After staring silently at Ethan for a few seconds, Fury turned to Wanda. "Let's talk, Wanda. Do you have any business with me?"
"You brought Pietro here—why not get his wounds treated first?"
"Let's get one thing straight. Do you intend to do anything to Pietro?" Wanda asked, her expression unreadable as she faced Fury.
Fury chuckled dryly, pressing his cigar beneath the table. A light blue holographic map appeared, displaying the world. On it, countless red dots spread outward from New York State, which was slowly darkening. Surrounding states were also turning black as the infection spread.
"Honestly, if this had been half a day ago, I might have considered it. And I believe Pietro would understand my reasoning," Fury admitted. "But you can see now, the virus is completely out of control. Early containment won't solve this. Don't worry—I have no plans to harm him."
"Take Pietro to the infirmary. Look at the blood on his leg."
He gestured for Wanda to leave, signaling that the Scarlet Witch could go. But Wanda remained seated, glancing at Ethan as if looking for confirmation before turning her gaze back to Fury with a hard expression.
Fury owed Ethan a debt of gratitude, but he was notorious for manipulating people to suit his ends. He knew he couldn't afford to take advantage of Ethan.
Fury observed Wanda, Wong, and Ethan in silence, as if weighing his options, before sighing. Exhaustion and a hint of despair tinged his voice as he lit another cigar.
"If I had wanted to harm Mr. Ethan, I could have done it back on the Quinjet. Someone will be joining us soon, and you can rest assured of his safety."
Before Ethan could respond, Wanda looked up at Fury, suspicion evident in her eyes.
"Who's joining us? Why wasn't I informed? I'm an Avenger too," she protested.
"Thor and Iron Man. Thor's on his way in a Quinjet, and Stark is already on board. He'll be here shortly. You can wait for them if you're still concerned."
Wanda glanced at Pietro, who was twitching slightly in pain, her expression softening as worry filled her gaze. Then, she looked back to Ethan, curious.
Ethan considered it. While Thor and Tony Stark might be blunt and carefree, their sense of honor was far stronger than the spymaster in front of them. Besides, Wanda couldn't keep using her powers to hold back Pietro's bleeding indefinitely, and Wong was too decent to let anyone else bully Pietro.
Making his decision, Ethan said, "Pietro has suffered enough. Take him to be treated right away."
Wanda gave him a grateful look before gently lifting Pietro with her telekinesis and leaving.
"Wong, you should go too. Your arm needs medical attention," Ethan added.
Wong nodded in respect to Ethan before exiting to follow Wanda and Pietro.
The heavy metal door automatically shut, and with it, the room's temperature seemed to drop. The lighting dimmed slightly, and Ethan turned back to face Fury.
Fury, with his one good eye, studied Ethan—the seemingly ordinary young man who appeared to have no superpowers.
The two silently waited for the other to speak, locked in a quiet standoff. Eventually, as Fury's cigar burned a bit lower, he broke the silence.
"First of all, as Director of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, I'd like to thank you for your heroic efforts. Your actions helped slow the virus' spread and gave us valuable time to respond."
Although Fury expressed gratitude, his tone was flat, almost as if he were reading from a list of ingredients on a shampoo bottle.
"However," he continued, "I'm curious: how did you come up with the idea to contain Quicksilver to slow the virus' spread?"
"And based on our surveillance comparison, it looks like you neutralized Quicksilver almost the exact moment that the Captian and others were infected. That timing is…impeccable."
Fury's voice held a hint of scrutiny, though his expression remained as indifferent as ever.
Ethan suddenly let out a deep sigh, catching Fury off guard as the cigar in Fury's hand wavered slightly.
There seemed to be tears glistening at the corners of Ethan's eyes as he spoke in a soft, trembling voice. "When I was a kid, my family and I went to see a wonderful show at the theater. Afterward, we took a shortcut down an alley."
"Halfway through, a thug appeared, intent on robbing us. My parents were brutally shot down. I still remember my mother's pearl necklace scattering on the ground, the sound echoing in the quiet night."
"As I felt my mother's warmth fading from her hand, I looked up and saw a group of bats flying across the sky. In that moment, a mysterious power awoke within me, and I gained the ability of prophecy."
With tears in his eyes, Ethan looked up at the ceiling, as if he could still see his parents waving to him from beyond.
Moved by this tragic backstory, Fury nodded in sympathy and asked, "And, Mr. Ethan, what was your father's name?"
Ethan hesitated for a moment before answering, "Thomas Wayne."
Fury raised an eyebrow. "Then your mother's maiden name must have been Ethan?"
Ethan nodded, "Her name was Martha Wayne, maiden name Kane."
The cigar in Fury's hand trembled, and ashes fell outside the ashtray. "So your father's last name was Wayne, your mother's was Kane, and yet your last name is Ethan?"
Ethan sighed softly and waved his hand dismissively. "Hey, what can I say? They didn't know my last name. I couldn't very well make them change theirs to match."
"You're too young to understand. When you get to be my age, you'll get it."
Fury suddenly felt the urge to hit someone with an ashtray.
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