Another new day had arrived. The rain had passed, and the sun now bathed the world in its warm glow. Leon set off for the battlefield, flying high in the sky.
This was his second time traveling to Afghanistan, so he was familiar with the routine. He spent a few minutes on the road, overtaking several Boeing airplanes in his path. As he floated in the air, he looked down at the blue world beneath the clouds.
It was already night in Afghanistan. The bases of the Ten Rings gang had mostly gone under curfew, with the personnel preparing for rest. However, there were always some insane terrorists who would take advantage of the deepening night to harass civilians.
Leon's first targets were these individuals.
"You're first!" Leon muttered as he observed two armed terrorists breaking into a civilian's house.
He tilted his body and plummeted downwards, the bio-force field around him allowing him to descend silently, like a god of death. When his feet hit the ground, the impact caused a deep crack to spread in every direction, producing a dull thud that startled the two men.
They turned around, guns raised, but their eyes widened when they saw Leon's unusual attire.
"Dari? Are you Iranian or Tajik?" Leon asked in Dari, recognizing their language. He had spent the past few days learning many of the world's official languages, and could now understand their curses.
However, the two terrorists seemed unfazed. They raised their guns to his head.
Leon shook his head. "It seems you don't want to communicate."
"Then goodbye!" With a swift movement, Leon reached out, grabbing the terrorists by the necks. In an instant, he lifted them off the ground and twisted their necks. A pair of crisp, sickening cracks echoed as the men dropped to the ground, lifeless.
Without a second thought, Leon dropped their bodies, turning to leave. But something caught his attention. He looked at the family huddled together inside the house, terrified and silent.
This was a typical Pashtun family. The elderly father had a bearded face, his eyes sunken and skin sallow. His lips were chapped, revealing the hardships of life. The mother and two daughters wore traditional long robes and dresses, a combination of brown and orange. The family watched him with fearful eyes, their bodies trembling. The two daughters clung to their mother's arms, trying to hide their faces.
"You don't have to worry about the consequences of these two dying here," Leon said in Pashto, the official language of Afghanistan. "It's late, go back to sleep. Tomorrow, when you wake up, the nearby terrorist organizations will have disappeared."
With those words, Leon turned and began to float upwards. But just as he was about to leave, a small, tender voice called out from inside the house.
"P-please!" It was the youngest girl, a child of about seven or eight. Despite her mother's attempt to cover her mouth, the girl struggled and asked timidly, "A-are you Superman?"
Leon paused. He had been wearing his self-made uniform with a red cape, and from the looks of it, he could certainly be mistaken for Superman, especially in such a critical moment. He hadn't expected even a family in war-torn Afghanistan to recognize the superhero, but here they were, making the connection.
"I'm not Superman, but you can call me that if you like," Leon replied with a smile, amused by her innocent question.
The little girl beamed up at him. "So, you're here to help us?" she asked, her voice growing bolder. "Just like you beat those bad guys on TV?"
Leon paused, contemplating the question. After a brief moment, he nodded. "That's right, I'm here to drive away the bad guys, and they won't be bothering you anymore."
The little girl cheered, breaking free from her mother's grasp. She ran toward him, trying to hug his leg. Leon chuckled softly and squatted down, gently pressing his hand on the girl's head. "What's your name?"
"Shafika, my name is Shafika Mazari!" she said proudly.
"Alright, Shafika," Leon replied, his voice softening. "You should go back to your room now, lie down, and get a good night's sleep. When you wake up tomorrow, all the bad guys will be gone. Okay?"
Shafika looked up at him, her large eyes full of trust, though her voice was hesitant. "Are you leaving, Superman?"
Leon smiled warmly, pointing his finger to her forehead. "Shafika, you shouldn't talk to strangers easily. Make sure you always listen to your mother, alright?"
With that, he stood up, took a step back, and flew into the night sky. His cape fluttered in the wind as he disappeared into the clouds. The family stood in stunned silence, watching the incredible sight.
"Allah bless, that really is Superman!" the elderly father whispered, raising his hands in prayer.
The family was left in awe, their hearts filled with hope. For the first time in years, they could look forward to tomorrow with a sense of peace.
Leon wasted no time in continuing his mission. He swiftly cleared the terrorists harassing civilians throughout Afghanistan. Each encounter was quick and efficient: one appearance, one punch, and he was gone. The entire process took no more than a few seconds per terrorist.
Once the small-time threats were dealt with, Leon turned his focus to the Ten Rings gang's main base. Instead of following the typical military strategy of gradual escalation, Leon decided to go straight for the heart of the organization.
He flew high above the clouds, his cloak billowing in the high-altitude winds. As he looked down, he saw the enemy camp below, with over seventy men patrolling the base. His X-ray vision revealed more than 4,000 sleeping combatants in the tents.
In one of the tents, he spotted something that caught his attention: Jericho missiles. These powerful weapons, recently developed by Tony Stark, could flatten entire mountains with a single round. Leon couldn't believe his eyes.
"How could there be Jericho missiles here?" he muttered. "Tony, Tony, you really are helping the evildoers."
Even though Tony had already felt guilty about his past actions, Leon couldn't help but add to the guilt. He took out his phone and called, "Jarvis, record everything I see here. Take detailed pictures of the Stark Industries weapons, especially the Jericho missiles, and send them to Tony after the battle is over. He needs to see this."
"Understood, Master Leon," Jarvis responded. "The camera equipment is active."
With a nod, Leon prepared for his attack.
He fell toward the base like a meteor, moving so fast that the friction against the air ignited flames.
The deafening crash of his impact reverberated through the camp. Alarms blared as the terrorists scrambled to respond. Leon stood in the center of the base, using his heat vision to eliminate one enemy after another.
Soon, the terrorists realized they were already half-dead before they could even make a move. Those who hadn't been killed by Leon's initial strikes started to flee, but they were swiftly dealt with as well.
The remaining terrorists—those who had been too slow to escape—tried to retaliate with heavy artillery, including grenades, rocket launchers, and even Jericho missiles. But their efforts were futile. Leon had already neutralized most of them before they could even react.
As the battle raged on, Leon moved from one target to the next, quickly dismantling the base and ensuring the threat to the civilians of Afghanistan would no longer exist.