The morning after the Coney Island raid was heavy with the kind of oppressive humidity that only New York could conjure in the wake of a disaster. The news was a cacophony of "Gang War" headlines and grainy footage of Jack O'Lantern's hellfire reflecting off the Hudson. But in the quiet suburbs of Long Island, Ethan Kane was focused on a different kind of heat: the steady, rhythmic hum of the Genesis Cradle prototype's cooling fans.
His phone vibrated against the mahogany desk. The caller ID was a simple black cat emoji.
"Felicia," Ethan said, not missing a beat as he highlighted a line of viral code on his monitor. "You're up early. I figured you and Peter would be sleeping the day off. You two have been very busy."
"Yeah, no thanks to you, Ethan." Felicia's voice was crisp, but there was an edge of steel beneath the flirtatious lilt. "That move you pulled really stressed out Peter. Having that lawyer deliver plans on expanding Insight and then having her hand over half a billion... Peter nearly had a panic attack. When he tried to call you, you just texted that you were busy. We need to talk. And I want to trade."
Ethan leaned back, his eyes narrowing. He had sent Mallory Book to Peter with the funds and the expansion plans to keep Peter preoccupied, to give him something to build while Ethan prepared for the world around him to burn. He hadn't expected Peter to take it so hard, though in hindsight, a sudden influx of half a billion dollars would rattle even the most stoic hero.
"Trade?" Ethan asked, his voice neutral. "We have a standing agreement, Felicia. I provide the infrastructure and finances, you provide the... flair, I guess."
"One of the three favors you owe me," she said, ignoring the jab. "From the many jobs you've had me do for you, including the Oscorp heist. I'm cashing one in. I want to know what you're planning. All of it. No more riddles, no more 'trust the process,' and no more hiding behind whatever mask you're wearing. I want to see the blueprint of what you're planning."
Ethan's thumb traced the edge of his new phone. He had expected this. Felicia was a predator; she could scent the shift in the wind long before the storm arrived. He had dropped a hint, and now she could feel it was close, so she took his offer. She was tired of being a piece on a board she couldn't see.
"A steep price for a single conversation, Felicia. But fair. Where?"
"The Sapphire Room. Midtown. Twelve-thirty. And Ethan?"
"Yes?"
"Bring your appetite. You're going to be doing a lot of talking afterall."
"I'll be sure to do that."
The Sapphire Room was the kind of establishment where the waiters wore white gloves, and the partitions between booths were thick enough to stop a low-caliber bullet. It was discreet, expensive, and was currently hosting the most dangerous trio in the tri-state area.
Ethan arrived first, dressed in a charcoal blazer that made him look like a young tech prodigy rather than the sociopath many believed him to be. When Peter and Felicia walked in, the contrast was stark. Peter looked like he hadn't slept since Ethan last saw him—dark circles under his eyes, his posture slumped with the weight of Leah's operation and the Insight expansion he had to oversee lately. Felicia, however, was radiant in a sapphire silk dress that made her look like she belonged in a boardroom or a ballroom.
Ethan had already booked the back corner booth, a private alcove tucked away from prying eyes. As they sat, the waiter appeared, took their orders—Kobe sliders for Ethan, a niçoise salad for Felicia, and a massive porterhouse for a clearly famished Peter—and vanished.
The moment the heavy oak door to their private room clicked shut, Felicia leaned forward, her elbows on the white linen.
"Talk," she commanded.
Ethan took a slow sip of sparkling water, letting the silence stretch just long enough to test their patience. "Before we begin, I need to clarify the terms of the debt. You asked to know what I'm planning. That is a specific request. However, there is a difference between what I am planning and what is actually happening in the world. Those are two very different things, Felicia. The favor only covers one."
Peter groaned, rubbing his temples. "Here we go. The Ethan Kane special. The misleading and the run around."
Felicia's eyes didn't leave Ethan's. She let out a long, slow sigh, one that suggested she had already anticipated this move. "You're about to try to manipulate the leverage, aren't you? You want to tell me the 'what' without the 'why,' or the 'how' without the 'when.' You want me to keep coming back, paying favor after favor for scraps of the truth."
She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "I'm not in the mood for games today, Ethan. Peter is a nervous wreck. I'm guessing the city will soon be falling apart, and yet you're sitting here eating sliders like you haven't a care in the world. I'll give you what you want. I'll use two favors. One to know what is going on in this world that has you so spooked, and one to know exactly what you are planning to do about it. That leaves you with one favor left. Do we have a deal? If so, stop wasting my time."
Ethan allowed a small, genuine smile to touch his lips. He really liked this aspect of Felicia; she was the only one who didn't let the "good kid" act distract her from the shark underneath.
"Two favors," Ethan agreed. "Very well. Agreed, then let's start with the world."
He leaned in, his expression flattening into the cold, analytical mask of the strategist.
"What's going on is a simple countdown," Ethan began. "Millennia ago, eight mystical entities known as the Octessence made a wager. They created eight totems. The first human to touch each totem becomes an Exemplar—a living avatar of that entity's power. You know the Juggernaut? Cain Marko? He was the first. He's the Exemplar of Cyttorak. For those who don't know Cyttorak, is an extradimensional being who is considered both a God and a Demon. He goes by many titles and is known as the Destroyer, Lord of Oblivion, and Master of the Raging Storm. Now that an Exemplar has been created, the other totems will call out to the nearest worthy host so that the contest may begin."
Peter's fork stopped halfway to his mouth. "Juggernaut? There are seven more? On his level? Octessence? Extradimensional being?"
"In two months," Ethan said, his voice dropping an octave, "the remaining seven will awaken. They will lose their humanity, unite to build a God-Machine, and attempt to enslave the planet. The sky will turn to fire, and the heroes you know—the Avengers, the Fantastic Four, Dr. Strange—they'll be utterly outclassed by raw, primordial magic."
"How do you know this?" Peter demanded, his sense buzzing faintly at the sheer weight of Ethan's conviction. "There's no record of this. No one's heard of these Octessence. No one's talking about 'Exemplars. Not the Strange, and not the X-Men. They at least give me a heads up if they knew. How do you have a calendar for a magical apocalypse?"
Ethan looked Peter in the eye. It was time for the big lie—the one that explained everything without revealing the truth of his reincarnation. "Because I'm from the future, Peter."
The silence that followed was absolute. Peter looked like he wanted to laugh, then saw the look on Ethan's face and stopped.
"Oh, I don't mean I jumped in a DeLorean," Ethan chuckled as he continued, weaving the lie. "I have... memories. Records of events that haven't happened yet. I know when certain events occur. I know who lives and who dies. I know the names of the monsters before they're even born. That's why I'm never surprised. That's why I have billions of dollars in shell accounts and why I do the thing I do. I'm not playing hero; I'm ensuring myself and those I care about will survive the never-ending apocalypses that are to come. Before you ask, yes, I've tested it multiple times to know my memories are correct.""
Felicia didn't look shocked; she looked like someone who had just found the missing piece of a very frustrating puzzle, "It explains the confidence," she murmured. "And the paranoia. That is, if you're telling the truth."
"Now," Ethan said, pivoting smoothly. "That was the first favor. The second is what I'm planning. I'm not waiting for the Avengers or Doctor Strange to stop the Octessence or fight their avatars. I've seen that, and millions died as a result, including my parents, so I'd like to prevent that. I've opened my own private facility—the Essex Lab, which I'll be renaming the Ilithyia Institute to give it a more... humanitarian face. It's off the books and powered by the funds I 'borrowed' from Norman."
Both Peter and Felicia looked shocked as they heard Ethan mention the death count would be several millions.
He pulled out his phone, sliding it across the table. It displayed a render of a sleek, organic-looking pod.
"This is the Genesis Cradle," Ethan explained. "It's my primary project. I'm working on a few key things to ensure we survive what's coming. First, a perfected Super Soldier Serum. Not the unstable garbage that made the Green Goblin of course, but something stable, refined. Second, I'm gestating a symbiote—a partner, not a parasite. One grown with a specific neural mesh to ensure it's sane and loyal."
"A symbiote?" Peter hissed, his memory of the black suit flaring. "Ethan, those things are dangerous. They're—"
"The Klyntar or symbiotes are a nightmare only when they're poisoned by the negative thoughts and emotions of their host, Peter," Ethan countered. "Mine is being engineered from the ground up to be a cooperative system. But more importantly, I'm using the Cradle to develop a revolutionary thing I've dubbed Machine Cells. Imagine a hybrid of organic tissue and programmable nanotechnology. Cells that can cooperate like neurons but possess the durability of tempered steel. They can reform, regenerate from almost nothing, and interface with any technology on the planet. I'm building a body that doesn't just survive the future—it dictates it."
Peter leaned back, looking at his friend as if seeing a stranger. "That sounds like a lot. Seems like you're really turning yourself into a mad scientist. I'm against human experimentation of any kind, Ethan. You should stop."
"I am, and I know you are, Peter. If it makes you feel better, the only person I plan to experiment on is myself," Ethan admitted. "I used several aliases—Luc Moreau, Isaac Maddox—to move pieces in the shadow. You may hear some form of this later. There was a raid at Revelstoke, Canada. It was done by a team of mercenaries. The team was made up of Taskmaster, Domino, and Silver Sable. Their mission was to sneak into the new Weapon X, called the Facility. I did it to shut down the place, but more importantly, it was to rescue a woman named Sarah and her daughter, Laura. I needed a lead scientist I could trust, someone who could take the labs under Issac Maddox in the right direction. So I liberated Sarah Kinney. The focus of the lab is to make maternity and labor easier on women."
"That seems usual for you. First, the IMAGINE project, and now saving pregnant women. I know you well enough to see that you're hiding something, but what? Are you planning to experiment on the babies or something? Also, what about the girl?" Felicia asked. "The one you mentioned? What happened to her?"
"No my motives are pure in a way. My mother is currently pregnant, and I wanted my work in place before she went into labor to make it easier on her. As for the girl, her name is Laura," Ethan said softly. "She's important. In a way, Peter, she's Wolverine's daughter. A biological clone-daughter. Please do keep that a secret until she's ready to speak on him on her own. She's currently under my protection along with her mother; she'll have a life that isn't defined by a cage."
Peter's jaw dropped. "Wait, what? Your mom is gonna have a baby? Logan has a daughter? And you... you just kidnapped her? Why are you dropping so many shocking things like they don't matter?"
"Correction on two things, first, these things matter, and that's why I'm telling you about them, and secondly, I saved her," Ethan corrected sharply. "There is a difference. They were held against their will, and some other disturbing thing also happened. She and her mother are currently in a safe house I provided. Sarah will run the Essex Lab that I acquired, which will be renamed The Ilithyia Institute. She'll help me finalize things like the Cradle while working on our mission of making maternal health easier and more affordable while reducing harmful genetic defects. In exchange, she and her daughter and I'm guessing her sister and her daughter, will get new identities and a new life here without any restriction."
Ethan leaned back as the waiter returned to refill their drinks. He waited until the man was gone before spreading his hands over the table, a faint, sharp glint in his eyes.
"I've moved the money. I've secured the talent. I've mapped the disasters. I am building the ark, Peter. And I'm building the weapons to defend it. I'm using the 'Isaac Maddox' identity to buy up shelters so that when the world goes to hell in two months, people will hide and protect themselves."
He picked up a slider, taking a casual bite, his demeanor shifting back to that of a relaxed teenager. He looked at the two of them—the hero who wanted to save everyone and the thief who wanted to own everything.
"That," Ethan said with a satisfied smile, "is most of my cards. I've told you about what I'm doing, the time-knowledge, the lab, and the daughter of the X-Man."
He set the slider down and wiped his hands on a linen napkin, leaning forward with an inviting tilt of his head.
"Now," he whispered. "I'll take your questions. I'm sure you have plenty."