In the depths of a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility that didn't officially exist, Nick Fury stood before the Tesseract. The hum of the blue cube was a low-frequency vibration that seemed to resonate in his very teeth. He stared into its translucent depths, mesmerized by the shifting nebulae of light trapped within.
"If we can figure out how to harness the energy output of this thing," Fury whispered, more to himself than anyone else, "we won't just be leading the arms race. We'll be ending it. Unlimited power, Doctor. Think of what that means."
Standing just a few feet away, invisible to the sensors and the eyes of the guards, Loki leaned against a cooling unit. The God of Mischief, presumed dead after his fall into the abyss of the Bifrost, watched the mortals with a predator's curiosity. His essence was tethered to Dr. Erik Selvig, a subtle, ethereal influence that felt like a whisper in the back of the scientist's mind.
Loki's lips curled into a wicked, triumphant grin. He reached out a translucent hand, letting it hover just inches from the Tesseract. "A fountain of power in the hands of ants," he hissed, his voice a ghost in the air. "This is certainly worth a closer look."
Below him, Erik Selvig blinked. His pupils dilated for a fraction of a second, his own thoughts momentarily submerged by the external will. A strange, knowing smile spread across his face as he repeated the sentiment like a mantra. "Yes... this is certainly worth a closer look."
Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, Leander Hayes was dealing with a much more grounded reality.
He touched down in the alleyway behind his house in Queens, the golden aura of his flight fading just before his sneakers hit the pavement. He checked his watch—breakfast time. He slipped through the back door, the smell of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee hitting him like a physical wall.
Aunt Jenny was at the stove, her back to him as she flipped a tray of bacon. The moment the floorboard creaked, she didn't even look up. "You're late, Leander."
"I know, I know. Aunt Jenny, I'm sorry. I got caught up with a project and lost track of time. I should have called." Leander walked over, putting on his best 'innocent nephew' face.
Jenny turned around, her spatula held like a weapon of mass destruction. She looked like she wanted to give him a lecture that would last until the next century, but seeing his tired eyes and the way he shuffled his feet, the anger just sort of drained out of her.
"Wash your hands," she sighed, shaking her head. "We're headed to that new supermarket opening today for the grand sale. And check the guest room; Peter didn't go home last night. He's been waiting for you."
"On it," Leander said, making a break for the stairs.
He found Peter Parker—still small, still wearing his oversized Star Wars pajamas—sprawled across Leander's bed, surrounded by Lego sets.
"Hey, Pete. Wake up, the bacon's calling."
Peter sat up, rubbing his eyes and squinting at Leander. "Brother Leander! Where were you? We built that massive snowman yesterday, but when I went out this morning, he was totally gone. Just a pile of mush. And my hat was gone too!"
Leander laughed, remembering the heat he'd generated taking off for the desert. "Snowmen don't last forever, Pete. But tell you what, after the supermarket, we'll build an even bigger one. A legendary one."
"Yes! Can I invite Ned?" Peter scrambled off the bed, his excitement levels hitting the ceiling. "He's got a new computer and these really weird books about monsters. He's super smart, Leander. He knows all the specs for the Millennium Falcon."
"Invite whoever you want, kid. Just get downstairs before Jenny eats all the bacon."
The next few weeks were a blur of domesticity. The snow in New York began to retreat, replaced by the muddy, slushy gray of late winter. In the heart of Manhattan, the Stark Tower was rising at an impossible rate, its arc-reactor-powered skeleton already dominating the skyline.
But for Leander, a new shadow was looming. The end of summer vacation.
At fourteen, Leander was officially starting his freshman year of high school. He had tried every subtle trick in the book to convince Aunt Jenny that he was better off homeschooling, but one look at her expectant, hopeful face—and Uncle George's proud stories about "the genius in the family"—and Leander knew he was trapped.
He was a kid who could dismantle a military base with a thought, yet he was being forced to sit in a room and listen to a lecture on the Pythagorean theorem.
"This is a nightmare," Leander muttered, leaning against the parapet of a skyscraper.
"What? You came to me for this?"
The voice came from above. Tony Stark, encased in the gleaming gold-and-red Mark VI, descended from the clouds. The people on the streets below barely looked up; they were becoming used to the sight of the "Iron Man" patrolling the construction site of his new palace.
Tony hovered a few feet away, his thrusters kicking up a gale. "Listen, Leander, I'm a billionaire, a philanthropist, and a world-class genius. I'm currently supervising the most advanced architectural project in human history. I am not your school guidance counselor."
"Mr. Stark, come on," Leander pleaded, raising his voice over the hum of the suit. "I've already taught myself the entire high school curriculum. I can pass any test they throw at me. Sitting in those desks for six hours a day is a waste of time. Can't you just... I don't know, tell them I'm interning for you?"
"I'll have Pepper look into it," Tony joked, his mechanical faceplate tilting. "Maybe we can add it to the 'Stark Industries Awkward Requests' pile. Right under 'Buying a Private Island' and right above 'Replacing the Moon with a Giant Disco Ball.'"
Tony did a slow fly-by of the tower's upper deck, Jarvis scanning the structural integrity of the main pylons. "I graduated MIT at seventeen, kid. If you're so bored, just test out early. Don't be a dropout; be a graduate. It's better for the brand."
"I'm trying to be a 'hidden' graduate," Leander countered. "That's the problem."
Tony sighed, the sound echoing through the suit's external speakers. He circled back and landed on the roof of a building adjacent to the high school. He stepped out of the suit, the Mark VI collapsing into its sleek, portable mode. Tony sat down on a concrete ledge, pulling a box of pink-frosted donuts from a hidden compartment in the armor's storage rack.
"Sit," Tony commanded, gesturing to the spot beside him.
Leander sat, looking gloomily at the school playground below.
"What's the real issue?" Tony asked, his voice losing the joking edge. "Are you afraid you'll accidentally turn the bully's locker into a blender? Or are you worried the teachers will realize you're smarter than them?"
"Neither," Leander said, leaning back against the cold concrete. "I just don't want to hurt Aunt Jenny. She thinks this is the path to a 'good life.' If she finds out I'm skipping or that I'm not really a 'normal' student, it'll break her heart. She found me on the side of a road, Tony. She gave me everything. I can't just tell her that her dream for me is a waste of time."
Tony chewed on a donut, looking at the boy. He saw the same burden of responsibility he carried, but wrapped in a much younger, more vulnerable package.
"Alright," Tony said, wiping sugar from his lip. "I'll help you out. But not today. Go in there, do the 'Freshman' thing for a week. If you still hate it after seven days, I'll have the Stark legal team draw up some paperwork for a 'Specialized Youth Research Program' under my direct supervision. Your aunt will think you're a VIP intern, and the school will get a fat donation to look the other way. Deal?"
Leander's eyes brightened. "Deal. Thanks, Mr. Stark."
"Don't thank me yet. You still have to survive the first day," Tony said, pulling his faceplate back down. "How's the Mark VII coming, by the way? You mentioned the autonomous flight system."
"The laser-tracking is the key," Leander said, his technical brain clicking back on. "If you can get the suit to recognize your biometrics mid-air, you don't need the gantry. You just need to fall."
"I like the way you think, kid. Try not to fall too hard in algebra."
With a roar of plasma, the Mark VI shot into the sky, leaving a white streak against the blue.
Leander watched him go, then stood up. He leaped from the rooftop, using a brief burst of magnetic repulsion to slow his descent, landing silently behind a row of bushes on the school playground.
He straightened his backpack, took a deep breath, and walked toward the main entrance of City Center High.
'First class: Homeroom and Self-Introductions,' he thought, a dry smile on his face. 'This is going to be the longest week of my life.'