That evening, Ethan slipped out of his room, as he'd done countless times before. After so many years, he no longer needed some chemical help putting his parents to sleep just so he could sneak out, it became almost mundane.
From the window to the ground in one telekinetically-supported leap, his face hidden between a hood and mask, wearing a plain but resilient leather jacket and protection gear he never used during the day and kept hidden in one of those inconvenient nooks of his closet only somebody with way too much time or telekinetic powers could reach.
If his nightly misadventures started as a financial endeavour, they quickly became much more educational in nature.
The things he learned bashing faces, breaking noses and causing lots of harm to more or less deserving individuals taught him more than Midtown ever could, things that were actually useful to someone in his position.
He still lived in perpetual fear of one day opening the door and seeing Magneto and his ilk eager to talk about the benefits of mutant supremacy.
Or worse, Chuck Xavier and his child soldier recruitment program.
That meant that knowing how to survive out there was crucial, in case he needed to bail and leave everything behind.
Not an ideal outcome, with how many plans it would derail, but better safe than sorry.
The streets were quieter than usual, but he could sense the subtle pulse of the city beneath his feet, that pattern he couldn't exactly describe, the order behind people's seemingly mad endavours.
Because there sure as hell was an order to all this, or at least something his hunches and instincts could point to, how else would he know that this man would rob this couple at this particular alley but later on get beat up by that group of thugs?
He could he tell that this band of rowdy basterds are just a friend group drunk out of their minds, while the same kind of folks two streets down were small-time gangsters working as goffers for the Albanian mob of all things…oh my bad, it's actually the Armenians this time, they like different brands of sportswear.
They ended up beat, interrogated and robbed blind all the same.
One step closer to greatness.
. . .
The early morning light filtered through the classroom windows, casting a soft glow over Midtown High's hallways, painting the glorious image of a skinny kid being shoved ass-first into his locker while other student living their best life laughed at his sorry self.
Amidst the social ritual of pointing out the 'Us' and 'Them' before physically displaying the inferiority of the great other to reinforce the tribal instincts of a bunch of hormonal teenagers, stood a single man whose life was the wetdream of everyone from the incel stuck in his mother's basement to millionaires like Drake and Diddy enjoying La Dolce Vita in their mansions, hotel rooms or jail cells depending on the time period.
Usually for the same reason.
He was about to turn that uncomfortable thought into something even more unsettling to be filed later as a defence against nosy telepaths, right alongside those horrible yet catchy song and the vivid memory of watching two girls one cup from a classmate's phone during math class.
That last one might be overkill, but a man's gotta do what he's gotta do.
"Hey, Ethan!" Came the sweet voice of interruption, salvation some would say.
Gwen Stacy.
She jogged up to him, her blonde hair bouncing lightly as she caught up, sporting a short ponytail this time…he did like some variety.
As always, she had that slightly mischievous glint in her eyes, like she'd figured something out that no one else had yet.
"Morning, Gwen," Ethan said, his tone casual but laced with warmth.
"So, you still owe me that coffee," she teased, falling into step beside him. "I'm beginning to think you're avoiding me."
Ethan quirked an eyebrow. "Avoiding you? That would require effort. I'm just busy."
"Right, the mysterious genius who's too busy for social interaction," she said with a playful smirk.
"Nah, I'm busy because I'm not a genius, gotta put in double the effort if I want to keep up with you." He answered easily, deflecting while earning some brownie points.
Now, that's talent.
"So that the solution to the Ethan Cain Enigma, homework?" She muttered, raising a perfect eyebrow in a gesture that screamed 'I don't buy your bullshit but whatever.'
"Yup, "Ethan shrugged, "Why waste time? There's so much to do."
They entered the classroom together, and as they took their seats, Gwen sat next to him, her eyes lingering on him for a second longer than usual. Ethan pretended not to notice, though a part of him was mildly appreciative.
Nothing quite as good for the morale as being checked out by a cute girl.
The bell rang, and Mr. Thompson–the physics teachers, began his lecture on momentum and force, scribbling equations on the chalkboard as students dutifully took notes. Ethan barely glanced at the board; the concepts were second nature to him by now. Instead, his mind wandered back to his ongoing experiments with telekinesis.
He'd been refining his control by applying basic physics, testing how force and distance affected his ability to manipulate objects without detection.
He had a theory about how friction could open new paths to explore, ripe with possibilities.
. . .
Lunchtime arrived quickly, and the cafeteria buzzed with the usual energy of students catching up with friends. Ethan took his usual spot in the corner of the room, where he could observe everything without drawing much attention.
Gwen, however, wasn't about to let him have his solitude today.
Ethan glanced up from his half-eaten sandwich, to see her taking what might just become her spot right in front of him, some kind of high level engineering book he wouldn't even try reading lying on table, with the blonde casually reading through.
For a moment, they ate in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, Ethan found Gwen's presence oddly relaxing. She didn't press him with questions like most people would or went on an on when he was clearly too tired to care. Instead, she just... existed beside him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Right until she found something worth saying, said it in the most pleasant, soft voice and roused things in him that had nothing to do with the subject at hand and everything to do with her near future.
Their near future.
"So," Gwen finally said, her tone casual and unaware of the machinations of his wicked mind, "any big plans this weekend?"
"Not really." Ethan took a sip of water. "Probably catching up on some coding projects. You?"
Gwen's eyes lit up. "I've actually been working on this engineering project. There's a competition coming up, and I've got this idea for a mechanical arm prototype. Still figuring out the power source though."
Ethan leaned forward slightly, intrigued despite himself. "What kind of arm?"
"It's designed for precision movements, mostly for medical purposes. Like for surgeries where human error is too high. I'm thinking about integrating it with a custom neural interface."
He nodded, his mind already working through the possibilities. "You'd need a seriously efficient power source for that. Something compact but with enough output to maintain precision over time."
"Exactly. That's where I'm stuck. I thought about lithium-ion, but it's too bulky for what I need." Gwen grinned, enjoying some therapeutic complaining.
Ethan paused for a moment, considering. "You could look into graphene-based supercapacitors. They're still experimental, but if you can get your hands on the materials, they'd give you the energy density you need without the weight."
"Graphene, huh? I hadn't thought of that. Thanks, Ethan!" She said.
Boy did he like the way his name sounded in her lips.
"Don't mention it," He chuckled, his own mouth by now used to ignoring his mind when it was stuck in the gutter, and it only took him going through puberty twice to figure it out.
They continued discussing her project, bouncing ideas off each other as they ate. The conversation flowed easily, their shared love of science and technology forming a bridge between them…a love born out of need in his case, though the prospect of using some of it to perfect his literal superpower did sweeten the deal a fair bit.
Ethan was struck by how natural it felt to talk to her like this, no pretense, no awkwardness—just two people geeking out over something.
Gwen's enthusiasm was infectious and Ethan found himself genuinely enjoying the conversation, rather than analyzing it.
'She's different,' he realized, looking at the excitable blonde head, 'She's scary sharp, but... fun. Adorable, even.'
As the lunch period wound down, Gwen glanced at the clock and groaned. "Ugh, I've got biology next. Not looking forward to dissecting frogs."
"You? Miss Science Whiz, not into dissections?" Ethan raised an eyebrow.
Versions of her ended up interning with Curtis Conners of all people, so going nuts on some poor critters shouldn't be a big deal.
"I'm good with the theory. The actual cutting into things? Not so much." She wrinkled her nose.
"I'll remember that," he said, smirking.
Don't you dare." She shot him a playful glare.
Yeah, life was good.
But for how long?
Author's Note:
If you're enjoying the story and want to read ahead or support my work, you can check out my P@treon at P@treon.com/LordCampione. But don't worry—all chapters will eventually be public. Just being here and reading means the world to me. Thank you for your time and support.