Chapter 228: Who Gave You the Nerve to Threaten Me?
The voice on the phone was unmistakably Thor. Ethan could tell from the first syllable — the particular register of a man who had been raised in a palace and had never once been told to lower his voice.
He listened to Thor berate an entire S.H.I.E.L.D. facility for about thirty seconds and felt something between exasperation and genuine admiration. No powers. No hammer. Completely at the mercy of people with guns. Still going.
Selvig's voice came through next, fraying at the edges in the way of a man who had exceeded his tolerance for unusual situations sometime around noon and was now operating on fumes. "Listen, whoever you are — I need to reach Ethan Cross. I know you're at the community school. My students and I got swept up because of this lunatic who says he knows you, and they've confiscated my research, and I need someone to—"
Thor in the background: "ETHAN, THEY HAVE BOUND ME, COME AT ONCE—"
Ethan coughed. "Hello, Professor. I'm Ethan Cross. Take a breath — I've got a general picture of what happened. If I'm reading this right, S.H.I.E.L.D. has you. I know some people over there. Worst case, have them call me directly."
He'd barely finished the sentence before the phone changed hands.
A different voice. Smooth, calibrated, the specific tone of someone who had rehearsed this call.
"Mr. Cross. I believe you know who I am."
Ethan didn't, actually. He'd half-expected Coulson — Coulson had a way of appearing wherever something was happening, like a very professional weather pattern. But this voice was someone else entirely.
"Reed Richards," the voice said. "Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., and chairman of the Illuminati. A pleasure."
Ethan's hand stilled on his tea.
He turned this over quickly. Reed Richards as S.H.I.E.L.D. Deputy Director. Fury dead — which he'd known — and Pierce in the Director's chair, which he'd also known, and now Reed sitting at the right hand of the man who'd killed Fury and was running HYDRA's long game through the entire organization. Reed, who was smart enough to know what Pierce was, or smart enough to think he was using Pierce the same way Pierce was using him.
The Illuminati was Pierce's vehicle and Reed's ambition wearing the same coat.
Ethan thought about Franklin Richards briefly — the son, the cosmically absurd child who could rewrite timelines and manufacture pocket universes, the one who made Ethan privately wonder what Reed had done to deserve that particular genetic outcome. Then he set it aside.
"I've heard of you," Ethan said neutrally.
Reed didn't miss the lack of enthusiasm. He pivoted smoothly. "The Avengers have been... restructured, since the battle. Fury's loss was significant. Director Pierce has been rebuilding, and I've had the privilege of assisting that process. The Illuminati represents a different model — more selective, more capable." A pause calibrated to sound modest. "We'd be very interested in having you at the table, Mr. Cross. Your contributions to New York haven't gone unnoticed. I could offer you a vice-chairman position immediately. Frankly, if the existing membership weren't so resistant to outside additions, I'd give you the chair."
"Generous," Ethan said.
"Hell's Kitchen has its reputation," Reed continued, with the specific intonation of someone delivering a compliment with a blade inside it. "Not everyone is comfortable with that association. But I think talent is talent."
Ethan heard the subtext clearly enough. He didn't particularly care. Reed Richards operating without an Infinity Gauntlet, without the full tech infrastructure, without his son in the room — was, at the end of the analysis, a man who was very smart and had access to government resources. Ethan had faced scarier things before breakfast this week.
He waited.
Reed, reading the silence wrong, concluded that Ethan was impressed and turned the dial. "In any case — your friend. The one calling himself Thor. He's currently detained on assault charges. The arresting agents were quite thorough in their paperwork." A measured pause. "Transfer to the main facility involves a certain amount of transit time. A great deal can happen during transit. I'd hate for someone in your network to experience complications because of a miscommunication." Another pause. "So I'd suggest you give serious thought to our offer."
The line was quiet for a moment.
Then Ethan said: "You're threatening me."
It wasn't a question.
"I'm describing a situation—"
"Reed." Ethan's voice hadn't changed. Same volume. Same pace. "You called the Lord of Hell's Kitchen on a phone belonging to a professor who works in his school, to tell him that a friend is in custody, and then suggested that something might happen to that friend during transit if the Lord of Hell's Kitchen doesn't join your organization." He picked up his tea. "I want to make sure I have the facts correct."
Silence from Reed's end.
"I ask," Ethan continued, "because I'm genuinely curious what led you to believe this was a productive approach. You know who I am. You've read whatever file you have on me. And your opening move is to threaten someone I know." He set the cup down. "So I have to assume either you're testing me, in which case you have your answer, or you think this works on me, in which case whoever briefed you did you a disservice."
He could hear Reed recalibrating in real time.
"Mr. Cross—"
"Thor goes free," Ethan said. "Selvig and his students go free. Their equipment and research materials are returned. This happens today." He paused. "And when we eventually meet — because we will — we can have a different conversation. A real one. Not this."
"You're not in a position to make demands—"
"Reed." The word landed quietly, the way a door does when it's being closed rather than slammed. "I beat Carol Danvers. I held S.H.I.E.L.D.'s ground forces at the school. I have relationships with parties that your entire organization combined cannot currently match. And you called me." He let that settle. "Think about what that means before you finish that sentence."
The line was quiet for a long moment.
When Reed spoke again, something had shifted in his register — not defeat, not quite, but the sound of a man who has updated his model and is repositioning accordingly. "I'll see what I can do about the release. As a gesture of good faith."
"Thank you," Ethan said. He meant it about as much as Reed had meant his offer. "Tell Professor Selvig his research will be waiting for him."
He ended the call.
He stood in the school corridor for a moment, thinking about Pierce, who had put Reed in that chair and probably told him exactly how to approach Ethan, and about what that suggested about what Pierce thought he knew.
He thinks this kind of pressure works on me.
Interesting.
Toomes was watching him from the doorway of the office with the expression of someone who has just witnessed something he wasn't sure he understood.
"Everything okay?" Toomes asked.
"Fine," Ethan said. "Thor's going to need someone to pick him up from New Mexico."
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