On Saturday morning, Leander walked through the front gates of Midtown Tech for the last time that semester. He had finalized the mountain of paperwork, handed over his textbooks, and completed the formal withdrawal process. By noon, he was stepping off campus, the weight of his high school life already fading into the background.
His phone buzzed. It was Worth Brandon.
"Mr. Brandon," Leander said softly, dodging a group of students heading to a weekend football practice. "Have you come to a decision?"
"I need to look the actual operators in the eye," Worth's deep voice crackled over the line. "If my company is going to provide legal cover for the dominant power in Queens, I need to know the people I'm insulating. I expect this to be a profitable venture, Leander."
"Go to Mike's Fast Food. You know the one. I'll meet you in the office," Leander said, cutting the call.
Almost immediately, his private line pinged. It was an encrypted signal from Tony Stark.
"Hey, Mr. Stark. You're calling on a Saturday? I thought you'd be elbow-deep in a car engine by now."
"I should be asking you the same thing," Tony's voice was muffled by the clank of machinery. He was hovering in the skeleton of the unfinished Stark Tower, sparks flying in the background. "How's the packing? You're D.C. bound tomorrow morning. Are Aunt May and Uncle Ben—wait, no—Jenny and George, are they okay with you leaving?"
"It took some convincing, but they're sorted. I'm finally getting out of the classroom," Leander said, a hint of relief in his voice. "I can actually focus on my cultivation in peace."
Tony's tone sharpened slightly. "I've been hearing some chatter on the police scanners about Queens. A lot of 'accidents' involving high-profile criminals. You wouldn't happen to know anything about a local power vacuum, would you?"
"I took out the trash, Tony. I'm setting up a system so the neighborhood stays quiet while I'm gone. It'll be safer for everyone."
Tony sighed. "Leander, managing an underworld isn't just about knocking heads. It's about politics. Who are you leaving in charge? Give me names."
"Don't worry, I've got my own methods of ensuring loyalty. I'll be in D.C. tomorrow, but I don't plan on staying for the orientation. What's the status of the Lakeside Middle School cover?"
"It's handled. You're a ghost on their roster. Look, Pepper's glaring at me because I'm late for a dinner meeting. Stay out of the news, kid."
Leander reached the restaurant, where Zost, Dick, Chara, and Lando were waiting. They looked tired, but their eyes were bright with the adrenaline of victory.
"Boss," Zost said, stepping forward. "The opposition is broken. Anyone who wasn't caught in the 'accidents' has either fled the borough or pledged their loyalty. We are the only game in town now."
Dick stepped up, looking more like a corporate security chief than a mercenary. "The street-level stuff is stable, Boss. But the people in the Establishment—the city council, the high-ranking precincts—they're starting to ask questions. We need legitimate shielding, or this won't last six months."
Leander nodded. "Worth Brandon is on his way. I don't care about the board meetings or the fine print. I'm making the introduction, but Zost, you're the face of the operation. Concede whatever profit margin you need to; I just want Queens to be an unbreakable fortress of stability."
Worth Brandon arrived twenty minutes later, his armored town car idling at the curb. When he entered the back office and saw Leander sitting in the 'throne' with four hardened mercenaries standing at attention, the last of his doubts vanished.
"So," Worth said, looking around. "It really is you pulling the strings."
The negotiation lasted for hours. They went over the demographics of Queens—the 2.3 million residents, the dense urban corridors, and the logistical nightmare of its diverse neighborhoods. Zost presented a development plan that focused on "community protection" and "logistical efficiency," effectively turning the gang into a private security and courier network.
By the time the sun set, the Brandon Group was officially the silent partner of the new Queens administration. With a billionaire's legal team and military connections backing them, the "accidents" would be buried, and the new order would be protected.
Sunday morning. The air at the airport was crisp and smelled of jet fuel. Leander stood by the terminal, his backpack slung over one shoulder and a single suitcase at his side. He had refused to let Jenny and George see him off, wanting to avoid a tearful scene that might draw attention.
Mr. Heike was already there, looking nervous and checking his watch every ten seconds. To Leander's surprise, Karin and Walker were standing with him.
"Leander! Over here!" Heike waved him over. "I've got your boarding pass. Someone from the Lakeside program will meet you at the gate in D.C. to take you to the dorms."
He handed over the ticket, then cleared his throat. "Karin and Walker practically staged a protest to come say goodbye. You have thirty minutes."
Karin stepped forward, her eyes rimmed with red. She didn't say a word at first, she just wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. "Leander," she whispered into his ear. "I know it was you at the window. I know you're the reason I can breathe again. I'll keep your secrets, I promise. But you have to come back for our second year. D.C. is too far, and I don't want to be in that school without you."
"I'll be back before you know it, Karin," Leander said softly.
Walker stood back, looking awkward. He looked at Leander—the boy who had sent his former friend to a different continent and redesigned his father's company over a phone call. He didn't feel like a bully anymore. He felt like a witness.
"Leo," Walker said, offering a hand. "Have a safe flight. And... thanks. For the talk with my dad."
Leander bumped fists with him instead of shaking hands. "Keep an eye on things, Walker. I'll see you in a year."
"Bye-bye!" the three of them called out as Leander disappeared down the jet bridge.
The flight to D.C. was barely an hour, but for Leander, it felt like a transition between lives. When he walked out of the terminal at Dulles, he ignored the "Lakeside School" sign being held by a bored-looking driver.
Instead, a sleek, black commercial van with tinted windows pulled up to the curb. The door slid open to reveal Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, and Happy Hogan.
"Get in, kid. We're double-parked," Happy grunted.
"The whole family came out?" Leander joked, sliding into the back seat next to Tony.
"Pepper's in town for a real estate binge," Tony said, gesturing to the tablet in Pepper's lap. "Buying up office space for the new Stark Energy initiative. She's a shopaholic for skyscrapers."
"It's an investment in the D.C. corridor, Tony," Pepper corrected him with a smile, turning back to look at Leander. "Are you hungry? We were going to grab lunch at the hotel."
"Thanks, Pepper, but I've got a tight schedule," Leander said. "I'm heading for Wakanda immediately. I've got a lead on some resources for my cultivation, and I need to move while the trail is hot."
Tony looked at him, his playfulness fading. "Happy, pull over at the next rest stop. The kid's in a hurry."
"Won't you stay for even one meal?" Pepper asked, worried.
"I'll be back the day the Avengers move into the new Tower," Leander promised.
Happy pulled the van over to a secluded shoulder on the highway. Leander stepped out, his feet already beginning to hover inches off the asphalt.
"Leander," Tony said, leaning out the door. "I've given you the school cover, but don't think I'm not going to notice if you start toppling governments. If something happens out there, you call me."
"Next time, Tony. I'll tell you everything when I get back," Leander said with a grin.
Suddenly, a shockwave of air hit the van. Leander shot straight into the sky like a golden arrow, breaking the sound barrier within seconds and vanishing into the clouds.
Pepper's tablet slipped from her hand, clattering onto the floor of the van. She stared out the window, her mouth slightly open. "Tony... did he just...?"
Happy was gripping the steering wheel, his eyes wide. "What the hell was that? Is he a rocket?"
Tony leaned back, a complicated expression on his face—a mix of pride and profound concern. "He's Leander Hayes, Happy. And he's just getting started."
Back in Queens, the world moved on.
Aunt Jenny spent the morning in silence, clutching a framed photo of her, George, and Leander from their trip to Vegas. She felt a hole in the house that no amount of cleaning could fix.
Karin went home and told her father she wanted to be homeschooled for the rest of the year. She couldn't stand the thought of being in Midtown Tech without the boy who had saved her.
Walker, the former class monitor, stood in front of his mirror on Monday morning, wearing the uniform of a prestigious Manhattan prep school. His father had transferred him, wanting to keep him closer to the "new business" they were running.
Peter Parker and Ned Leeds sat in the cafeteria, wondering why the "cool new kid" had vanished so suddenly.
And deep beneath a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, the blue glow of the Tesseract pulsed in its containment unit. Scientists were working around the clock to harness its power, unaware that the boy who could dismantle their entire project with a thought was currently flying halfway across the world toward a hidden kingdom in Africa.
The first chapter of Leander's life in New York was closed. The next would be written in the vibranium sands of Wakanda.