Chapter 35: The Gang Summit
Three days before the meeting.
Every gang boss in Hell's Kitchen who'd received Ethan's invitation had gathered — not in person, but on a video call.
"This is a trap! He says he wants to discuss the school — what he really wants is to force us to hand over our people!"
"That bastard Ethan is trying to rip out our roots!"
"'For the good of Hell's Kitchen' — if he really cared, he'd get the hell out of Hell's Kitchen! That's what would actually help!"
"The guy grew up here and now he thinks he's some kind of saint? Building schools? Why doesn't he just hand us the cash directly!"
The call devolved into a shouting match — every boss taking turns ripping into Ethan and Fisk. Of course, none of them had the spine to say any of this to either man's face. Hiding behind a screen was the safest place to be brave.
Clowns. Every last one of them.
Gustavo, the Mexican cartel boss, watched the parade of impotent rage with open contempt.
"So this is what we're doing? An online trash-talk session?" His voice cut through the noise. "If that's all this is, I'm out. I don't have time to play pretend with a bunch of cowards."
The call went quiet.
Tom Ralph, the Irish boss, suppressed a smile. Finally — someone else drawing the heat.
After a beat, the guns turned on Gustavo.
"Who the hell do you think you are? I was running crews when you were still in diapers."
"You made your money pushing dope, and now you want to act tough? You're holed up in a slum — why don't you come out and go at Ethan for real instead of running your mouth?"
"The High Table's Marquis got taken out by this kid, and you think you can do better? You're a drug dealer, not a warlord."
"We're trying to plan a strategy here. No wonder you've never been able to crawl out of that dump you call a territory."
Ethan's takedown of the Marquis had made an impression. Most of the bosses on this call had enough self-awareness to know they didn't measure up to a High Table Elder — and Ethan had killed one, then taken his seat. That wasn't someone you rushed at blindly.
Gustavo felt the murderous impulse rise in his chest as every boss on the call piled on. He swallowed it.
"Cowards — all of you. Why don't you just hand me your territories and retire somewhere warm? You're clearly too scared to stand up to Ethan anyway. Pack your bags, get out of Hell's Kitchen, and go play shuffleboard. As for me, I'm not going to this little meeting of his. And the teenagers in Hell's Kitchen? Every gang for themselves."
That set off a fresh wave of anger.
Someone fired back immediately: "Answer me this — if you refuse Ethan's terms and he decides to force every teenager in Hell's Kitchen into that school, and he rolls up to your turf with his people, what exactly are you going to do about it?"
Gustavo smiled. "Call the cops."
Dead silence.
The video call went so quiet that Gustavo actually checked his connection.
He frowned. "What? Is there a problem with that?"
Then the first laugh broke through. A snicker, then a chuckle, then the whole call erupted.
"You — a drug dealer — are going to call the police? Are you turning yourself in? Who do you think they'd arrest first, you or Ethan?"
"Hell's Kitchen has one rule that's older than any of us: Hell's Kitchen handles its own business. That's how it's always been. And now the boss of one of the three biggest gangs in the neighborhood wants to bring in cops? That's a disgrace. An embarrassment to everything Hell's Kitchen stands for!"
Gustavo snorted. These fossils and their sacred codes of honor. No wonder they'd spent their entire lives stuck in this one neighborhood.
"Ethan isn't just a powered individual," he said, his tone shifting from contemptuous to clinical. "He's got multiple powered people under him. He doesn't belong to any of our gangs. And look at what he's been doing — every move he makes is changing Hell's Kitchen. If he can change the rules, so can we. So what's wrong with calling the cops?"
He pressed on before anyone could interrupt. "Don't forget — he's an Elder of the High Table. An assassin organization. He has killers on his payroll. The police would love to bring people like that in."
Another boss pushed back: "Even if you call them — the Hell's Kitchen PD? Those guys can't even handle us. What makes you think they can take on Ethan? You do realize Ethan is the single biggest donor to the local precinct, right? And remember those FBI agents who showed up a while back? They got run out of his territory with their tails between their legs."
Nods all around. Everyone on the call knew about the S.H.I.E.L.D. incident — even if they didn't know the full story.
Gustavo leaned into the camera. "You're all thinking about this wrong. The government didn't send enough people last time. But Ethan is a far bigger threat to them than we are. Don't forget — his people are mutants. A group of mutants slaughtering ordinary humans? You think the government would just sit back and watch?"
He didn't wait for a response. "Every government on earth wants to eliminate unstable elements like Ethan Cross. Ordinary humans are the majority — always have been, always will be. Mutants are freaks in the eyes of the public and the politicians. Whichever law enforcement agency takes down a rogue mutant faction becomes a national hero overnight. To the people in Washington, Ethan is the juiciest target they could ask for."
"When the stakes are that high, the government will take the risk. And do you really think that first attempt represented their full strength? That was a probe — nothing more. Right now, every intelligence agency with a file on Ethan Cross is analyzing his team's abilities, mapping their weaknesses, and developing countermeasures."
"Against the full weight of the federal government, individual power means nothing. That's exactly why Ethan didn't kill a single agent during that confrontation — because even he knows he can't fight an entire nation."
"And let me ask you this: even if we all show up to his meeting and play nice, do you really think that changes anything? The school will recruit students whether we agree or not. Our pipeline of new blood dries up. And once we give in this time, there'll be a next time. And a time after that. Until eventually we're handing over our gangs to Ethan Cross on a silver platter."
The call fell silent again — but this time it wasn't laughter. Every boss on the screen was deep in thought.
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