Hawke didn't take the matter to heart.
After returning home, he connected his computer to his phone's hotspot and began browsing related information online.
The Battle of New York took place in June, and three months had passed since then, so photos and videos of people possessing Zeta Swiss weapons had circulated online.
The value of these weapons could even be found.
For example, Hawke was currently browsing a low-level trading website.
He stumbled upon it while browsing the web, initially thinking it was just an ordinary trading website, until he saw a video of a Western European girl being openly bid on in real-time.
However, Hawke only glanced at it before moving on to other things.
First, as he had just told the Spider Demon, he wasn't kind; at least he wouldn't soften his heart and help others just because they were suffering.
In the past, when he needed help and justice, no one came to his aid.
So he had to put aside his desire to help others and respect their fate.
Of course, Hawke felt that while he wasn't a good person, he certainly wasn't a bad one either.
So he stopped watching the auction and chose to keep his eyes off it.
After a while,Hawke browsed some other posts on the black market forum selling Chitauri weapons and made a rough estimate of the value of his five spoils.
The weapons of the Chitauri soldiers, those four ragtag soldiers, were roughly in the range of 150,000 to 200,000.
Of course, this was the price per weapon.
As for the weapon he had seized from the Chitauri squad leader, there were no similar ones on the forum, but he already had a bottom line in his mind.
Minimum 400,000.
At 160,000 per weapon, four weapons would be 640,000, plus the squad leader's weapon, totaling 1,040,000.
Hmm.
Let's say one million.
Hawke thought to himself, then chose to open an anonymous post and started typing.
"Selling four 99% new Chitauri soldier energy weapons, plus one Chitauri squad leader energy weapon, package price one million, contact if interested."
Clicked, sent.
Hawke, who had posted the ad, thought it might take a long time for a reply, but to his surprise, someone contacted him while he turned around to pour himself a glass of water.
*Ding-dong*.
Hawke listened to the message notification, picked up his water glass, sat back down on the folding stool, and opened the message.
"Can I see the photos?"
"...Yes, just a moment."
Hawke stroked his chin, replied, then got up and went back to his bedroom.
He pulled out the weapons he had wrapped in a sheet from under the bed.
After pulling out the sheet, he blinked, shook his head, looked at the still tightly wrapped sheet, lifted it, looked at the five weapons inside, took out his phone, took a picture, and then got up and returned to the living room.
Soon.
The photo was uploaded successfully.
The other party quickly sent a new message.
"Received, looks nice."
"Thanks, interested?"
"Of course."
Hawke raised an eyebrow at the reply.
Wow.
Such good luck, selling them already?
Hawke found it somewhat amazing.
But then he thought, this is an alien weapon, something that doesn't exist on Earth.
It's a rare commodity, and one of those that's becoming increasingly scarce.
Therefore, anyone who sees it will naturally try to buy it immediately.
Just then, the other party sent another message.
"One million, no problem, I'll take it, but only in person."
"..."
Hawke looked at this message and couldn't help but mutter to himself again.
He seemed to have thought of something. Some law enforcement agencies, like the FBI or CIA, like to stake out illegal activities on the black market.
So, the guy he was chatting with, on the other end of the computer, wasn't he a federal agent excitedly thinking he'd caught a big fish?
Hawke hesitated for a moment.
But then he smiled.
Who was he?
He'd even dared to break into the Quantico military base; what was he afraid of from the FBI?
If it was, that was perfect. It would extinguish one of his hopes, and then Hawke could indulge in his reckless abandon without any guilt.
Hawke thought to himself, then placed his hands on the keyboard and replied,"No problem, do you choose the address or should I?"
"You choose. I see your IP is in New York City, and I happen to be in New York City too. We can trade anywhere in the city."
"..."
Hawke raised an eyebrow at the message.
He ruled out the possibility that the other party might be a federal agent.
That made sense.
His computer skills were so-so; he wasn't an expert.
So it would be easy for the other party to find his location through his IP.
And if the other party was a federal agent, then around this time, the federal agent should be knocking on his door and yelling, "FBI! Open the door!"
Hawke thought, subconsciously turning his head to look at the door.
Hmm.
There was no comedic effect whatsoever.
The door didn't ring, and the hallway outside was also very quiet.
For some reason, Hawke felt a little disappointed, but then he looked back at the text on his computer, thought for a moment, and then retyped a reply.
"How about Calvin in Glendale?"
"Sure, when?"
"Tomorrow morning?"
"Sure, cash or check?"
"Heh."
Hawke couldn't help but chuckle at the question: "Cash, of course. Checks are taxed."
Especially this kind of unexpected income tax; the IRS really rips him off.
Let's put it this way.
Once unexpected income exceeds $609,300, the IRS takes 37%.
That means if he took the check, the IRS could just take $370,000 without him doing anything.
It's practically robbery.
And legal robbery at that.
"Aren't you afraid the IRS will find something wrong when you file your taxes next year and come knocking?"
"They can try."
This is money he earned through his own hard work; why should he pay taxes on it?
Hawke was determined not to pay this tax.
Anyone else with his means would be living in a luxury apartment by now.
He's been so law-abiding, just trying to earn some money to improve his life.
If the IRS still tries to rob him after all this, he can't blame him for throwing a tantrum.
The other party seemed to pause after seeing Hawke's reply.
A moment later, the reply reappeared.
"Okay, I've already arranged for someone to raise the money. One million in cash is no problem. Now there's only one last question."
"What?"
"How should I contact you when I get there tomorrow?"
"I'll find you."
"Okay, it's a deal."
"It's a deal!"
"..."
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