...
All night, Washington, D.C. resounded with gunfire, artillery, and the roar of fighter jets. Planes launched into the sky, only to be shot down, their explosions adding to the chaos across the city.
When the sun finally came up, Washington was still eerily silent. People near Pennsylvania Avenue, and even those farther away, stayed inside with their doors locked, too scared to make a sound. They turned on their TVs, kept the volume low, and anxiously watched static-filled screens while refreshing every news site they could find.
What the hell was happening in Washington?
Everyone who heard the fighting all night was haunted by that question. Even checking their phones felt risky, as if one wrong move could bring the battle to their doorstep.
No matter how hard they tried, people found no answers on TV or online. Many wanted to go to Pennsylvania Avenue to see what was happening, but no one was brave enough.
The center of Pennsylvania Avenue had turned into a battlefield, or at least what was left of one after the fighting ended.
"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOMM!!"
A violent explosion ripped the roof off the White House, and its last standing wing was swallowed by new flames. Burning buildings, wrecked tanks, crashed jets, and bodies scattered everywhere had turned the area into a forbidden zone.
At least, it was off-limits to people.
Hawk stepped out of the flames, his bare upper body untouched. He walked down the White House steps, sat by the entrance, and looked over the bodies, destroyed tanks, and wrecked aircraft scattered across the grounds.
The night had been brutal.
For Washington, the White House was more than just a building. It stood for federal power and real authority. That's why the military had thrown everything at Hawk to try to take it back.
This time, Hawk didn't hold back.
Anyone who came alone died alone. Anyone who brought backup died together. Hawk fought them in the air, chased them on the ground, and hunted them underground. By sunrise, he had killed enough people to make Washington realize that sending more troops would only mean more deaths.
Hawk sat on the White House steps and looked past the front lawn at a wall of tanks set up for defense.
After a few minutes, a thin man with glasses in his early forties came out from behind the barricade. He looked like someone who belonged behind a desk, not on a battlefield, but despite his confusion, there was a stubborn sense of duty in his expression.
A few soldiers helped him put on a bulletproof vest, then walked with him toward the White House.
Hawk watched the group approach, his face unreadable. The man stopped at the edge of the grounds, took a deep breath, and walked through the front garden with heavy guards. He finally stopped ten steps from the stairs.
"Mr. Phoenix, perhaps we can talk," the man offered.
Hawk gave a derisive laugh. "The last person who asked me to talk was an old man. I respected his courage, so I gave him a chance. He turned around and helped create a Sentinel he thought could handle me."
"I wasn't aware of that," the man replied.
Hawk laughed again. He rested his elbow on his knee, propped his chin on his hand, and looked at the newcomer with real interest.
"That's a new answer," Hawk admitted. "What's your name?"
"Stacy. Reed Stacy." The man drew another careful breath. "You may call me Reed, Mr. Phoenix."
"Stacy?" Hawk repeated.
Some of the teasing left his eyes. Hawk looked at Reed more closely, searching his face for something only he seemed to know.
Reed stood completely still under Hawk's gaze. He was scared enough to tremble, but he tried not to let it show any more than it already did.
"What's your position?" Hawk eventually asked.
"I'm a member of Congress."
Hawk stared at him, then let out an amused chuckle. "Did I already kill everyone important?"
Being in Congress sounded important, but there were hundreds of members. The ones with real power usually had another title, like Speaker, majority leader, or committee chair—something that set them apart. A regular congressman was just one vote among many.
"You attacked the Capitol last night, sir," Reed reminded him with a strained smile.
"So?" Hawk spread his hand. "I attacked the Pentagon too. And I'm not done. Once I've rested, I'll go after every military base you have, whether it's aboveground, underground, offshore, or under the ocean. You'd better make sure you kill me first, because if you don't, I'll kill all of you."
A chill ran through Reed, but he forced himself to remain composed.
"That isn't what I meant," Reed said. "I was the person selected last night."
Hawk paused as the implication sank in.
"You were the designated survivor?"
"Yes, sir."
Hawk looked briefly taken aback, then his expression returned to normal. "Congratulations."
The designated survivor was part of the government's plan to keep running after a disaster. One official was picked to stay somewhere safe, so if the President, Vice President, and everyone else in line died at once, someone would be left to take over.
This system was meant to stop the government from falling apart after a major attack. Until today, no one thought it would ever be needed.
Reed's smile grew even more bitter at Hawk's congratulations.
"So, Mr. President," Hawk said, regarding him with renewed interest, "how do you plan to deal with me?"
"Believe me, Mr. Phoenix, I wouldn't have come here if I'd had a choice."
"But you did."
"Yes."
Hawk shifted and leaned back against a stone column, which was still warm from the fires nearby.
"Aren't you afraid?" Hawk asked.
Reed fell silent for several seconds. "Yes."
"But you came anyway."
"I'm the President now. I had to." Reed met Hawk's eyes despite the fear written across his face. "When no one else is ready to step forward, someone eventually has to."
A smile touched Hawk's mouth. "So you're here to play the hero?"
"No." Reed shook his head.
"Like I said, if I hadn't been the designated survivor, I wouldn't be standing here. But I was, which means the responsibility fell to me. I didn't ask for it, but I can't pretend it belongs to someone else."
Hawk looked at the nervous man standing ten steps away. Reed was scared and didn't try to hide it with any show of bravery. He was there because he felt it was his duty, not because he wanted to be a hero.
"Do you have a wife, Reed?" Hawk asked.
The sudden question surprised Reed, but he nodded.
"Yes. Her name is Helen." His expression softened despite the situation. "She's the kindest, gentlest woman I've ever known."
"Helen..." Hawk murmured.
Hawk looked past Reed toward the tank barricade. A woman stood there under military guard, watching with open fear. She looked like a devoted wife and mother, and she never took her eyes off Reed.
"My mother-in-law's name is Helen," Hawk revealed. "She's also one of the kindest and gentlest women I've ever known."
Hawk stood up from the steps and put his hands in his pockets. In one quick move, he closed the distance and stood right in front of Reed.
The sudden movement almost made Reed cry out. His guards reacted on instinct, their fingers tightening on their triggers. Their training saved them—as soon as they saw Hawk wasn't attacking, they stopped before firing.
Hawk looked at Reed up close. Reed was clearly terrified, but he clenched his jaw and stood his ground.
"If anyone else had come here, they would've died," Hawk said. "You, however, get one chance."
Reed's body relaxed, the tension leaving him.
"I want everyone involved in the Sentinel program," Hawk continued. "The scientists, the officials, the people who authorized it, and anyone who knew what was happening and kept quiet. I don't care who they are. I want to see their bodies."
Hawk smiled.
"You have twenty-four hours. How does that sound?"
Reed said nothing.
"In twenty-four hours, either I see their corpses, or I turn all of you into corpses," Hawk clarified in the same calm tone.
Reed's whole body went rigid. The soldiers around him did the same, all suddenly aware that Hawk could lose his restraint at any moment.
"I don't want to lie to you," Reed said after gathering his courage. "I'll need to discuss this with the others."
A President who won an election and had an established team had some real power. But a designated survivor who took over overnight had almost no authority, just endless responsibility.
"This isn't a discussion, Mr. Stacy," Hawk replied. "It's a notification. I'm extending this courtesy because you were the one who came to meet me. Consider it my final act of leniency."
Reed looked into Hawk's eyes, and what he saw made his heart skip. He pressed his lips together and nodded.
"I understand, Mr. Phoenix," Reed answered, his voice dry.
"Good."
Hawk turned to leave. Wanda had taken Jean to New York for some real combat training, and he wanted to be there in case anyone tried to mess with his daughter.
"Mr. Phoenix!" Reed called after him.
"Something else?" Hawk stopped and looked back.
Reed frowned, still needing to know. "Why did you show me any consideration at all?"
Hawk chuckled.
"Because my wife's last name is Stacy too."
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