Chapter 38: The Calm Before the Storm
One day before the meeting.
Hell's Kitchen — across the street from the Lucky Dragon.
Natasha and Hawkeye were parked in their surveillance position, following orders from the Director to monitor Ethan's every move. The chain reaction triggered by this one meeting had grown far beyond anything even Ethan had anticipated.
"It's been quite the circus around here lately," Natasha said, scanning the street. "Hell's Kitchen's suddenly the most popular neighborhood in New York."
"No kidding." Hawkeye shifted in his seat. "The Hand. Our own S.T.R.I.K.E. team — Crossbones. Even the Brotherhood of Mutants has people in the area. Every uncontrolled asset on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s watchlist is converging on this neighborhood."
"You have to hand it to Ethan — one meeting invitation and half the underworld rearranges itself around him. Thanks to him, we haven't slept in days. Round-the-clock shifts. My skin is a disaster." Natasha shot a resentful look toward the Lucky Dragon. She'd been running on fumes for days while Ethan, the source of all this chaos, had apparently been sleeping like a baby. The injustice was almost physical.
"This doesn't look good for him, though," Hawkeye said, his tone shifting. "Powered or not, he's not in the same league as Magneto. We're talking about a man who can level entire nations."
"Who even has the pull to bring Magneto into something like this?" He shook his head. "But if Ethan and Fisk go down, Hell's Kitchen falls apart. Again."
"The federal government never gave a damn about this place," Natasha said quietly. "Without Fisk holding things together, it would've been ten times worse than it is now. And since Ethan came back, the people here actually started to have decent lives."
She watched the residents passing by on the sidewalk — smiling, unhurried, normal. "Ethan's basically the savior of Hell's Kitchen. I hope he makes it through this."
Her voice carried something complicated. Maybe it was because she'd had her own version of a Hell's Kitchen childhood — a place no one came to save you from. She'd waited for someone like Ethan to show up in her life, and no one ever did. Now this neighborhood had found its unlikely guardian angel, and every faction in the city wanted him dead. He'd known the risks before he started, and he'd done it anyway.
What kind of person are you, Ethan Cross?
Ethan, blissfully unaware of Natasha's inner monologue, was in the Lucky Dragon's kitchen putting the finishing touches on dinner. He had a guest tonight — his old friend, Vongola Primo.
"You're a good-looking guy, I'll give you that. Second only to moi." Wade examined Primo's face, then pulled out a pocket mirror and studied his own scarred reflection with deep satisfaction.
Even Primo — a man who'd weathered more chaos than most people could imagine — felt the corner of his mouth twitch involuntarily at the display.
"Uh... thanks."
"I had no idea the boss of the Vongola Family was friends with Ethan. You guys met at the orphanage?" Wade leaned forward, genuinely curious. In all the time he'd been freeloading at the apartment, he'd never once seen Primo. He'd only heard the name — one of midtown's up-and-coming gang leaders.
"Ha — yeah, we go way back. Orphanage days." Primo smiled. "We kept in touch after that, and he'd come visit every now and then. This past year's been hectic for us — expansion phase — so we haven't seen each other in a while. But with the meeting tomorrow, I figured I'd come over, get a free meal, and crash here so we can head over together."
Just as Primo was reaching his limit under Wade's conversational barrage, Ethan emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate of braised pork belly.
Primo's eyes locked onto the dish like a heat-seeking missile. He practically leaped out of his chair. "Food's ready? I'll grab the rice—"
"Sit down, I've got it," Ethan said.
"No no no — let me—" Primo was already sprinting toward the kitchen before he finished the sentence.
A few minutes later, everyone was seated and eating.
"So what brings you all the way over here?" Ethan asked between bites, grinning. "Don't tell me you were actually worried about me." It had been a full year since they'd last seen each other. For Primo to show up unannounced the night before the meeting was... telling.
"Can't a guy come mooch a meal off his best friend?" Primo grabbed a chicken wing. "The Family just stabilized. I wanted to see you."
"Right." Ethan gave him a look. "I know you. You don't seriously think those gang bosses can do anything to me, do you?" He ladled himself a bowl of soup, utterly unconcerned.
Primo saw the casual attitude and realized Ethan didn't have the full picture. He set down his chopsticks and dropped the smile.
"You might not know this, but a few days ago, the gangs held their own internal meeting. They were discussing your school — and how to deal with you."
"I figured." Ethan shrugged. "If they rolled over that easily, they wouldn't be gangs. But ants in a group are still ants. Bunching up just makes them easier to squash."
"They've also brought in the Hand. And the federal government."
That got Ethan's attention. He paused mid-chew. "The Hand? The feds I'm not worried about."
He resumed eating, but his mind was already working.
Primo noticed the shift and stopped talking. He buried himself in his food instead. Say what you will about the guy — Ethan can cook. Next time I'm bringing G and the others. The garbage we've been eating doesn't even compare.
The Hand didn't surprise Ethan, really. They were practically the starter-level boss fight for anyone who'd transmigrated into the Marvel universe — just a handful of exiles that K'un-Lun had kicked out. He'd wrecked their drug business in Hell's Kitchen, so them wanting him dead was fair enough.
But he needed to warn Fisk. In at least one version of the story he remembered, Vanessa Fisk had been poisoned by Madame Gao. If that happened here — if Gao actually got to Vanessa — Fisk would lose his mind. And Ethan would never forgive himself. This whole mess had started because of his school, his meeting. He'd dragged Fisk into unnecessary danger.
What Ethan didn't know was that Madame Gao had wanted Fisk gone long before Ethan ever entered the picture.
He pulled out his phone and called Fisk. Keep Vanessa and Richard safe. Hell's Kitchen was about to get ugly. If necessary, bring them to the apartment — there were people here who could protect them.
Fisk listened. Fisk understood.
Ethan hung up and immediately dialed a second number.
A voice answered: "High Table Intelligence Center."
Ethan spoke slowly and clearly: "I want to issue a combined bounty — nationwide."
This was the first time since becoming a High Table Elder that Ethan had exercised his authority over the organization.
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