"How could that even be possible, Leo?" Tony exclaimed, spinning his chair around to face the boy. "My villa has a top-tier security system; you only got in because I authorized your access beforehand. Otherwise, you'd be nowhere near the door. And outside, I'm constantly surrounded by bodyguards!"
"What if the person who needs to harm you already has permanent, authorized access to your home?" Leo countered, his gaze unwavering.
"No, right now, only Pepper, you, Obie, and Rhodey have that kind of security clearance," Tony stated, turning back to his computer, but his movements were slower now, the confidence shaken. He paused, his hands hovering over the keyboard. "You mean… Obie? Impossible! Obadiah has been the anchor of Stark Industries for decades; he was my dad's best friend. Why on earth would he try to attack me?" Tony tried to laugh, but the sound was thin and brittle.
"Mr. Stark, there's an ancient Chinese proverb that says, 'You can know a person's face, but not their heart.' But look, it doesn't matter right now. I want the reactor," Leo said, driving his point home. "I genuinely suspect the energy source will accelerate my abilities far beyond what base metal can provide. Can we start building it?"
"Okay, okay, I'll prioritize it. Just give me a few days," Tony conceded, the promise of a new project—and the need for a backup power source—finally overriding his denial. "Right now, though, this flight stabilizer is consuming my every thought." Tony whipped his head back toward the holographic design, typing with renewed focus.
"Good luck, then. I'm heading into the city. I devoured everything edible in the fridge last night, and I'm already hungry again," Leo announced, turning and walking toward the stairs.
Tony didn't physically stop his work, but the silence after Leo left was heavy. Despite his outward defiance, the boy's relentless insistence on Obadiah's betrayal and the necessity of a backup reactor had planted a seed of cold, logical dread in Tony's brilliant mind. Leo could predict the future, and Leo was warning him.
Pepper was still hunched over her laptop in the living room, wrestling with the financial fallout from the board meeting. She looked pale and stressed, dealing with a constant stream of emails.
Seeing Leo approach, she immediately closed her laptop. "Leo, what's wrong? Are you getting sick of Tony already?"
"It's okay, Pepper. I'm just popping into town to buy some real food. I haven't actually had dinner yet," Leo said.
"Oh, I am so sorry! I've been so wrapped up today, my head is completely fried. I totally forgot to bring any dinner back, and I haven't even eaten myself," Pepper said, lightly slapping her forehead.
"Didn't Obadiah save you any of that New York pizza?" Leo asked.
"No, he devoured the rest and left quickly. Leo, there might be some emergency rations in the pantry—let's grab something quick," Pepper offered, starting to get up.
"No need to trouble yourself. I'll go to the city and bring some good stuff back for you two as well. It's just strange suddenly not having any decent snacks," Leo smiled.
Pepper looked embarrassed. "Leo, I really can't take you into the city right now. I'm drowning in this financial damage control."
"No need! I can handle myself."
"But it's a good four kilometers to the nearest commercial center, and it's already 9:30 PM! It's pitch black outside!" Pepper glanced worriedly at her watch.
Leo simply waved and headed for the huge glass doors. "Sister Pepper, have you already forgotten I have superpowers?"
Once he was out on the sweeping lawn, facing the dark, empty night sky, Leo stopped. He gently raised his hands, focusing his will. Two pre-embedded metal plates, already stripped from his discarded shoes from his earlier life, flew out from secret pockets in his calves and wrapped themselves securely around his hands and forearms, providing necessary rigidity.
Focusing his Metal Control, he activated the plates seamlessly integrated into the soles of his shoes. With a sharp, sudden hiss of controlled magnetic repulsion, Leo shot straight up into the air, a small, dark silhouette rapidly accelerating toward the distant glow of the city lights.
In the Basement Lab:
"Mr. Stark, Mr. Leo has left the premises," Jarvis's voice cut through the silence.
Immediately, a surveillance video popped up on a screen next to Tony. It showed the surreal sight of the boy launching himself vertically into the night sky and flying away.
Tony paused, his fingers frozen over the schematics for the Mark II's ankle joint. He watched the figure shrink to a dot. "Noted. Continue monitoring Leo's movements, Jarvis."
"Yes, sir."
Tony silently watched the screen for a full minute after the boy disappeared. He hadn't been this impressed or creatively challenged since he built his first circuit board at age four. Forget hydraulics. This kid is solving flight using pure material manipulation and thrust control that defies conventional aerodynamics. I need to figure out how he does that. Tony's longing for flight, which he was trying to solve with bulky, calibrated thrusters, intensified into a burning need.
In less than three minutes, traveling at speeds that defied the human body's tolerance for wind shear, Leo landed on the very edge of the city limits. He swiftly hailed the first taxi he saw and gave the address for a 24-hour convenience store.
Leo's phone suddenly buzzed in the car.
"Hey, Aunt Jenny, still up this late?"
He spoke warmly, relaying reassuring lies. "I'm fine, really. Just working with Mr. Stark, and everything's going smoothly."
"Yes, I'm actually just going to the supermarket now to buy some snacks. You know how much I love junk food."
"No need to worry about money; Mr. Stark is paying me an incredible salary."
"Okay, I'll try to come back next week for a quick visit. I promise."
"Okay, okay. Get some rest, say hello to Uncle George, and goodnight."
Leo hung up the phone, glancing out the window. The streets were dark and eerily quiet, the streetlights flickering intermittently—hardly the bustling center of a major coastal city.
"Hey, I thought we were going to the supermarket. Where are we, and where are you going?" Leo asked, annoyed, looking at the driver, a tall, burly white man who hadn't spoken a single word since they left the main road.
The car suddenly braked, screeching to a halt in a dark, empty stretch between two warehouses. The driver quickly got out, yanked open the back door, and roughly hauled Leo out of the car.
"Kid, hand over all your money, right now, or this knife of mine is going to taste blood," the driver growled, his face contorted in a menacing sneer. He slammed Leo against the taxi door, a small, black blade pressed hard against the boy's stomach.
"Hey, hey, hold on," Leo looked at him calmly, his lack of fear completely unnerving the man. "Are you actually robbing me right now?"
"Hurry up! Hand over the cash! I know you've got money on you, rich kid," the man demanded, pressing the blade harder into Leo's abdomen.
"Is this your first time robbing someone? Aren't you afraid there are security cameras in this area?" Leo asked, a slight smile playing on his lips.
The driver didn't bother replying. He shoved his hands into Leo's pockets, aggressively rifling through them, snatching the bundle of over six hundred dollars and Leo's phone.
The driver seemed satisfied with the haul, but his eyes grew increasingly cold and ferocious, not softening the way a typical mugger's would.
"Hey, hey, you've got the money and the phone. What more do you want?" Leo demanded, the smile finally gone.
The man stared coldly at the boy, then suddenly bent his elbow and slammed it with vicious force directly onto Leo's neck and the base of his skull.
The immense, bone-jarring impact, delivered with over a hundred pounds of focused muscle, barely made Leo's head tilt. His D-Rank Defense (19 points) absorbed the lethal blow completely, but the intent was unmistakable.
This wasn't just a robbery.
Leo's eyes instantly turned frigid, the casual mask gone, replaced by a terrible coldness. That strike would have snapped the neck of an ordinary child instantly. This robber was here to kill.
With a gentle, almost lazy surge of strength, Leo violently shook off the man, flinging the larger driver two meters away. Before the man could even regain his footing, Leo raised his hand.
Three metal strips—thin, razor-sharp pieces of material pulled from the reinforced chassis of the taxi itself—shot out and swiftly wrapped around the man's neck and both wrists.
The incredible tensile pulling force of the metal cinched the man around the corner of the taxi, pinning his upper body tightly in place, the edges of the metal biting into his skin. A few drops of crimson blood immediately welled from his neck, and the strips on his wrists were tightened to the point of instantly restricting blood flow.
Leo walked up to him slowly, his eyes glowing with an internal golden light. "I've been mugged over twenty times in New York. Everyone just took the money and ran, and I usually just ensured they found their way to the nearest police station."
"The only time a cab driver tried to take me somewhere shady, I simply ensured he left with permanently crippled legs."
"But this is the first time I've run into someone who didn't just rob me, but who actively intended to murder an eleven-year-old kid. How could you do that?" Leo's voice was a soft, dangerous whisper.
The driver's eyes remained fierce, filled with unrepentant malice, and his free legs kicked out, trying to strike Leo.
Leo's eyes gleamed with a calculating light. He scanned the area—no visible cameras, exactly as the killer would have planned.
He spotted a small storage box inside the open taxi door. Using two fine, controlled wires of metal pulled from the car's speaker grille, he deftly snagged a bundle of newspapers nestled inside. When the driver saw the papers, he thrashed with violent frenzy, tearing his wrists further against the metallic bonds.
Leo flipped through the stack. Each one was a single-page clipping detailing a different unsolved murder case: men, women, and two young teenagers—all victims of "robbery-murders." None of the murderers had ever been caught.
"You did all of this?" Leo shook the blood-spattered newspaper in his hand.
The driver finally found his voice, spitting a stream of pure venom: "F* you!"**