Chapter 17

Hawk roared his anger, his fist crunching into the villain's face again and again. Fury was turning his vision red, and there seemed to be nothing but his anger, his hate, his chaos. He pulled his fist back again, when suddenly there was something in front of him, and some instinct kept his fist back. He growled at the blue and white blur, as his eyes began to focus. He needed the thing to move so he could punish the villain. What was it doing?

Then, there was a pressure on his chest, soft and light, gentle to a fault, and he trembled. Not in fear, but as if he was coming out of hard exercise; it felt like he was waking up. His eyes focused, and he saw Don, or Dove now, in front of him, eyes full of worry and fear. He was gently holding Hank back, biting his lip, and looking thoroughly scared.

"Hank… you beat him. Just… let him go now, okay?"

Hank gasped, the adrenaline fading from his system. He looked down. There, under Don's arms, was his victim, beaten to a pulp.

"We need to get him to a hospital." Dove offered uncertainty, still worried about his brother.

"Yeah…" Hank dropped his enemy, knowing he should feel worse about what he had done. There was something… inside of him that whispered that he hadn't killed the trash. And even if he had… they were evil. They would only hurt someone else. Being a superhero wasn't about being nice. That scum deserved it. And besides… honestly… it was fun.

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

"Hank, we need to talk about what happened today." Newly minted Dove looked worriedly at his brother, his 17 year old eyes showing deep rooted fear.

"There's nothing to talk about." Hank knew Don wasn't going to let it go.

"Nothing to talk about? Hank, you nearly killed that man. And this isn't the first time you've lost control. Just the worst. Talk to me. Please."

"It's nothing, Don! It's just… it's like… it's like there's something inside me. You know? There's something there, and… and… you know what? I didn't do anything wrong. They deserved that. I did the right thing. Crime fighting is just that. Fighting. It's not tea and cookies time, Donny. Maybe you don't get that, but I do. They deserve everything I did and more."

"Hank… no… this isn't you. Something's wrong. That's wrong. Crime fighting isn't crime killing. And you don't need to almost kill them either. You just need to win. And I know we disagree on some other stuff, but Hank, even if you think that we should be beating people up, you can't think that! You can't think that it's somehow right to hurt people so much! That's not our job, Hank. We don't have any right to do that! Hank… people look up to us. We need to be their role models. We can't go randomly killing bad guys because we think we're better than they are. We have to be above that, Hank."

"I don't have to do anything."

"You have to be a hero. If we just take the law into our own hands, that makes us no better than that which we fight. Hank, people need heroes, and if we become the villains, they'll look to other places. The wrong places. We have a responsibility to those people, and we need to be their heroes. We need to be their superheroes."

"I… I know that… it's just…"

"What Hank? What is it?"

"I want to kill them, Don! It's like there's something inside of me, something that wants to kill! Something that's telling me they deserve it, and it's alright, and Don, I enjoy it! I… enjoy it. Something's wrong with me. I know that. I just don't know what to do about it. I can't stop it, Don. It's taking me over. There's nothing I can do about it."

"It's the chaos, Hank. From your powers. It's not supposed to be part of being you, and that chaos is taking you over."

"But it's good! I fight crime with it!"

"The powers are good and all, but you can't let them control you. That's too much of a good thing, Hank. It's becoming bad. You have to control it."

Hank leaned against the table, head dropping in defeat. "I… can't. Not by myself, Don. I'm not… I'm not strong enough. I can't fight it. It's too strong for me."

"Hank," Don whispered, "you don't have to fight it by yourself. You don't have to be strong enough. I'm here for you. I'm Order. I'll help you stand."

"No… I can't accept that. I can't. You… you can't do that. I'm not good enough. I need to be… better. Then you can help me. I don't deserve it yet."

"Hank… I'm not asking because you deserve it. I'm offering to help because I love you. You don't need to better for me to help you. I love you because you're you. I love you because you're my brother, and you're who you are. You could be the next Adolf Hitler, and I'd love you anyway. Let me help you. I can't do it if you won't let me. But don't you understand? I want to help you."

Hank looked over his shoulder. Don. His order. His peace when everything else was chaos. "I guess I'll take it."

Don pressed himself into Hank's arms. They didn't let go for a long time.