Marvel: The Enlightened One#88+89: The One Who Chose to Accept and the One Who Chose to Refuse! Phoenix as Master, Draco as Guardian!

When Bruce Banner got home with the groceries, Nick Fury was already gone.

Betty knelt on the living room carpet, her eyes vacant and staring at nothing.

Seeing her like this, Bruce quickly closed the door, rushed to her side, and gently helped her up onto the sofa.

“Betty...”

“...”

She seemed to snap back to reality at his touch. Her eyes focused on him, and without a word, she lunged forward, crashing her lips against his.

Bruce froze for a second, stunned by the sudden, almost savage intensity of her kiss. He then yielded, meeting her passion with his own.

With a soft thud, their embrace sent them tumbling from the sofa onto the plush rug below. Clothes were torn away, piece by piece...

“Do you love me, Bruce?”

“Of course.”

“Really?”

“I swear to God.”

“Then you’ll help me get my revenge, right?”

“Of course I—” Bruce’s voice was thick with desire, his own eyes lost in hers. But then, as her words registered, the haze began to clear.

Betty didn’t give him a chance to react. “My father is dead. Help me get revenge, Bruce!”

“Okay, I will.”

Bruce was lost in the moment.

A look of joy crossed Betty’s face. She leaned over him, her arms wrapped around his neck, and whispered in his ear, her breath hot and ragged.

“Then become the Hulk again, my love.”

“...”

Hulk???

The word hit him like a bucket of ice water. Bruce’s mind cleared in an instant. He stared up at her, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“What... did you say?”

“Become the Hulk again.”

“The Hulk is dead.”

“But you’re not.”

“What?” Bruce Banner was stunned.

In the dim, shifting light of the living room, Betty’s beautiful features seemed to twist. “The man who killed my father is the same man who killed the Hulk. Don’t you want revenge?”

Bruce Banner froze.

“...” The image of Hawk, standing before him in the snow-covered woods, flashed in his mind.

Betty took a deep breath, her own eyes burning with a desperate intensity. “Bruce, he killed my father...”

Nick Fury hadn’t told her the killer’s name.

But before he left, he'd told her that the man who killed her father and the man who killed the Hulk were the same person.

Betty had asked Bruce before who had killed the Hulk for him. But he had never told her who it was.

She hadn’t pressed the issue at the time. After all, with the Hulk gone, it was a good thing. It meant her father would have no more reason to stop her and Bruce from being together.

But that was then.

Now, Betty desperately wished that Bruce could still become the Hulk.

It was the only way she could get her revenge.

Betty looked at Bruce, her eyes filled with a desperate hope. “Tell me, Bruce. You can still become the Hulk, can’t you?”

Bruce met her gaze and said nothing.

Betty’s eyes lit up. Just as Gwen understood Hawk, Betty understood Bruce. His silence didn’t mean no. It meant there was a way.

A thrill went through her. She leaned in, holding him tightly, her voice a desperate plea.

“Bruce, Please!”

“I...” Bruce felt her on top of him, felt her tears and the strength in her grip. He bit his lip, shook his head, and said one word. “Sorry.”

Hearing his answer, Betty’s body went rigid.

With a sharp movement, she sat up, staring at him with her red-rimmed eyes, her expression one of pure disbelief.

“Bruce?”

“Betty...”

Bruce quickly got to his feet. He looked down at Betty, who had slumped back onto the rug, and gave her a pained smile. “The Hulk is dead.”

He had come to terms with it. Losing the Hulk had its pros and cons, but overall, it was for the best.

He could finally live a normal life.

And that was a good thing.

Bruce had never been a wild person. He was a scientist. As a normal man, he could find a job in a lab, earn a good salary, and continue his research.

He had already lined up his next gig.

Stark Industries had a gamma lab in Jersey City.

Tony, who was about to undergo his own medical procedure, had already given him his blessing to use it.

Theoretically, another dose of gamma radiation could trigger the transformation again. That was why he had been silent when Betty had asked. But he didn’t want to. He had finally gotten his normal life back.

...

“Betty.”

Bruce knelt, placing his hands on his girlfriend’s shoulders, his gaze fixed on her tear-filled eyes. His voice was heavy.

“Yes, there might be a way for me to become the Hulk again. But I don’t know if it would even work. The Hulk is dead. He was the product of an accident. Maybe it would work, or maybe it would just kill me. If you really want me to try, just say the word. I’ll do it.”

Their eyes met.

Betty looked at her boyfriend's unwavering determination, at the devastating promise that he'd walk through hell if she asked him to. That's when she finally cracked. With a broken sob, she collapsed into his arms, her body shaking with raw grief and despair.

Bruce said nothing. He just held her tightly.

After a long while, Betty’s crying subsided, though her eyes were even more red and swollen than before.

But she seemed to have calmed down.

She took a tissue from Bruce, and as she dabbed at her tears, her voice was quiet. “How did my father die?”

Bruce hesitated, then told her everything.

He had been there when she got the news. He had gone with her to D.C., had held her when she collapsed, had been the one to call Nick Fury and get the full story.

It was the same as what had happened to him.

Except Hawk was far more ruthless. His revenge had been swift. In a single day, he had gone to New Mexico, then to Quantico, and had killed Ross when he’d tried to have him captured.

When Bruce had heard the story, he had felt a secret satisfaction.

After all, he had been on the receiving end of it himself. General Ross had chased him so relentlessly that he’d had to hide in India.

So, to hear that Ross had been killed while trying to hunt someone else... he couldn’t help but feel a little pleased.

After listening to Bruce’s story, Betty had no extreme reaction. Her voice was calm.

“Who is he?”

“Betty...”

Bruce frowned, shaking his head. “No weapon in the world can hurt him. And besides, this was Ross... just let it go.”

He had been about to say that Ross had brought this on himself. But he caught himself. The dead deserve at least that much respect.

“Even the military has conceded.”

“I know. But the military knows who he is. And you know who he is.” Betty’s voice was still quiet as she looked up at him. “I just need to know who killed my father. Don't worry, Bruce. I'm not going to do anything stupid. There's nothing I can do anyway.”

Bruce looked at her sad, pleading face, and after a moment, he sighed. “Hawk.”

“Hawk? What’s his last name?”

“I only know him as Hawk.”

Bruce shook his head. “He killed the Hulk because his sister was killed during the Hulk’s fight with the Abomination. So before Christmas, he found me, killed the Hulk, and spared my life. If your father hadn’t tried to go after him, he...”

Bruce stopped himself again. But the meaning was clear.

Even the military was trying to bury the whole thing. Was that just because Hawk was powerful?

No.

The real reason was that Hawk had been in the right.

When the U.S. military’s force is not enough to crush an enemy, the military becomes remarkably reasonable.

Betty looked at Bruce, who had once again cut himself off, and smiled faintly. “Don’t worry, Bruce. I really did just want to know his name.”

“Alright.”

Bruce sighed. He looked at Betty, who seemed a little less strained now that she had the name. “Are you okay?”

Betty smiled again and stood up.

“I’m tired, Bruce.”

“Okay.” He stood up as well. “Let’s get you to bed.”

She shook her head. “I think... I think I’d like to sleep alone tonight. If that’s okay.”

Bruce didn’t question it. He just nodded.

“Then I’ll walk you to your room.”

“Okay.” Betty didn’t refuse.

After Bruce walked her upstairs to her bedroom, he lingered in the doorway, about to speak. But she'd already turned onto her side, facing away from him. He shook his head, switched off the light, and quietly pulled the door shut.

...

Lying on the bed, Betty heard the door click shut. Her eyes, which had been closed, snapped open.

Her pupils, calm just moments before, now blazed with fury.

“Hawk.”

“From New York...”

“Just wait!”

“I will avenge you, Dad.”

“I swear it!”

“...”

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

Manhattan.

The East Village.

A yellow Corolla drove slowly down the street, turning into the driveway of the orange-hued, single-family home that had changed hands a month ago, and heading up toward the garage.

As Gwen pulled up, the garage door opened automatically. She drove inside, parking next to a black Audi A8 that gleamed under the lights.

The Audi was Hawk's. He'd bought it shortly after they moved in.

Since then, Gwen's little yellow car mostly stayed parked during the week.

Call it old-fashioned pride, but Hawk was determined not to mooch rides anymore, while Gwen couldn't care less. By now, the passenger seat of that Audi A8 had practically molded itself to her body.

Gwen got out, opened the trunk of her Corolla, and lifted out a few grocery bags from a stop she’d made on the way home. She walked toward the door that led from the garage into the living room.

The moment she opened it, she heard it: the rhythmic, impactful sound of punches coming from the backyard.

She glanced out the living room window.

Of course.

He was training again.

Gwen smiled, set her keys and groceries on the kitchen island, then shoved her hands into her wool coat pockets. As she walked through the living room, she snagged a towel from the coffee table and headed for the back door.

...

In the backyard, a heavy bag hanging from a sturdy tree branch was taking a brutal beating, ready to split open from Hawk's relentless assault.

Hawk was bare-chested. As he threw his punches, his blood boiled, and a column of steam rose from his body like a signal fire.

Gwen stepped outside but didn’t say a word. She leaned against the railing of the back porch, a small smile on her face as she admired the masterpiece in motion before her.

A little while later, Hawk threw his ten-thousandth punch of the day.

BOOOOOOM!

The heavy bag stopped dead in mid-swing, then with a quiet ripping sound, the bottom tore open and sand spilled out onto the ground.

Leaning against the railing, Gwen raised an eyebrow. "Is that the tenth one this month? Or the eleventh?"

“Eleventh.”

Hawk glanced at the ruined bag, then turned and walked toward her.

Gwen smiled and tossed him the towel.

“Go take a shower. I’ll make breakfast. My mom taught me a new recipe yesterday.”

“Alright.”

Hawk caught the towel. He watched as Gwen turned and walked back inside, then began wiping the non-existent sweat from his brow as he followed her into the living room.

Gwen carried the groceries into the kitchen.

Hawk headed up the stairs to the master bedroom on the third floor.

...

In the bathroom, steam from the hot shower swirled around Hawk, mixing with the heat radiating from his skin until he seemed surrounded by mist.

Within that mist, ghostly images flickered—a green dragon and a fiery phoenix dancing in the vapor. Hawk closed his eyes, his consciousness diving deep into his Cosmo as he gazed up at his inner universe.

Where once there had been only the constellation of the Phoenix, there was now a second.

They seemed to split his inner cosmos between them—the newly awakened Draco and the ancient Phoenix ruling their separate domains, standing back-to-back like sentinels, each protecting the other.

His second constellation, Draco, was now fully ignited.

He'd actually traced the Dragon's outline back at Calvary Cemetery. But he'd only truly awakened it five days ago.

After returning from Quantico, the timing had felt right. He postponed his trip to Africa, deciding to focus on awakening Draco first.

You have to sharpen your tools before you can do the job properly. And awakening Draco five days ago had been the right call. Cosmo is the foundation of every Saint's power.

The stronger the Cosmo, the stronger the Saint. With Draco's awakening, his own Cosmo had grown significantly stronger.

This wasn't just a feeling—it was real, measurable power. The moment Draco ignited, Hawk had felt his Cosmo expand at an almost visible rate.

Where it had once been just large enough for the Phoenix alone, it could now comfortably hold both constellations with space left over. The Phoenix remained the stronger of the two—it had been his first, after all.

But he had now gained access to the Dragon's fundamental power:

The Might of the Dragon, and the Dragon's Guard.

But that wasn’t the greatest reward.

The greatest reward was that, after igniting Draco, the Sixth Sense he had been chasing for so long was finally within his grasp.

He could actually see the door now.

Before, he hadn't even known it existed. Now everything had changed.

The door was right there, and the path forward was crystal clear. All he had to do was follow it, and eventually he'd be able to reach that gate, push it open, and unlock the Sixth Sense—taking his Cosmo to a completely different level.

For the past few days, Hawk had been splitting his time between researching Wakanda online and trying to take another step toward the Sixth Sense before he left.

But the Sixth Sense remained just out of reach.

As for Wakanda?

He was done waiting for summer. He would ask his counselor for a leave of absence and head to Africa as soon as possible.

He already had his acceptance letter to NYU for the fall. His last semester of high school was largely a formality.

His classmates were doing the same thing. Apart from the ones still scrambling to get into other schools, most students who'd already gotten accepted were gradually disappearing from campus.

Some were working to save up for college expenses.

Others had been invited for campus visits at their future schools. And some just didn't see the point of showing up anymore and wanted to chill out.

Midtown didn't mind. As long as you had the credits, you could skip the entire semester and still graduate.

Just don't miss the ceremony in June. Or the prom.

...

A little while later, Hawk finished his shower, changed into an outfit Gwen had picked out for him on a shopping trip last weekend, and went downstairs.

Gwen had already prepared breakfast.

Hawk’s eyes lit up as he saw the food on the dining table. “Wow.”

“What do you think?” Gwen smiled, waiting for his review.

Hawk looked at her, his expression dead serious. "Honestly? I don't know what I'd do without you."

“Then you better not lose me." Gwen, who was sorting through a stack of recipe cards she'd borrowed from her mom, replied just as seriously, then broke into a smile. "Come on, dig in.”

Hawk sat down at the table.

Gwen sat across from him, copying the cards onto new ones as he ate.

Many family recipes were often passed down on cards like these. The ones she was holding belonged to her mother, Helen, and would need to go back eventually.

But she could copy them for herself to keep here, and someday pass them down to her own daughter.

"By the way," Hawk said, looking up from his breakfast. "You're heading to Berkeley next week, right?"

Gwen, still writing, nodded. “Yeah, for two months. I’ll be back at the end of May.”

The university had invited her for a two-month campus visit.

Hawk confirmed the dates and nodded, saying nothing more.

Perfect.

Next week, Gwen goes to Berkeley.

And he would be visiting Wakanda.

...

Soon, they had finished breakfast and cleared the table. They went outside to begin the day’s work.

Mowing the lawn.

Believe it or not, in America, you can actually get fined if you don't keep your grass cut regularly.

Same goes for hanging laundry outside to dry... Some states are even worse—they'll fine you for growing vegetables in your own yard.

As Hawk wheeled it out, he watched Gwen inspect the machine with practiced ease, and he couldn’t help but say it again. “Seriously, what would I do without you?”

Gwen looked up at him, her expression just as serious as before. “Again, you'd better not lose me.”

With that, she gave the starter cord a sharp yank. The engine roared to life. Though Gwen had grown up in an apartment, her grandfather was a farmer from the South.

When it came to machinery, she knew her way around.

And so, with Gwen calling out directions, Hawk pushed the mower across their front yard.

The noise brought some neighbors outside.

A few went back in, but others, seeing what they were doing, decided to drag out their own mowers.

It was Saturday, after all—they didn't have anything better to do.

Soon, the sound of multiple lawnmowers filled the air throughout the District.

...

By the time Hawk had finished mowing, it was eleven o’clock.

With their work done, Gwen got ready to leave. She was meeting Mary Jane for some shopping this afternoon.

Hawk watched as she backed her car out of the garage and smiled. “I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

Gwen nodded, then drove down the street.

Hawk watched her go.

Just as he was turning to clean the lawnmower...

Suddenly, the door to his Sixth Sense shuddered violently. In the next instant, a surge of power erupted from within him. He spun around, his eyes snapping toward the direction Gwen had just gone.

...