The exhaustion in Tony's eyes was like a physical weight, but beneath the dark circles and the grime of a man who had been living out of a backpack, there was a terrifying, focused determination. He looked like he was vibrating with a dangerous belief in his own momentum.
He had plenty of reasons to be angry. Happy Hogan was still in a coma, Pepper had been pushed into a nightmare she never asked for, and the billionaire had lost his armor, his home, and his identity. He was out for blood.
Tony was gripped the steering wheel of his beat-up sedan, his knuckles white, when he suddenly felt the car lurch. The wheel spun beneath his palms with a ghostly smoothness, fighting his input. The vehicle didn't just swerve; it took the next exit off the bridge with an impossible, pre-programmed precision.
"What the—?" Tony muttered, slamming his foot onto the brake.
The pedal went down like it was pushing through air. No resistance. No friction. The car continued to glide toward a side street, ignoring every mechanical command Tony threw at it.
Panic surged through him—the kind of raw, survivalist panic he'd been fighting since Malibu. He dropped his hand into his backpack, gripping the grip of a homemade stun-pistol. He reached for the handbrake with his other hand, ready to blow the door open and roll out into the Miami humidity.
Then, he stopped.
A small, jagged scrap of metal—a discarded soda can tab from the floorboard—lifted into the air. Tony watched, mesmerized, as the metal began to stretch and twist like liquid silver. It thinned out into a fine, shimmering thread, weaving itself through the air until it formed a single, floating sentence in the center of the cabin:
'I'm back, Tony. —Leander'
Back at the teahouse, Maya Hansen was staring at the stack of empty bamboo baskets on their table with genuine concern. She looked at the towers of wood and then back at Leander, who was currently sipping tea as if he hadn't just consumed enough calories to power a small village for a week.
She'd done the math in her head. Even with the "compatriot discount," the bill was pushing well over four hundred dollars. With a decent tip, they were looking at a five-hundred-dollar breakfast.
Maya reached into her pocket and felt the thin wad of cash she had left. Three hundred bucks. Not even close. She looked around the restaurant. The other waiters were no longer just passing by; they were hovering. They were doing that subtle, restaurant-security dance where they pretend to wipe tables while keeping a very clear eye on the exit.
"Leander," Maya hissed, leaning over the table. "Earth to Leander. Do you have any idea what you just did? They think we're going to dine and dash. I can see the guy by the door reaching for his phone."
Leander blinked, his eyes losing that distant, golden haze as he returned to the present. He glanced at the mountain of empty plates. "Huh? Oh. Did I overdo it? I guess drifting through the vacuum makes you a little peckish."
"You ate for ten people!" Maya pointed at the waiter nearby who was currently staring a hole through Leander's head. "I have three hundred dollars. Total. We're going to be spending Christmas morning scrubbing industrial grease off those woks."
"Relax, Maya," Leander said, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. "I told you, someone else is picking up the tab. And if I'm not mistaken, his Uber just arrived."
He pointed toward the front window. A dusty, nondescript sedan pulled into the parking lot. The car moved with a strange, unnatural grace, coming to a stop directly in front of the entrance. Its suspension, which had been sitting oddly high, hissed as it settled back into a standard position.
Tony Stark stepped out of the car.
He was wearing a blue baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, his clothes wrinkled and smelling of hardware store chemicals. He moved quickly, his steps light but filled with a frantic energy. He looked like he was halfway between a heart attack and a celebration.
As Tony pushed through the glass doors, his eyes scanned the room. He didn't see the waiters or the morning regulars. He only saw the kid in the booth.
Leander stood up, his own composure finally cracking. He walked toward Tony, and for a moment, the two of them just stood there in the middle of a Cantonese teahouse in Miami, a decade of history and a universe of distance between them.
Tony didn't say anything. He didn't make a joke. His eyes welled up with a sudden, crystal-clear glint—a rare moment of unshielded emotion from the man who usually hid behind iron and sarcasm. He blinked the moisture away and reached out, pulling Leander into a crushing hug.
"You little rascal," Tony whispered, his voice thick.
He pulled back, his hands on Leander's shoulders, checking him for damage as if he expected him to be missing a limb. He felt the cold, metallic cube Leander had gifted him—the transformed metal thread—resting in his palm.
"Mr. Stark," Leander chuckled, his voice a bit shaky. "Long time no see. I get back to Earth and the first thing I hear is that you got taken out by a guy in a robe? You really had me worried there."
Tony patted Leander's shoulder, a genuine, relieved smile finally breaking across his face. "Welcome home, kid. Seriously. Welcome home."
"Thanks. I figured once we finish turning Killian into a smudge on the pavement, we can do a proper Christmas dinner. Somewhere that doesn't serve food in baskets."
"I think I just got my Christmas present early," Tony said, stepping back. "Alright. I'm starving. Let's eat, and then we're going to go make AIM regret ever existing."
Tony slid into the booth next to Maya as if he'd been there the whole time. He didn't even look surprised to see her. "So... Maya. Fun reunion. Did you order the shrimp dumplings, or are you just here for the atmosphere?"
"Tony," Maya said, her voice small. "I... I didn't think you'd actually show up."
Tony ignored her for a second, turning back to Leander. "Leander, give me the sit-rep. Where's Pepper? Is she—?"
"She's safe," Leander reassured him. "I got her out of Malibu before the dust settled. She's home, but Killian did try to make a move on her last night."
Tony's expression darkened instantly. The playful warmth vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp fury. "He went after Pepper?"
"He did. He's the real deal, Tony. His Extremis adaptation is off the charts. He's faster and stronger than the others. He actually managed to slip away from me. I won't let that happen twice."
"Good," Tony said, his voice dropping an octave. "Because I'm not forgiving him for that. Not in this lifetime."
Yu Lei, the waiter, arrived at the table with a fresh cart of snacks, but he stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at the newcomer—the man in the cheap hat who carried himself like he owned the building.
"Leander? Is this the friend you were waiting for? Man, I thought you were just making up excuses to stay in the AC. It's been hours."
"The guest of honor," Leander said, gesturing to Tony. "Can we get one more round? And then we'll take the check."
"You got it. I'll bring the damage," Yu Lei said, heading back.
Tony looked at Leander, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. "So, how'd you do it? How did you get back? Last I saw, you were... well, you were a shooting star heading the wrong way."
"Teleportation. Well, a long-distance jump from a place called Xandar," Leander explained. "It's a long story. I hit Earth about 10:00 p.m. last night. Dropped into China to see some family, then booked it to Malibu as fast as I could. Pepper was a wreck, Tony. Seeing your message was the only thing keeping her together."
Tony sighed, his shoulders dropping. "I owe you one. Again." He looked at Maya, his eyes narrowing with a lingering suspicion. "And her? Why is she part of the carpool?"
"She didn't want any of this, Tony," Leander said. "She was a scientist who got in over her head with a monster. Besides, she's our map to the base."
Yu Lei returned with the final tray of dumplings and the dreaded bill. He looked at the piece of paper, then at the table, then back at the paper.
"Leander, I have to ask... did you actually eat all of this? I've seen families of twelve order less than this. My boss thinks I'm miscounting the baskets."
Tony didn't wait. He grabbed a pair of chopsticks and started devouring shrimp dumplings with the hunger of a man who'd been living on gas station jerky. "Don't mind him," Tony muffled between bites. "His stomach is a localized black hole. It's a medical marvel. Check out the bill, Maya. Is it accurate?"
Maya scanned the long list of items. "Every single bit. I watched him do it. It was like a nature documentary."
Yu Lei sighed, looking both impressed and exhausted. "Even with the fifty percent discount, this is... it's a lot. I'm just glad you're actually paying."
Leander didn't reach for his pockets. He just nudged the bill toward Tony. Tony didn't even look at the total. He pulled a sleek, titanium credit card from his pocket and handed it to Yu Lei with a casual flick.
"Put it on the card. And Leander, who's the kid?"
"This is Yu Lei," Leander said, smiling. "She's been taking care of us. She's a good person. Treat her well."
Yu Lei took the card, her eyes widening as she saw the name on the account. She hurried off to process it, returning a moment later with the receipt.
As she handed the card back, Leander reached over, took the three hundred dollars from Maya's hand, and slapped it onto the table. "That's the tip. Keep the change. And seriously, Yu Lei—come visit me in New York. I'll show you where the real good pizza is."
Tony stood up, adjusting his cap. "Food was great. We're leaving."
Yu Lei stood there, clutching the tray, her jaw practically hitting the floor as she looked at the tip and then at the three strangers walking toward the exit.
"Wait..." she stammered. "Who... who are you guys?"