Chapter 27: This Is Hell's Kitchen
Inside the restaurant, barely five minutes had passed. For Caine and the others, it had been a stroll — not even a warmup.
Strictly speaking, only Caine had done anything. John Wick, Marcus, and Wade hadn't needed to lift a finger. They'd just watched.
But for Coulson and Natasha, those five minutes had been an eternity.
Only minutes ago, Coulson had been lecturing Ethan about S.H.I.E.L.D.'s omnipotence, confident that resistance was futile. Now he and Natasha were pinned face-down on a table by a force they couldn't see, couldn't fight, and couldn't explain.
They'd heard the gunfire erupt outside and assumed Ethan's people would be cut down in seconds. Coulson had been mentally debating whether to let Ethan live once the tactical team breached the door.
Then the shooting stopped.
Coulson's eyes flicked to Natasha. She looked equally lost.
He tried to turn his head toward the entrance. The gravity held him fast.
Shit.
Still, neither of them believed that a blind man and a few assassins could have beaten Hawkeye and a full S.H.I.E.L.D. tactical squad.
The restaurant door opened. Footsteps. Caine's measured stride, heading toward the kitchen.
"Barton — is that you?" Coulson's voice was muffled against the table. "I knew they couldn't handle us. I don't know what kind of ability or magic they used, but Romanoff and I are pinned. Get us out."
"The kitchen," Natasha added sharply. "Cross is in there. He's enhanced. Be careful, Barton."
Top-tier operative to the last — even face-down, she was still issuing tactical guidance.
Caine's warm chuckle came from right beside them. "Sorry to disappoint. I'm not Barton."
He paused next to Coulson. "By the way — who is Barton? One of the agents outside? A friend of yours?" He sounded genuinely curious. "Whoever he is, he's in the same position you are. Except you two got the table. Everyone outside is on the pavement."
"Impossible." Coulson's voice cracked. "What did you do to them? If you've killed federal agents, Hell's Kitchen will—"
Caine didn't answer. He walked into the kitchen.
Coulson raged into the tabletop. Natasha, by contrast, was remarkably composed.
"I think we've been taken prisoner," she said, almost amused. "Hell's Kitchen really is full of surprises."
A beat. "Relax. He doesn't seem to want us dead. He's probably trying to avoid provoking the government. This is a warning, not an execution."
She'd read Ethan correctly. He wasn't going to kill S.H.I.E.L.D. agents on his doorstep — he just wanted to make a point. But the power on display was staggering. If one of Ethan's subordinates could do this, what could Ethan himself do?
Natasha was quietly arriving at a conclusion: S.H.I.E.L.D., as currently constituted, could not touch Ethan Cross.
The kitchen door swung open. Ethan emerged in a white apron, a dragon-handled cleaver in one hand. He pulled up a chair and sat.
"Caine."
Caine understood. The gravity vanished.
Coulson and Natasha felt the invisible hand lift. They pushed themselves up slowly, unsure, palms flat on the table.
The moment Natasha confirmed she could move, she drew her sidearm and leveled it at Ethan and Caine in one fluid motion.
Coulson did the same, pointing his weapon with shaking hands. "Assaulting federal officers! Obstruction of justice! You have no idea—"
Ethan wasn't impressed. He pointed at a security camera in the corner of the ceiling. "We didn't touch you. You two decided to bow to us spontaneously. Check the footage."
He set the cleaver on the table. "I suggest you go outside and take a look around. Then come back and try speaking to me again — with better manners this time."
Coulson and Natasha exchanged a glance. Coulson turned and rushed out the door.
Natasha backed away slowly, gun still trained on Ethan, covering her retreat. He didn't stop her. He wasn't worried about them running.
Coulson burst through the front door and froze.
Agents everywhere — all face-down on the pavement, unmoving. For a horrible moment, he thought they were dead.
He knelt beside the nearest one. The agent's eyes were tracking. Breathing, steady. Alive.
Coulson exhaled. They were all alive. Just... immobilized.
Losing this many agents in a single engagement would have been a career-ending disaster — the paperwork alone would bury him.
He also noticed the audience. Hell's Kitchen residents lined the sidewalks and leaned out of windows, watching the scene with undisguised amusement. Armed federal agents, face-down in the gutter, and nobody calling 911.
Coulson understood: staying was not an option. He hurried back inside, and just like that, the friendly face was back.
"Mr. Cross — clearly this has all been a terrible misunderstanding. I'll report to my superiors that the intelligence was flawed — obviously, someone in another department flagged your neighborhood unfairly, and that's what led to this entire situation. I'll personally vouch for you and ensure the responsible parties apologize."
Classic deflection — dump the blame on another department and walk away clean.
Ethan studied the man who'd gone from threats of military force to groveling apologies in under ten minutes. No wonder he held the Avengers together. The man can pivot faster than anyone I've ever seen.
"Let me make sure I understand this," Ethan said. "You come to my neighborhood, threaten my family, aim guns at my people, promise to bring the army down on our heads — and now you think a 'misunderstanding' and a handshake makes it go away?"
He leaned forward.
"You said it yourself, Agent Coulson. This is Hell's Kitchen. This is my block. Nobody does wrong here and walks out without paying for it."
The restaurant door slammed shut behind Coulson. John Wick, Marcus, Wade, and Caine closed in from every direction.
The friendly mask slid off Coulson's face. Sweat beaded at his temples.
"Mr. Cross clearly isn't the type to harm innocent people." Natasha holstered her weapon — a deliberate show of calm. "Why don't I contact our Director and let him decide how to resolve this?"
"Don't bother." Ethan pulled out his phone. "I'll talk to him myself."
As if on cue, his phone rang. The caller ID read: Unknown Number.