Meanwhile, thousands of kilometers away, deep within the blistering, desolate desert, dozens of heavily armed soldiers of the Ten Rings organization were engaged in a frantic, systematic search. They moved with the grim determination of men hunting for a lost king's ransom, their shovels sinking rhythmically into the seemingly endless sand.
Hour after relentless hour, they dug, recovering countless twisted metal parts, which were carefully piled onto waiting pickup trucks. The sun beat down, turning the metal instantly hot, but the soldiers worked without complaint, driven by the obsessive rage of their leader.
One man, digging near a small, wind-carved dune, struck something solid that wasn't rock. He shoved his shovel in again, leveraging the weight of his body. A minute later, the object was finally dislodged from the gritty earth. It was heavy, packed with sand, and scarred by fire.
He held it aloft, and the whipping desert wind cleared away the loose dust, revealing the terrifying, angular visage of the Mark I's steel face mask. It was dented and scorched, but undeniably intact.
A bald man in dark sunglasses stepped forward, his body moving with a predatory intensity. The right side of his face and head, including the ruin of his ear, was a mass of mottled, angry scar tissue, bearing witness to the violent explosion that had nearly claimed his life. This was the leader of the cave, Raza, and the damage had only fueled his simmering fury into a burning obsession.
He took the mask, running a gloved finger over the rough steel. It was more than a trophy; it was the foundation of the technology he had promised his benefactors. Stark thinks he can escape us. He thinks he can destroy his own genius. Raza smiled, a cruel, cold expression that didn't reach his eyes. The desert always returns what it claims.
With the parts he now held, including the reactor core and the armor's frame, he possessed enough material to reverse-engineer the crude, brutal power that Stark had created. His revenge would be slow, deliberate, and delivered through the very weapons Tony had tried to deny the world.
A week later, Los Angeles experienced a minor surge in East Coast visitors.
Leander had successfully convinced Aunt Jenny and Uncle George that a short trip to LA was the perfect reward for his stellar exam performance.
"Leo, as usual, we have three days. What's the master plan?" Uncle George asked, patting Leo's head affectionately as they walked out of the airport.
"Universal Studios and Disneyland first, Uncle George. Then, we absolutely have to go to Malibu. I need to see the Pacific," Leo replied, sounding like a typical excited kid.
George exchanged a quick glance with Jenny, shrugging playfully. "Alright, let's go! First stop, Disneyland it is!"
Leo was swept up in the whirlwind of their holiday happiness, and the three of them ran off toward the taxi stand. Even seasoned travellers nearby couldn't help but smile at the sight of the close-knit family.
In Malibu, Tony's Basement:
"Sir, we have detected that Leo and his parents arrived at Los Angeles International Airport three minutes ago," Jarvis's calm, digitized voice cut through the whine of the plasma cutter.
Tony, completely absorbed in fabricating the highly complex actuators for the Mark II's left leg, paused, dropping his tools.
"Leo? What's he doing in Los Angeles?" Tony's interest was immediate and total. "Jarvis, keep me updated on their exact itinerary. No exceptions."
"Affirmative, sir. Their online bookings indicate a stay at a themed hotel adjacent to Disneyland for the first two nights."
Tony didn't allow himself to be distracted further. He picked up the soldering iron and plunged back into his work. Just the beginning, he thought. He'll find me.
The next two days were a blur of typical tourist activity. Leo genuinely enjoyed the time with his guardians, indulging in the carefree fun of Universal Studios' Hollywood Walk of Fame, marveling at Disney's Princess Castle, and catching an outrageously expensive film at the TCL Chinese Theatre. He even let Peter, via a brief phone call, experience a virtual tour of the attractions.
On the third day, Uncle George rented a spacious black Buick from McRentals, preparing to drive toward Malibu.
"Mr. Stark, according to real-time traffic surveillance, Leo and his party are now in a black Buick from McRentals and are heading directly toward the Malibu coastline," Jarvis announced with clinical precision.
Tony was aggressively torqueing the final bolts on the second leg section, closing in on completion.
Hearing the update, he dropped his work and stood, stretching his aching back. "Jarvis, use satellite positioning to triangulate their vehicle. I have a very strong feeling he's coming to find me."
"Yes, sir. Their current location is..."
The central screen displayed the live surveillance footage of the Buick, while a neighboring holographic map showed a direct line between the two points, the distance rapidly closing—now under 21 kilometers.
Tony squinted at the car on the monitor. "Jarvis, do you think he'll even know this address? It's not exactly listed in the tourist guides."
"Sir, the exact geographic coordinates of this facility have never been published online or indexed in public records. Only a limited number of individuals are aware of its location. Statistically, the probability of Master Leo independently locating this address is calculated at 2.37%."
"No, he's coming for us. We can make a little bet on that, Jarvis," Tony said, a strange mix of resigned amusement and apprehension in his eyes. "Jarvis, once he breaches the perimeter, let him in. I have some very important questions for him."
"Acknowledged, Mr. Stark. Enabling visitor access protocols."
Less than half an hour later, Leo, holding his phone, navigated them to the seemingly random address.
"Number 10880, Malibu Point!"
Uncle George, driving, looked confusedly at the location. "Leo, what kind of address is this? It looks like a huge, ridiculously expensive, private estate."
"We're here!" Leo exclaimed, spotting the formidable iron gate. He was just about to unbuckle his seatbelt to ring the intercom.
But before the car even slowed to a full stop, the massive gate silently swung inward under Jarvis's control.
"Oh! I guess he knew we were coming after all!" Leo said happily, already seeing the path open before them.
Jenny and George were utterly confused. "Hey, Leo, whose house is this, exactly?"
George, visibly nervous, slowly drove past the threshold. Even driving a few hundred meters, the actual mansion remained a distant, sleek structure.
"Tony Stark's. This is his private residence. It's pretty exclusive, so I'm impressed we got in so easily. I thought we might have to be a little more creative," Leo said, admiring the all-white, minimalist architecture of the distant structure.
"Tony Stark's? Leo, when did you get back in contact with him? That little Vegas trip was supposed to be it!" Aunt Jenny's voice was laced with anger and genuine parental concern. She didn't like the idea of Leo involving himself with a wild card like Stark.
"Aunt Jenny, it's fine. Just trust me on this," Leo said soothingly, watching the house grow larger.
George was too bewildered to speak, parking the Buick near the main entrance, feeling entirely out of his depth.
Five minutes earlier, in the basement.
"Mr. Stark, Leo and his party have confirmed their arrival. They are now entering the main perimeter," Jarvis reported.
"Okay, okay, I knew it. Jarvis, I win another round," Tony said, stretching with satisfaction and putting down his tools.
"Indeed, sir. You are, as always, highly unpredictable."
"No, Leo is the one who's unpredictable. Let's go see what exactly this kid needs from me." Tony quickly grabbed a black, casual jacket, slipped it on to cover his Arc Reactor, and headed upstairs.
Leo, along with George and Jenny, got out of the car, waiting expectantly by the massive, polished front doors.
True to form, less than a minute later, the door slid open and Tony Stark emerged, radiating casual charisma.
Upon seeing Leo, Tony walked straight toward him, totally disregarding the adults for a moment. He clapped a hand on Leo's shoulder, leaned down, and whispered right into his ear, "I thought you would have figured out a way to lose the entourage. Why'd you bring the folks?"
"Please. I'm only eleven. Do you honestly think they'd let me fly cross-country alone to visit a famous bachelor I barely know?" Leo replied dryly.
"You don't act eleven," Tony muttered, finally straightening up to address Jenny and George.
"Hey! You must be Leo's parents. Welcome to my humble abode. Come on in, take a load off. The view is spectacular."
They stepped into the immense living area, dominated by a huge glass wall—it wasn't a window, it was a sheer barrier that offered a breathtaking, panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean.
Uncle George, completely overwhelmed by the house and the famous man, stepped forward cautiously. "Mr. Stark, with all due respect, I have to ask: what exactly is your relationship with Leo?"
"Oh, we met back in Vegas. We hit it off immediately. Leo is phenomenally smart, isn't he?" Tony deflected with his most charming smile.
"Alright, Uncle George, Aunt Jenny, why don't you two check out the view and relax a bit? I need to have a quick, private chat with Mr. Stark," Leo interjected, stepping forward to lead Tony away.
"Yes, yes. The beach is a five-minute walk from here if you can figure out the path. Wander around, enjoy the sun," Tony urged, barely containing his impatience to get the child alone.
The two disappeared into a separate, plush private office. The moment the door closed, Tony's charming smile vanished, replaced by a calm, hard intensity.
He looked Leo straight in the eye. "Alright, kid. The games are over. Tell me, what do you want from me?"