Emma leaned back, her gaze never leaving Ethan. For an hour, the room was filled with planning.
"The location is a Hulkbuster-class facility in the Nevada desert," Ethan said, his voice dropping into a register of pure information. "It's officially decommissioned, but the paper trail ends at a shell company linked to 'Project: Wideawake.' It's a testing ground for the Mannites—six children, including Nina, engineered to be the ultimate counter-measure against biological and mutant threats. They are the synthesis of what the government fears and what it covets."
Emma tapped a manicured nail against the mahogany desk. "The government playing God with genetics is hardly a new song. But Nina… the girl who helped rescue Charles… based on what you've told me, she has the capabilities to escape. Why hasn't she?"
"She can, but her sibling cannot," Ethan corrected. "She's powerful enough to reach out through telepathic dampeners, but she's still a child. If we leave her there, she becomes a weapon for the very people who want to see your kind in chains. If we take her, she becomes a student. And more importantly, she can become a useful ally in the future."
Emma's eyes sharpened. She understood the subtext. This wasn't just a rescue; it was a move to secure the future of the Massachusetts Academy. "And Peter Parker? You truly think he's ready for a desert extraction?"
"Peter is always ready when there's a life to save," Ethan said with a faint, knowing smirk. "He'll arrive tomorrow morning. My jet is already prepped at the hangar. Here's the address. Kevin will pilot the group to Nevada. You can't inform him you're Isaac's wife and take his contact in case you need his services, so you don't have to inform me every time. I've handled the flight paths to avoid SHIELD radar. It will be a clean entry, a 'loud' extraction is predicted, so a swift return will be needed."
Emma printed a document and then reached into her desk and placed the letter into a heavy, cream-colored envelope before sealing it. The wax seal bore the crest of the Massachusetts Academy. She slid it across the desk toward him. "If you're moving to my school, Ethan, we need to handle the 'variables'—specifically, your parents. This should help."
Ethan took the envelope, the weight of it satisfying. "The timing is perfect. By the week's end, I'll be officially enrolled here. It solves my logistics problem in New York and places me exactly where I need to be."
The flight back to New York was short, but Ethan spent it in a state of hyper-focused meditation. Ethan was already looking beyond the Nevada rescue. The rescue was a tactical necessity, but he needed more. He needed a safety net that didn't rely on technology or cosmic favors.
Upon landing, he didn't head straight for Long Island. Instead, he hailed a car and directed it to the Upper East Side. He needed to verify another potential asset—one that his knowledge of this timeline suggested was nearby.
He stepped out onto the sidewalk of a quiet, affluent neighborhood. The sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows across the brownstones. Ethan walked with a casual, predatory grace, his eyes scanning the crowds of children playing in the nearby park and the students walking home from private academies.
Then, he saw him.
A young boy, perhaps twelve or thirteen, with a shock of blonde hair and an easy, carefree laugh. He was sitting on a park bench, idly tossing a baseball into his glove. To any passerby, he was just Josh Foley—a kid from a good family with a bright future.
To Ethan, he was Elixir. The future Omega-level mutant with the power of life and death in his fingertips.
Ethan slowed his pace, walking within ten feet of the boy. He activated his system, his mind reaching out for the familiar blue flicker of an ability acquisition.
[Ability Detected: None]
Ethan's jaw tightened imperceptibly. Nothing. He had suspected as much, but the confirmation was a stinging disappointment. The boy hadn't awakened yet. The Golden Healer was still dormant, buried under layers of prepubescent normalcy.
'A shame,' Ethan thought, his eyes lingering on the boy for a second too long. 'The incident with the Exemplars or the upcoming chaos will likely be the trigger. I could have used that healing factor during it. A literal 'get out of death free' card would have been the perfect insurance.'
But the system was absolute. It required the presence of the gene's manifestation, or the power to be active, to copy. Josh Foley was currently just a boy with a baseball. Ethan turned away, not wasting another second. He had what he needed for now: a location and a face. He could later hack the CCTV to find the boy's residence and keep tabs on him.
By the time Ethan arrived at his home in Long Island, the smell of roasting chicken and the sound of the evening news were a jarring contrast to the halls of the Academy he had just left.
His mother, Linda, was in the kitchen, while his father, Marcus, was hunched over a laptop at the dining table.
"Ethan! You're back late," Linda said, wiping her hands on her apron. "We were starting to get worried. Did the study group go that long?"
"Better than that," Ethan said, a practiced, boyish excitement blooming on his face. He reached into his coat and pulled out the cream-colored envelope. "I got a visit from a recruiter today. Well, more like a follow-up. Remember that tech project I've been working on?"
He handed the letter to his mother. She opened it, her eyes widening as she read the elegant script.
"'The Massachusetts Institute for Higher Learning… full scholarship… exceptional aptitude in systems engineering and science…'" She gasped, clutching the letter to her chest. "Marcus! Look at this! A full scholarship to an elite boarding school!"
Marcus stood up, taking the letter with a skeptical frown. He read it twice, his brow furrowed. "The Massachusetts Academy? Ethan, this is a five-hour drive away. And since when were you applying to schools in another state? I thought you were happy at Midtown."
Ethan leaned against the kitchen island, his expression a masterpiece of humble surprise. "I didn't exactly apply, Dad. Apparently, that project I've been working on is a regional talent search. Schools from all over participate, and these higher learning institutions pick out candidates to recruit. I didn't think anything would come of it. But apparently, it caught the eye of their Dean, Mrs. Frost. A few other students in the district got similar letters—it's part of their new 'Global Leaders' initiative."
The lie tasted like ash, but it was delivered with the smooth perfection of a seasoned diplomat.
"A full scholarship is one thing, Ethan," Marcus said, his voice softening but still cautious. "But you're only sixteen. Moving to a different state… living in a dorm… it's a lot of responsibility. I don't know if… you're ready."
"He's going to college in two years anyway!" Linda argued, her eyes bright with pride. "This is a prestigious school, Marcus. Look at the alumni list mentioned here. If he stays at Midtown, he's just one of a thousand bright kids. At a place like this, he's on the fast track to the Ivy League. We can't say no to this."
"I just don't like the idea of him being that far away," Marcus muttered, though Ethan could see the resolve weakening.
"What if we do this?" Ethan suggested, stepping into the gap. "We take the car this weekend. We drive up, check out the campus, meet the staff, and see the dorms. If you guys don't like the 'vibe' or if the security isn't up to par, I won't go. We'll treat it like a family road trip."
The tension in the room broke. The prospect of a "visit" allowed his parents to feel like they were still in control of the narrative.
"A weekend trip," Marcus nodded slowly. "Alright. We'll go see this 'prestigious' school for ourselves. If it's half as good as this letter says, then we'll talk about the transfer."
Ethan smiled. "Thanks, Dad. I really think it'll be worth it."
This weekend visit was carefully curated. Emma would ensure they saw exactly what they needed to see to alleviate their minds.
Across the city, in a high-rise apartment overlooking the sparkling lights of the East River, the atmosphere was far less clinical.
Peter Parker pushed open the door to Felicia Hardy's penthouse, his body still felt some aches from the salt-crusted battle at Alcatraz. He dropped his bag by the door, the silence of the apartment a welcome relief—until he heard the sound of humming from the bathroom.
A moment later, Felicia stepped out into the hallway.
She was a vision of domestic chaos and lethal grace. Her white hair was wet, plastered against her neck, and she was wrapped in nothing but a dangerously short white towel. She stopped, blinking in surprise as she saw Peter standing in the dim light of the foyer.
A slow, flirtatious smirk spread across her face—the look of a cat that had found a very exhausted, very interesting bird.
"Well," she purred, walking toward him with a rhythmic sway that made Peter's heart rate spike far faster than any drone attack could. "Hello, stranger. I was wondering when you'd crawl back to me."
Peter opened his mouth to explain—to talk about the island, the Professor, and the looming Nevada mission—but the words died in his throat. Felicia didn't wait for an explanation. She stepped into his space, the scent of expensive shampoo and vanilla filling his senses.
She reached up, her damp fingers tracing the line of his jaw before she pulled him down into a deep, lingering kiss. It was a kiss that tasted of homecoming and trouble in equal measure.
"You look like you've been through hell, Spider," she whispered against his lips, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Lucky for you, I'm very good at making people forget their problems."
Peter sighed, his hands finding her waist as he finally let the tension of the last few days drain away. For tonight, everything else could wait.
Tomorrow, the desert awaited. But tonight, the Black Cat had his undivided attention.