Ethan woke to the faint scent of vanilla pancakes drifting through the house. For the first time in days, his mind wasn't a storm—still turbulent, yes, but quieter, like the eye of a hurricane that had paused just long enough for him to breathe.
He'd made his decision last night.
Stay.
For now, at least… stay.
He dressed and stepped into the kitchen, where his parents were already seated. His mother hummed softly as she set a plate down. His father glanced up from the newspaper, surprised.
"Morning, champ. You're up early for once."
Ethan slid into his seat. "Wanted to eat with you guys."
Both parents blinked.
His mother smiled—warm, bright, and unmistakably relieved. "Well, that's rare and lovely. Sit, sit. Eat."
Ethan picked up his fork, hesitated… then spoke before he could overthink it.
"Have you two… thought of any names yet?"
His mother froze, her smile widening with a mix of excitement and disbelief.
"Oh! So now you're interested," she teased, nudging his father.
"I've always been interested," Ethan countered softly.
His father chuckled. "We've tossed a few around. Nothing set yet."
His mom leaned forward. "If it's a girl, I really like the name Lily."
"Lily…" Ethan repeated, trying it out. The name felt gentle. "That's nice."
"And if it's a boy," his father added, "I liked Marcus. Strong, simple. What do you think?"
Ethan thought of the labyrinth he was trapped in—Oscorp, the Rose, Delilah, Isaac Maddox, Insight, the countless threads pulling him in every direction.
He thought of a child growing up in this city… in this world.
"Marcus is good," he said quietly.
His mother beamed. "Well, don't get too attached. We'll probably change our minds three more times before the baby's born."
The three of them ended up talking for a full twenty minutes—names, baby clothes, nursery ideas. Ordinary things. Soft things. Things that had nothing to do with secret identities, sabotage missions, or corporate warfare.
Ethan didn't realize how much he needed that.
He didn't realize how much he'd missed it.
When he finally grabbed his backpack and headed out the door, his chest felt warm in a way he couldn't define.
Maybe staying wasn't the worst choice he'd ever make.
Then he reached the bus stop. Ten seconds staring at the street, and his mind was already rebuilding schedules, assessing threats, reorganizing priorities. Family came first—but the rest of his world wasn't going to politely pause while he figured himself out.
By the time the bus hissed to a stop, he was already calculating again.
The rumble of the school bus beneath his feet felt jarring, every bump rattling his overworked brain. He'd barely slept—three hours if he was lucky—and his mind still buzzed from last night's work filing LLC paperwork, crafting Isaac Maddox's digital footprint, and mapping out contingencies for Oscorp.
Ethan didn't want to be here. 'I should've stayed home,' he thought bitterly. 'Ten days to dismantle Norman, bring Delilah onboard, and rip Rose's network apart. Every second counts.'
But then reality intruded: too many absences and teachers would get suspicious. They'd call his parents, or worse, request a meeting.
That could not happen.
So here he was, playing the part of an ordinary high schooler as if he weren't plotting the downfall of some of the most dangerous men in the city.
"Ethan Kane," came a warm, lilting voice from behind him. "Ain't you just a sight for sore eyes."
He turned, masking his irritation under a polite smile. Paige Guthrie slid into the seat beside him, her soft blonde hair framing her face. Her deep Southern drawl made her words sound almost musical.
"Hey, Paige," he said, voice steady.
"It's been a while since we went to see Rachel," she said, settling in comfortably. "Figured you were dodgin' me."
'I was,' Ethan admitted silently. Out loud, he gave a faint chuckle. "No dodging. Just busy."
Paige raised an eyebrow. "So busy you can't spare a few hours for a friend in need or even bother to give me a call?"
Ethan bit back a sigh. He wanted to say no. He didn't have time for Rachel and her trauma. But Paige—Husk, future member of the X-Men—was too important a connection to jeopardize.
"Yeah," he said finally. "We'll go see her soon."
Paige smiled, the tension leaving her shoulders. "Good. Don't you forget now. Rachel needs folks like us checkin' in."
Ethan nodded faintly, his mind already racing through a thousand other calculations. Another relationship maintained. These were so exhausting, he wondered why regular people even bothered having troublesome things like affairs.
By the time they reached school, Ethan's mental fog hadn't lifted. He stepped off the bus slowly, scanning the courtyard as clusters of students milled about.
"Ethan! You're alive!"
He turned as Amy jogged over, her eyes bright with relief.
"I was starting to think you'd vanished," she said with mock indignation.
"Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated," Ethan replied with a faint smile.
Amy crossed her arms, trying to look stern. "It's been days. No texts. No calls."
"Caught a bad cold," Ethan lied smoothly. "Felt like death, but I'm better now."
Amy's expression softened immediately. "Oh. Not funny by the way. Well, I'm glad you're okay."
"How're you holding up?" Paige asked gently, stepping forward. "With the whole… you know."
Amy nodded, looking down briefly. "Fine. No mishaps. I'm just trying to figure things out." She hesitated. "I haven't seen Peter, though. Not since… well, it's been a few days. I'm worried something happened."
Ethan's smile widened slightly, warmth flickering in his eyes. "His aunt's been sick. He's been taking care of her. But I'm sure he'll make time for you this week."
Amy let out a breath, visibly relieved. "Thanks, Ethan. I just… didn't want to bother him if he's dealing with family stuff."
"You're not a bother," Ethan said gently. 'You're another piece in the puzzle. Another relationship to safeguard.'
The bell rang, and they parted ways. Ethan drifted into first period, took his seat near the back, and let his head rest in his palm.
As the teacher's voice droned on about the American Revolution, Ethan's eyelids grew heavy.
Oscorp… Insight… Rose… Delilah…
The names spun in his head like vultures circling overhead. He let the words blur, just for a moment, letting exhaustion pull him down into the welcome darkness of sleep.
Lunch came too fast for Ethan's liking. He'd spent the morning drifting in and out of half-consciousness, catching up on precious fragments of sleep while his body slumped in his chair like an unplugged android.
Now, tray in hand, he slipped past the cafeteria's noise and chaos to his usual corner table, away from the center of attention. As he sat, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through encrypted messages. A dozen background processes were still humming: servers being configured for Insight, dummy accounts being seeded into social media algorithms for Isaac Maddox, and a tiny test ping he'd sent through Red Lion's backend earlier that morning.
All the gears were turning. All the pieces were moving.
Ethan hit dial.
"Hey," Peter answered—lighter, almost teasing. "Calling me twice in twenty-four hours? Must be important."
Ethan's lips quirked. "Relax. Not another existential crisis."
Peter laughed. "Good. One a night is my limit. You doing okay?"
Ethan hesitated, then said it sincerely. "Thanks. For yesterday. I… needed that conversation."
Peter softened on the other end. "Anytime, Ethan. Really."
A comfortable beat passed before Ethan slipped back into his sharper voice.
"Alright. Let's get into it. I've got the details for opening Insight's bank accounts."
"Insight…" Peter repeated. "Right—the newspaper. So, that's the name. It's catchy, I admit."
"It's meant to be," Ethan said. "Crisp, direct. Reflects the mission."
Peter chuckled. "It fits. So what's the plan?"
"You'll need two accounts," Ethan explained. "Red Lion National Bank and New National Bank."
"Two?" Peter echoed.
"Diversification," Ethan said. "Red Lion handles fast business spending. New National's safer for long-term reserves."
He didn't mention that Red Lion doubled as Wilson Fisk's laundering den, or that Ethan's backdoor siphon program was already humming invisibly in its systems. Having Peter walk in physically was just another perfect lever.
Kill two birds with one stone. Or three.
"All right," Peter said. "I'll handle it."
"One more thing," Ethan added. "Amy's worried about you. Haven't seen you in days. Thinks something happened."
Peter laughed, warm and genuine. "You really do sound like a normal kid sometimes."
Ethan blinked. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I'm just better at pretending than most."
"That's somehow worse," Peter joked.
Ethan shook his head, amusement flickering through him. "I'll let you get back to it. Later, Peter."
"Later, kid."
Ethan ended the call and stared at his untouched food.
And for a moment—just a moment—his shoulders sagged.
Insight. Oscorp. The Rose. Delilah.
Paige. Amy. Peter. His parents. The baby.
Each connection a thread in a web he couldn't afford to let snap.
"Ten days," he whispered.
Ten days to build an empire.
Ten days to strike first.
Ten days to shake this city to its very core.
He forced himself to stand, sliding his phone into his pocket. 'Normal kid, huh?'
The thought made him smile faintly as he walked back into the noise of high school life—already planning three moves ahead.