Yu Lei stood frozen, her hand over her mouth as if she were physically holding back a scream of excitement. She watched the billionaire's back with wide, shimmering eyes, then frantically grabbed the sleeve of Leander's jacket as he followed.
"Was that... was that actually him?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "The guy from the news? The one they said was dead?"
Leander gave her a conspiratorial wink and a small nod. "Keep it under your hat for now, Yu Lei. Let's just say he's making a comeback. Don't go posting on the forums just yet, okay?"
"I won't! I promise!" she squeaked, though she was already vibrating with enough energy to power a small city.
Leander and Maya stepped out into the humid Florida morning, leaving behind a very happy, jumping waitress who was likely going to remember this Christmas for the rest of her life.
The Flight to the Front
Across town, the gear of Killian's grand machine were already turning. At the AIM-controlled airfield, the Iron Patriot—now polished and repaired after its forced "molt"—was undergoing final diagnostics. The armor wasn't just a weapon anymore; it was a Trojan Horse.
According to the official schedule, the Patriot was slated to escort the President of the United States to Air Force One. It was the perfect cover. By the time Leander and Tony were pulling out of the teahouse parking lot, the blue-and-silver armor had already ignited its thrusters, streaking across the sky toward its target.
James Rhodes, stripped of his rank and his steel, lay facedown on the cold hangar floor, unconscious and forgotten.
Inside the car, Tony was at the wheel of the silver sedan Leander had brought from Tennessee. He'd insisted on driving, claiming he needed to feel the road to ground his brain.
"I spent ten months looking for you, Leander," Tony said, his voice a mix of frustration and relief. "I analyzed every spatial vibration from the New York event. I even drew up blueprints for a deep-space rescue rig. I was seriously considering if I had to build a warp drive in my garage just to go find your floating carcass."
He glanced at the HUD Leander had projected onto the windshield. "And now you tell me you just 'jumped' back? Using wormholes? That tech is strictly theoretical, kid. You have to account for spatial frequency shifts, gravitational sheer, the fact that your molecules might end up in three different zip codes..."
"It was a bit more 'plug and play' than that, Tony," Leander replied, leaning back. "Xandarian tech is a few centuries ahead of us. It's less about the theory and more about just having the right coordinates."
Tony grunted, though his eyes showed he was already memorizing the terms. "Jenny and George... they've been a wreck. They actually went to China this year. Needed to get away from the states, I guess. If my tracking is right, they were in Guangdong yesterday. Have you called them?"
"Not yet," Leander said, looking out at the passing palm trees. "I wanted to make sure you were still in one piece first. They're safe, that's what matters. I can survive a few more hours without a phone call if it means stopping Killian."
He turned his head to look at Tony. "I'm glad to be back. But what happened to the team? I heard the Avengers Tower is basically a glorified research lab for Banner now."
"We scattered," Tony said, his grip on the wheel tightening. "Cap's doing his thing, Thor went back to the lightning kingdom... it's just been me and Bruce tinkering with 'Veronica' and trying to pretend the world didn't almost end. I missed having a heavy hitter around, kid. Especially one who doesn't lecture me about my ego."
Maya, sitting in the back seat, watched the interaction with wide-eyed shock. She'd known Tony Stark as a ruthless, brilliant playboy who treated people like disposable components. But the way he talked to Leander... it was different. It was the way a man talked to his younger brother, or a partner he actually respected.
"The Mandarin attacks," Tony continued, his voice dropping into a businesslike growl. "They're a shell game. The explosions aren't the point. They're just thermal signatures designed to mask the fact that Extremis subjects are self-destructing. Killian is selling a war, and he's using the virus to create the soldiers for both sides."
He glanced in the rearview mirror at Maya. "So, Doctor. What's the endgame? What does he do once he has the soldiers?"
"I don't know," Maya said, her voice small and defensive. "He stopped telling me things months ago. He just wanted the formula stabilized. He's obsessed with 'improving' the human race, but he never shared the tactical map."
"Whatever he's planning," Leander said, his voice cold and flat, "it stops today."
Tony tapped a finger against his ear. "Jarvis, you with me?"
"Always, sir," the AI's voice echoed through the car's speakers. "The Mark 42 is at 91% capacity. All systems are green. I should also note, for the record, that I am extremely pleased to see Mr. Hayes has returned to our local reality."
"You could have told me sooner, Jarvis," Tony smirked.
"Sir, you were busy dodging bullets and building bombs out of kitchen appliances. I didn't want to distract you with good news until it was verified."
The Breach
"There it is," Maya whispered, pointing toward a lavish, secluded mansion nestled on a hillside overlooking the water.
The trio parked a safe distance away and moved down the slope on foot. Tony reached into his backpack, pulling out a pair of high-powered binoculars. He started looking for a tree to climb, his mind already charting patrol routes and blind spots.
Then he looked at Leander, who was just standing there with his hands in his pockets, his eyes glowing with a faint, predatory gold light. Tony sighed and tossed the binoculars back into the grass.
"Right. Why do things the hard way?"
Leander's vision swept the perimeter like a radar pulse. "Twenty-eight guards. Heavy ordnance. They're all packing Extremis heat signatures, though most are low-level. How were you planning on doing this solo, Tony? MacGyver your way through thirty super-soldiers?"
"Scouting and stealth, kid. It's an art form. Takes time, precision, and a lot of luck." Tony checked the laser sight on his homemade pistol. "But since the heavy cavalry is here... I guess we're going with the 'Front Door' approach?"
"The only way to fly," Leander said.
They walked side-by-side toward the main gate. Two guards stood by a stone pillar, a large Doberman pacing between them. The dog caught their scent and began to growl, its eyes turning a faint orange.
Leander didn't slow down. He simply flicked his hand forward.
CRACK.
The massive wrought-iron gate didn't just open; it tore off its hinges and flew inward like a discarded gum wrapper. The lead guard was flattened instantly, pinned beneath three tons of reinforced metal.
The other two guards reached for their sidearms, their skin beginning to glow with a pre-ignition heat. Before they could even clear their holsters, two ornamental metal rods from the fence line tore themselves free. They blurred through the air with a high-pitched whistle, punching clean through the guards' chests before they could draw a breath.
Leander didn't stop. He walked over the fallen gate, his fingers twitching in a rhythmic dance. As he moved, the metal frame of the gate began to disintegrate, shedding dozens of sharp, needle-like spikes that hovered in the air around him like a swarm of angry hornets.
They moved into the fountain courtyard. Three men on the balcony above leveled submachine guns at them.
"My turn," Tony said, aiming his pneumatic pistol.
But he didn't need to. Leander's metal swarm surged upward. The guards didn't even have time to scream before the metal rods wrapped around their limbs, binding them in cocoons of steel and hurling them off the platform.
A patrol team of five rushed out of the main house, weapons raised. But as they tried to aim, their gun barrels began to warp and bend. Within seconds, the muzzles were curved 180 degrees, pointing directly back at the guards' own foreheads. They froze, fingers hovering over triggers that would now turn their brains into confetti.
Two guards at the front door reached for their daggers, but as their fingers touched the hilts, the metal blades transformed into jagged razors that sliced through their tendons. Leander clenched his fist, and the daggers flew upward, burying themselves in the door frame with a resonant thwack.
The entire breach took less than three minutes. It wasn't a fight; it was a demolition.
Tony walked through the carnage, his expression one of mild, impressed amusement. He'd seen Leander in New York, but this was different. This was refined. This was effortless.
Maya, however, was a different story. Her face was ashen, her legs shaking so violently she had to lean against a stone pillar to keep from collapsing. She looked at Leander—this teenager who was shorter than her and looked like he should be studying for a math test—and felt a primal, bone-deep fear.
She finally understood. She understood why the world called him the 'Golden Legend.' He wasn't just a hero; he was a force of nature that had erased an alien army.
The trio pushed through the front doors.
The interior of the mansion was a den of hedonism and decay. A guard sat at a sprawling marble table, his back to them, surrounded by takeout boxes, half-empty bottles of expensive vodka, and lines of white powder. Two women in sequined dresses were sprawled on the sofas, incoherent and grinning at the ceiling.
Tony stepped up behind the guard, his "shock glove" crackling with blue light. He tapped the man's temple, sent ten thousand volts through his nervous system, and then caught the gun as it fell from the table.
One of the women looked up, squinting at Tony with a drug-fueled grin. "Is it... is it Christmas yet?" she slurred.
Tony looked at the mess, then at the woman, and shook his head. "You have no idea."