The sun was setting over New York, painting the sky orange and violet—but the twilight glow could not warm the tense atmosphere pervading Fifth Avenue. Emergency sirens had only just begun to shred the silence left in the wake of the Chitauri's departure. The Avengers stood around Ethan, forming a curious alliance of mistrust, respect, and a hint of awe.
Tony Stark—always the first to break the ice, even when it was cosmic—gestured toward his tower.
"Alright, friend, now that the show's over and the aliens are… uh… disintegrated, let's head somewhere more comfortable. Stark Tower—our HQ. We've got showers, food, and, most importantly, questions. Lots of questions."
Ethan's deep-blue eyes betrayed no emotion.
"I don't intend to answer all your questions. My reasons for staying are clear."
Captain America, ever practical, stepped in.
"We understand you have your own motivations, Ethan. But for this alliance to work, there must be a baseline of trust—and trust starts with transparency."
"Transparency is a luxury few can afford, Captain," Ethan replied flatly.
"Especially after what I've been through."
Bruce Banner, hands in his ripped pants pockets, approached timidly.
"I… I understand that you don't want to reveal everything. But your powers… they're unlike anything we've seen. Even a superficial study might…"
"Do not study me, Dr. Banner," Ethan cut in, fixing his gaze on the scientist.
"You wouldn't understand. And you wouldn't want to become what I've become."
Tony intervened, feeling tension rise.
"Easy now. We just saved the world—we're not here to argue over intel sheets. Ethan, come with me. We'll get you settled." He turned to the others: "Cap, Natasha, Clint—you handle civilians and damage. Thor, make sure Loki's custody by S.H.I.E.L.D. Bruce, you're coming with us. We might need a brain to understand what just happened."
As Tony flew off, Ethan followed—not flying, but moving with such graceful fluidity that the air seemed to carry him. He was suddenly at Tony's side, effortless and silent.
Inside Stark Tower—still partially damaged—activity buzzed. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents hustled, cleanup crews assessed the wreckage.
"Welcome home—well, our version of home," Tony quipped, landing on an internal platform. "JARVIS, open access to the penthouse. And brew us real coffee. The good kind."
"Certainly, sir," responded JARVIS.
In the private elevator, Tony faced Ethan.
"So—Ethan. No last name? No hero alias? Just Ethan?"
"My name is Ethan Vance," he replied, the mention of his surname causing a slight tightening of his jaw.
"As for an alias—I don't need one. I am not a hero."
Bruce, now by their side, nodded.
"Vance… that's a known name in business circles. Richard and Eleanor Vance…" He paused, recalling the birth date listed in Ethan's file (if indeed there was one) and the disappearance of young Ethan decades ago. A spark of recognition lit his eyes.
Ethan noticed.
"Do not jump to conclusions, Dr. Banner. My past is not your concern."
"I draw no conclusions," Bruce said gently. "Just observations."
The penthouse opened onto a vast, elegant space, floor‑to‑ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city. Despite the chaos outside, it felt calm.
"Make yourself comfortable," Tony said, pointing to a leather couch. "I'll show you your room afterward. Not the Ritz, but it'll do."
Ethan stayed standing, hands clasped behind his back, scanning the apartment with such intensity it made Tony slightly uneasy.
Tony poured himself a drink.
"So—Ethan Vance. Master of your own reality. Sounds… grandiose. What can you control? The weather? Stocks? Lasagna cooking times?"
"I control creation, life, death, time, space, gravity, elemental and magical forces, and the void itself," Ethan recited in a monotone, almost as if reading a list.
"I wield infinite energy and infinite vitality."
Tony nearly choked.
"Wow. Okay. That's… a lot. Really, really a lot. And you did all this… where? In your secret dimension?"
"Yes," Ethan answered. "I spent decades building it, perfecting it—a world of beauty and peace." A shadow of melancholy flickered in his gaze.
Bruce stepped closer, fascinated.
"Decades? But… you look twenty-ish. Time flows differently in your dimension?"
"Time is an illusion I bend at will, Dr. Banner," Ethan explained. "I chose to keep this appearance."
"Fascinating," Bruce whispered, pulling out a small notebook. "And this infinite energy… is it some source we could…"
"No," Ethan cut in. "It's not a resource to be tapped. It is my essence."
Tony raised his hands.
"Okay, okay—no dissection. I get it. But why us? Why now? You could've let Loki and his buddies throw Earth on the barbecue."
Ethan turned toward Tony.
"I have watched this world for a long time. I have seen the threats growing. And I have seen your potential. You are… different. You are not manipulators. You are not tormentors." The bitterness in that last phrase wasn't hidden.
"Tormentors?" Tony echoed. Sensing a darker history beneath the cold sheen.
"Sounds like you had a rough childhood, kid."
Ethan didn't answer. His gaze drifted into emptiness, replaying memories of childhood cruelty, insults, abandonment. The scar ran deep and painful.
"Well, I'm not going to force you to talk," Tony said more seriously. "But know that if you need anything, we're here. Well… except hugs. I'm not big on hugs."
Ethan looked at him—and, for the first time, a trace of what might be amusement flickered in his eyes.
"I expect nothing from you."
"That's kind of the problem," Tony replied. "Everyone expects something from someone. Even if it's just some peace."