Vroooom!
2:30 PM.
The flight from New York touched down, taxiing smoothly to a stop at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport in Washington, D.C.
Half an hour later.
Traveling light, Hawk walked out of the airport, went straight to the taxi stand, and got into the back of the first cab in line. He gave the address of a motel in Quantico Town to the young driver.
The driver nodded, started the meter, and pulled away from the curb.
Just because the FBI Academy was in Quantico didn't mean the area was off-limits to civilians.
You just couldn't waltz onto the military-controlled parts.
Quantico Town itself, the area surrounding the base, was open to the public.
Any disciplined man is a person of action, and Hawk was a man who had thrown ten thousand punches a day for a thousand straight days.
His ability to act was second to none.
The moment he'd left the Oscorp building that morning, he had gone straight to the airport and bought a ticket for the next flight to D.C.
He hadn't even gone home to pack a change of clothes.
Fortunately, he had spent all of last night studying the satellite maps of Quantico, roughing out a plan for how he was going to get his Gammanium.
Otherwise, he'd be stumbling around completely lost.
...
"Plan A."
"Get in quiet, get out quiet."
"But if I'm spotted, switch to Plan B immediately."
"Overwhelming force. No survivors!"
Sitting in the back of the taxi, Hawk silently reviewed his plan, then turned his gaze to the scenery passing by outside the window.
And then...
Without changing his expression, his eyes flickered to the young driver in the front seat. He casually pulled his phone from his pocket, the one he'd forgotten to turn back on after the flight.
The phone booted up.
A series of dings announced a flood of incoming text messages.
Hawk's eyebrow twitched. Just as he was about to unlock the screen to see what spam his carrier had sent him this time, a low voice, accompanied by the black, unblinking eye of a gun barrel, filled the car.
"DON'T MOVE. GIVE ME THE PHONE."
"..."
Hawk froze.
Who am I?
Where am I?
What am I doing?
No, seriously.
I'm on my way to rob a military base, and I'm getting robbed the second I land?
Damn it.
This is the nation's capital. Is the crime rate really worse than New York's?
In an instant, Hawk's opinion of Washington, D.C. plummeted.
The young driver, watching him in the rearview mirror, saw that he was frozen. He growled, waggling the gun. "I said, don't move. Hand over the phone."
Hawk snapped out of it.
"Do you want me to not move, or do you want me to give you the phone?"
"..."
The driver fell silent for a moment, processing the question.
The next second, he seemed to snap.
"Motherfucker, don't get smart with me, give me the f—"
Ring, ring!
Just as the driver was losing his cool, Hawk's phone began to ring.
It was Gwen.
Hawk answered the call and put the phone to his ear.
"Hello?"
"..."
The young driver broke.
He watched in the rearview mirror as this kid, completely ignoring the gun pointed at his head, not even bothering to pretend to be scared, just casually answered his phone. He had a full-blown meltdown.
The next second, he slammed on the brakes. The taxi screeched to a halt. He twisted in his seat, lunging for the back.
"Motherfucker, I'll f—"
"Thump!"
"Aaaaaaaargh!"
"..."
On the other end of the line, Gwen, who had just been about to speak, heard what sounded like a pained scream.
"Was that someone screaming, Hawk?"
"...Yeah. Some guy walking by was watching a movie on his phone. Probably some violent action flick."
"Sounds like it. That scream sounded exactly like someone getting their ribs broken."
"Uh..."
Hawk, who was now leaning over the front seat, one hand clamped over the driver's mouth, looked down at the exact spot on the man's ribs he had just struck. "You can tell where someone's injured just from the sound of their scream?"
A laugh came from the other end of the line.
"Of course. My dad's a police captain. And between you and me, I'm probably more qualified than most of the rookies at his precinct."
"...I can see that."
Hawk was speechless.
What could he even say? A genius is a genius. They learn everything faster and better than anyone else.
Just then, Gwen's laugh became bright and clear.
"I'm kidding. Of course I can't."
"...Right. You had me for a second."
"So, why was your phone off? I've been trying to call you."
"What's up?"
Hawk maintained his position, one hand silencing the driver, the other holding the phone to his ear.
"Come downstairs."
"What?"
"Dr. Connors found out you were fired and that you were the scapegoat. He felt bad, so he prepared a little something for you. But I couldn't reach you, so I just came over. Are you not home?"
Gwen, who had just parked her yellow Corolla in front of Hawk's new apartment building, tapped an envelope sitting on the passenger seat and peered up at his window.
Hearing that Gwen was right outside his apartment, Hawk went silent for a second, then it clicked.
"Right, I'm not home. Can you just hold on to it for me? You can give it to me when school starts."
"I'm already out of the car."
Gwen closed her car door and started walking toward the building. "You're on the top floor, facing the street, right? Your window's open. I'll just take the fire escape and leave it inside for you."
Hawk was stunned.
He wasn't surprised that Gwen knew where he lived. She had probably seen his address on his employment forms.
But...
"How do you know that?"
"I saw your shorts hanging in the window."
"Uh..."
"You've had those for three years. And if I remember correctly, they used to be pants, right? You cut them into shorts back in tenth grade."
"Anyway, I'm just going to drop this off. I've gotta get going."
"..."
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