New York City.
Manhattan.
Palm Street.
Number 521A.
Inside a spacious detached villa with its own garage and utility room behind a mailbox labeled "Phoenix House," which seed to have been branded recently.
When Gwen woke up early, she first checked her phone and noticed that it had been seventeen days without a call from Hawk, but she didn’t pay much attention.
After all, Hawk had told her that it might take so ti for him to return this ti.
So...
Gwen threw off the covers, stretched lazily, then walked barefoot to the bathroom in her room.
A while later.
After taking a shower, Gwen dried her long blonde hair and tied it into a high ponytail, imdiately put back on the Pleiades Holy Armor necklace she had set aside during her shower, opened her wardrobe, and changed into comfortable ho clothes before turning around to leave.
With the sumr holiday already underway, Gwen walked from her bedroom to the living room, turned on the living room TV, and went into the kitchen. She found a few food recipe cards she had rewritten during her recent visit to her mom’s house, intending to try them today. If successful, she’d be able to share her new culinary skills with Hawk when he returned.
The big TV in the living room was broadcasting the latest New York City news, hosted by the lovely anchor from the New York TV Station.
They called it news, but it was more about the usual happenings.
Like so shooting incidents.
Or bank robberies.
In Free Arica, gunfights happen every day, but in New York City, they’re not divided by days but by hours.
Gwen multitasked, listening to the news being broadcast on the TV in the living room while preparing the ingredients according to the recipe cards.
It was right then.
"...now, news from yesterday’s Tis Square shooting incident."
"According to an FBI insider contacted by our station, this shooting was orchestrated by a person nad Sharon Carter from London, confird to be part of an international terrorist organization..."
"Who!"
"Sharon?"
Cooking attentively in the kitchen, Gwen was montarily stunned by the familiar na, turned around, and quickly walked to the living room, holding a kitchen knife, glancing at the TV showing a picture in the top right corner of the New York TV Station’s anchor.
It was indeed Sharon Carter’s photo.
"The FBI has currently listed Sharon Carter as a wanted fugitive, please..."
"Gasp!"
"Sharon is wanted?"
"This isn’t right."
"Wasn’t she part of a secret law enforcent agency in the world?"
Gwen involuntarily took a sharp breath as she looked at Sharon’s wanted photo on the TV.
At that mont.
Bang bang!
The urgent knocking on the door startled Gwen.
Gwen instinctively turned her head to look at the door.
Sharon’s voice, sounding sowhat weak, ca from outside.
"Gwen, it’s , Sharon..."
"..."
Gwen stood in place, stared blankly for a mont, then jogged to the door and opened it.
With a thud.
Sharon’s car was parked right on the lawn at the doorstep, and right at the mont the door opened, she collapsed at Gwen’s feet, covered in blood.
Gwen was startled.
The next second.
Coming to her senses, Gwen quickly helped Sharon, who was drenched in blood, into the house, shut the door swiftly, and helped Sharon to lie down on the carpet in front of the fireplace in the living room with a thud.
Sharon had bullet wounds on her right shoulder and abdon, with both wounds oozing blood.
Gwen hurriedly fetched the ho dical aid kit, then ran to Sharon’s side, squatting down, ready to help Sharon stop the bleeding.
Just as she was about to get started, Sharon, leaning against the sofa, weakly stopped Gwen.
"The bullets are still inside, you need to get them out first."
"I’m the sheriff’s daughter, Sharon."
Having already taken out the pliers and alcohol for disinfection, Gwen, listening to Sharon’s advice, spoke lightly to Sharon, "You’ll be okay, don’t worry."
Although Gwen didn’t know exactly what had happened.
But...
Sharon was Hawk’s friend, so she was also Gwen’s friend.
That’s all that mattered.
Gwen had been a bit flustered, mainly due to seeing Sharon covered in blood, not because of anything else. But being the sheriff’s daughter, after the initial panic, Gwen quickly regained her composure; she might not know how to handle other types of injuries.
But the handling of gunshot wounds.
This wasn’t even howork territory anymore.
Knowing how to handle them was one thing, actually doing it was another.
Even though it took so ti, Gwen successfully removed the two bullets from Sharon’s wounds, and as she extracted them, Gwen got out the suture thread. Looking at Sharon’s wounds, she said to Sharon, "We don’t have any anesthetics at ho..."
A faint smile appeared on Sharon’s sowhat pale face.
"It’s okay, go ahead."
"Okay."
Seeing Sharon’s expression, Gwen didn’t hesitate, stitching up Sharon’s wounds while trying to redirect her attention to lessen the pain, curiously inquiring about what exactly happened.
Sharon, having her abdominal wound stitched by Gwen, instinctively arched her back in pain, gritting her teeth, and quickly explained to Gwen what had transpired.
To put it simply.
Hydra had launched another resurgence.
More specifically.
Hydra mbers embedded in S.H.I.E.L.D. bases around the world simultaneously comnced their resurgence at Washington ti, 2 PM, yesterday.
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