VCM Nick Fury sat in his office, pressing his fingers against his forehead, exhaling a deep sigh of frustration. "I said, how can you two be so damn troublesome!"
The holographic screens on his desk flickered, broadcasting coverage from every major American news network.
The Stark Expo debacle was still a hot topic, with speculation running rampant, further agitating both the public and the government.
Even after two days, the incident refused to die down, no matter how hard officials tried to control the narrative. Fury had finally decided to drag the two responsible into his office.
"What do you mean?" Ethan, slouching in his chair, crossed his arms. "It's not my fault this time. I went in to help, and yeah, I blew some stuff up, but come on, that happens."
Ethan added with a scoff scoffed, adjusting his tie. "And let's not forget—you're the one who called me in, so how is this my fault?"
Fury's eye twitched as he listened to them bicker. He shifted his gaze to Stark, hoping for some accountability. Instead, Tony simply raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, hey! I was the victim here. Vanko and Hammer were the ones pulling the strings."
Tony's voice trailed off as he noticed the unimpressed looks both Fury and Ethan were giving him. He cleared his throat and quickly added, "Alright, fine. Maybe I bear a little—okay, most of the responsibility. But don't go pinning everything on me. I already covered the damages."
That seemed to satisfy Fury and Ethan, at least for now, as they both turned their attention away from Tony, much to his annoyance.
Just as he was about to relax, something caught his eye—a file on Fury's desk labeled Avengers Initiative: Preliminary Report.
"Ooh, what's this?" Tony reached for it.
"Smack!" Fury's hand came down on the document like a judge's gavel. "Not for you. This—" He handed Stark a different file. "—is your personal assessment report. Agent Romanoff compiled it."
Tony flipped the file open and read aloud. "'Subject often acts impulsively'—oh, let me guess, this is about that Monaco race, right?" He glanced up at Fury before continuing. "'Displays self-destructive tendencies'—well, excuse me for almost dying. It messes with a guy's head."
He kept reading, but suddenly paused. His brow furrowed slightly before he muttered, "'Typical narcissist'... Okay, yeah, I can't even argue that one."
Ethan snorted, and Tony shot him a glare before snapping the folder shut. "Fine, whatever. So, about this team recruitment thing—Iron Man is obviously in, right? I'll consider it."
Fury arched a brow. "Where did you get that confidence?" He tapped the file again. "Read further."
Tony hesitated before flipping the page. The next words made his eyes widen. "'Tony Stark: Not recommended.'"
He blinked, then scoffed. "That makes no sense. You wanted me before, but now I'm out? I'm healthy, I fixed things with Pepper—so what's the issue?"
The rejection clearly stung more than he let on. The idea that he wasn't needed irked him to no end.
"It's my decision," Fury stated firmly. "But if you want to contribute as a consultant, I have no problem with that."
Tony's lip curled in distaste. "Pfft. Please. You can't afford me." He straightened his suit, turned on his heel, and strode out of the office with all the grace of someone pretending they weren't completely offended.
Ethan, still lounging in his seat, rolled his eyes. "Yeah, he's definitely still holding a grudge about the explosion."
With Stark gone, the room fell quiet. Ethan tapped his fingers against the armrest, then finally said, "Why did you lie to him?"
Fury glanced at him. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, come on, Fury. Tony is already on your list, isn't he? So why didn't you just tell him?"
Fury leaned back, arms crossed. "You're not wrong." He studied Ethan for a moment before shifting the conversation. "Let me ask you something—do superheroes come first, or do supervillains?"
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "What are you getting at?"
Fury clasped his hands together. "If Iron Man never existed, would Vanko have come after him? If Steve Rogers had never been a symbol, would General Ross have been so obsessed with creating super soldiers? Without heroes, would there even be villains?"
Ethan exhaled sharply, considering the question. "I get what you're saying. Superheroes and supervillains are two sides of the same coin. They're both outside the natural order. A normal society doesn't need supervillains, but it also doesn't necessarily need superheroes."
Fury nodded. "Exactly."
Ethan smirked. "But that's not the real you talking, is it? Nick Fury doesn't hesitate to build something dangerous if it means staying ahead. You're the kind of guy who'd create a nuke even if it might end the world."
Fury chuckled. "And history proves nuclear energy wasn't all bad. It shaped the future. Humanity can't fear new power forever."
"Then why hold back?" Ethan asked, watching him carefully.
"Because timing is everything. The world needs superheroes, but they need the right moment to emerge." Fury's lips curled into a knowing smile. "And the right team."
Ethan tapped a finger on the file in front of him. "So, about this 'Justice Initiative'—why the hell is it called 'Team Justice'? What, you wanna get sued by DC?"
Fury coughed, looking mildly embarrassed. "The name isn't finalized yet."
Ethan raised a brow. "Why not just stick with the last one? Our goal isn't some lofty 'justice' nonsense. It's about protecting humanity."
Fury nodded. "The Avengers."
Ethan stood up, stretching. "You mull that over. I'm heading out."
Just as he turned to leave, Fury's voice stopped him. "Ethan. Did you hear? Hammer's dead."
Hearing this, Ethan paused mid-step. His back remained turned to Fury, but his expression darkened for a brief moment before he turned around.
"How would I know about this? How did he die?" Ethan asked, his voice calm but laced with a hint of intrigue.
He genuinely had no clue—Hammer's death wasn't his doing, nor was it the work of the White Queen. Still, he'd be lying if he said he hadn't suspected something would happen. Hammer was a loose end, and loose ends never stayed tied for long.
"Within twenty-four hours of entering prison, his cellmate killed him," Fury said, watching Ethan carefully. "Right after that, the cellmate committed suicide."
Ethan narrowed his eyes slightly. "With how valuable Hammer was, even S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't keep him safe?"
Fury sighed. "At the time, all our attention was on Ivan Vanko. The New York Police Department picked Hammer up first. By the time we requested custody, we ran into unexpected pushback. Someone was pulling strings behind the scenes. Before we could escalate, we got the news—Hammer was dead."
Ethan crossed his arms. "I see. But why tell me? You're not exactly the sharing type, Fury."
Fury's gaze was sharp. "Because the man who killed him was a hidden mutant."
Ethan scoffed, his tone turning cold. "So someone's trying to frame mutants now?"
"More likely, they used one who wouldn't be missed." Fury leaned back slightly, observing Ethan's reaction. "The mutant wasn't particularly powerful—V2- at best—but his ability was unique. His nails were laced with a fast-acting toxin. The moment he struck, Hammer was as good as dead. Our agents monitoring the situation didn't even have time to react."
Ethan let out a quiet breath and shook his head. "Mutants without affiliations are easy to manipulate and discard. You know that as well as I do."
"Agreed. But Hammer's death isn't the only issue." Fury's expression was grim. "His company had to have left something behind."
"That's unlikely," Ethan replied dryly.
Fury exhaled, rubbing his temple. "It's worse than you think. The Stark Expo incident sent Hammer Enterprises' stock into freefall. The company collapsed almost overnight.
Then, before anyone could investigate, all of its assets mysteriously vanished—including liquid funds and classified research. Someone wiped Hammer Enterprises clean. Even the internal database was erased."
Ethan smirked knowingly. "The military."
Fury didn't argue. He didn't need to. Both of them knew exactly who stood to gain the most from covering this up.
Of course Ethan knew that the White Queen was the one responsible for the vanished assets—after all it was his plan. But, it was no doubt, that she wasn't the only one scavenging from Hammer's downfall. When a company like Hammer Enterprises collapsed, it was never just one hand pulling the strings—it was a feeding frenzy.
Powerful arms dealers didn't thrive without backing. Hammer had been propped up by the military, just as Stark Industries had its ties to S.H.I.E.L.D. The government played both sides, always ensuring it had a stake in the game.
"A man like Justin Hammer doesn't climb to the top on charisma alone. Without talent or a real legacy, he needed the right people behind him," Ethan mused. "And the military was more than happy to play kingmaker."
Fury nodded. "Now that Hammer's out of the picture, his backers are doing everything they can to clean house."
"So you won't find anything. More importantly, you're not even going to try anymore, are you?" Ethan said, his voice almost amused as he studied Fury's expression.
Fury rolled his eyes. "Do you really need to ask?"
S.H.I.E.L.D. and the military were often at odds, but that didn't mean war. Both were still ultimately working for the same government. Pushing too hard would only cause internal fractures neither side could afford.
What Fury didn't realize was that Ethan was deliberately playing with his expectations. S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't care about small players in the grand scheme of things, and as for those lurking in the shadows, they'd either already benefited or decided it was too dangerous to show their faces now.
"This is getting dull," Ethan muttered, waving his hand dismissively before turning to leave. He'd gotten what he wanted—there was no reason to stick around.
"By the way, I heard you've picked up an extra houseguest recently," Fury called out just as Ethan reached the door.
Ethan didn't slow down. "Not just one. There's a maid, and now a girl too. Both mutants. That a problem?" he said over his shoulder before stepping out.
Fury let him go. He already knew exactly who Ethan was referring to—the so-called maid was Deathstrike, Stryker's former personal assassin.
Back then, she had been under mind control, just another victim used by people who feared and hated mutants.
Ethan's words made his stance clear: he was keeping her under his protection. As long as she stayed out of trouble, Fury was willing to let it slide.
S.H.I.E.L.D. had bigger concerns than chasing down former enemies who just wanted to live their lives.
—
When Ethan arrived home later that evening, he was greeted by an unexpected sight: a gleaming red Rolls-Royce Phantom parked right outside.
He arched an eyebrow. "Okay… where did this come from?" he asked, glancing at Katie and Yuriko.
"Someone from Stark Industries dropped it off," Katie explained. "Something about a payment."
Ethan ran a hand over the car's polished surface, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Tony's a man of his word, I'll give him that. Our deal was supposed to be a simple trade, but I guess he felt like sweetening the pot.
Then again, considering what went down that night, I'm just glad he didn't strap me to a rocket and send me to orbit."
He chuckled to himself. "Guess I'm officially a luxury car owner now."
—
The next morning, on the front lawn of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, a sleek red luxury car rolled to a stop, catching the attention of several mutant students nearby.
The driver's door swung open, and a woman in a maid's uniform stepped out.
She moved to the passenger side and opened the door with an air of practiced elegance. "Young master, we've arrived."
Ethan stepped out, adjusting his sunglasses with a grin. "Better. Don't call me master—makes me sound ancient."
Katie shook her head as she exited the car behind him. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Just playing the part for a day," Ethan said with a smirk before turning his attention to the nearby students, who were still staring.
"Greetings," one of them finally stammered out.
"Good morning, President—uh, I mean, good morning, sir!" another student corrected awkwardly.
Ethan chuckled. "This is a nice change of pace." With a satisfied sigh, he walked toward the building, Katie following beside him.
However, as they moved through the corridor, a shadowy figure stepped into their path.
"Ethan, my favorite self-proclaimed student council leader," a smooth voice purred. "Feel like skipping class for a bit of fun?"
Ethan tensed slightly as the figure lifted his hood, revealing a devilish red face.
"Azazel," Ethan said, his expression hardening. "You've got some nerve walking into the school."
The Red Devil smirked. "Why not? It's a school, after all. I figure the professor already knows I'm here. We both understand the little truce between the X-Men and the Brotherhood, don't we?"
Ethan studied him carefully. The Brotherhood always had an angle—but what was Azazel's play this time?