Final Name Ranking:
1st Vaeris – 16 Votes (12 ScribbleHub + 4 WebNovel)
2nd Nexus – 11 Votes (11 ScribbleHub)
3rd Logos – 5 Votes (5 ScribbleHub)
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Ethan reached into his pocket, pulling out two small RFID cubes on a keychain, sleek and minimalist, almost indistinguishable from a standard keychain except for a tiny red marking at the corner. He handed them gently to Peter, who took them with cautious interest, turning one over in his hand.
"What are these for?" Peter asked, eyebrow raised.
"They're for tracking," Ethan explained calmly. "Simple and precise. One for Mary Jane, and one for Aunt May."
Peter's eyes sharpened instantly, a flash of concern rippling across his face. Ethan quickly lifted a reassuring hand.
"Relax, Peter. These are purely for tracking. No extra features. No mics, no transmitters, nothing invasive. Just location. It's to ease your mind over the next ten days. Norman isn't reckless, but as you know, he can sometimes be unpredictable. With these, you'll always know exactly where MJ and May are. Consider it a temporary insurance policy. Once this is over, you can do whatever you want with them."
Peter stared at the keychains for a moment, jaw tightening slightly. Then, with a faint sigh of acceptance, he nodded and slipped them carefully into his jacket pocket. His shoulders relaxed minutely, visibly comforted by the assurance.
"Thanks, man," Peter murmured, voice softer now, edged with quiet relief.
Ethan nodded in acknowledgment, adjusting his jacket as he stepped toward the door. "I have a few things to take care of today. We have a lot to set up if we want this new enterprise to be fully operational in ten days."
Peter's eyes narrowed, curious but wary. "What exactly do you have to take care of?"
Ethan paused, turning back to face them, his expression steady, precise, and faintly amused. "Mostly administrative steps. Creating a newspaper is more than just ink and stories. If we're serious about taking on Oscorp and Norman Osborn, we'll need proper foundations."
"Such as?" Felicia asked lightly, leaning against one of the unfinished counters.
Ethan's expression turned quietly thoughtful, and he began ticking items off on his fingers.
"First, we need to name our company. Something memorable yet authoritative. Next, I'll handle filing the Articles of Organization with the state. It'll officially register us as an LLC, giving us a firm legal foundation. Filing fee depends on the state, but the real cost is time, depending on the specifics. But that's just paperwork."
Peter nodded slowly, expression neutral, clearly trying to keep up with Ethan's rapid-fire listing.
Ethan continued, voice steady and analytical, "We'll also need to draft an Operating Agreement. It'll define our roles clearly. I'll hold ownership; you, Peter, will act as editor-in-chief, overseeing content, integrity, and editorial direction. Felicia," he said, glancing at her, "if you're interested in joining, you can manage security and logistics—ensuring the operation runs smoothly behind the scenes. We could also use an espionage specialist to do a few odd jobs here and there."
Felicia smiled faintly, raising a playful eyebrow. "Security, espionage, and logistics. Sounds right up my alley."
"Exactly," Ethan replied evenly. "After that, we'll need an EIN—an Employer Identification Number—from the IRS. It's quick and free to apply online. That EIN is vital for hiring staff, managing taxes, and opening a business account."
Peter tilted his head slightly. Clearly, his mind was elsewhere, and he wasn't absorbing every detail. "Business account?"
"Yes," Ethan said evenly, a faint frown briefly touching his expression. "We'll need a dedicated business bank account. That's essential. It protects our personal finances and legitimizes our operations. Unfortunately, Peter, that part's on you. I'm legally too young, and I'm not hacking a bank server just to open a checking account."
Peter sighed faintly, accepting the task with a resigned nod. "Right. Bank accounts. Sure. I can do that."
Ethan smiled slightly. "Good. One less obstacle."
Peter hesitated, then asked carefully, "What about permits or licenses? We can't just open a newspaper without proper authorization."
Ethan nodded approvingly, eyes glinting with quiet amusement. "Fortunately, we're in the U.S., we generally don't need a specialized license to publish a newspaper. Still, I'll double-check just to be thorough. We don't want surprises."
Felicia shifted lightly, smiling wryly. "You really mapped all this out already? Anything else? Something tells me that isn't the only thing we'll need."
Ethan chuckled softly, nodding appreciatively at her perceptiveness. "Right again. We'll need solid digital infrastructure: domain names, a secure website, encrypted communication tools, and VPNs. For hosting, I'll use a privacy-focused provider—keeping our digital footprint minimal. Oh, and we'll need to procure the services of a law firm. I have one in mind, but that'll have to be a little later."
Peter crossed his arms, a faint crease forming between his brows. "That's a lot of groundwork for ten days. Are you sure we can manage it?"
Ethan's eyes sharpened slightly, voice calm but decisive. "Absolutely. This is meticulous planning, not improvisation. The timing isn't random. When Oscorp falls, we'll be there, the story needs to be ours—not J. Jonah Jameson's, not the cops', not the Feds'."
Peter stared at Ethan for a long moment, a mixture of respect and lingering skepticism in his eyes. "You seem to have everything planned down to the second."
Ethan's lips quirked faintly into a subtle smirk. "I'm not that good. I don't like leaving things to chance, but even I can't plan for everything."
There was a brief, charged silence before Peter finally exhaled, visibly relaxing. "Alright, Ethan. If we're doing this, let's make sure we get it right."
"Agreed," Ethan replied evenly, turning once again toward the door. "Remember, ten days. I'll start on the paperwork immediately. Peter, handle the bank and those cards. Felicia, stay ready. I'll be in touch soon."
Felicia gave a playful mock salute, "Roger that, boss."
Peter watched Ethan intently, his voice quiet but sincere. "Ethan… thank you. Seriously. For everything."
Ethan paused at the door, turning back to meet Peter's gaze. His voice was calm, steady, even faintly kind. "No need to thank me, Peter. What are friends for?"
Peter nodded once, understanding clearly. "Then let's make it count."
Ethan's faint smile widened slightly. "We will."
As Ethan stepped out, he felt the weight of the coming ten days settling around him. There was much to do—but Ethan could handle most in a day.
Ethan's thoughts lingered on his fifth identity—Isaac Maddox. On paper, Maddox was everything Ethan couldn't be: a clean, professional facade; a political science student from Columbia with glowing recommendation letters and staged photos volunteering for humanitarian causes. In a world obsessed with credentials and morality, Isaac Maddox would be the perfect public face—someone who could interact openly with organizations like S.W.O.R.D. or even Wakanda. A voice of legitimacy in a world that so often dealt in shadows.
It wouldn't hurt, Ethan mused, if Isaac Maddox also happened to own a newspaper. A socially conscious young publisher dedicated to exposing corruption. That story practically wrote itself—and if anyone ever dug into the company's origins, they'd find Maddox's fingerprints in all the right places.
But as his shoes scuffed the pavement on his walk home, Ethan's mind spun faster than his exhausted body wanted it to.
The real problem wasn't Isaac Maddox. It was time.
Delilah and clearing Spider-Man's name—two more pillars of his sprawling plan—weren't supposed to intersect with Norman's downfall for another two weeks. But now? If they were going to bring Oscorp crashing down in ten days, he'd have to accelerate every timeline at once.
Meaning:
In the next ten days, Ethan would have to finish setting up the newspaper's infrastructure.
He'd have to prepare the Oscorp infiltration and execute it flawlessly.
He'd need to help Peter dismantle Rose's criminal empire while staying several steps ahead of Delilah to recruit her successfully. Not only that, he'd have to gain her trust enough to use her as the assassin to kill Norman Osborn.
He'd also have to make sure he had the money for the non-profit and legal firm he'd build as the next step. He could plan the two afterward; Leah, the little girl, was still around and alive so she could be used to move Peter later.
All while maintaining his masks. His personas. His perfect balance of influence and invisibility.
Ethan exhaled sharply, feeling the tug of tension at the base of his skull.
'This is fine,' he told himself. 'Just a little headache. Or a dozen headaches stacked on top of each other. You wanted to play the long game, Ethan—this is what it costs.'
And still, in the quiet recesses of his mind, a single thought whispered like a warning:
'If you slip, even once, the entire house of cards falls.'
His pace slowed as he neared his building. The sunlight felt too bright, almost intrusive.
"Ten days," Ethan murmured under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. "Ten days to break and kill a king, raise my own empire, and keep the board from flipping. Norman doesn't really matter, but sadly for him, I need the money, and he pissed off Peter, so he has to die."
The thought rose uninvited, 'If someone ever went after my current mom… what would I do?'
His stomach tightened.
He didn't have to imagine the answer. He'd lived it.
In his last life, when his mother died, he hadn't mourned; he couldn't, he had been abused whenever he spoke his mother's name or even looked at her pictures. It did help that his father from last life obsessively filled the house with her pictures, forcing him to always either look down or stay in his new room in the basement. Finally, when he was old enough, he'd hunted the killer down.
He'd found the man responsible.
He'd tied him to a chair in a basement that smelled of bleach and fear.
He'd asked why—why he broke into the house, why he shot her, why life collapsed in one senseless moment.
And the man had whispered the truth Ethan already knew:
"The back door was unlocked… I needed the money…"
Ethan had made sure the man never spoke again.
The memory didn't come with tears.
It came with cold clarity. He needed to be precise or more and more things would be taken from him.
If anyone threatened his current mother or father?
He knew exactly what version of himself would surface.
And the thought scared him.
Not because of the brutality he was capable of—he accepted that long ago.
But because here, in this world, he actually cared again.
And caring made him dangerous in ways planning never did.
He forced the tension out of his jaw and kept walking.
'Focus. Norman went after Peter's family. Peter nearly killed him for it. You're helping Peter stay Peter—not Spider-Man with blood on his hands.'
That was the point of the plan.
Not justice.
Not revenge.
Containment.
He reached his building and pulled open the door.
Sleep wasn't happening tonight.
Not with everything on the line.
Not with ghosts brushing their fingers along the edges of his thoughts.
He exhaled once, sharp and steady.
He pushed open the door, already feeling the weight of the coming storm settling across his shoulders.
Sleep is going to have to wait.