"Mrs. Gao, it's really not easy to find you."
The sultry, mature voice of a woman filled the dimly lit room.
Madam Gao, hidden in a building deep in Chinatown, turned to face the woman who had entered. Dressed in a sleek black combat uniform that clung to her curvaceous figure, the woman exuded danger—like a deadly black widow.
"As charming as she is dangerous," Madam Gao thought, her eyes narrowing. "Are you also here about the Ice Demon?" she asked, maintaining her composure.
Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, stood just a few meters away, her expression unreadable. "Who is he?" she demanded, her tone sharp but calm.
"I don't know," Madam Gao replied evenly.
"And what do you know? Why has he targeted your triad?" Natasha pressed, her patience thinning.
Madam Gao held her ground. "He came to me with a photo of two men—his enemies, I assume. They are where you should start." She tossed a file to Natasha, who caught it with ease.
"I'm done with this. Tomorrow, I'll be leaving for my homeland," Madam Gao said coldly, turning her back on the Black Widow.
Natasha glanced briefly at the file before tucking it under her arm. "Looks like I'll be working late tonight," she muttered. She could already picture herself tapping into Tony Stark's AI to track the so-called Ice Demon. It baffled her that someone would cause such chaos over a couple of low-level thugs.
"But Hell's Kitchen is his domain. Daredevil might know something," Natasha mused. Her phone buzzed, interrupting her thoughts. She glanced at the screen and sighed.
If Tony Stark weren't such a high-priority assignment, she wouldn't be wasting time playing babysitter to the billionaire playboy. "I'll let Barton handle this one," she decided. There were bigger issues brewing within Stark Industries, and with Obadiah Stane's recent coup attempt, Tony's life had never been more at risk.
Meanwhile, Ethan Hayes sat comfortably, going over his latest contract. Real estate agent Julia stood beside him, her smile playful and seductive.
"Mr. Hayes, if you need anything else, just call," Julia whispered in his ear, kissing him lightly on the cheek before departing.
Ethan watched her go, but his mind quickly returned to more pressing matters. He drove his Lincoln Navigator to an abandoned factory on the outskirts of New York. Inside, a van covered in thick ice waited for him. With a thought, he summoned his freezing powers, shattering the ice that encased the vehicle.
Pulling out the bags of cash he had stashed, Ethan loaded them into his SUV. "Thirty million in dirty money," he murmured. "Can't let this go to waste."
The van, however, was a problem. It bore too many traces of his involvement. Ethan's fingers twitched, summoning water from the air around him. The water swirled into eight serpentine shapes, forming dragons that coiled around the van.
"Ice Dragon Choke," he whispered, watching as the water dragons solidified into ice, constricting the van like a giant vise. The extreme cold warped the metal, breaking it down at an atomic level until the vehicle crumbled into nothing but ice dust.
With a satisfied grin, Ethan unfurled the dragons, turning them back to water and flushing the remnants of the van into the sewer system. "The combination of the frozen fruit and water magic is stronger than I imagined," he mused. His powers were evolving, growing more refined and lethal with each passing day.
Ethan returned to the manor later that night, dumping the money into the basement. The stacks of cash shimmered in the dim light, exuding an intoxicating allure. But he knew he couldn't use it—at least not yet. It was too risky to circulate that much blood money without drawing attention.
Back at his apartment, Ethan sensed movement from the next window. Using his water control magic, he detected Gwen Stacy's presence, her heartbeat steady as she lay in bed. She had returned from another night of crime-fighting as the Ghost Spider.
Ethan chuckled. "Gwen, you've probably mastered your webs by now," he thought. "I wonder if you're using Osborn's web fluid or making your own."
His thoughts were interrupted by a beep from his phone. The message was from Jessica Jones: "I'm at Blue Moon in Hell's Kitchen."
Ethan perked up, his exhaustion vanishing. Jessica had questions, no doubt. She was likely suspicious of him by now. But that was fine—he had answers, just not all of them. He'd head to Hell's Kitchen, but not until Gwen was fast asleep. For now, he focused on her steady breathing, ensuring that her blood flow had stabilized before quietly slipping out of the apartment.
Hell's Kitchen was as desolate as ever, the streets lined with whispers of the Ice Demon. His legend grew with each passing day, filling the neighborhood with fear—and earning Ethan a steady stream of desire points.
Arriving at the Blue Moon Bar, Ethan spotted Jessica nursing a drink at the counter. She was ignoring the advances of several men, her sharp eyes warning them off.
"A whiskey, please," Ethan ordered as he took the seat next to her.
Without looking at him, Jessica spoke. "Word's out that I've been asking about your enemies."
Ethan took a sip of his drink, unfazed. "Let's not talk about the past tonight," he replied coolly.
Jessica's eyes narrowed as she studied him. The man sitting beside her was a stranger now—someone she didn't fully understand.
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