Act 1 - Dates, Identity and Party

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Ethan leaned back in his chair, watching Skye as she worked her magic on the laptop, her fingers dancing across the keyboard with practiced ease. The coffee shop around them hummed with life—baristas calling out orders, the quiet chatter of patrons, the scent of roasted beans thick in the air.

"You're ridiculously fast at that," Ethan noted, sipping his drink.

Skye smirked, not looking up. "Some people paint, some people play music—I break into places I'm not supposed to."

Ethan chuckled. "I'd say that's an unusual talent, but honestly, I think it suits you."

Skye finally glanced at him, an amused glint in her eyes. "Oh? And what talent suits you, mystery man?"

Ethan exhaled, tilting his cup in thought. "I have a knack for knowing certain things and people, sometimes even events before they happen."

Her fingers stilled for a second, then resumed typing. "That's a hell of a claim."

"It is," Ethan agreed, meeting her gaze. "But let's just say I know certain things are coming. Things that'll change the world."

Skye leaned back, crossing her arms. "Alright, fortune teller. Give me one prediction. Just one."

Ethan hesitated, carefully choosing his words. He couldn't give too much away—just enough to intrigue her.

"You and I? We're going to change a lot of things," he said finally.

She studied him for a long moment before shaking her head with a laugh. "You're so dramatic. What, is this fate or something?"

Ethan smirked. "Something like that."

Skye rolled her eyes, leaning forward. "Alright, mystery man. Say I believe you. Where does that leave us?"

Ethan tapped a finger against the table. "It means we keep talking. You keep doing what you do best, and maybe I help you along the way."

She gave him a curious look, her intrigue barely concealed. "Oh? And what exactly are you offering?"

"Perspective. Insight," Ethan said smoothly. "Maybe even a friend, if you're lucky."

Skye scoffed. "Oh, please. I don't do 'lucky.' But…" She leaned back, studying him again. "You've got me curious."

"Good," Ethan said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "That's a start."

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A New Beginning

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The next few days passed in a blur.

Ethan and Skye met frequently—sometimes in coffee shops, other times in secluded spots away from prying eyes. The more time they spent together, the more their conversations flowed, moving beyond their initial arrangement into something more natural.

One evening, they sat on a park bench overlooking the city, the glow of streetlights flickering around them.

"You ever think about what you'd be doing if things were different?" Skye asked, leaning back against the bench, her gaze turned skyward.

Ethan followed her gaze, the stars above barely visible beyond the city's glow. "All the time," he admitted. "But the past is the past. All that matters is where we go from here."

She nudged him playfully. "That's surprisingly optimistic for a guy who doesn't exist."

Ethan smirked. "I like to think of it as… an opportunity. A blank slate."

Skye studied him for a moment. "You're weird, you know that?"

"You keep saying that," he teased. "Starting to think you mean it as a compliment."

She huffed a small laugh. "Still undecided."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before she asked, "What were you like before all this? You know, before you didn't exist?"

Ethan hesitated, the question pulling at something deep inside him.

"I had a family," he said finally, his voice quieter than before. "Good people. A sister who could play the piano better than anyone. A dad who always smelled like motor oil. A mom who could read me like an open book."

Skye's teasing demeanor softened. "Sounds like you miss them."

"I do," Ethan exhaled slowly, his gaze distant. "I miss them so much… as if a piece of me was cut off from my reach."

Skye was quiet for a moment before saying, "Maybe not completely. You're still here. And you don't seem like the kind of guy to let go of the things that matter."

Ethan smiled slightly. "You're perceptive."

"I'm nosy," she corrected with a grin. "Big difference."

He chuckled. "So, what about you? What's the great dream of Skye?"

She shrugged. "Finding the truth. Exposing the lies people don't even know exist. Changing things."

"That's a hell of a goal," Ethan said.

"Yeah, well, you're the one making world-changing predictions." She shot him a smirk. "So what's your grand ambition?"

Ethan leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "I want to build something. A way to bring balance between people, nature, and… things most don't even know exist."

Skye raised a brow. "Vague. Mysterious. Very on-brand for you."

"Wouldn't want to disappoint," Ethan said, matching her smirk.

They fell into another comfortable silence before Skye stretched her arms above her head. "Alright, mystery man. Your shiny new identity should be ready soon. A proper name, background, financials—the whole package."

Ethan exhaled, a weight lifting off his shoulders. "That's… really incredible, Skye. I owe you for this."

She waved him off. "You can pay me back by letting me keep prying into whatever weird stuff you're up to."

Ethan laughed. "Deal."

For the first time since arriving in this world, he felt like he was truly starting to belong.

And soon, with his new identity, he'd take his first real steps toward the future he was building.

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Here's the refined version incorporating all the changes we discussed:

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A Night of Influence and Intrigue

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Ethan adjusted the cuffs of his tailored suit, glancing at his reflection in a nearby mirror. The man staring back at him was both familiar and unfamiliar. He looked sharp, composed—every bit the rising entrepreneur his new identity claimed him to be.

Ethan Draken Carter.

Skye had done an exceptional job fabricating his background. He was now a young, independent investor with a keen interest in emerging technologies, environmental sustainability, and biotech innovations. His history was clean, his credentials solid, and his invitation to the Stark Industries gala? Secured through careful maneuvering.

"Looking good, mystery man," Skye had teased when she handed him the credentials earlier that day. "Try not to get yourself thrown out before you schmooze with the big leagues."

Now, standing in the grand ballroom of the event, Ethan took in the atmosphere. Lavish chandeliers hung above, casting a golden glow over the elegantly dressed elites. Waiters wove through the crowd with silver trays, offering glasses of champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres.

The gala, hosted by Stark Industries, was a fundraiser focused on providing aid to war-torn regions affected by Stark's past weapon sales. Tony Stark himself was the center of attention, effortlessly mingling with the city's most influential figures.

But Ethan wasn't here just to observe. He was here to make connections.

Ethan blended into the crowd, casually inserting himself into discussions with investors and tech developers. He spoke with a natural ease, presenting himself as a man with a vision—an advocate for sustainable technology, environmental restoration, and integrating nature with cutting-edge advancements.

It was during one such conversation that he caught Stark's attention.

"You've got an interesting perspective there," a familiar voice chimed in.

Ethan turned to find Tony Stark himself standing nearby, holding a glass of whiskey with his usual air of effortless confidence. The billionaire playboy had that ever-present smirk, eyes sharp with curiosity.

"You're talking about biotech and environmental synergy like it's the future," Stark continued, stepping closer. "Most people in this room are too busy chasing quarterly profits to think that far ahead."

Ethan offered a measured smile. "The future is going to happen whether they plan for it or not. I'd rather be ahead of the curve than scrambling to catch up."

Stark raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Bold. I like that."

The two quickly fell into an engaging conversation, exchanging thoughts on renewable energy, sustainable infrastructure, and the balance between technological advancement and environmental responsibility. Stark, always one to enjoy intellectual sparring, found himself intrigued by Ethan's insights.

At one point, Stark narrowed his eyes slightly. "You remind me of someone. Can't put my finger on it."

Ethan chuckled. "Hopefully, someone you like."

Stark smirked. "Jury's still out on that." He took a sip of his drink before adding, "You've got ideas. Good ones. We should continue this conversation—maybe in a more private setting."

Ethan inclined his head. "I'd be interested in that."

Stark pulled out his phone, tapping quickly before handing it over. "Give me your contact info. We'll set something up."

Ethan entered his details—his newly established identity fully intact—and handed the phone back.

"Alright, Carter," Stark said, slipping the device back into his pocket. "Don't make me regret this."

Ethan smiled. "I wouldn't dream of it."

With that, Stark gave him a two-fingered salute and moved on, leaving Ethan with a sense of accomplishment.

Feeling the need for a drink, Ethan made his way to the bar. He leaned against the polished counter, signaling the bartender for a whiskey.

"You certainly made an impression."

The voice was smooth, accented with a hint of Russian.

Ethan turned his head slightly, taking in the woman who had appeared beside him.

She was stunning.

Long auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders, her emerald-green dress accentuating her curves with effortless elegance. But it was her sharp gaze that held his attention—the kind of gaze that assessed, analyzed, and saw far more than most.

Natasha Romanoff.

He schooled his expression, offering an easy smile. "Did I now?"

She hummed, accepting the martini the bartender slid her way. "Tony doesn't usually take an interest in newcomers unless they're either brilliant or trouble." She took a slow sip, her lips curling slightly. "Which one are you?"

Ethan chuckled, lifting his own drink. "Maybe a bit of both."

Natasha studied him for a moment, something unreadable flickering in her expression. "You don't seem like the typical investor."

Ethan shrugged. "I have a few interests. Tech, sustainability, the future of our planet. And you? You don't seem like the typical gala guest."

A ghost of a smirk played at her lips. "Maybe a bit of both."

He let out a short laugh. "Touché."

There was a pause, a quiet tension settling between them. Ethan could tell she was assessing him, trying to place him, to figure out what about him seemed… off.

He met her gaze steadily, unflinching.

Eventually, she leaned in just slightly, lowering her voice. "I'll be keeping an eye on you, Ethan Draken Carter."

Ethan tipped his glass towards her in a mock toast. "I'd expect nothing less."

She held his gaze for a moment longer before finishing her drink in one smooth motion and walking away, disappearing back into the crowd.

Ethan exhaled slowly, swirling the whiskey in his glass.

She was sharp. Too sharp.

And something told him that wouldn't be the last time their paths crossed.

After a few more conversations and rounds of networking, Ethan decided to step outside for some air. The cool night breeze was a welcome contrast to the warm, crowded ballroom.

His mind buzzed with thoughts.

Meeting Stark had gone better than expected. Their conversation had planted the seeds of something promising—something he could build on. Natasha, however, was a variable he hadn't accounted for.

She had noticed him.

And when someone like Natasha Romanoff noticed you, it was never by chance.

He would need to tread carefully.

Taking a slow breath, he pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to Skye.

Ethan: Made some progress. Let's talk soon.

A response came almost immediately.

Skye: Well, well, look at you. Mr. High Society. Can't wait to hear all about it.

Ethan smirked, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

Things were moving fast.

And this was only the beginning.

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