"Parker Street? That's a great place!" Jessica Jones' eyes brightened slightly.
The NYPD headquarters were just down the street, and opposite was New York City Hall, arguably one of the safest places in Manhattan. In contrast, Hell's Kitchen was a mix of heaven and hell.
"I've moved out of Hell's Kitchen, but without your protection, I had to find a safe apartment," Ethan Hayes said, smiling. "I hired a broker, and I finally found a high-end apartment yesterday."
He paused, thinking, "By the way, my neighbor seems to be a police officer."
"Looks like you've got yourself another good neighbor," Jessica Jones laughed.
"I'm lucky," Ethan replied with a grin.
"Good night, Ethan."
"Good night, Jessica."
Monday
In the classroom, Ethan was far from focused on the teacher's lessons. Instead, his attention was on the stock market and Stark Industries.
There was no price limit for stocks in the U.S. market, and after Tony Stark's return, Stark Industries had opened the week with a sharp drop. In just one hour, the stock had plummeted by 40% as institutions and investors dumped their shares.
Ethan knew that this wasn't the last of the decline. Obadiah Stane would likely manipulate the news to drive the stock down further, buying up shares to eventually push Tony Stark out of the company. Ethan was well aware that Tony had solved the problem of cold fusion—a technology worth trillions.
In the real world, cold fusion was considered a scientific hoax, but this was the Marvel universe, where magic, supernatural powers, and even gods existed. Scientific ideas could be brought to life here.
"In the next ten or twenty years, Stark Industries' shares will be worth far more than they are now. Weapons are nothing compared to energy and artificial intelligence," Ethan thought as he put his phone away. He had sold the stock at $12 per share, and his target was to buy it back below $6.
The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves into the school cafeteria. Ethan sat quietly at the dining table, eating the bland food provided by the school. Around him, students grouped together in threes and fours, chatting about recent events in New York.
Suddenly, a tall shadow blocked the sunlight.
Ethan paused, looking up. He never caused trouble, but that didn't mean trouble wouldn't find him. In a school filled with rich kids, being Chinese and a studious student didn't make him popular. On top of that, he kept a low profile, which made him a target for bullying.
"Hi, Fleischer," Ethan greeted the boy in front of him.
Fleischer, with his arrogant demeanor, smirked. "Ethan, did you hear? Zhao Meng is dead."
Ethan froze for a moment. Zhao Meng, a senior he once looked up to, had already graduated. He hadn't expected to hear that he was dead.
Back when Ethan first met Zhao Meng, it had been to avoid being bullied. In exchange for $100 a month and help with homework, Zhao had protected him. Zhao's father was involved with the Chinatown Triad.
"Yeah…" A trace of sadness flickered in Ethan's eyes. Zhao had been loyal, and with him around, people like Fleischer had stayed away.
Ethan lowered his head and continued eating.
Bang!
Fleischer knocked Ethan's plate to the floor. "You yellow monkey, who told you to eat at the table? Get down and eat off the ground like you're supposed to. Don't waste that food—mashed potatoes and pork knuckle don't come for free."
Ethan sat quietly, unmoved. But a large hand grabbed his neck, forcing him down.
"You filthy monkey, lick it up off the floor," Fleischer growled.
His accomplices stood by, arms crossed, laughing.
Ethan's mind flashed to the Spider-Man movie where a similar scene unfolded with a chubby kid being bullied. Now, that scene was happening to him.
Click.
The faint sound of a camera made Ethan look up. Peter Parker?
"Fleischer, let him go! You shouldn't be bullying your classmates," Peter called out.
"Peter, you better stop taking pictures, or I'll beat you up too," Fleischer warned.
Ethan tensed, but his body wasn't forced all the way down. He glanced around, but none of the other students intervened. They just stood by, watching, waiting to see what would happen. Ethan sneered inwardly—at least now he could see people's true faces.
"Fleischer, that's enough! Let him go," Gwen Stacy suddenly appeared, pushing through the crowd.
"I'm not going to say yes to your prom invitation, and seeing you act like this makes me sick," Gwen said firmly.
Fleischer, clearly frustrated, pushed Ethan hard one last time before retreating with his group of lackeys.
"Are you okay?" Gwen asked, her expression full of concern.
"I'm just thinking about how I'll be hungry in the afternoon now that my food's wasted," Ethan replied calmly.
"Hey, don't take it too hard. But you should stand up for yourself next time," Gwen said, giving him a playful wink.
"Thanks, Gwen," Ethan said with a slight smile.
"You're welcome, Ethan. If you really want to thank me, then get second place in the next exam!" Gwen laughed.
"Okay, Miss Gwen. Second in the class it is."
"Huh?" Gwen widened her eyes in mock surprise as Ethan put his hands in his pockets and walked toward the bathroom.
He knew Fleischer and his gang liked to hang out and smoke in there.
As he approached the door, Ethan cleared his throat. "Ahem."
His presence caught the attention of Fleischer and his group.
"I'll give you both hands," Ethan said, tilting his head with a smirk.
"Damn yellow monkey," Fleischer snarled.
Ethan's stance shifted, and in a flash, he moved with the fluid motions of Phantom Fist, taking down Fleischer and his group one by one.
Fleischer, groaning in pain, looked up at Ethan in fear.
"Fleischer, what did you call me just now?" Ethan asked coldly, grabbing Fleischer by the hair and pulling him up.
"Awwhhh!" Fleischer yelled.
"What did you tell me to do? Eat off the floor?"
Ethan pressed Fleischer's head into the toilet, ignoring his screams. Gurgle, gurgle…