Marvel: The Awakened One

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Hawk was genuinely baffled.

He was a good person. He really was.

And yet...

Why did people keep mistaking his kindness for stupidity? For something they could exploit?

Alexander Pierce had done it.

Namor the Sea King had done it.

Now Corvinus had done the exact same thing.

Was ”the wise man bows before the storm” really just an ancient Eastern saying with no Western equivalent?

Whatever.

Hawk sighed, rose from his chair, and looked at Corvinus standing beside his guard captain.

”I’m this powerful—did it never occur to you that my hearing might be excellent too?”

”...”

Corvinus’s face went pale.

The next second.

Golden Phoenix Rays blazed forth. With a resonant boom, Corvinus vaporized—along with the guard captain and every remaining vampire in the hall.

In the blink of an eye.

The castle stood empty.

Actually, no.

One survivor remained.

The vampire Carter, lying on the floor—barely breathing, skin flayed raw, not a single patch of intact flesh on his entire body.

Hawk’s gaze fell upon him.

Carter’s eyes met Hawk’s, filled with desperate pleading.

Their eyes locked.

A faint smile curved Hawk’s lips.

BOOM!

SPLAT!

Now the castle was truly empty.

Hawk’s pupils gleamed gold.

”Blood God messengers?”

”Heh.”

Nineteen years ago, after Bruce and Andor faked their deaths, they’d found Carter one after the other. Carter had indeed been acting on someone’s orders when he turned them.

But Carter hadn’t held out. He’d revealed who gave those orders.

Messengers of the Blood God.

These two messengers had appeared before Bruce and Andor. According to Carter, their blood vitality exceeded that of any pureblood vampire.

As payment for Carter converting Bruce and Andor, those two Blood God messengers had purified Carter’s bloodline.

Transformed him from a mixed-blood vampire into a pureblood.

For the next nineteen years, Carter had maintained a direct line of communication with the two messengers. The most recent contact had been instructions to embed Bruce and Andor in the so-called ”blood pack squad” heading to New York City.

As for why—that, Carter genuinely didn’t know.

And this was the information Corvinus had tried to conceal.

Ever since awakening his Cosmo, Hawk’s five senses had been pushed to their absolute peak.

So while he’d appeared to be resting with his eyes closed, he’d experienced the guard captain’s interrogation of Carter as if he’d been standing right there.

Let alone the guard captain whispering to Corvinus right in front of him afterward.

And still.

Corvinus had hidden this information, thinking Hawk wouldn’t know.

That was treating him like a complete fool.

Hawk felt that if he didn’t lose his temper over this, he’d be disrespecting himself.

”I gave you a chance to live.”

”You didn’t appreciate it.”

”Why do people never learn?”

Hawk surveyed the now-empty castle—devoid of any human presence, devoid of any vampiric essence. He withdrew his gaze, turned, and took a single step.

0.02 seconds—nineteen-point-five milliseconds—later.

Hawk reappeared in New York City, where it was still afternoon.

”Hey!”

”Shit!”

Sharon had been about to leave her office to meet Gwen when a voice came from behind her. She spun around, saw Hawk standing in her office, and clutched her chest in surprise. ”Weren’t you supposed to be in Paris?”

Hawk shrugged.

”Came back.”

”Problem solved?”

”No.”

Hawk shook his head. ”Those two vampires and the blood thrall?”

”Still searching for the vampires. An agent is already en route to the thrall.”

”Address.”

”Jersey City, Maple Street...”

”Pull your people back.”

Hawk got the address, gave the order, then turned and vanished from Sharon’s office.

The next second.

He materialized inside the home of Giorno—the Corvinus blood thrall, the retired detective who’d handled the Andrew case all those years ago.

White-haired, face lined with age, wearing casual house clothes. Giorno stood in his kitchen, happily cooking dinner and humming a tune. He seemed completely unaware of Hawk’s arrival.

Hawk stood in the living room, watching Giorno’s back.

Giorno kept humming, stirring the beef cubes sizzling in his pan.

Seconds ticked by.

The beef in the pan began to char.

But something was off.

Though Giorno continued humming, sweat had begun beading on his forehead.

The corner of his eye strained to catch a glimpse of the motionless figure standing behind him. His mind raced.

Hawk smelled the beef burning.

”Are you planning to—”

CLANG!

The instant Hawk began speaking, the fifty-something Giorno moved with speed that defied his age. He hurled the pan at Hawk while simultaneously spinning, dropping into a crouch, and grabbing a weapon taped beneath the kitchen island.

He rose. Finger on the trigger.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG—!!!

Twelve rounds emptied from the magazine in an instant, screaming through the air—then froze in midair alongside the flying pan, suspended before Hawk as Giorno’s expression slowly contorted in disbelief.

Hawk looked at Giorno, eyebrow raised.

BOOM!

Giorno’s body lifted off the ground. His back slammed into the kitchen window. Glass shattered around him as his ass landed directly on the still-lit stovetop burner.

Giorno’s pupils dilated visibly, and his expression twisted into something grotesque.

”AAAAAHHH—!!”

A blood-curdling scream tore from his throat as Giorno leaped off the burner, hands frantically slapping at his backside, desperately trying to ease the agony.

Two rings of blisters had already formed on his flesh.

Hawk’s mind stirred.

Whoosh.

Giorno’s limbs stretched outward as he was lifted into the air, carried over the kitchen island, and suspended before Hawk.

”Talk.”

Hawk’s expression remained calm as he watched Giorno continue to scream. ”You can keep screaming if you want. But even if you tear your throat apart, no one outside will hear you.”

White-haired, sweat pouring down his face, Giorno clenched his teeth.

”I don’t know any Andrew—”

CRACK!

”AAAAAHHH—!!”

Giorno’s neck veins bulged. Eyes wide with disbelief, he stared at the left arm lying on the floor.

His left arm.

Strangely, though his arm had been severed, no blood spurted from the wound.

Hawk’s lips curved upward. ”I knew George missed something.”

”You’re a vampire too. But from the look of things—if I had to guess—you were turned by either Bruce or Andor after they came back from Paris.”

”...”

Giorno heard Hawk’s words and kept screaming.

But inside, he was terrified.

Yes.

He’d only been turned into a vampire a little over a month ago.

Back then, he could have been converted alongside Bruce and Andor.

But...

Unlike the young Andor or Bruce—whose wife had just died—Giorno still had a wife and children. So he hadn’t chosen to become a vampire at the time.

Even after retiring five years ago, he’d never considered it.

Because his wife was still alive.

It wasn’t until six months ago, when his wife died of illness, that he finally contacted Bruce to claim his reward—twenty years overdue.

But...

He didn’t understand. That whole business was twenty years in the past.

Hawk watched Giorno continue screaming while his eyes darted around frantically. He chuckled, swept his gaze across the room, and fixed on a family portrait hanging on the wall.

He studied the Giorno in the photo, then glanced at the Giorno frozen before him. With a smile, he pointed at the young couple in the portrait—holding an infant between them.

”Your son and daughter-in-law? And your grandson?”

Giorno’s screaming stopped dead.

He watched Hawk pull out his phone and photograph the portrait. His voice turned to a snarl.

”Stop! What are you doing? What are you doing?!”

”Nothing much.”

Hawk finished taking the photo, sent it to Sharon, then dialed her number. He put it on speaker right in front of Giorno.

”Sharon...”

”Did you get the photo?”

”Running facial recognition now. Found them.”

”Bring them in.”

”NO, GODDAMMIT, NO!”

”Understood.” Hawk ended the call and regarded Giorno with an expressionless face as the man howled in anguish.

Giorno glared at Hawk. ”My son and grandson are innocent! Don’t you touch them!”

Hawk laughed through his nose.

”I haven’t even introduced myself.”

”I’m Hawk.”

”Hawk Phoenix.”

”Or, if you prefer—Hawk Chloe.”

As Giorno’s pupils contracted, Hawk continued in a level tone. ”Andrew’s son. So if you tell me your son and grandson are innocent one more time, I promise you—I will dismember them piece by piece and drop the parts right in front of you.”

Giorno’s entire body trembled.

The next second.

His shaking intensified.

”Your father—I didn’t kill him! Why are you coming after me?!”

”Why do you think?”

Hawk’s voice remained calm. He checked his watch. ”You have ten seconds, Giorno. Either you start talking now, or in ten seconds, your son and grandson become dog food. Trust me—I keep my promises.”

Giorno clenched his teeth.

Hawk’s face showed nothing.

Their eyes locked.

Just as the ten seconds were about to expire—

Giorno squeezed his eyes shut and roared.

”All we did was help transport the body out of the country!”

”...Body?”

Hawk’s eyebrow rose as he looked at Giorno.

”What body?”

”Andrew’s body.”

”...”

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