He thinks he can fix the bike." "Today?" "Today," Ethan said. Marlene considered that for a moment, then turned back to Marcus with something sharpening in her expression. Then you have one shot.
If he can complete the repair and you can document thoroughly exactly what parts and methods were used before that injunction lands, we have something concrete to fight with in court instead of just your word against theirs. If this genuinely wasn't stolen technology, proving it through the actual repair process could end their claim before it ever gets in front of a judge. And if the injunction land is before he finishes, then that motorcycle sits untouched in an evidence locker for as long as this drags on. And I promise you, Marcus, patent disputes drag on. Marlene's voice softened just slightly.
The first crack of something human under the professional armor. I know what that bike means to you. I've known you 15 years, but I need you to understand what's actually on the table right now. Marcus looked at the Black Phantom, at Ethan standing beside it with steady hands and a patience that seemed almost unnatural for a boy his age, and felt the full weight of the last four days pressing down on him. All at once, the humiliation of the public failure.
The desperate hope this teenager had somehow reignited in less than an hour. And now the terrifying possibility that all of it could be erased by a lawsuit filed by a company nobody in that garage had ever heard of. How long until the injunction could actually land? He asked. Marlene checked her phone.
My contact at the courthouse says the earliest a judge could review an emergency filing like this is first thing tomorrow morning. Realistically, you've got until sometime before noon. That's more time than I thought. Don't get comfortable. Marlene warned.
Companies that file emergency injunctions on a Friday afternoon usually do it because they know courts move slow over a weekend, which buys them leverage without you getting relief fast. This could also just be a pressure tactic to force a quiet settlement before you even get to build a real defense. Either way, the clock is real and it's shorter than you'd like. Ethan had been quiet through most of this exchange, listening with the same careful attention he'd given the engine an hour earlier. And now he spoke quiet but certain.
Then we don't wait until tomorrow, he said. We do it today, now while we still can. Marcus turned to him. You said you needed time. Quiet.
No pressure. I said I needed those things to figure out what was wrong. Ethan said, "I already know what's wrong. Now it's just execution. And execution I can do under pressure.
I've done it plenty of times in my dad's shop with customers standing over my shoulder telling me they need their truck back by 5. Something about the plain unglamorous honesty of that comparison. A legendary custom motorcycle worth millions of dollars reduced in Ethan's mind to just another truck a customer needed back by five pulled a short surprise laugh out of Sal Vitali. The first real laugh anyone in that garage had managed in four days. I like this kid, Sal said mostly to himself.