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"Mr. Callister, let's skip the pleasantries and get to the point."
Ethan's voice was level. Business-like. The voice of a man who'd flown across an ocean and wasn't interested in small talk.
"The Aurelian Republic wants the two technologies I possess. Fine. You just need to meet two conditions."
Callister smiled. The smile of a man who believed he was in total control of the conversation.
"Mr. Mercer, I think there's been a misunderstanding. The Aurelian Republic is a nation built on freedom and equality. We would never covet another person's technology."
"However, since you have requests, please — as a friend, I'm happy to help however I can."
The word "friend" did approximately zero work in the room. Every person watching the live broadcast, and every agent standing against the walls, understood that the word meant its opposite.
"First condition." Ethan held up one finger. "I need to see my uncle. I need to confirm, with my own eyes, that he's safe and unharmed."
"And he needs to be escorted back to Valoria immediately."
Callister didn't hesitate. He'd expected this.
The truth was, from the moment Ethan had stepped out of the armor and onto the rooftop, Frank Holloway's utility as a hostage had evaporated. The bait had served its purpose. The target had walked into the building voluntarily. Holding the uncle any longer risked nothing but bad optics on a global broadcast.
"Of course. Mr. Holloway has been under our protection during his stay. As his friend, ensuring his safe return to Valoria is my absolute responsibility."
The hypocrisy was so polished it could have been used as a mirror.
Within minutes, Frank Holloway was brought into the conference room.
Frank looked older than when Ethan had last seen him. The lines around his eyes were deeper, cut by weeks of stress and captivity. He'd lost weight. His clothes were clean — the Aurelian Republic had at least managed the optics of treating their "guest" presentably — but the way he held himself told a different story. Rigid. Wary. The posture of a former soldier who'd been surrounded by enemies and hadn't dropped his guard once.
The moment he saw Ethan sitting at the conference table, two emotions crossed his face in rapid succession.
The first was fury.
The kind of fury that comes from watching someone you love do the exact thing you were terrified they'd do. Frank had known. The moment the Aurelian agents had put the bag over his head in Graystone Province, he'd known that Ethan would come. That the kid would fly across an ocean alone, walk into a trap, and hand himself over to the people who'd taken his uncle, because that was who Ethan Mercer was. He didn't compromise. He didn't negotiate through proxies. And he didn't leave family behind.
Frank had spent every day of his captivity dreading exactly this moment.
The second emotion was pride. The specific, painful pride of a man watching his son become exactly the person he'd hoped he'd become, in a situation where that was the worst possible outcome.
Ethan saw Frank's expression and instinctively hunched his shoulders.
"Uncle Frank, don't get violent."
He pointed at the Signal Bee hovering near the ceiling.
"You know what that thing does. The entire country is watching."
Frank looked up at the drone. Took a breath so deep it seemed to start in his feet. Let it out.
When he spoke, his voice was controlled. Quiet. The voice of a man communicating something to the only person in the room who would understand it.
"Are you sure about this?"
Three words. On the surface, a nonsensical question. Callister frowned. The agents looked confused. In the live broadcast, viewers tilted their heads.
But Ethan understood perfectly.
Frank wasn't asking if Ethan was sure about coming to the Aurelian Republic. He wasn't asking if Ethan was sure about the negotiation or the conditions or the risks.
He was asking: Do you have a plan? A real one. Something these people don't see. Something that means you're not just throwing your life away.
"I am. Go back without worry."
The words were simple. The voice was quiet. But underneath, in the register that only thirteen years of shared life could decode, was the answer Frank needed:
Yes. I have a plan. Trust me.
Frank looked at his nephew. Held the gaze for three full seconds.
"Fine. Then I'll go back and wait for you."
He turned and walked out of the conference room without looking back.
Callister's expression darkened.
The exchange had been brief. Cryptic. And entirely opaque. He didn't like things he couldn't decode, particularly when they involved the person he was trying to manipulate.
But the hostage was leaving. The target was staying. The math still worked.
"Mr. Mercer, your uncle is on his way to the private jet. He'll be airborne within the hour."
"Now, I'm curious about your second condition."
"Not yet." Ethan leaned back in his chair. "We'll discuss the second condition once my uncle has safely landed in Valoria."
"That's a few hours of waiting, Mr. Callister. I hope you don't mind."
Callister considered pushing. Decided against it. A few hours was nothing compared to what he stood to gain. And the delay served another purpose: it demonstrated the Aurelian Republic's patience and goodwill on global television.
"Of course. Your caution is understandable."
He settled into his own chair and, apparently deciding that the wait could be put to use, resumed the performance of casual conversation.
"Mr. Mercer, since your verification meeting, you've been rather quiet publicly. What have you been working on?"
"I know you spent time in that biochemical laboratory. I'm curious what drew you there."
Ethan smiled faintly. The smile of someone who'd been waiting for this question.
"Biology, actually. I've been developing a serum designed to enhance human physical capabilities."
Callister blinked.
He'd heard about this. His intelligence assets in Valoria had reported Ethan's social media announcement weeks ago. At the time, Callister had filed it under "teenage bravado" and moved on.
Everyone, including Callister, had assumed that when the Bureau whisked Ethan away to a secret location, the kid was working on physics. The reactor. The armor. Something in his wheelhouse.
The idea that Ethan had actually spent a month doing biology research was... unexpected.
Has the Valorian government lost its mind? Letting a physics prodigy waste time on biochemistry?
In the live broadcast, the audience groaned.
"He's actually admitting it on international television? The biology thing?"
"Making us lose face worldwide."
"Famous too young. Lost his head."
Callister, recovering from his surprise, offered a diplomatic response.
"Ah, Mr. Mercer, I might suggest focusing on your strengths. Physics is clearly where your talent lies."
"Biology is... a very different field."
The condescension was gentle but unmistakable. And behind it, Callister felt his confidence in the negotiation settle into something closer to certainty.
This kid wasn't a seasoned operative. He wasn't a political veteran. He was a teenager who'd wandered into biology because someone on the internet made fun of his test scores, and he'd been too proud to let it go.
Brilliant in one narrow field. Childish in everything else.
Callister had broken harder people. Smarter people. People who didn't voluntarily reveal their insecurities to the person sitting across the table.
This was going to be simple.
Ethan, watching Callister's expression settle into complacent certainty, felt a familiar warmth in his chest.
The same warmth he'd felt when the reporters at the verification meeting had called the armor "a useless robot."
The same warmth he'd felt when the anti-fans had said he couldn't do biology.
The warmth of being underestimated by someone who was about to learn, in the most public way possible, that they were wrong.
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
"Wake me when my uncle lands."
For the next several hours, the conference room was silent.
Just as Ethan was about to drift off, a phone rang.