Marvel: The Enlightened One-Chapter 69: [] - The Demon King in Shackles (Bonus)

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In the blink of an eye, the yellow Corolla was gone, disappearing down the road.

Just as it vanished, a fiery red sports car, its engine a low growl, pulled up and stopped smoothly in front of Anna. Her expression, which had softened in Gwen’s presence, now reverted to a mask of cold, efficient professionalism.

A burly subordinate in a black suit emerged from the driver’s side.

"Take this to the base," Anna commanded, her voice clipped and precise.

"Understood."

She removed the sunglasses clipped to her blouse, slid them on, and handed over the reinforced briefcase containing the 400ml of Hawk’s blood. Without another word, she slipped into the passenger seat of the sports car.

The engine roared to life, and the car peeled away, vanishing as quickly as it had arrived.

The subordinate, his face an impassive mask, turned and walked back toward the docks, the valuable briefcase held firmly in his hand.

A few minutes later, Anna, now clear of the port, made a call. It connected instantly.

"Anna."

"Sir. The transaction is complete. However, there was a minor complication."

"Explain."

"Gwen Stacy was present."

"Hm?" The voice on the other end was surprised, but only for a moment. "It seems his attachment to her is genuine."

"Yes, sir," Anna confirmed.

Just then, a third voice, arrogant and dismissive, cut in on the line. "Sir, if that’s the case, why don’t we just use the girl—"

"SILENCE."

"NO."

The superior’s sharp command and Anna’s firm rejection came at the exact same instant. The third man was clearly taken aback. After a curt "Get out" from the superior, the sound of retreating footsteps echoed over the line.

Once he was gone, the superior’s voice returned, calm and calculating. "Anna, your reasoning."

"Sir, Hawk bringing her here means one of two things: either he’s a fool, or he’s supremely confident. I do not believe he is a fool... After our initial call, he must have guessed we were from..."

She trailed off, choosing her words carefully. Even on a secure line, some names were best left unspoken.

The superior chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Indeed. Issue a directive: no one is to take any action against Gwen Stacy. Our relationship with Hawk is, for the moment, beneficial."

"And besides," He continued, his voice taking on a thoughtful, almost philosophical tone, "When a Demon King puts on his own shackles, the last thing you want to do is touch them. Do that, and you’re not fighting a man anymore—you’re unleashing the very monster he was trying to chain."

"Let him believe he has a weakness to protect. It keeps him manageable."

"Understood, sir."

"Maintain the current relationship, Anna. Our cooperation is proving to be very... fruitful."

"Yes, sir."

With her report concluded, Anna ended the call. Her focus returned to the road, the sports car a red blur as it sped toward the distant lights of Manhattan.

...

Heading in the opposite direction, Gwen’s yellow Corolla ate up the miles, carrying them toward Culver University.

She glanced at Hawk, who had leaned his head back against the passenger seat the moment they’d gotten in. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and measured.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice soft.

"Conserving my energy," he replied without opening his eyes. "Getting into the right state of mind. The Hulk isn’t an easy kill."

It wasn’t just the Hulk’s incredible regenerative abilities; it was the fundamental, terrifying core of his power.

The angrier he gets, the stronger he gets.

Theoretically, the Hulk was immortal. When Iron Man snapped his fingers, he died. When the Hulk did it—he just lost the use of one arm.

And "lost" wasn’t even the right word. It was just injured, something that would heal with time.

Fortunately, this was the cinematic universe, not the comics. Here, the Hulk could be beaten.

Thanos had almost done it. If the Hulk hadn’t been saved by the Bifrost, the Mad Titan would have finished the job. That single defeat had been so absolute, so devastating, that the Hulk had refused to emerge again, no matter how much Banner pleaded.

So, the "the angrier he gets, the stronger he gets" theory had its limits.

As Hawk reviewed his mental file on the target, Gwen was doing the same, recalling the articles and videos she had researched over the past few days.

"So, the plan..." she began.

"He has to die."

Hawk opened his eyes and turned to look at her, a small, confident smile on his face. "He’s hard to kill, not impossible."

The strategy was simple, if brutally direct.

An overwhelming, lightning-fast assault from the very beginning. End the fight before it could truly start. Never give the Hulk a chance to get angry.

Gwen said nothing, but he could see the worry in her eyes.

Hawk saw it, and his smile softened. "You know, I did consider another plan."

"What?"

"Kidnap Betty Ross. Force Banner to surrender."

"...Hawk!" Gwen stared at him, horrified.

He just chuckled. "I rejected it, of course."

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. "Why?"

"Because those who start a cycle of evil will find it visited upon their own,"

Hawk’s expression grew serious. "My fight is with the Hulk and the Abomination, no one else. They are the ones responsible for my sister’s death. If I were to vent my anger on innocent people, how would I be any different from them?"

This was his line in the sand. His vengeance had a target, and he would not allow it to become a blind, all-consuming fire.

"Of course..." he added, a genuine warmth in his eyes as he looked at her, "—you asked me to be a good man, remember? I have no need for cheap tricks or dirty tactics. He will know why I have come for him. And he will know why he is about to die."

Gwen looked at him, at the absolute, unshakeable confidence in his expression, and her own fears began to subside. She smiled back.

"I believe in you, Hawk."

Hawk’s smile softened. "Thanks. After I kill the Hulk, we can finally go on that trip with Mary Jane and—"

"HAWK!" Gwen cut him off, her voice sharp.

"What?"

"Don’t jinx it! You said so yourself!"

"...Right. My bad."

Hawk saw the dead serious look on her face and wisely chose to concede. He raised a finger to his lips and made a zipping motion.

Gwen’s expression relaxed back into a smile. She turned her attention back to the road.

...

2:00 PM.

High above a private airfield twenty miles north of Culver University, a sleek, private jet descended from the clouds. The landing gear lowered as the aircraft, its fuselage emblazoned with the iconic STARK INDUSTRIES logo, began its final approach.

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