Chapter 8: Good dinner jinxed.
The toast seemed to break the last of the ice. The conversation flowed again, this time less like an interview and more like a gathering of co-conspirators. When the waiter returned, the orders were a testament to the table's diversity.
"I'll have the Wagyu steak, rare," Felicia said without looking at the menu.
"The same for me," Gwen added.
"Vegan risotto," Mary Jane requested with a smile.
"Just a salad for me," Kitty said, still looking a little overwhelmed.
The waiter, a professional to the core, nodded along until he got to the finance team. Nila ordered the seared scallops, Yuhee the lobster bisque, and the other two requested the chef's tasting menu, a synchronized, efficient command that left no room for error.
"An excellent selection," the waiter said, collecting the menus. "However, I must inform you that the kitchen is severely backed up. We're unexpectedly overbooked this evening. I estimate a forty-five-minute wait for your entries."
A collective groan went around the table. "Forty-five minutes?" Felicia complained. "I could starve by then."
"It's fine," I said, pushing my chair back. "Nature calls. I'll be right back."
I navigated through the opulent dining room toward the restrooms at the back. The hallway was quieter, the carpet thick and luxurious. As I approached the corner leading to the facilities, harsh, guttural voices stopped me in my tracks.
"—move in on the forty-five-minute mark. That's when the security staff is busiest. No one will be looking."
"The target is everyone on this floor. Children. Old and young. High value. We take them, the police will listen."
"The boss wants the Goblin and the others out. If they don't comply, we start sending back body parts."
Hail Hydra. The word was spoken, but I knew the cadence, the cold, tactical brutality they were about to do. They weren't just thugs; they were scalpel. And they were about to perform surgery in the restaurant.
I took a step back, intending to retreat, warn Martha, and get everyone out. But as I turned, I walked straight into the barrel of a suppressed pistol. The man holding it was built like a refrigerator, dressed in a server's uniform that did a poor job of hiding the Kevlar vest underneath.
"Where do you think you're going, kid?" he growled, his partner stepping up beside him, a similar weapon trained on my chest.
They saw a kid in expensive clothes. They didn't see the fourth-dimensional manipulator or an aura thrumming around me, invisible and absolute. They didn't see the universe bending to my will.
"Wrong place, wrong time," the first man said, his finger tightening on the trigger.
I didn't move. I didn't even flinch. I just… snapped my fingers.
It wasn't a loud snap. It was a quiet, decisive click. The air shimmered for a nanosecond. The two men's eyes rolled back in their heads, and they collapsed to the floor in a heap of unconscious limbs, not even a grunt escaping their lips. They looked like they had just decided to take a nap.
I stepped over their bodies and walked back to the dining room, my heart rate perfectly steady.
I sat down at the table, the boisterous atmosphere feeling a world away. Martha's eyes locked onto mine instantly. She saw the change in my demeanor.
"Martha," I said, my voice low and even. "Remember that police commissioner's daughter you helped with a DUI? I need you to call her father. Now."
Her expression didn't change, but I saw the flicker of alarm. "Why?"
"Because in about thirty-five minutes, a hostage situation is going to begin in this restaurant. They're targeting everyone alive here." I let that sink in, then looked at the others. "We have a security issue."
The table went silent. The laughter died. Gwen Stacy's fork clattered against her plate first.
"How can you be this calm?" she asked, her voice tight. "What's going on?"
"What did you do?" Felicia pressed, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Did you take someone out?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Yuhee from the finance team snapped, though her voice trembled slightly. "He's probably just trying to get us to leave. This is a prank."
"No, he's not," Martha said, her phone already in her hand, her thumb moving with practiced speed. "He's not joking. Jotaro, have you been harmed? What exactly happened."
"I ran into two of the grunts in the hall," I explained, keeping it simple. "They won't be bothering anyone for now. But they have taken control of the lower floors."
"You took out two armed men? Just like that?" Jessica Drew asked, her cameragirl's curiosity warring with her disbelief. "Who are you and they?"
"Right now, I'm your employer who is trying to keep you alive," I said, my gaze sweeping the table thinking what I should do next. "And I need you all to stay calm. These men want live hostages for a negotiation. They won't start shooting until the police arrive. We have time. But they said something like hail hydra or shit"
Gwen, Mary Jane, and Jessica exchanged a look. It wasn't a look of fear. It was a look of grim, shared understanding. The kind of look soldiers give each other before a battle. 'They are not civilians.' I immediately presumed.
"You're not lying, are you?" Mary Jane asked, her voice dropping to a whisper seriously. The expression and vibe they were giving made it clear they were about to do something.
"No," I said. Will drinking a sip from wine waited might have given while I was not present.
"Then we have to stay," Gwen stated, pushing her chair back. "If they know their men are down, the timeline is already compromised. They'll move faster. And come here to take another hostage as well."
"Agreed," Jessica added, standing as well. "You have to be here when that happens, play along. We three will call for help."
"Go, then." I said. "Get out through the kitchen. Be fast. Be quiet."
As they moved to leave, Mary Jane paused beside me. "You're not just models, are you?" I murmured, a faint, red energy flickering in her eyes for a split second.
"....." I received no response. "Stay here." She instructed in a commanding voice.
They disappeared into the shadows of the restaurant. Me, Martha and the other four talked to stay calm. Thirty minutes later, from the hallway, I heard a sharp, muffled thud, followed by another. A different kind of silence fell over our table. The girls were faster than I'd anticipated.
Then, all hell broke loose.
The main doors to the dining room burst open and a squad of heavily armed men in tactical gear stormed in. "EVERYONE DOWN!" their leader roared. "THIS IS A HOSTAGE SITUATION!"
But his eyes scanned the room, and a flicker of confusion crossed his face. He was looking for his advance team. And they weren't there. He looked at our table, specifically at the three empty seats where the models had been. His confusion hardened into rage.
"Where are they?" he snarled, raising his rifle and pointing it directly at us. "WHERE DID THEY GO?!"