Marvel: Survivor’s Ascension

The crisp evening air hit Ethan as he stepped out of the lab complex, pulling his coat tight against the breeze. Walking down the pavement toward the main road, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He checked the caller ID and picked up.

"Hey, Mom," Ethan said, letting a tired, dutiful tone enter his voice.

"Ethan! Sweetheart, how are you?" His mother’s warm voice filled the line. "We were just talking about you. We felt so bad dropping you off mid-semester like that—are you settling into the academy alright?"

Ethan chuckled lightly, playing his part as the dutiful student. "I'm doing fine, Mom. The classes are really interesting, though since I joined midway through the semester, I'm a bit behind on a few subjects. Still, I’m enjoying the challenge. I'll just have to work twice as hard to catch up."

A click came over the line as the speakerphone engaged on his parents' end, followed by his father’s deep, booming voice. "That’s what I like to hear, son. Just work hard, keep your head down, and stay out of trouble."

Ethan let out a genuine chuckle. "Okay, I will, Dad. I promise."

"Alright, sweetheart, don't stay up too late studying," his mother added fondly.

"I won't. You take it easy too, Mom," Ethan reminded her softly. "Be careful and don't push yourself."

His mother laughed softly over the speaker. "Ethan, I'm just pregnant, not made of glass! I'm not overdoing anything. We love you, honey."

"Fine, but still take it easy, okay. Well, I’ve got to head to the library soon. Love you, Mom. Bye, Dad."

"Take care, son."

After hanging up, Ethan stepped up to the curb and hailed an oncoming yellow cab. He gave the driver the address of the high-end Manhattan hotel where he had booked their stay. During the ride through the glittering city streets, his phone buzzed with a quick text from Emma, letting him know her recruitment run at Midtown High was running long and that she would be back late.

Upon arriving at the hotel, Ethan checked in at the front desk, picked up the keycard, and took the private elevator straight to the penthouse suite.

The suite was spacious and quiet. Setting his coat aside, Ethan noticed their two pieces of luggage sitting near the main bedroom—his black suitcase and Emma’s sleek white one. Emma must have had the driver drop it off after he left for the lab. Walking over to the black suitcase, Ethan unzipped his bag, pulled out a fresh change of clothes, and took a quick, hot shower to wash off the day.

Refreshed and dressed, Ethan pulled out his custom phone and tapped the screen to activate his Luc Moreau profile. The sleek interface shifted to an encrypted network as N.E.A.R. authenticated his voice and facial profile. He dialed Mikhail Kovac's number.

The line rang three times before someone picked up.

"What?" Mack’s voice came through, raspy, strained, and brimming with suppressed rage. Mack despised Luc for using his son's hidden location as leverage to force him into compliance, but fear kept him anchored to the line.

"Bonsoir, Monsieur Kovac. Long time no see," Ethan greeted smoothly, adopting Luc’s signature, theatrical French accent. "I hope I am not interrupting a peaceful evening? You must be enjoying some time with your son, yes? How is he?"

"You bastard," Mack growled, biting back a curse. "What do you want now?"

"Ah, temper, temper," Luc purred with casual amusement. "I was simply making… what do you call it… small talk. Now I am simply calling to ask a small favor from my favorite broker. I am currently in the market to purchase some Adamantium and Vibranium, if possible."

Mack let out a harsh, incredulous laugh. "Are you out of your mind? Where the hell am I supposed to source those? They're two of the rarest, most heavily guarded minerals on the planet! Even if there was a seller on the off chance, why would they pay attention to someone like you and me?"

"Calm yourself, Mikhail," Luc replied smoothly. "I do not expect you to dig them out of the earth yourself. I simply need you to put out the word through your channels that a discreet buyer is looking for both materials and is prepared to pay an exorbitant sum. That should put out a big spotlight… yes?"

"You have your own damn network," Mack snapped. "Do it yourself!"

In truth, Ethan did possess an expansive network now. Following the deaths of both Norman Osborn and Wilson Fisk, Ethan had systematically absorbed Osborn's operations and claimed Fisk's hidden emergency contingency assets—a cool $5 billion in liquid funds along with prime real estate registered under false names. Meanwhile, Delilah and Madame Masque’s Black Orchard group had claimed roughly ninety percent of Fisk's syndicate, leaving Ethan with immense capital to spend as Luc to expand his alias’s reach.

"Oui, but I prefer you handle this particular inquiry," Luc said, his tone softening into a veiled, icy threat. "After all, we are such... good friends, non? You should invite me over one of these days."

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the line as Mack digested the unspoken warning regarding his son.

"...Fine," Mack muttered, his resistance completely breaking under the pressure. "I'll put the word out on the wire. But don't expect miracles."

"That is all I ask. Au revoir, Mikhail. Have a wonderful rest of the day," Luc said pleasantly and ended the call.

Ethan pocketed his phone, left the hotel, and took a leisurely night walk through the city until he reached Felicia’s apartment building. He walked up the stairs and gave a firm knock on the door.

The door swung open, revealing Felicia.

Ethan smiled warmly at her. "Hey, Felicia. It's been a few days. Did you miss me?"

Felicia gave him a look that looked to be done with this. There seemed to also be some gloom mixed in the look, as if to silently signal that things were about to get chaotic. Before she could speak, Peter stepped up behind her, a bright smile on his face as he spotted Ethan.

"Ethan! Hey, man!" Peter greeted him warmly.

"Hey, Peter," Ethan replied with a friendly grin. "It’s really good to see you back on your feet after that whole radiation incident. I'm glad you made a full recovery. Sorry I didn't get the chance to visit you while you were recovering."

Peter waved a dismissive hand, laughing it off. "Oh, don't worry about it at all! Honestly, it was nothing—all I did the entire time was sit around and read until they finally let me out. Well, come in. Do you want something to drink?"