Marvel: The Enlightened One#195+196: Grant's Brief Appearance, Hawk Enters the Field, New York Liberated

"Hawk's back."

"..."

Deep beneath Times Square, in SHIELD's New York Operations Command Center—now fully controlled by HYDRA's second uprising—John Garrett sat in Victoria Hand's office. The electronic voice crackling through his earpiece made him take a deep breath.

The kind of gut feeling only elite operatives possessed washed over him.

Nothing good ever came from that feeling.

"Sir..."

"You know what to do."

Dr. Zola's synthetic voice cut out after those words. In that same instant, he erased every trace of his connection to New York's SHIELD systems.

Sure, the intelligence files suggested Hawk wasn't particularly tech-savvy. His phone was a hand-me-down from his fiancée. The laptop he owned had been bought secondhand off some forum.

But better safe than sorry.

John Garrett listened as the line fell completely silent after Zola disconnected. The anxiety that had been gnawing at him finally crystallized into grim certainty.

Just then, the office door opened.

A man walked in—clean-cut, wearing a sharp suit, the picture of righteousness. Grant Ward. And right behind him, hands cuffed behind her back, expression radiating defiance, was a black-haired Asian woman named Skye.

John Garrett snapped out of his thoughts and looked up at his adoptive son Grant, a slight smile forming on his face. Then his gaze shifted to the prisoner.

"So you're Skye. Want to join us?"

"Screw you!"

Skye, still restrained in Grant's grip, spat toward John Garrett sitting behind the desk, her face twisted in fury as she made her answer crystal clear.

John didn't seem bothered. He chuckled softly and pressed a button on the desk.

Almost immediately, A HYDRA agent stepped into the room.

"Take her downstairs."

"Yes, sir."

The HYDRA operative nodded and took custody of Skye from Grant.

Skye tried to struggle, twisting against her restraints.

The next moment—

WHAM.

"Gah!"

Without hesitation or mercy, the HYDRA agent drove a fist straight into Skye's stomach and snapped coldly, "Stay still."

John Garrett watched Skye double over, a faint smile on his lips. "If everything goes according to plan, you'll all be free soon enough."

Skye thought he meant he was going to kill her. She glared at John with burning hatred.

"SHIELD will stop whatever evil plan you're running."

"And you—"

"Grant, I must have been blind."

The thought that when she'd first joined SHIELD, she'd actually gotten close to this man—Grant Ward, who wore SHIELD's badge but served HYDRA—made Skye feel physically sick.

Grant's expression remained completely blank. He didn't even look at her.

John waved his hand dismissively.

The HYDRA agent holding Skye nodded, yanked her around, and marched her out of the office without a word.

Skye's furious shouting gradually faded as she was dragged farther away, until finally, it became inaudible.

John watched as a fleeting, carefully concealed emotion flickered across his adoptive son Grant's face. He smiled.

"What's wrong? Having second thoughts?"

"No."

Grant shook his head. "Any obstacle standing in the way of our great cause will be eliminated."

John chuckled at that.

Then, in the next breath, he changed the subject.

"You need to leave."

Grant Ward was momentarily confused. He'd only just gotten back—why was he being sent out again? But he didn't voice his confusion. Instead, he quickly shifted gears and asked about his next assignment.

John didn't immediately name the next target.

"Leave New York. Head to Japan first. You'll receive your next assignment on the plane."

"Understood."

Grant Ward didn't hesitate. He nodded, turned on his heel, and left the office.

At the door, he instinctively glanced in the direction Skye had been taken, lost in thought for a moment. But he quickly snapped out of it and headed toward the exit.

John Garrett, meanwhile, watched his adoptive son walking toward the exit through the security feed on his desk monitor. His eyes flickered with unreadable emotion.

Next target?

Maybe there would be a next target.

But for him, there were no more targets. Not after Dr. Zola cut communications.

And so, Even a tiger doesn't eat its own cubs, as the saying goes.

He'd taken Grant in all those years ago, raised him, trained him meticulously, and molded him into an excellent, cold, professional HYDRA operative.

But at the end of the day, Grant was still his son.

So he'd deliberately sent him away.

Because that uneasy feeling gnawing at his gut was growing stronger by the second.

An operative's instincts were sharp. And when you were a HYDRA agent embedded in SHIELD, trusting your instincts was survival.

This probably wasn't just paranoia.

Hawk was coming.

No...

Hawk was already here.

Grant had just crossed the main floor and was heading toward the elevators when he suddenly saw space itself twist in front of him. His training kicked in instantly. He drew his weapon and fired at the figure materializing before him.

BANG.

WHOOSH.

Hawk, who had just teleported directly from the hospital to this location in a single step, saw the bullet speeding toward him. With a thought, he froze it in midair—exactly 0.1 millimeters from his forehead.

Then he looked at the man in front of him—reasonably good-looking, gun raised, muzzle still flaring—and smiled faintly.

Grant Ward.

The next second, His eyes flared crimson.

BOOM.

"Agh—"

Grant Ward—who should have had at least two more seasons of screen time—had his expression frozen in shock. Before he could even process what was happening, he vaporized on the spot.

"HOLY—"

"WHAT THE HELL?!"

"INTRUDER! INTRUDER!"

"IT'S THE DEMON KING!"

The moment Grant Ward disintegrated into nothing, the surrounding HYDRA operatives finally snapped to attention.

Some, unaware of Hawk's identity, immediately drew their weapons and opened fire, apparently thinking they could gun him down right there.

Others—those who knew exactly who Hawk was—screamed in terror and bolted for the emergency exits.

But there were no survivors beneath the Phoenix Ray.

WHOOSH-WHOOSH-WHOOSH.

"AAAHHH!!"

Hawk stood perfectly still. Twin beams of crimson energy shot from his eyes and swept in a wide arc around the room.

Everywhere the [Phoenix Ray] touched, matter ceased to exist. Desks vaporized. Equipment disintegrated. HYDRA agents—whether firing at him or fleeing—vanished in puffs of ash.

In the blink of an eye, dozens of HYDRA operatives in the main operations hall had been completely erased.

Physically erased. Gone.

The next second, Hawk turned toward the corridor, where more HYDRA agents—drawn by the sound of gunfire—were now rushing toward him, jamming the passageway.

He flickered. One moment he was across the room. The next, he was standing at the mouth of the corridor. The Phoenix Ray lanced out again, cutting through the densely packed HYDRA forces like a scythe.

In the span of a single blink, dozens more HYDRA operatives vanished into thin air, quite literally.

Hawk finally understood why both Ikaris and the DC version of Superman were so fond of heat vision.

Simple.

Heat vision was efficient.

Unlike punching—where you could only take out one target at a time—heat vision let you sweep through crowds. Against normal humans, it was instant death for anyone in the line of fire.

And it barely took any effort.

Hawk's mind wandered through these thoughts even as his expression remained ice-cold.

After witnessing General Ross's massacre and Wakanda's genocide, Hawk—already a transmigrator at heart—had completely shattered whatever mental barriers he'd once had about killing.

This was exactly why you didn't mess with transmigrators.

Because they would actually do it.

And Hawk would.

He'd come here to kill people.

So, with his new Phoenix Ray ability at full power, Hawk accomplished in under five minutes what HYDRA had taken nearly five hours to secure. He'd completely retaken SHIELD's New York branch.

And of those five minutes, four had been spent hunting down stragglers.

By the time he reached the door to Victoria Hand's office, ninety-nine percent of the HYDRA operatives in the facility had already been vaporized.

Hawk pushed the door open without ceremony.

...

Inside.

John Garrett sat calmly in the chair behind the desk, hands resting on the surface, a cigarette held between the fingers of one hand.

When he saw Hawk enter, he took a long drag, held it in his lungs for a moment, then glanced down at the freshly lit cigarette in his hand—his last one. He looked back at Hawk.

"Mind if I finish this last smoke?"

"Since you didn't try to kill yourself, sure. Go ahead."

"Thanks."

John Garrett nodded his appreciation, then took another deep pull under Hawk's watchful gaze.

The look of pure bliss on the man's face almost made Hawk want to light one up himself.

But no...

Smoking was bad for your health. And supposedly, it could affect the baby. Gwen had told him—if he wanted to smoke, fine. Wait two more years. Wait until they turned twenty-one, had the baby, and then he could smoke and drink all he wanted.

Soon enough, the cigarette burned down to nothing.

After one last deep drag—pulling the smoke all the way into his lungs—John Garrett exhaled with an expression of complete peace. He looked at Hawk.

"Thank you, Mr. Phoenix."

"Don't mention it."

Hawk smiled faintly, suppressing the urge to bum a smoke, and looked at the man before him.

"Were you the one who sent those three HYDRA agents to my house?"

"Yes."

"Mind telling me why?"

"Sharon Carter is a SHIELD agent. I'm a HYDRA operative. I was ordered to take over the entire New York branch. If she escaped alive, it would have made me look incompetent."

"Fair point."

Hawk listened to John Garrett's explanation and nodded. Then he chuckled.

"Didn't you think doing that might piss me off?"

"I did."

"And?"

"Sharon Carter had to die."

"Alright then."

Hawk let out a soft laugh, watching as John Garrett leaned back in his chair, apparently settling into a comfortable position to meet his death.

"You've got one chance to say your last words."

John Garrett rose from his chair. He straightened his suit jacket, adjusted his tie, and then—under Hawk's steady gaze—raised his arm in a salute that had been banned across Europe for decades.

And then—

<><><><><><><><>

"Cut off one head, two more shall take its place!"

"Hail HYDRA!"

"Long live HYDRA!"

BOOM.

As John Garrett's final words left his lips, the blazing Phoenix Ray slammed into his body.

The moment he finished speaking—

He vaporized on the spot.

Hawk's eyes returned to their normal clear blue. He stared at the space where John Garrett had stood moments before, replaying the man's last words in his mind.

"Heh."

"Cut off one head, two more take its place?"

"Maybe."

"But not in New York. Not anymore."

Hawk let out a quiet laugh, then turned and vanished from the office without a sound.

...

Down on the lowest level—in SHIELD's detention block. After HYDRA's second uprising, over thirty SHIELD agents who hadn't been killed but instead captured were now locked up here.

Commander Victoria Hand was among them.

Her condition wasn't good.

Her complexion was terrible.

But at least she was still conscious.

Three HYDRA operatives had been assigned to guard the captured SHIELD agents.

Their condition wasn't much better.

They'd just learned over the radio what was happening upstairs. The two originally stationed here, plus a third who'd just finished escorting Skye down, now stood with weapons trained on the only entrance, eyes sharp with paranoia.

The next moment, Hawk appeared.

Muzzles flared instantly. The three HYDRA operatives squeezed their triggers as fast as they could. Bullets sprayed like a torrential downpour toward Hawk, who'd materialized right in front of them.

And then, the hailstorm of bullets froze mid-flight as Hawk raised his hand.

Three sharp clicks echoed through the detention block as the magazines ran dry. The three HYDRA agents stared at the surreal scene unfolding before them, expressions blank with disbelief.

Their confusion didn't last long.

Because they died pretty quickly.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

With a thought, Hawk reversed the trajectory of three bullets hovering in front of him. They shot backward with sharp whistling sounds, punching clean through the foreheads of the three stunned HYDRA operatives. They toppled backward onto the cold floor, eyes still glazed with shock.

With a rattling clatter, the remaining suspended bullets dropped to the ground like rain.

The imprisoned SHIELD agents stared in stunned silence.

Victoria Hand—pale, weak, clearly on her last legs but clinging to consciousness through sheer willpower—saw Hawk appear and managed a faint smile.

Then she passed out completely.

"Commander!"

"SHIT—COMMANDER, COMMANDER!" The two female SHIELD agents who'd been taking care of Hand since their capture immediately called out in alarm.

Hawk saw what was happening and didn't waste time. With a thought and a sharp CRACK, the cell door shattered open.

The next second—

The lead agent in the front cell—bruised and battered but still mobile—shoved the door open and sprinted to the three bodies. He grabbed their weapons, swapped in fresh magazines, brushed past Hawk without a word, and took up a defensive position at the detention block's only entrance.

None of them stopped to talk to Hawk.

No need.

Anyone who showed up here right now and killed HYDRA operatives was an ally. That was all that mattered.

"Medical bay."

"The Commander needs an immediate transfusion."

One of the female SHIELD agents carrying the unconscious Commander Hand spoke urgently as she emerged from the cell. She looked at Hawk with desperate eyes. "Mr. Phoenix, the Commander's in bad shape."

Hawk glanced at her briefly.

"Just go. There's no more HYDRA left in the building."

"...Thank God. Get her to medical. Now."

The female agent who recognized Hawk froze for a second, then her face lit up with relief.

The three armed agents who'd already taken point at the entrance exchanged glances, then unlocked the heavy door the HYDRA operatives had sealed shut.

Beyond—

The corridor outside was empty.

Dead silent.

"Move it. Mr. Phoenix doesn't bullshit."

"Medical bay!"

"The Commander needs emergency care!"

The female agent who knew Hawk barked the order again. The agent carrying Commander Hand immediately took off at a run.

The rest of the surviving SHIELD agents locked up here snapped out of their daze and started moving.

Skye finally processed what was happening.

She rubbed her wrists where another SHIELD agent had just removed her cuffs, then stared at Hawk without blinking, her face a mix of shock and disbelief. "Wait—it's you."

She suddenly remembered selling Hawk a used laptop a while back.

Hawk recognized Skye as well. He was mildly curious why she was here, but didn't ask. Instead, he said, "So you joined SHIELD too?"

Skye blinked.

"Too? You mean you're also—"

"No. I'm not."

Hawk shook his head, then seemed to remember something. He looked at Skye. "What if I told you the only reason I came here was because you sold me that laptop once? What would you think?"

Skye's expression turned serious. "I'd think that was the worst business deal I ever made."

She remembered how she'd talked herself down on that forum listing, playing up how desperate she was, until she'd basically guilt-tripped herself into selling a laptop she'd planned to get fifteen hundred bucks for at a fraction of the price.

Hawk laughed.

...

In the medical bay, the female SHIELD agent—trusting Hawk's word completely—had sprinted here without stopping. She found the blood type Commander Hand needed in record time, set up the transfusion, and injected a dose of adrenaline.

The effect was instant.

Commander Hand, who'd just been unconscious, shot awake with a sharp gasp.

As she instinctively tried to sit up, the female agent quickly stopped her. "Commander, all HYDRA operatives have been eliminated by Mr. Phoenix."

Commander Hand's mind flashed back to the moment she'd seen Hawk appear, felt a wave of relief wash over her, and then passed out. Her tense muscles finally relaxed.

"Did we reach Sharon?"

"Not yet."

"She's in the same boat as you—hooked up to an IV at the hospital."

"..."

Victoria Hand instinctively turned her head toward the voice and saw Hawk standing nearby, hands in his pockets, smiling faintly.

"Haw—"

Commander Hand started to sit up again out of reflex.

Hawk stopped her with a thought, smiling. "Relax. Sharon should be back once she's recovered a bit."

Commander Hand let out a long, relieved breath. She looked at Hawk, her expression filled with gratitude, her voice sincere.

"Thank you."

"If you're going to thank anyone, thank HYDRA."

Hawk shook his head with a chuckle. "Sharon ran to my house for safety. And then HYDRA had the nerve to show up at my door demanding I hand her over. If I didn't respond to that, what's next? Today they test me, tomorrow they're pissing on my head."

Commander Hand's mouth twitched slightly at his phrasing.

"Then I guess we really should thank them."

"By the way."

Hawk shifted to business, looking at Commander Hand. "John Garrett. Whose man was he? Alexander Pierce's?"

Sure, John Garrett had taken full responsibility for everything before he died.

But was that even remotely believable?

Hawk knew there were plenty of people who could be called HYDRA leaders. But John Garrett wasn't one of them.

Which meant... The guy was just a high-level thug. The real mastermind who'd sent HYDRA operatives to his doorstep was someone else.

And he had a strong suspicion it was Alexander Pierce.

Commander Hand shook her head.

"John Garrett probably wasn't one of Alexander Pierce's people."

"Hm?"

Hawk looked at her, surprised.

After the blood transfusion, Commander Hand's deathly pale complexion had improved noticeably.

She started explaining who John Garrett was.

"John Garrett was a Level 8 agent and a munitions expert. He should have been stationed at HQ, but he got transferred to the New York Operations Center. Alexander Pierce was still the Director of SHIELD at the time, and he personally signed off on the transfer order."

"Doesn't that prove he's Pierce's guy even more?"

Hawk raised an eyebrow. "Pierce moves Garrett to New York ahead of time so he can wipe you all out when the uprising starts."

Commander Hand shook her head. "If that were the case, Garrett should have been made Deputy Commander of the New York Center, not just brought in as a specialist. At the time, I suspected Garrett had pissed Pierce off and was being exiled here."

After all, John Garrett's clearance level was legitimate.

SHIELD Level 8 Agent.

That was no joke.

Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton were only Level 7.

Garrett was Level 8—high-command authority.

And yet—his position never matched his clearance. In New York, his official role had always been munitions expert. No command authority whatsoever.

Hawk listened to Commander Hand's explanation, his expression thoughtful as he nodded slowly.

So if Alexander Pierce wasn't John Garrett's real boss—

Then who was?

Wait, how many HYDRA leaders were there again?

There was the new-generation Alexander Pierce.

There was supposedly some Baron over in Europe.

Did Zola count?

Hawk's thoughts churned.

Just then—

His phone rang.

Hawk pulled out his cell, glanced at the caller ID, and raised an eyebrow.

"Good evening, Anna."

"Good evening, Hawk."

"..."