The last week had been, by most accounts, unusually productive.
In Southern California, beneath an ancient observatory reborn in steel and fire, Luthar completed the initial phase of his sanctum's construction. The once-abandoned facility now pulses with quiet energy—bioreactors stabilized, medical chambers assembled, and diagnostic shrines humming with purpose. The forge was not yet complete, but the groundwork had been laid for miracles.
Liliruca had changed, too—she studied constantly, cataloguing human history and technological principles with an almost ritualistic intensity. Her sleep grew lighter.
Meanwhile, across the ocean of industry and ambition, Tony Stark had thrown himself into his lab with single-minded fury. Driven by a mixture of pride and paranoia, he completed a new suit—sleeker, faster, and far more versatile than the one he had cobbled together in a cave.
And while some men turned inward and others outward, Luthar turned skyward.
On the fourth night, somewhere between dusk and midnight, a silent launch occurred. Unregistered. Unreported.
A cylindrical object the size of a passenger bus emerged from an underground compartment near the observatory's foundation.
A week later, it was joined by another—this one hand-assembled in orbit.
"What am I looking at?"
The question cuts through the control center like a scalpel.
At a SHIELD station, Director Nick Fury stood before a live feed projected from one of their high-altitude reconnaissance lenses. The image was grainy, occasionally disrupted by solar interference—but the content was clear.
There, suspended in low Earth orbit, floated a steel-bodied satellite with exhaust fans shaped like organ pipes. And beside it—
"Zoom in," Fury ordered.
The technician complied. The screen flickered.
A smaller ship hovered just beyond the satellite's rotational arc. It was just a little bit larger than a private jet.
A figure moved along the surface of the satellite—clad in red, inhumanly steady in zero gravity, mag-boots locking into the plating as he made minute adjustments to exposed cabling.
"Is that… is he repairing it?" Coulson asked, incredulous.
Fury leaned forward, lips tight. "maybe"
They watched in silence as Luthar raised one gauntleted arm. A spark leapt from the tool he was holding. The structure shimmered faintly—some field aligning with orbital telemetry. Then Luthar began walking again, his servo-skull following closely, like a lantern in the void.
Coulson exhaled. "That's the second satellite, and They're completely off the books."
Fury turned, face like thunder. "So now we have a techno-mystic building orbital infrastructure without permission. Great."
He stepped away from the display. "I want daily reports. I want spectral analysis. I want a flight path on that ship of his. If it enters low-altitude airspace again."
Coulson raised a brow. "You think he's hostile?"
Fury didn't answer immediately. He stared at the image—the lone red figure drifting weightlessly, surrounded by stars and silence.
"I think he's preparing," Fury said at last. "For something none of us are ready for."
Hours Later: The sky above the observatory shimmered faintly as the air rippled with unnatural turbulence. A sound like thunder rolled over the hills—sharp, sudden, unnatural.
Liliruca stepped out onto the crumbling balcony, squinting against the wind. Her hair whipped around her face. Then, between two drifting clouds, she saw it.
A long, triangular shape pierced the atmosphere in absolute silence—sleek, dark, and almost seamless with the dusk. Luthar's skimmer. The prow was still scorched from reentry, its vector thrusters leaving a faint chemical trail as it descended.
The vessel circled once, then lowered toward the observatory's rear platform—an exposed deck reinforced days ago for this very return. Magnetic clamps engaged with a metallic screech. Moments later, the side hatch slid open with a pressurized hiss.
Luthar emerged without ceremony.
His cloak fluttered behind him, dust billowing at his boots as he stepped onto solid ground. The servo-skull drifted at his side, still humming from orbital computation protocols.
Liliruca met him halfway.
"You were gone for five hours."
"Four hours and forty-eight minutes," he corrected, his voice low from strain.
Her eyes narrowed. "You didn't think about taking me out in space. I also want to see how the world feels from above."
"I required silence. The work could not be disturbed."
She gestured toward the skimmer. "I saw a drone possibly from SHIELD."
Luthar paused, glancing skyward. "ignore them there quite useless."
He stepped past her without another word, cloak sweeping behind him as he returned inside.
Ten Minutes Later
The sound of tires crunching gravel came sharp and sudden.
Luthar paused in the lower chamber mid-calibration. His optics narrowed.
Another visitor.
He rose slowly, turning toward the entrance hall just as the front gate's outer cameras pinged with facial recognition.
Tony Stark.
Outside, Stark slammed his car door and looked up at the observatory dome, hands on his hips. His sunglasses reflected the stars, but his frown said everything else.
He carried no armor this time, only a tablet tucked under one arm and tension in his stride.
Liliruca met him at the threshold, arms crossed.
"You're not invited."
Tony gave her a glance. "Good to see you too, kid. Is the priest home?"
"He just got back. From orbit..."
Tony nodded. "Yeah, That's why I'm here."
Inside, the air smelled of ash. He followed the humming, the faint vibration of active generators and cooling arrays.
When he found Luthar, the Tech-Priest was adjusting the tension on a magnetic suspension cradle—some kind of medical centrifuge in mid-assembly.
Tony waited until the last cable clicked into place.
"Your neighbors saw a fireball," he said flatly. "The SHIELD saw your face. In orbit."
Luthar didn't look up. "Then they are observing correctly."
Tony stepped closer. "You launched two satellites."
Luthar turned, finally facing him. "Three, as of this morning."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "You know, you could at least pretend to care about international airspace treaties."
"I acknowledge no such treaties. I am not a citizen of your Earth nation."
"You're living in one," Tony snapped. "On my dime."
Luthar's voice did not rise. "you are just paying for your recklessness."
Tony took a breath, calming himself. "Fury's rattled. Coulson's confused. And frankly, you're starting to act more like an invasion than a quiet houseguest."
Luthar's optics pulsed faintly. "Would you prefer noise?"
Tony stepped forward, tapping his tablet. "These satellites—what are they for? Communications? Surveillance? Weapons?"
Luthar replied calmly, "Positioning. Relay systems. Beacon chains. They serve no offensive function—yet."
"Yet," Tony echoed, voice flat.
The silence between them stretched.
Then Luthar turned away again, returning to his tools. "You came to deliver a warning. You've done so. Now leave."
Tony didn't leave. Instead, he walked slowly around the lab—studying the machines, the networked data cores, and the biotanks quietly simmering near the walls.
His eyes lingered on a large, reinforced frame recessed into the far wall. Glossy white tubing curled around its base. A gyroscopic frame encased in a translucent cradle—half medical bed, half containment unit. It pulsed faintly, like something sleeping.
Tony gestured toward it. "This one, Suspension cradle? Med-centrifuge? Or something you'd store an alien in."
Luthar didn't turn.
"That device is a regenerative scaffold," he replied. "For stabilization after high-stress internal surgeries—neural rewiring, glandular implantation, limb regrowth. Also effective for biochemical resynchronization post-augmentation."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "You just described a super-soldier factory."
"it can do more than popping some super soldiers," Luthar said.
Tony folded his arms. "nobody cares about super soldiers, but I think if we use this technology in the medical sector, we can have a monopoly."
He stepped forward, eyes scanning the readouts. "Luthar… You're laying groundwork—installing infrastructure, stocking chemicals, and prepping fallback zones. Now you're putting assets in orbit."
Luthar did not deny it.
Tony's voice lowered. "That kind of preparation isn't just for research. It's for war. And if you're planning a war, I want to know what side you're planning to be on."
Luthar finally turned. The servo-skull drifted behind him, its lenses focused on Stark.
"I do not care for your sides," Luthar said. "as four storms most of them do not matter."
Tony frowned. "And who decides which storms matter?"
"The ones that break the stars," Luthar said.
They stood in silence—two architects, two different worlds—bridged only by suspicion and consequence.
Then Tony turned slowly and walked toward the exit, passing Liliruca near the auxiliary monitors. He paused beside her.
"You keeping up with him?" he asked.
She looked at Tony without blinking. "yes ."
"Good," he said. "If anything weird happens, call me."
She looked up at him. "Define weird."
Tony gave a tired smile. "...You'll know."
Outside, the car started with a quiet purr. He didn't look back.
Inside, Luthar turned to his console again—and keyed in another code.
Above them, in the dark, a third satellite blinked to life.