Nightfall.
The Stacy apartment.
"Helen."
"Oh, God!"
When Helen opened the door and saw Hawk coming in behind Gwen, she gasped. "Hawk, what happened to you?"
With a cast on his left arm and that arm in a sling, Hawk answered lightly, "It's nothing. I fell while changing the curtains."
Helen clapped a hand over her mouth again in shock.
Meeting Helen's genuinely worried eyes, Hawk suddenly felt a stab of guilt.
But…
This was all Gwen's fault.
He shot a sidelong look at his fiancée, who had stepped in first.
Gwen ignored him, gaze straight ahead. "It's okay, Mom. The doctor said it's a minor fracture. A month of rest and he'll be fine."
Hearing the commotion, George came down from the stairs.
Helen waved him over. "George, quick—Hawk's hurt."
George walked up, eyes settling on the cast and sling on Hawk's left arm.
"What happened?"
"Nothing serious."
Hawk kept it brief. Gwen hadn't told him much either, and he had no idea what she had explained to George earlier.
So—
Say less.
Besides, his public persona was the quiet, few-words type.
"Just like I said on the phone," Gwen continued, looking at George, "he was changing the bedroom curtains, lost his footing, fell, and we went straight to New Amsterdam Hospital."
Right.
That night, when they'd taken Sharon Carter to New Amsterdam Hospital, someone saw them—or rather, saw them on the way back. The patrolman happened to be from the 21st Precinct, so George found out.
His daughter went to the hospital at night?
Unacceptable.
George called Gwen immediately to ask what was going on.
Tell the truth?
Of course not. If he learned she'd gone face-to-face with HYDRA's big shots and dodged two threats, he'd lose his mind.
Plus, Commander Victoria Hand and the others were still at the house. If George showed up then, there would be no way to explain any of it.
So Gwen, in a flash, spun a perfectly reasonable story:
Hawk had fractured his left arm; they went to the hospital for a cast and sling.
That's why Hawk was dressed like this.
Hawk had stared blankly when she said it, a little speechless. "Why am I the injured one and not you?"
Gwen's reply was airtight.
"I've lived at home for years and never been hurt. Less than a year after getting engaged to you, my left arm breaks and I end up in the ER at night—what do you think Dad would do?"
"…He'd take you back home."
Hawk thought a moment and gave that answer.
Put yourself in his shoes.
If he had a daughter someday, and she ran off with some wild boar, and they moved in together, and within a year her arm was broken and she'd gone to the hospital in the middle of the night—
Yikes.
He'd blow up.
No question.
If Gwen were the one wearing the cast and sling at this doorstep, George would blow up too.
Except…
Hawk had hesitated and looked at Gwen. "A whole month with a sling? Can't I just pretend for a bit? Worst case, I just avoid George for a month."
Who was he?
Hawk Phoenix.
S.H.I.E.L.D.-and-HYDRA-certified devil-king—the man who single-handedly crushed HYDRA's second push and scared Strucker into running and hiding without looking back.
And the next minute, after wrecking HYDRA's scheme, he was wearing a sling?
Did that look right?
He'd wavered, but Gwen's follow-up convinced him to obediently go to S.H.I.E.L.D. New York and set up the fake fracture.
She only said two sentences.
First:
"Dad's an old-school captain. If he doesn't see it with his own eyes, he might go to the hospital to check the records himself."
Second:
"Look on the bright side: you have to play sick for a month, which means you don't have to do any chores—and the same goes for things in bed."
"Done!"
Hawk agreed without hesitation. The conflicted look vanished, replaced by solemn resolve as he faced his fiancée. "Let's plan this out."
They needed a plan, indeed.
George was an old captain, and no one could guarantee he wouldn't suddenly swing by the hospital to pull Hawk's file.
But that part was covered.
S.H.I.E.L.D. handled it—scrubbed the hospital records and even helped with the cast. The one on Hawk's arm was lightweight and breathable, nothing like the heavy, stifling casts you usually get.
Sure enough,
When Hawk showed up with the cast and sling, George just told him gently to be careful, wished him a speedy recovery, and left it at that.
Hawk had no doubt—if Gwen had walked through the door in a sling, George would have a Glock 19 pressed to Hawk's forehead before her second foot crossed the threshold.
Fortunately, the cover held.
And because Hawk was "injured," after dinner Helen didn't keep them; she urged the pair to head home. As they left, she reminded Gwen not to bully Hawk just because he was hurt.
Hawk smiled.
Gwen was speechless.
By the time they got home, Hawk had already gone to bed. Losing the full use of his left arm all of a sudden was awkward, but thinking of the compensation for that loss made it feel worth it.
Gwen came out of the bathroom and saw Hawk lying there, beaming at her. She couldn't help rolling her eyes; still, remembering her promise, she undid her nightwear and walked over.
The next morning,
Hawk looked refreshed, lounging on the living room sofa in shorts with a big grin on his face.
Of course,
His left arm was still in a cast.
Gwen, rubbing her lower back as she came downstairs, glanced at the man sprawled like a paralyzed sloth and tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I suddenly regret letting you get hurt."
Hawk snickered. "Then tell George the truth."
Same point as ever:
Playing weak to hide your strength?
What a dumb trope. Showing off your power and crushing by sheer level is how a modern transmigrator story should work.
That was his philosophy—and his practice.
Other people disagreed.
S.H.I.E.L.D., for example.
And Gwen.
S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't want him exposed to the public eye—even now that Thor had appeared.
Thor was an alien. No matter how strong he was, people would mostly feel awe or envy.
Hawk was different.
He was born and raised on Earth. People might envy or admire him—but many more would hate him.
Hate what others have; hate what they don't.
Human nature tends toward the ugly—that's the mainstream truth.
S.H.I.E.L.D. had no doubt: if Hawk were exposed, the first response wouldn't be Thor-level worship. It would be: can we replace him? Kidnap him? Dissect his secret?
Hawk didn't care.
In a word:
War. He loved war.
But S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't allow it. No one could guarantee some so-called prodigy wouldn't provoke Hawk into destroying the planet.
Low odds, sure—but what if?
That's why S.H.I.E.L.D. actively helped him keep a low profile.
As for Gwen—
She rolled her eyes at Hawk's carefree look, then said seriously, "Your secret is for me alone."
Hawk knew that wasn't her whole reason.
But…
"Okay. You're the boss. I'll listen."
"Good."
Gwen sat beside him with a bright smile, glanced at his thigh—which had conveniently landed across her legs—and then looked up to steer the topic. "Hawk, HYDRA's second push—does something that big just… end like this?"
Hawk chuckled. "Big? Not really. If Sharon hadn't shown up at our place asking for help, you probably wouldn't even know anything happened."
HYDRA's second push happened inside S.H.I.E.L.D.
And S.H.I.E.L.D. is a secret agency.
Add his intervention this time, and Natasha hadn't dumped all of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s data online.
So—
Yesterday's biggest public news was a Helicarrier crashing over Washington, and the reappearances of Thor and Tony Stark.
The official explanation was already out:
A spur-of-the-moment joint exercise coordinated by the Pentagon with Iron Man and Thor, intended to improve humanity's defensive readiness for the risks of space exploration.
It sounded ridiculous.
But most people bought it.
Seventy percent of the population was on the happy-sheeple track—some folks even believed injecting disinfectant worked—so compared to that, the Pentagon's story sounded downright reasonable.
Gwen blinked. "So Sharon and Commander Hand—they're okay?"
"Don't know."
Hawk shook his head, thought for a moment, then said, "They probably won't get axed outright by the Five Good Men."
After a mess like HYDRA's, there was no way S.H.I.E.L.D. came out untouched.
But—
The Council wouldn't handle it like in the original plot—downsizing S.H.I.E.L.D. into oblivion.
The biggest reason?
Hawk.
…
(End of Chapter)
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