom inhaled sharply, instinctively looking toward the direction of Wall Street.
"How dare these squids."
"I don't know."
The assistant also shook his head with a wry smile, unable to fathom how these squids could think, after the 'Quantico Massacre,' 'Wakanda White Mystery,' 'Atlantic Storm,' and 'Hydra Crisis,' that they could still provoke the Demon King.
Indeed.
Sometimes, there are reasons why some people wander for hundreds of years.
Rumble!
Upon receiving the orders, the National Guard immediately, without any delay, fully armed, advanced into Manhattan Island.
"Hurry, hurry."
"Go!"
A Wall Street executive, looking panic-stricken, climbed into his helicopter, screaming in terror at the pilot.
The pilot quickly lifted the helicopter off the rooftop and swiftly headed towards the Federation border.
"Minister, a few executives who received the news are attempting to leave the country by plane, and several lawmakers have called…"
The assistant to Old White Minister walked in from outside, speaking in a low voice.
But before he could speak further.
There was another cracking sound, the noise of bones breaking.
Hawk flicked his right hand, throwing the Mixed Blood Harris, whose neck he had just snapped, onto the operations table, then looked appreciatively at Old White Minister… and beside him, his own reminding assistant.
"Thanks for the reminder, otherwise I almost forgot."
"Add one more condition."
"In this matter, whoever pleads for someone, I want them dead."
"Once again."
"Don't think you can hide from me. Either you do it yourselves, or once the time is up, you and the Federation can all reunite in Wakanda."
"You have one hour and forty-five minutes left."
Hawk's voice was calm. After he finished speaking, he closed his eyes once again.
He had stated, he would not give anyone the chance to reach out to him.
Not even a thought.
As long as they dared to think, Hawk dared to take their lives!
Old White Minister listened to Hawk's murderous words, and scenes of the ruins of Quantico, the white grounds of Wakanda, and the evaporated Undersea Empire flashed through his mind. Instantly, he looked at his assistant and said: "Names, arrange for them to commit suicide."
The assistant gulped, swallowing hard, his already pale face turned even paler.
He felt as if he had become an executioner.
Ten minutes later.
Boom!
As a helicopter exploded over the Old Mo border, the pilot from the nearest military base reported the completion of the mission.
At the same time.
A lawmaker on the way to the Senate was unfortunately hit and thrown on the spot by an out-of-control car when crossing the road.
After all...
Though suicide is good, mass suicides can look too deliberate.
Time ticked away.
"Are you done?"
"Wait, there are two more."
"Hurry up, there's no time, only ten minutes left."
"Rushing, damn it, two went hiking in the canyon."
"Wait, here it comes, what choices do they have for the method?"
"None left, arrange for them to disappear."
"…Alright."
"Photos, photos."
"Immediately, sending them back now."
"Here it comes."
"Quick, print them out!"
"Printed."
"Quick!"
"Time's up!"
Hawk felt the passage of three hours and opened his eyes once again, his voice very calm as he spoke.
But his voice, to those in the operations meeting room, sounded like King Yama calling out names.
"Kirk Thomas, Thomas Investment Group."
"…This!"
A military bigwig held up a photo of a corpse.
Hawk's mind moved, and the photo flew out of the hand, landing before him.
He glanced at it, then his voice remained calm.
"Rachel Benock, Lawmaker."
"Here."
"..."
"Martha William."
"This!"
"Wade Payne."
"Here."
"..."
As Hawk called out name after name, the photos printed on the operations meeting table were visibly diminishing.
While the photos in front of Hawk were accumulating.
There were almost a hundred of them already.
Soon.
With the last name called out by Hawk, around ten photos remained on the operations meeting table.
He laughed.
Then—
Hawk looked up at Old White Minister, his voice calm.
"Minister."
"Thank you."
Old White Minister, upon hearing this, breathed a sigh of relief, and the others in the operations meeting room, who didn't dare breathe during Hawk's roll call, also exhaled completely.
The next second.
Hawk's gaze fell on the two Mixed Blood corpses lying on the operations table.
"Do me one last favor."
"What is it?"
"Chop them up, feed them to the dogs!"
"..."