Chapter 273: The Family Man Can No Longer Make Family
Ethan had never imagined that this rat standing before him — mentor to the Ninja Turtles — might have some connection to the Guardians of the Galaxy's Rocket Raccoon. What a rough road this old rat must have walked.
He looked at the hope in Master Splinter's eyes and felt something in his chest give a little.
What kind of reason could there possibly be to stop a rat from getting his revenge? Ethan gave a small nod.
"I can agree to take them in."
At Ethan's answer, the weight Master Splinter had been carrying finally lifted from his shoulders.
He rose at once and bowed deeply to Ethan. On this entire planet, the four turtles behind him were his only remaining concern. Ethan had actually promised to take them in — Master Splinter believed he would honor his word.
「DING!」
「Congratulations, Host! Splinter has been added as a friend!」
「Congratulations, Host! Splinter's Friendship Level has risen to ★2!」
「Attribute Gained: Nunchaku Mastery!」
The notifications rose up in Ethan's mind. He blinked, then broke into a satisfied grin.
So this old rat wasn't just a man with a story — he had real strength behind him, too. And Ethan had come away with no small benefit from it, the Nunchaku Mastery attribute chief among them.
Made sense, really — no matter how strong you are, you're still just a rat underneath it all. There's no way you survive this many years without some martial arts to back you up.
That was when the four little turtles started acting up. Hearing they'd get to stay in Hell's Kitchen didn't seem to make them happy at all — instead they swarmed around Master Splinter, peppering him with questions.
"Sensei, are you giving up on us?"
"We're not going anywhere. We're coming with you!"
"I'm avenging you, whether you like it or not!"
Three of the little turtles rushed to stop their master from leaving them behind in Hell's Kitchen.
Ethan didn't bother getting involved. That kind of thing they could sort out among themselves.
Was he supposed to go coax them into joining too?
Ethan wandered over to the couch, sat down, and picked up a newspaper. A headline caught his eye immediately.
HELL'S KITCHEN GRAND PRIX — RACE OR WAR IN A RACE'S CLOTHING?
SHOCKING! NOT A SINGLE NORMAL HUMAN IN HELL'S KITCHEN!
IS LORD OF HELL'S KITCHEN ETHAN CROSS EVEN FROM THIS PLANET?
HELL'S KITCHEN MAY HAVE JUST INVENTED A NEW RACING CIRCUIT!
"Hell's Kitchen's event pulled in an astonishing fifty million views, catapulting its reputation into the mainstream. By any measure, this was a wildly successful commercial spectacle."
— The Big Apple Daily
"Business genius Ethan Cross may have cleared a hundred million dollars off this single race. It's baffling that a talent like this is wasting away in Hell's Kitchen of all places — the man deserves better than to be held back there."
— Wolf Street Financial Journal
Ethan stared at the stack of newspapers, his expression somewhere between bemused and baffled. He hadn't even realized the race had made that much. He'd only wanted to throw a tournament, that was all.
Sure, I figured it'd turn a profit. Just not... that much of one.
Then again, thinking it over — entry fees, sponsorship money, it all added up fast. Add in the fact that every racer had supplied their own car, and the venue was already sitting there ready to use.
Costs had honestly been minimal. It would've been strange if the thing hadn't made money.
But the money was secondary, as far as Ethan was concerned. What mattered most was that the race had brought Hell's Kitchen's residents and its mutants together in a way nothing else had managed.
And the tournament had done wonders for Hell's Kitchen's image. People used to hear the name and think: filthy, lawless, violent. Now, scrolling through what people were saying online, the first thing that came to mind when they heard "Hell's Kitchen" was the race. Sure, it was still probably violent — but nobody seemed to mind anymore. If anything, they thought it looked thrilling.
On top of that, the race had drawn in a fresh wave of talent — people whose backgrounds, given their taste for high-speed chaos, weren't exactly spotless to begin with. Hell's Kitchen could offer them a safe place to live, and the one thing most of them were actually good at making money from was driving. Which meant the neighborhood's whole transportation situation was about to get a serious upgrade.
Because in the old Hell's Kitchen, getting behind the wheel had practically been a game of chicken with the Grim Reaper. Drivers had to keep one eye on the road and one on every alley, terrified of driving straight into a firefight. Plenty of the old drivers had met their end exactly that way, caught in a crossfire — which was a big part of why almost nobody wanted to drive there anymore.
Now, though, things had changed completely.
These newly-arrived speed demons weren't just skilled behind the wheel — they knew how to stay ice-cold in the middle of chaos. They could thread a car through a hail of gunfire without breaking a sweat, keeping themselves and everyone around them safe.
So traffic in Hell's Kitchen was set to improve dramatically, and easier travel meant an easier life for everyone who called the place home.
Ethan had picked up a few names worth knowing along the way, too — Deckard Shaw, for one, had joined Hell's Kitchen, and was now serving as his personal driver.
Not that Ethan particularly needed a chauffeur. But there was no arguing with Wanda and the rest of them — Uncle Fisk included — once they'd made up their minds about it.
As far as they were concerned, he was the head of a company now, and a company boss without a driver to keep up appearances just wouldn't do.
As for the guy who was the spitting image of Dwayne Johnson — since he hadn't taken the crown, and had thoroughly ticked off S.H.I.E.L.D. in the process — he'd been handed off to the Hell's Kitchen police department to go fight crime instead.
Hell's Kitchen's public safety had improved a good deal since before, though there were still fresh criminals showing up every day. This was still the land of the free, after all.
As for that so-called Family Man — Ethan honestly had no idea where he'd wandered off to. Word was, after the race wrapped, the man had tried to rob a gun store inside Continental territory, gotten himself caught by Continental's people, and while he'd technically managed to escape in the end — his "third leg" hadn't been so lucky.
He was a eunuch now. From here on out, that particular Family Man was never going to be "making family" of his own again.
"Better turn in early tonight," Ethan murmured. "Got a date with Wanda tomorrow, after all."
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