Marvel: The Enlightened One#55+56: An Eye for an Eye, If the IRS Wants a Robbery, I'll Give Them a War

The sewer walls were slick with a sticky, unidentifiable slime, and the stench—a foul mix of rust, raw sewage, and rot—filled the tunnel.

Hawk shut off his sense of smell entirely. Heat was manageable. Cold was nothing. But this kind of stench, this was his kryptonite.

He looked at the masked figure leading the way through the muck, a genuine curiosity in his voice.

"How in the world did you find this place?"

"I followed the lizards," Peter explained, his own voice muffled by his mask, likely a welcome filter against the overwhelming stench. "It's just up ahead. Around this corner."

During their fight at the school two days ago, he'd noticed some of the smaller lizards scrambling out of the sewer grates.

With nothing better to do on his weekend, Peter had decided to investigate. He'd spent the better part of a day navigating the labyrinthine sewer system until, finally, he had found it:

Dr. Connors's temporary lab.

His first thought had been of Hawk, figuring he would be interested. And so, he had swung by his apartment and invited him on a "Weekend Adventure into the New York Underground."

Soon, They rounded the corner and saw it.

A bird's nest of spliced wires, held in place by gobs of some unidentifiable slime, ran up the wall, powering a few bare light bulbs. The weak light illuminated a makeshift lab—two laptops and an assortment of scientific equipment scattered across a table.

Hawk stepped onto the platform, his eyes scanning the setup. "So where's this video you were talking about?"

"Here."

Peter was already at one of the laptops. He typed a few commands, and a video file opened on the screen.

[STATIC]

"That blood... it has to be Hawk's."

"I should call him..."

[STATIC]

"No... no, he'd never give it to me."

[STATIC]

"Wait... Gwen."

"I can take Gwen. Force Hawk to give me his blood."

[STATIC]

"Yes... that's it. I'll take the girl. Then he'll have no choice."

"Get Gwen..."

On the screen, Dr. Connors looked like a man possessed. His clothes were filthy, his hair matted to his head with sweat. He paced and muttered to himself, his image flickering with static.

In the final moments of the video, his eyes wild with a feverish desperation, Connors grabbed the last three vials of the regenerative serum and plunged them into his own body.

A series of guttural, inhuman roars ripped from his throat, and in a final, agonizing transformation, the Lizard was born.

The video ended there.

A strange, almost amused expression crossed Hawk's face.

So, this was the reason the Lizard had been hunting Gwen. It was all to capture her and force him to hand over his blood?

The logic was so twisted, so utterly insane, that Hawk could only come to one conclusion.

"The lizard serum completely fried his brain."

"Would you have given it to him?"

"What?" Hawk looked at Peter.

Peter's question was genuine. "If Connors had just called you and asked for your blood, would you have given it to him?"

Hawk's brow furrowed slightly.

Would he have??

Hawk considered it for a moment, then gave a slow, deliberate nod. "A small amount, yes."

"Why?"

Peter's eyes widened behind his mask. "I don't know what's so special about your blood, but it was obviously the key to him becoming the Lizard. Knowing what would happen, you'd still give it to him?"

Hawk looked at Peter, his voice calm and even. "Him using my blood to become the Lizard would have been his choice. Me giving it to him would have been mine."

Peter just shook his head. "I don't get it."

"You and I... we both grew up without parents. But yours existed. You had them, and you still have your aunt and uncle. Me? I'm an orphan. Always have been. That's why you can be a hero, Peter. And why I never can be."

"Why not?"

"I'm not as good a person as you are," Hawk said with a small, self-aware smile. "But I'm not evil, either. I just live by a simple code: a kindness must be repaid, and a wrong must be avenged."

"When I was let go from Oscorp, it had nothing to do with Dr. Connors. But he still wrote me that letter of recommendation."

"Even though the letter is useless to me now, when he wrote it, he had nothing to gain from it. That was a favor, freely given. So..."

Hawk's smile returned, this time with a hint of irony. "A vial of blood? It's nothing to me. I would have given it to him. What he does with it... if he saves the world or burns it to the ground... that's on him. My conscience would be clear."

Peter listened to Hawk's explanation, a thoughtful look on his face as he nodded slowly.

A thought then occurred to Hawk. He looked at Peter. "What, are you interested in my blood now, too? I can give you a vial if you want."

Peter's head snapped up, and he shook it vigorously. "No, no. I'm good."

"Alright then."

Hawk chuckled, then scanned the platform one last time and shook his head. "This is what I mean. His brain is fried. He could have just asked me for it. Instead, he did all this. Come on, let's go."

Now that he knew Connors's motive—as insane as it was—it was time to leave. Considering the doctor's mental state in that video, it almost made sense.

The logic of a madman. You can no more predict the thoughts of the insane than you can predict the whims of a cat.

Time to go...

He still wanted to see if he could unload those five Chitauri weapons today, and this little field trip had already taken up half his day.

Peter looked around the makeshift lab. "What about all this?"

Hawk considered it. "Burn it."

"Burn it?"

"The man is dead. Let him rest. Besides, if we leave this stuff here, who knows what kind of monster might crawl out of it next. But it's your call. I don't really care either way."

"...You're right." Peter thought for a moment, then nodded in agreement.

"Good. Then I'm leaving it to you, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man." Hawk gave him a mock salute, then turned and walked away without a backward glance, disappearing back into the darkness of the tunnels.

After Hawk was gone, Peter took one last look around the lab, then left as well.

He needed to find something to start a fire.

And after they were both gone, on the platform, the tiny, blinking red light of a hidden camera went dark...

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

Hawk didn't dwell on the matter.

Back in his apartment, he connected the laptop to his phone's hotspot and started browsing online.

The Battle of New York had been three months ago, and by now, the internet was starting to see the first trickles of its fallout. Photos and videos of scavenged Chitauri weaponry were beginning to surface in the darker corners of the web.

He could even find a rough market value.

Hawk was on one such site now, a low-level trading forum he'd stumbled upon by accident. At first, he'd thought it was just another online marketplace, until he saw a live-streamed auction for a young Western European woman.

Hawk glanced at it for a second, then moved on.

First, as he had just told Peter, he wasn't a good person. He certainly wasn't the type to go soft and jump in to help every time he saw someone suffering.

When he was the one who needed help, when he was the one who needed someone to stand up for him, nobody had been there.

Hawk lived by a simple, brutal philosophy: Everyone fights their own battles.

So he didn't keep watching the auction. Out of sight, out of mind.

...

After a little while.

After browsing a few other posts selling Chitauri tech on the forum, Hawk had a rough estimate of what his five trophies were worth.

The standard Chitauri rifles—the ones from the four grunts—were going for somewhere between one hundred fifty and two hundred thousand dollars.

Each.

As for the spear he'd taken from the Chitauri squad leader, there was nothing comparable on the forum. But in his head, he'd already set a floor price.

Minimum four hundred thousand.

At an average of one hundred sixty thousand per rifle, the four of them would be six hundred forty thousand. Add the captain's spear, and the total came to one million and forty thousand.

He'd settle for an even million.

Hawk opened a new, encrypted connection and created an anonymous post. His fingers flew across the keyboard.

FOR SALE: Four (4) Chitauri energy rifles, 99% condition. One (1) Chitauri captain's energy spear. Package deal, $1,000,000. Serious inquiries only.

He hit 'enter'.

Hawk had expected to wait for hours, maybe even days, for a response. But by the time he had stood up, walked to his small kitchen, and poured a glass of water, his computer was already dinging.

Ping.

Hearing the notification, Hawk carried his glass back to his folding chair and clicked on the message.

["Can I see a photo?"]

Hawk stroked his chin.

["...Sure, one sec."]

He got up, went into his bedroom, and pulled the sheet-wrapped bundle out from under his bed. He unwrapped the weapons, laid them out, and took a quick, clear photo with his phone before heading back to the living room.

He uploaded the image.

The reply was almost instantaneous.

["Received. They look nice."]

["Thanks. Interested?"]

["Of course."]

Hawk raised an eyebrow.

Well, that was easy. Is my luck finally turning?

It seemed almost too easy.

But then he remembered—this was alien tech. You couldn't get it anywhere else on Earth. It was a rare commodity, and with each one sold, there was one less in circulation. It made sense that anyone who saw the listing would want to jump on it immediately.

Just then, another message came through.

["One million is fine. I'll take them. But the deal has to be face-to-face."]

"..."

Hawk read the message and felt that flicker of suspicion again. He remembered something about law enforcement—the FBI, the CIA—loving to run sting operations on these black market sites.

So, was the guy on the other side of this chat an excited federal agent who thought he'd just hooked a big one?

He hesitated for a second, then a cold smile touched his lips.

So what if it was?

He'd already stormed a military base in Quantico. Was he really going to be afraid of the FBI? If it was a sting, so be it. It would just force his hand, and then he could go completely off the rails with a clear conscience.

With that thought, he replied.

["No problem. Your place or mine?"]

["You pick. I see your IP is in New York. I'm here as well. Anywhere in the city works for me."]

"..."

Hawk's eyebrow shot up again.

He immediately dismissed the possibility of this being a federal agent.

His own tech skills were average at best, tracking his IP would be child's play for a real pro. If this was a Fed, they wouldn't be chatting with him. They'd be kicking in his door, screaming, "FBI! OPEN UP!"

Hawk instinctively glanced at his front door.

Nothing. No dramatic entrance. The hallway outside was silent.

For some reason, he felt a little disappointed. He turned back to the screen, thought for a moment, and typed his reply.

["How about the old Calvin warehouse in Glendale."]

["Works for me. Time?"]

["Tomorrow morning?"]

["Good. You want cash or a check?"]

"Heh." Hawk couldn't help but laugh at that question. "Cash, obviously. I'd have to pay taxes on a check."

Especially not the exorbitant windfall tax the IRS levied on "unexpected income." If he took a check, the government would just swoop in and legally steal thirty-seven percent of it—three hundred and seventy thousand dollars—for doing absolutely nothing.

It was legalized theft.

["You're not worried the IRS will notice and come knocking when you file next year?"]

["They can try."]

This was money he had earned with his own power. Why the hell should he pay taxes on it?

There was no way in hell he was giving them a dime...

Anyone else with his abilities would already be living in a mansion. He was already being a model citizen—just trying to make a little money to improve his life. If the IRS still wanted to rob him after all that, then they shouldn't be surprised when he got pissed.

The reply on the other end took a moment.

["Okay. I've already dispatched someone to gather the funds. One million in cash is confirmed. That just leaves one last question."]

["What?"]

["When I get there tomorrow, how do I contact you?"]

["I'll find you."]

["Deal."]

["Deal."]

"..."