The salt-heavy wind of Malibu whipped around the ruins of what used to be a billionaire's playground, but Pepper Potts didn't feel the chill. She was clutching the charred, hollowed-out faceplate of the Mark VII to her chest as if it still held Tony's warmth.
The small, pulsing red light in the corner of the HUD had changed everything. It was a heartbeat. A digital "I'm here."
Just as the first tear of genuine relief began to track through the dust on her cheek, a ripple in the air caught her eye. It wasn't the shimmer of heat or the smoke from the smoldering debris. It was a distortion, like a glitch in reality, and then—he was just there.
"Pepper?"
The voice was younger than she remembered, yet carried a weight that made her heart skip. Leander Hayes stood a few feet away, looking remarkably casual in a T-shirt and shorts that definitely weren't suited for a California December. His golden eyes scanned the jagged remains of the cliffside mansion with a mixture of confusion and growing anger.
"Where is everyone?" Leander asked, his voice low and urgent. "I went by New York first, but the place was locked down. I thought Aunt Jenny and Uncle George would be here with Tony, but the whole area looks like a war zone. Why is the house at the bottom of the ocean?"
He looked down at the mangled dashboard in her hands, then back at her. "Stark... he's okay, right? He's too annoying to die like this."
The suddenness of his arrival nearly sent Pepper stumbling off the edge of the jagged concrete. She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, but the shock quickly melted into a radiant, disbelieving smile.
"Leander... oh my god, Leander? You're actually back?"
She didn't wait for an answer. She stepped over a pile of broken rebar and pulled him into a fierce, desperate embrace. After ten months of silence, after the Battle of New York and the crushing weight of Tony's deteriorating mental health, having Leander back felt like a physical shield being placed around her soul.
Leander hugged her back gently, mindful of his own strength, and patted her shoulder. "I'm back, Pepper. It took a while, but I'm back. Now tell me—was this the Mandarin? Did that guy really drop a house on Tony Stark? And are you hurt?"
Seeing the spark in Pepper's eyes, Leander breathed a sigh of relief. He could read people better than most sensors; he knew she had just received good news. She knew Tony was breathing.
Pepper pulled back, glancing nervously at the rescue teams and federal agents swarming the perimeter. They were the only two who knew the truth, and she intended to keep it that way. If the world thought Tony was dead, he had the element of surprise.
"Leander, I can't even tell you how glad I am to see your face," she whispered, her voice trembling with excitement. "Tony is... he's alive. He's somewhere far away, but he's alive. And honestly? Seeing you might be the only thing that could actually fix whatever is broken inside his head right now."
She set the damaged faceplate aside, her mind already racing. She knew the public saw Leander as a myth—the "Golden Legend"—but she knew him as the boy who could dismantle a tank with a sneeze. He was exactly what Tony needed.
"I'm just glad I didn't miss the party," Leander said, though his expression darkened again. "But Pepper, my family. Where are George and Jenny? If they were in that house when it went down..."
"They're safe!" Pepper interrupted quickly, sensing the dangerous hum of energy beginning to vibrate around Leander's feet. "Tony sent them on a long-term trip to China weeks ago. He was worried about the 'Mandarin' threats and wanted them as far away from the States as possible. They're probably eating dim sum in Shanghai right now, completely oblivious to all this."
Leander's shoulders dropped an inch. The tension left his frame. "China? Okay. Good. That's... actually a smart move for once."
He looked at the ruins again, his eyes narrowing. "We shouldn't stay here. This wasn't just a terrorist attack. Dropping three gunships on a high-profile target in broad daylight without a single intercept from the Air Force? That's not a cave-dweller with a camera; that's an inside job."
Pepper nodded, her instinct for business and survival kicking in. "You're right. Let's get out of here before the press realizes who you are."
They moved silently, slipping through the shadows of the debris like ghosts. No one noticed the boy in the shorts; their eyes were too busy looking for pieces of a billionaire.
The Drive to the City
Pepper's Audi navigated the winding roads away from the coast. In the passenger seat sat Maya Hansen, looking like she'd been through a rock tumbler. Her hair was a matted mess, and two angry, red scrapes decorated her cheek.
Leander sat in the back, staring out the window at the passing traffic. He was silent, but his mind was spinning. He looked at the back of Maya's head. He remembered her—or rather, he remembered the type. A scientist with a secret.
"So, Maya," Pepper started, her voice tight as she gripped the steering wheel. "You came to the house to warn Tony. Why now? What's so urgent that you'd risk getting blown up?"
Maya glanced nervously into the rearview mirror, catching Leander's golden gaze. She shivered. She didn't know who the kid was, but the way he looked at her made her feel like she was being scanned by an X-ray machine.
"My boss," Maya said, her voice barely a whisper. "He... he thinks in a very specific way. A 'Mandarin' way."
Pepper's eyes twitched. She shot a look at Leander in the mirror.
"We need a secure spot," Leander said from the back. "The air is too thin out here. We find a hotel, we get some food, and then we find out exactly who this boss is."
"His name is Aldrich Killian," Maya blurted out.
Pepper almost swerved. Killian had stood in her office just the day before, glowing with health and arrogance. Now, knowing he was connected to the man who tried to kill her... the betrayal felt like a physical weight.
The Hotel Sanctuary
Pepper chose a high-end, star-rated hotel in the city, using a corporate alias to check them in. Leander didn't wait for the heavy conversation to start. His stomach had been complaining since he left the Pacific Ocean.
While Pepper led Maya to a suite to clean up, Leander disappeared for ten minutes and returned with three massive bags of takeout. Burgers, pizza, fries, and a couple of milkshakes.
In the room, the television was already blaring. The "Mandarin" was back on the air. A static-heavy broadcast showed a terrified government official with a gun to his head. The man behind the mask—the theatrical, bearded terrorist—was counting down. He wanted the President to call him.
When the call came through, the Mandarin didn't celebrate. He just pulled the trigger.
The cold-blooded execution played out on every screen in America. The country was in a state of shock, a collective gasp echoing through the digital landscape.
Leander sat on a chair, mid-bite of a cheeseburger, watching the screen with cold eyes. "That's a lot of production value for a terrorist," he muttered.
Killian, meanwhile, was already on the move. His phone showed a GPS coordinate in Tennessee. He was hunting Tony.
Back in the hotel room, Maya emerged from the bathroom, her wounds cleaned and her hair somewhat tamed. She sat on the edge of the bed opposite Pepper, her eyes red and watery.
"Would you like a burger? Or a slice?" Leander offered, holding up a box of pepperoni pizza. "You look like you haven't eaten since the Bush administration."
Both women ignored him, lost in the gravity of their conversation.
"Maya, you have to tell me everything," Pepper said, her voice soft but firm. "You gave your research to a think tank. You thought you were helping people."
"Killian's think tank is funded by the Pentagon," Maya said, her voice cracking. "I thought it was official. I thought I was solving human disability. I didn't know he was turning it into... into that."
"We used to be the same," Pepper said, reaching out to stroke Maya's arm. "Stark Industries was built on landmines and missiles. We fixed it. We can fix this too."
Maya looked at Pepper with a flicker of hope. "Thank you, Pepper. Truly."
Leander walked over, pizza in hand, his expression skeptical. "Look, I hate to be the 'Golden Legend' of bad news, but this isn't just a science project gone wrong. Three gunships don't just 'oops' their way into restricted airspace over a private residence. The military didn't just miss them."
He leaned against the wall, his golden eyes narrowing. "The Mandarin has a man inside the government. Maybe more than one. And this Killian guy? He's not just a nerd with a grudge. He's the architect."
Pepper looked at Leander, and for the first time, she saw the warrior he had become in the stars. He wasn't just a kid anymore.
"I agree," Pepper said. "It's too clean. Too targeted."
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound at the door was sharp, rhythmic, and authoritative.