"I'm sorry, Aunt Jenny," Leander said, his voice dropping into that gentle, familiar cadence he used only with them. He forced a sheepish smile, trying to look like the boy they had raised rather than the entity that had just cracked reality. "That was... a bit of an accident. Some leftover energy from the trip. I promise, no more earthquakes today."
Jenny looked at him, her lips trembling. She reached out, her fingers brushing the fabric of his sleeve as if checking if he was still solid. "Leander... don't scare me like that. You've been gone for so long, and then you just—vanish? You can't keep running around like this. My heart can't take it."
"She's right, kid," George added, though his voice was steadier. He kept a protective arm around Jenny's shoulders, but his eyes were darting around, scanning the street. "Let's just get off our feet for a minute. We need to process... whatever the hell today is."
The three of them began to walk toward a shaded seating area near a row of tea shops. But they hadn't even covered ten meters before the atmosphere shifted. The casual flow of the crowd was interrupted by a group of men moving with synchronized, military precision. They wore dark, well-tailored suits that screamed "government agency" even in the middle of a Hong Kong heatwave.
A middle-aged Asian man with a sharp, calculating gaze stepped forward, cutting off their path. He didn't look like a thug; he looked like a bureaucrat with the backing of an army.
He flashed a leather wallet containing a high-tech identification card. "Mr. and Mrs. Hayes? And I assume you are Leander?" His English was clipped, professional, and entirely devoid of warmth. "I'm with S.H.I.E.L.D. We need you to come with us for a formal inquiry. Your cooperation would be... appreciated."
The surrounding tourists, sensing the sudden tension, began to drift away. In Hong Kong, you learned quickly that when men in suits stopped a family in the street, you didn't hang around to watch.
George's face went pale, but he didn't back down. He stepped in front of Jenny. "Look, we're just here on vacation. Our visas are in order, our passports are legal. We haven't done anything wrong. If this is about the earthquake, we're as surprised as anyone."
"This isn't an invitation based on legalities, Mr. Hayes," the man said smoothly. "It's a matter of global security. Please. Don't make this difficult in a public space."
George's eyes darted to Leander, a silent plea for guidance. Leander, however, didn't look worried. He looked annoyed. He stepped forward, placing himself between the agents and his family.
"Does S.H.I.E.L.D. have a permit to operate this openly in China?" Leander asked, his voice cold. "And who are you supposed to be? I don't remember seeing your face in the New York files."
The lead agent straightened his tie, his expression unreadable. "You can call me Agent Kwan. S.H.I.E.L.D. has jurisdictional agreements with various international task forces. We aren't here to cause a scene, Leander. But your interest in certain local 'assets' has raised flags."
Leander tilted his head, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "Kwan. Right. Well, Kwan, you've got a lot of nerve stopping people in the middle of their lunch."
"Let's move this somewhere more private," Kwan insisted, gesturing toward a nearby building that looked like a quiet residential office.
George and Jenny followed, mostly because they felt they had no choice, but Leander followed because he wanted to see how far these people would push. Once inside the sterile, quiet room of the safehouse, Kwan sat opposite Leander, leaving George and Jenny to hover nervously in the corner.
Kwan didn't waste time. "Why were you trying to contact Chen Haoran? And why were you attempting to smuggle him out of the city?"
Leander leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Is there a law against making friends? Or is Chen Haoran a prisoner of the state now? Last I checked, he was a street performer, not a fugitive."
Kwan leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "He is an Index candidate. He is under observation for the safety of the public—and himself. Your interference could destabilize a very delicate situation. Now, I'll ask again: What is your business with the fire-wielder?"
"I thought he could be useful," Leander said simply. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of sleek, custom-built glasses.
"I wouldn't recommend using any tech right now," Kwan warned, his hand drifting toward the jacket where his sidearm was holstered. Two other agents stepped closer to Leander, their shadows falling over the table.
Leander didn't even look at them. He slid the glasses onto his face. A faint blue glow lit up the lenses. "Relax, Kwan. You couldn't stop me even if I gave you a head start. JARVIS, call Phil Coulson."
The agents moved instantly. One reached out to grab the glasses off Leander's head, while the other tried to pin his shoulder.
Leander didn't hit them. He simply stood up.
The kinetic energy he released as he rose was like a physical shockwave. The heavy wooden chair he had been sitting on didn't just slide; it flew backward with enough force to crack the baseboard. The two agents were thrown back three steps, their boots skidding on the floor as they struggled to keep their balance.
Kwan was on his feet in a second, his pistol drawn and aimed squarely at Leander's chest. "Don't move! Hands where I can see them!"
In the corner, Jenny stifled a scream. George held her tight, his eyes wide with horror.
Leander stood there, perfectly still, looking down the barrel of the gun with a bored expression. "You're going to regret pointing that at me," he said quietly.
Through the earpiece of his glasses, he heard the ringing.
Thousands of miles away, aboard the specialized S.H.I.E.L.D. mobile command unit—the "Bus"—Phil Coulson was standing near the holotable. Melinda May was nearby, her face a mask of stoic concentration, while Fitz and Simmons were bickering over some thermal readings from a lab in Hong Kong.
"We need to decide what to do with Skye," Coulson was saying to May. "She's a wildcard, but she's got talent."
"She's a liability," May countered. "You're collecting strays, Phil."
Suddenly, Coulson's private encrypted phone rang. He frowned. That line was reserved for Level 8 emergencies and... well, people who were supposed to think he was dead.
"That's a secure channel," May noted, her hand drifting toward her own weapon. "Who has that number?"
Coulson answered it, his tone wary. "This is Agent Coulson."
"Phil. Long time no see. Or hear. Whatever."
Coulson's entire demeanor changed. The tension left his shoulders, replaced by a look of sheer, genuine relief. A smile broke across his face—the kind of smile he usually reserved for vintage Captain America trading cards. "Leander? Is that you? You're actually back?"
May's eyebrows shot up. She knew that name. Everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. knew the name of the kid who had stood on the front lines of the Chitauri invasion and then vanished into the stars.
"I'm back," Leander's voice came through, though it sounded strained. "And I'm currently staring down the barrel of a gun held by an Agent Kwan in Hong Kong. Care to tell your boys to stand down before I have to start breaking furniture?"
Coulson's smile vanished. "Kwan? Oh, for the love of... Give me a visual."
Leander tapped the side of his glasses twice. A holographic window projected into the air in front of him in Hong Kong, showing Coulson's face. Simultaneously, on the Bus, a feed from Leander's glasses appeared on the main screen.
Kwan froze. He saw the legendary Phil Coulson—the man the entire agency mourned—standing in a high-tech lab, looking very much alive.
"Agent Kwan," Coulson said, his voice echoing in the small Hong Kong room. "Put the gun away. Right now. That's an order from a superior officer."
Kwan looked like he'd seen a ghost. His hand shook slightly as he lowered the weapon. "Director Coulson? But... the reports said—"
"The reports were exaggerated," May stepped into the frame, her eyes locking onto Kwan's. "Kwan. It's been a while. Still doing everything by the book, I see."
"May?" Kwan breathed. "I thought you were behind a desk in D.C."
"Things change," she said shortly.
Leander sighed, the blue glow in his glasses fading. "Can we skip the reunion? I'd like to go home, and my aunt and uncle are about five minutes away from a collective heart attack."
Coulson looked at Leander, his expression softening. "I'm sorry about this, Leander. Kwan, what is the situation there? Why are you detaining Mr. Hayes?"
"He was attempting to interfere with an Index subject," Kwan said, regaining some of his professional poise. "Chen Haoran. He was trying to take him out of the city."
Coulson went silent for a moment. He looked at May, then back at the screen. "Leander... why do you want Chen? He's volatile. He's not someone you just invite over for dinner."
"I thought he had potential," Leander said, glancing at the corner where George and Jenny were watching the holographic call in stunned silence. "I'm looking for people who can handle themselves. But honestly? If it's going to be this much of a headache, I don't care that much."
Coulson looked at Kwan. "I need to speak with the Agent in private. Leander, give us a moment."
May looked at Coulson with suspicion. "Phil, what are you doing? The Index is strictly 'observe and contain.' You can't just let a civilian—even Leander—walk off with a pyrokinetic."
"He isn't a civilian, May. He's the reason I'm breathing," Coulson said quietly. He walked to a private corner of the Bus, his face serious.
Leander waited, leaning against the wall. He went over to George and Jenny, whispering to them that everything was under control. George looked at the holographic projection of Coulson as if he were seeing a miracle.
"Is that the man from the bridge?" George whispered. "The one who... died?"
"He got better," Leander said with a wink.
After a few minutes, the call reconnected. Kwan looked frustrated, but he nodded toward Leander.
"Leander," Coulson's voice came through. "Kwan will let you go. But I need your word. You leave Chen Haoran alone for now. He's under a specific type of surveillance that involves the local government. If you take him, it won't just be S.H.I.E.L.D. coming after you."
Leander thought about the "Scorcher." The guy was talented, sure, but he was also arrogant and undisciplined. Was he worth a diplomatic incident on his first day back?
"Fine," Leander said. "I'll pass. He's not worth the paperwork."
Coulson breathed a visible sigh of relief. "Thank you. And Leander... come see me soon. We have a lot to catch up on. The world isn't the same place you left."
"I noticed," Leander said. "See you around, Phil."
He tapped the glasses, and the projection vanished.
Agent Kwan stood up, straightening his suit jacket. He looked at Leander with a newfound respect—and a healthy dose of fear. "You have high-level friends, Mr. Hayes. You're free to go. My apologies for the... misunderstanding."
"Don't let it happen again," Leander said, his voice holding a sharp edge.
He walked over to George and Jenny, taking each of them by an arm. "Let's get out of here. I think we've had enough of Hong Kong for one day."
As they stepped out onto the street, the sun was beginning to set, casting long, orange shadows across the city. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents watched them go, but Leander didn't care.
He found a secluded alleyway between two towering apartment blocks. He felt the Space Stone fragment in his chest thrumming, eager to move.
"Hold on tight," he whispered.
A brilliant blue light enveloped the three of them. In the blink of an eye, the humid air of Mong Kok was replaced by the familiar, salty breeze of the New York coastline. They were home.