The hum of the café's refrigerator filled the silence after his last line. Felicia's sunglasses caught the faint reflection of Ethan's face—calm, expressionless, and utterly still. Too calm for someone his age, she thought. The kid was good at wearing masks.
The café's low light filtered through venetian blinds, cutting the room into stripes of shadow and amber. Ethan sat in the corner booth, running his finger along the rim of his mug of coffee, letting the sound occupy the gap between them.
Felicia shifted her weight, sharp-eyed and predatory, poised to flee or strike. She'd spent her life reading tells; his composure made her itch.
For a long moment, neither spoke. They looked like reflections—predator and tactician, each waiting for the other to blink.
Finally, Felicia broke the silence. She leaned back into her chair, exhaling softly. "You said we could help each other and that I need something from you. That's cute. What could you possibly do for me, kid?"
Ethan's tone was even, deliberate. "As I am sure you've seen, I have everything in place for myself—safehouses, supply lines, new identities. All off-grid. All secure. Including escape routes for situations worse than this one. I could easily offer you the same."
She scanned his face. "So you think I want in? Quite bold of you to make such an assumption."
He gave a small, precise smile. "It's not an assumption, Mrs. Hardy. You're one of the best thieves in the business, but even you must've had a job where you were cornered and had to hide out for weeks on end, living in a squalid. At those times, you must have wished for a clean identity—no digital trail, no burning bridges. I'm offering that kind of insurance. Really, what I'm offering is to have me on your side so you my access to my skills as needed."
Felicia's laugh was low and humorless. "I don't do charity, and I'm sure you don't either."
"Yes, that's right," Ethan replied. "I do not do charities either. This isn't generosity—it's a business deal."
Her eyes narrowed; every instinct screamed trap. She leaned forward, arms crossing. "Explain. I'll decide if it's a deal worth accepting after hearing you out."
Ethan steepled his fingers. "I'm sure you've fallen through darker cracks than most. You can plan for the unseen, assume the worst, and survive it. But even the best get caught off guard, and we or those around us suffer for it." He reached into his coat and slid a slim, dark card across the table. "This is a dead-man comms switch. Offline encryption, satellite fallback, full access-revocation protocol. If you ever vanish, I'll know—and I can make plans to extract you."
Felicia didn't touch it. Her stare could have cut glass. "Show me it works."
He met her gaze without flinching. "Before demonstrations, we should discuss terms."
Her mouth curved, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "Go ahead."
Ethan spoke with measured precision. "First condition: if I call for aid—mid-operation, emergency—you come. No hesitation. No questions."
Felicia tapped a finger against the tabletop, considering. "That's a tall order."
"It is," he agreed evenly. "Second: if you call, I'll answer. Mutual obligation. Predictability makes for stronger alliances."
She raised an eyebrow. "So… equality."
"Reciprocity," he corrected. "It's easier to maintain."
The silence between them hummed, the air thick with calculation. Finally, Felicia folded her arms. "That still doesn't tell me what you want from me."
Ethan inhaled slowly, then said it as if it were a simple business term. "A fragment of the Venom symbiote. A small, clean sample."
Her composure slipped, if only slightly. "You're insane."
"Maybe. I hate doctors, so I've never been seen if I am."
"Why Venom?" she demanded. "Why that thing?"
"Because while I'm smart," he said, "recent events have shown me, I'm also defenseless. So as a result, I'm researching potential ways to enhance my survivability should something similar occur again." His tone hardened. "I'm the reason Amy developed powers. That was one experiment I didn't even know would work—but in that desperate situation, she asked for it. I wanted to use myself, but she begged me to give her power. I soon discarded that field of study."
Felicia's expression shifted to amusement mixed with disgust. "So you're experimenting on people now? Testing weapons you wouldn't use on yourself first, right?"
Ethan didn't flinch. "Like I said, Amy volunteered. I don't test on anyone unaware. I would rather test on myself before using an innocent girl who is my friend. But the incident before and Amy's pleading forced my hand."
At this point, he was actually glad that the original Ethan had been so close to Amy before. He could use the friendship card at moments like these. Besides, he figured eventually Black Cat and Spider-Man would want to get Amy's story; it would be better to volunteer this information himself with a few tweaks to color himself in a better light. He could have lied or tried to find out what Amy said, but regardless, those weren't options at this moment.
She rolled the card between her fingers, eyes sharp as scalpels. " Forced your hand? You've got nerve, I'll give you that. But let's cut the business-school talk. You're asking me to steal from the nightmare that ripped me apart once already. You realize that, right?"
"I'm not asking you to fight him," Ethan said. "I'm sure he gets into many fights and pieces are cut ot shot off. So I'm just asking you to collect what he sheds. You've been closer to him than anyone alive—you'd know how to do it without alerting him."
Felicia's jaw tightened. "Seems like you know more than I thought. You've read up on my history with Venom, huh? It seems you already understand its biology. Let me guess—a splinter of it lives on, sealed in some lab fridge?"
"A detached fragment can survive alone if frozen or stored properly," he said. "There are brief windows during separation where it can be taken safely."
Felicia's laugh was sharp, bitter. "You're asking me to dance with a monster who still stalks my nightmares—and you want a piece of it for research?"
Ethan's gaze didn't waver. "For leverage. Even if I can gain nothing from this, at the very least, I will understand the creature better. You, of all people, should understand the value of holding a wild card."
Her voice turned whip-thin. "Leverage cuts both ways, kid. What if I say no? You planning to blackmail me next?"
He shook his head. "I don't burn bridges unless I'm standing on one being shot at, if you get the implication. You know your game better than I ever will. I'm offering you a safer way to play it for both of us. If this works, any benefit I gain will be available to my future partners, of course. So will you count yourself among them?"
Felicia drummed her nails against the table. Her expression stayed unreadable, but Ethan could see the calculation in her eyes—distrust wrestling curiosity.
"I'm not saying yes," she said finally.
"I didn't expect you to so soon," Ethan said smoothly. "I just needed you to consider the math."
A quiet beat passed.
Then Felicia exhaled, her tone softer, almost nostalgic. "You remind me of someone I used to know—always three moves ahead, hiding behind a mask made of intellect and half-smiles. You've got his arrogance, too."
Ethan tilted his head. "Spider-Man? Or Peter?"
Her face froze for half a heartbeat. He saw it; he always saw it.
"I know quite a lot of secrets," he said quietly. "Yours. His. Yours with his. It's complicated, right? I'm not trying to pull you back in—I'm offering a contingency for when you get dragged back, whether you want to or not."
Felicia looked down at the card, the smirk returning—but faintly, almost weary. "You're a scary little bastard, Ethan."
He smiled without warmth. "And you're even scarier, Ms. Hardy."
She stood, tucking the card into her coat. "I truly doubt that. You'll get your sample—if I find the chance, and if it doesn't cost me more than I'm willing to pay."
"More than fair, I say," he said.
"But the second I think you're turning me into your errand girl—"
"You'll make me pay or disappear," Ethan finished. "I know."
Felicia grinned, sharp and satisfied. "Good. Then we understand each other."
She paused at the doorway, back to him. "One more thing," she said. "If that symbiote ever makes you into another monster, I'll be the first one hunting you."
Ethan's voice was calm. "Then I'd better be careful."
Her smile turned razor-thin. "Smart boy."
And she was gone, leaving behind only the scent of coffee and cold perfume.
Ethan exhaled slowly and drank the rest of his cold coffee in one long pull. He left cash for both cups, stood, and walked out into the afternoon glare.
The deal was done partly, but the board had only just been set.