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In an American comic book story, I started by giving Aunt May special treatment. (Author: Earth Manifestation)
I'm living in an American comic book world, starting as a major American tycoon, determined to become a capitalist brimming with positive energy...
When Hawke sees Meryl Streep (Tom Holland version), who is gentle and elegant, has shed her girlish naiveté, exudes mature charm, is at the most charming age of thirty, and is also a widow.
Hawke decided that he would accept Peter Parker as his nephew!
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1 Natasha, I hope you can bring some good news.
2007 January 12
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters – Tri-Wing Building
Natasha Romanoff's high heels clicked softly on the gleaming synthetic floor, their sound blending perfectly into the deep, resonant hum unique to this area deep within the Tri-Wing headquarters.
The massive mechanical structure operates tirelessly within the unseen walls and ceiling, providing power and protection for this behemoth floating on the Potomac River.
The frigid air carries a clean scent from precise filtration, and every breath reminds you where you are—the heart of one of the world's most powerful and secretive intelligence agencies.
The physical file folder in her hand felt unusually heavy. The dark gray hard cover had no markings except for a constantly changing encrypted matrix watermark made up of letters in the corner—the highest level of access mark from S.H.I.E.L.D.
The heavy, composite armored door to the director's office slid silently open to both sides, revealing the space inside.
The huge floor-to-ceiling window occupies the entire wall facing the door, but at this moment it seems as if it is covered by a flowing, dark night curtain.
The real twilight outside is completely blocked out, with only the cool, precise beams of light from the internal intelligent light source casting a sharp, piercing beam that divides the room into distinct geometric blocks of light and shadow.
Nick Fury stood with his back to the door, like a sculpture, before the flowing darkness in front of the window.
His broad shoulders were taut, and the hem of his black leather trench coat remained perfectly still, as if he had become one with the foundation of the massive building beneath his feet.
“Excuse me, Director.” Natasha’s voice was calm and clear.
Fury did not respond immediately.
Time seemed to stretch out and stand still in the office, with only the tiny, constantly flashing lights on the central control panel, representing intelligence nodes around the world, proving that the passage of time had not completely stopped.
A few seconds later, he slowly turned around.
And that one, all-seeing eye was piercing through the light in the room, precisely locking onto Natasha and the ominous gray file folder in her hand.
“Natasha, I hope you can bring some good news.” His voice was low and hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing against a rock.
“I’m afraid this isn’t the ‘good news’ you’re hoping for, Director.” Natasha raised an eyebrow and took a few steps forward, her steps light.
She placed the heavy file folder in the center of Fury's enormous desk, which was made of high-strength polymer and metal alloy.
The desktop was as smooth as a mirror, reflecting the cold geometric light and shadow of the ceiling light. A file folder lay on it, like an abrupt and unwelcome stain.
“New target identified, internal codename 'Traveler,' priority: highest, danger level: extremely high.” She enunciated each word clearly. “Identity confirmed: Hawk Lane.”
Fury's gaze was instantly and firmly drawn to the file folder, as if by a magnet.
“Ryan? Is that Ryan?” He looked at Natasha, his voice filled with genuine astonishment.
“That’s right, it’s the Ryan family, the ones who made their fortune through mining.” Natasha nodded, her movements swift and efficient.
Without waiting for Fury to sit down, she skillfully extended her slender fingers and lightly brushed them over the file folder.
A faint blue light scanned her fingerprints, and the bag popped open silently.
Several specially encrypted virtual screens, which can only be displayed on this device, were immediately projected from the desktop, floating in the air, with detailed and clear content.
"Hawk Lane, male, 20 years old, a sophomore majoring in economics at Columbia University."
A passport photo appeared on the screen in the upper left corner.
The young man in the photo has smooth, golden-brown hair that is slightly curled and falls casually on either side of his full forehead.
His smile was warm and bright, without a trace of gloom, revealing neat, white teeth. His light brown eyes were clear and bright, like warm sunlight shining through honey, almost giving one a sense of innocent and carefree youthfulness.
They are typical of tomorrow's stars, meticulously sculpted by a privileged environment and elite education.
"Regarding his family," Natasha's voice was flat, as if she were reading a routine report, "he is John Lane's adopted son and the only recognized legal heir."
This is public information; anyone can access it.
“John Lane…” Fury chewed on the name, finally settling heavily into the sturdy chair, the backrest groaning softly under the pressure.
The wealth empire behind that name, like a cold tide, instantly engulfed the corner of the office.
"The Ryan Group, a global business tycoon that made its fortune in mining."
His deep voice carried a hint of confirmation, “Lyan Industries, Ryan Mining, Ryan Construction, Ryan Capital… top giants comparable to Stark Industries. I heard that a third of the buildings on Wall Street were built by his family.”
His gaze swept across Hawke's vibrant face on the screen. "How could a spoiled brat born with a silver spoon in his mouth, possessing an infinitely bright future... possibly be associated with the highest level of threat?"
“Just seventy-two hours ago, in Busan, South Korea.” Natasha’s finger swept across the air rapidly, and the content on the screen in the upper right corner refreshed instantly.
Several blurry but striking images dominate the screen: a shocking scene of ruins.
The twisted and broken giant metal components, like the skeleton of a monster, arbitrarily pierced the gray sky.
The remains of the concrete building were torn apart and pulverized by some violent force, scattering and piling up like mountains.
The charred marks, like hideous scars, covered the surface of every larger piece of wreckage.
The shockwave from the explosion had clearly ravaged the area.
2. Hawke Lane
"One of the top-secret research bases, codenamed 'Project Witch,' has been completely destroyed."
Natasha's voice remained steady, but her pace quickened slightly, revealing the seriousness of the incident: "The official preliminary assessment is a 'chain explosion of gas pipelines'."
However, our satellite retrospective analysis shows that before the base lost its last signal, its internal defense system recorded traces of a high-intensity, short-duration energy conflict, and the mode of destruction…
She paused, seemingly searching for the most precise description, "...Satellites have recorded multiple occurrences of two high-energy heat waves at the scene, highly atypical and not consistent with the characteristics of any known explosives or laser weapons."
Natasha's fingers danced again, switching to the next image, which had been magnified at extremely high magnification and restored by algorithms.
This is an overhead view, taken from a surveillance camera on the periphery of the base that narrowly escaped complete destruction.
The image is extremely blurry, with severe noise, and is full of snowflake patterns and tear marks left by electronic interference.
The focus is on the edge of a relatively intact area near the main entrance to the base.
A figure wearing a dark trench coat is moving quickly through the billowing smoke and scattered building debris, heading off-screen.
The hood of the trench coat was pulled down so low that it almost completely covered his face, revealing only his well-defined jawline.
"But we caught this in the remaining, severely damaged fragments of external surveillance data streams."
Natasha lightly touched the head of the blurry figure with her fingertip.
"Although facial features are unrecognizable, gait analysis and body contour comparison are the main ways to identify him. In addition, the faint reflection of light from the extremely rare custom-made Patek Philippe Starry Night watch on his wrist is the key to his identity..."
She paused for a moment to make sure Fury's gaze was fully focused on this:
"...Cross-verification accuracy exceeds 97.8%. Target identified: Hawk Lane. He appeared at the edge of the blast's epicenter during the evacuation window following the attack."
Fury leaned forward slightly, his single eye fixed on the blurry but clearly defined figure on the screen, his pupil seemingly contracting imperceptibly.
The air in the office felt as if it were filled with heavy lead, and an invisible pressure seeped down from the ceiling.
“That’s not all, Chief.” Natasha’s voice trailed off.
She brought up the last screen, which was a highly encrypted summary of a biometric tracking report. The red "Lost Target" marker at the top was flashing glaringly.
"The core assets, or rather, the 'products' of the 'Witch Project' base—'Gu Ziyun,' one of the first-generation individuals, and 'Shen Shiya,' the second-generation individual in the final debugging stage."
The report was accompanied by two photos of young women.
Gu Ziyun's face was slightly pale, and her eyes were empty like dusty glass beads, carrying an inhuman sense of alienation.
Shen Shiya is even younger, with a hint of childishness still lingering on her face, but her eyes are equally deep and unfathomable.
Natasha slowly stated her conclusion.
“All the fragmented evacuation route analyses, port and airport monitoring screening results, and even all the abnormal energy fluctuation records in the surrounding areas... all the activated tracking vectors ultimately converged on Hawke Lane. We have reason to be certain that he took them away.”
Dead silence.
Absolute silence enveloped the entire office.
Fury's hand, resting on his knee, curled slightly: "Does Pierce know? After all, this project was supported by him when he was in office."
Natasha shook her head upon hearing this: "I haven't reported it to him, but he can see what's happening in South Korea, so he should be able to guess the general idea."
Freyru narrowed one eye from outside, remained silent for a while, and then said softly, "But the fact that he didn't come to me means that he still wants to operate in secret and doesn't intend to share anything about the Witch's Plan."
"However, no one in our team could have imagined that the plan would develop to this stage."
“It’s surprising that such a small place could develop such a super weapon. Pierce previously refused to let us get involved, but now this is an opportunity.”
After muttering to himself for a while, his gaze returned to Hawkeline.
A college student who is only twenty years old and whose resume is as clean as a blank sheet of paper.
The sole heir to one of the world's top billionaires should have a life confined to top universities, lavish parties, family charity galas, and the beds of various actresses and supermodels.
How could he possibly be at a supernatural weapons research and development base halfway around the world, secretly sponsored and closely guarded by former S.H.I.E.L.D. leader Alexander Pierce?
How could he escape unscathed from such a devastating explosion and the ensuing chaos?
More importantly—how could he possibly take away those two "witches" who were hailed as "weapons" and whose danger level was privately rated as "mobile natural disasters" within S.H.I.E.L.D.?
The doubts, like cold, venomous snakes, coiled around Fury's taut nerves.
He stared at Hawke Lane's bright, sunny smile on the screen, a smile that seemed to offer no protection against the dangers of the world.
This face, along with his blurry figure appearing at the edge of the explosion ruins, and the two missing girls, form a jigsaw puzzle that is extremely unsettling and full of a strong sense of dissonance.
Behind that smile, is there unbelievable innocence, or... an unfathomable pretense?
The faint buzzing of the heavy alloy access control door opening abruptly broke the almost suffocating silence.
The door slid open silently to the side, and Phil Coulson strode in. His usually impeccably tailored, dark suit could not hide the intense sense of urgency on his face.
He gripped a transparent data panel as thin as a cicada's wing tightly in his hand, his fingertips turning slightly white from the force.