When the two armored suits entered the airspace, the monitoring soldiers mistook them for Superman and immediately pressed the emergency alert button to notify their superiors. As a result, a squadron of elite fighter jets—more than a dozen—was quickly dispatched.
"But where did these things come from? Rhodey, did you just say 'just'?" An Air Force Lieutenant Colonel slammed the table in frustration. "These two suits held off our entire squadron, and you still call them just exoskeletons?"
Rhodey rubbed his face. "I was comparing them to Superman! I work in weapons research; I know exactly how significant these suits are."
"But they really should be described as just—if you're comparing them to him."
"Look at the tech they're using," Rhodey continued. "Unknown high-output, stable energy source, ultra-high-strength precision metal alloys, an unbelievable anti-gravity system, and an advanced energy transfer system…"
"These technologies are at least a decade ahead of us!"
"If we had this kind of tech, the Pentagon could begin drafting plans to dominate the world tomorrow."
"What baffles me," said another officer, "is why someone would use such revolutionary technology just to build exosuits. It's like using tanks to protect a soldier for close-quarters combat…"
"Also, has anyone noticed they haven't taken any offensive action yet?" someone else asked. "Could they be on our side?"
Rhodey advised cautiously, "Maybe we should try to establish communication first?"
But General Ross, the highest-ranking Lieutenant General in the Air Force, made the call: "Regardless of whose side they're on—shoot them down."
"Wait, what's that? Is that another exosuit?" A Colonel pointed at the projection, astonished.
Everyone turned their eyes to the screen.
Without anyone noticing, a silver-white armored suit had appeared next to the red-and-gold one.
"Damn it, they're coordinated! Shoot them all down!" General Ross's mustache twitched with frustration.
From a distance, Leon saw the two armored suits weaving expertly through a storm of bullets. He accelerated, flying up beside a battered Tony Stark.
"Tony, I haven't seen you for half a day. How did you end up looking like you just took a dip in an oil field?"
"Ah!" Tony exclaimed from inside the gold-red armor, startled. He turned his head, nearly launching an attack on Leon. "Leon! Next time you show up, try looking more like a person and less like a ghost!"
He nearly lost balance mid-air. "And why are you wearing my armor!?"
Leon tilted his head slightly. "Because you took my armor, remember?"
He glanced back at the relentless pursuit by over a dozen fighter jets. The barrage of bullets had locked off nearly every escape path.
"I mean—why aren't you wearing your spandex suit?" Tony yelled, trying to dodge another string of bullets.
"I thought we agreed I couldn't meet you while in the Superman suit," Leon replied. "Besides, I wanted to show you the correct way to use this hunk of metal."
"What? Did you bring me the instruction manual for the Mark armor? Perfect, that's exactly what I was missing," Tony replied sarcastically.
"This instruction manual isn't in your archive," Leon said calmly. "Watch closely. I won't use any of my powers throughout this."
Leon memorized the positions of the fighter jets behind him, then suddenly shouted, "Jarvis, deploy the ailerons!"
With a sharp whoosh, the silver-white Mark II armor deployed its ailerons, drastically slowing down in midair.
Jarvis, always efficient, executed the command without hesitation. Leon's sudden deceleration caused him to fall directly into the formation of the pursuing jets.
"Hey! What are you doing!?" Tony cried out, turning in time to see Leon dive past him.
The fighter pilots were equally stunned. The silver-white suit now hovered beside their cockpits—Leon even waved at them.
"Command, this is Jet Three! Target suddenly decelerated and entered our formation. Requesting new attack orders!" the squadron leader barked into the radio.
"Attack authorized! Bring them down!" came the immediate reply from command.
"Attack! Engage! Engage!" the fighter squadron broke formation, surrounding the Mark II from all sides.
Some jets surged forward while others slowed down, effectively trapping Leon in the center.
Despite their initial panic, the pilots were now grinning. From their perspective, Leon's move was nothing short of suicidal.
"Jet One, target locked!"
"Jet Two, locked…"
One after another, the reports echoed over the channel. The squadron leader gave the final order.
"Fire air-to-air missiles!"
Dozens of missiles launched, followed by a torrent of onboard machine-gun fire. Escape seemed impossible.
Leon, surrounded by artillery fire, showed no panic.
He shut down the Mark II's propulsion system and let gravity pull him downward in a graceful parabolic arc.
This caught the fighter jets completely off guard.
The missiles converging on him suddenly overshot their mark.
Though they quickly reoriented and resumed their pursuit, their speed dropped to nearly a third of their original velocity.
"Chase him!" shouted the squadron leader.
The jets banked downward to follow.
"Jarvis, activate the intelligent locking system," Leon commanded.
Jarvis responded instantly, overlaying missile trajectories and speeds inside the helmet's HUD.
"Perfect," Leon muttered.
He began accelerating in reverse, putting the missiles ahead of him.
At this point, he was moving in the opposite direction from Tony's earlier flight path.
"Leon!" Tony's voice crackled into his headset. "What are you doing? Calm down! Don't escalate things—we're already considered invaders here."
Their mechs weren't registered with the Eagle Faction and carried thermal weapons. Technically, they were unauthorized invaders. The fighter jets were within their rights to attack.
"I've got this. Just watch me handle them," Leon replied.
He pushed the Mark II to accelerate just slightly slower than the incoming missiles.
When the missiles were close enough to strike, Leon shifted his position subtly. The armor briefly decelerated—then suddenly surged forward again.
With a metallic clang, he latched onto the side of a missile.
"Jarvis, use the current to magnetically lock onto the missile's shell. Shield the electromagnetic signature to avoid triggering the fuse," he ordered.
As Jarvis complied, Leon redirected the propulsion flames downward, increasing thrust.
Now, he was accelerating alongside the missile.