…
With Leon and Tony publicly revealing their identities as superheroes, the entire United States was shaken.
Until now, the Stark brothers had been synonymous with billionaire playboys. The gap between that image and symbols of strength and justice was vast.
No one had expected reality to become this surreal.
By the time they finished dealing with the frenzied reporters and ecstatic fans and finally returned home, it was already late at night.
"J.A.R.V.I.S."
"Welcome home, sirs."
The lights in the living room came on automatically at J.A.R.V.I.S.'s command.
What they saw, however, made both brothers pause.
Arcee—in Partner Mode—was sitting primly on the sofa. She wore a sleeveless, off-shoulder, backless gray sweater that barely covered her hips. Her posture was impeccable.
On the floor beside her lay a bald, one-eyed Black man, bound tightly in rope in an elaborate restraint pattern, sprawled in utter humiliation.
Tony blinked.
"…Who's that?"
"That's Arcee's other mode, Tony," Leon said casually as he walked over.
"What?"
"That's Arcee?"
Tony stared. "A full-sized motorcycle turning into… that? That violates at least twelve laws of physics."
He could barely rationalize her Combat Mode as hollow-structure mechanical reconfiguration.
But this kind of mass compression? Pure black tech.
"Tony," Arcee replied calmly, "Cybertronians all possess transformation capabilities."
"Sure," Tony muttered. "Alien shape-shifting robots. Why not. Totally normal."
Then he pointed at himself.
"By the way, I do have a name. It's Tony. Not 'Leon's brother.'"
"If possible, I'd prefer you call me Tony."
"Understood, Leon's brother."
"…Fantastic."
Tony sighed. "Call me whatever you want."
He gestured toward the man on the floor.
"And this?"
"Approximately one hour ago," J.A.R.V.I.S. explained, "this gentleman bypassed the mansion's electronic security and entered the premises without authorization. As a precaution, I notified Arcee, who neutralized him."
Leon's lips twitched upward.
He could easily imagine what had happened.
Nick Fury must have wanted to sneak in ahead of time, make a dramatic entrance, and assert dominance—only to walk straight into Arcee.
Judging by the bruises on his face, she hadn't gone easy on him.
"I see," Tony said dryly. "For a second I thought he was another alien."
At that moment, the man on the floor groaned awake.
"Motherf—!"
Before he could finish—
Thud.
Arcee delivered a swift kick, knocking Nick Fury unconscious again.
Leon and Tony winced in sympathy.
…
Half an hour later.
Nick Fury stirred once more.
This time, he carefully scanned his surroundings. He'd been untied. The terrifying robot woman was nowhere in sight.
He muttered cautiously:
"Motherf—what the hell was that metal thing?"
"That 'metal thing'," Leon said lazily from the sofa, golden light glinting faintly in his eyes, "is my beloved motorcycle, Director Fury."
Tony, meanwhile, had donned the right gauntlet of his Mark III Armor, palm repulsor aimed squarely at Fury.
"Director Fury," Tony said coolly, "care to explain why you broke into our home?"
"Without a satisfactory answer, you may not see tomorrow's sunrise."
Nick Fury swallowed.
I'm the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.! Who would dare kill me?
He glanced at Leon.
He glanced at Tony's glowing repulsor.
"…I'm Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., Nick Fury," he said stiffly. "This is a misunderstanding. I'm actually one of the good guys."
He even forced a friendly grin, revealing the gap in his teeth.
The brothers exchanged a look.
Then they both stepped forward, helping Fury up with exaggerated enthusiasm and patting his shoulders.
"Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.? Why didn't you say so?" Leon laughed. "We thought you were some random burglar."
"Yeah," Tony added. "Total misunderstanding."
Fury smiled outwardly.
Internally: Motherf—.
…
Once the tension settled, the conversation shifted.
"'I am Iron Man.' 'I am Homelander.'" Fury said evenly. "Sounds impressive. But do you really think you're the only super-powered individuals in the world?"
"No, gentlemen. There are others. You just don't know about them yet."
"Sounds dramatic," Leon replied flatly.
Tony leaned back.
"Even if that's true—where are they?"
"All these years, aside from Captain America—Steve Rogers—whom my father helped bring into existence, I haven't seen any so-called superheroes step forward."
"If they've been hiding in the shadows this whole time, what does that make them? Heroes? Or cowards?"
Leon chuckled. "Super cowards."
Fury stiffened.
His strongest asset—Captain Marvel—was off-world. Not deployable unless Earth faced extinction-level danger.
As for active personnel? Hawkeye. Black Widow. Skilled operatives—but not headline-level powerhouses.
Which was precisely why he was here.
"I'm initiating a superhero initiative," Fury admitted. "And I need people like you."
"A team of superheroes?" Tony raised a brow. "It better have a name."
"It does," Fury said. "The Avengers."
Tony gave a low whistle. "That's not bad. Leon?"
Leon crossed his arms.
"I'll lend you our reputation. But I lead."
"And I operate with full autonomy."
"Agree to that, and I'm in."
"Otherwise, I'll build my own team."
He smiled faintly.
"Maybe call it the Justice League."
Tony snorted.
Fury fell silent.
Tony Stark—genius engineer, billionaire, world-class weapons designer. A strategic asset.
Leon Stark—supersonic flight. Invulnerability. Super strength. Unknown energy projection.
In Fury's mind, Leon was comparable to the Hulk—perhaps even more stable.
After a long pause, Fury extended his hand.
"…Deal."
Leon clasped it.
"Pleasure doing business."
Tony crossed his arms.
"No one asked for my opinion."
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