In the quiet, dusty outskirts of a small Indian town, Bruce Banner stared at the tiny, silver-gray figure in his palm. The weight of the metal felt more substantial than it should have, a tangible piece of reality created by a boy who treated the laws of physics like mere suggestions.
"This is... unbelievable," Banner whispered, his thumb tracing the intricate lines of the miniature suit. "The level of molecular precision... it's like the Hulk's cell regeneration, but controlled. Purposeful."
Leander watched the doctor, noting how the man's pulse had finally settled into a rhythmic, steady beat. "You look better than you did in New York, Dr. Banner. India seems to suit you."
"Better? I suppose so," Banner said, finally relaxing his shoulders. "Those first few weeks after the Harlem incident... I didn't dare close my eyes. I was terrified I'd wake up in a crater, surrounded by the debris of a life I didn't mean to destroy. I spent my nights staring at the ceiling, waiting for the roar to start."
He looked away, his voice dropping to a hollow rasp. "I tried to end it once. Put a bullet in my mouth... but the other guy just spat it out. He wouldn't let me leave. So, I figured if I couldn't die, I might as well try to live. I practice yoga, I treat the local children for infections, I cook my own meals—though I'm still struggling with the local spices. It's almost a normal life, isn't it?"
Leander felt a pang of sympathy for the brilliant man trapped in a green nightmare. "I'm sorry, Dr. Banner. For the Hulk... I don't have a permanent fix. At least not yet." Leander offered a small, apologetic smile. "But maybe the problem is that you're trying to treat him like a parasite. You need to face him. When you walk in the sunlight, you can't be surprised when you see a shadow—"
"Stop," Banner interrupted, his voice sharp. "I don't want to talk about 'him.' I don't want to philosophize about the monster under my skin. You didn't fly halfway around the world just to give me a therapy session and a souvenir, did you?"
Banner was still clearly raw, the trauma of the Hulk being a wound that refused to scab over.
"It was a total accident, actually," Leander admitted, leaning back against the doorframe. "I'm on my way to Malibu for a meeting with Tony Stark. I was cruising at thirty thousand feet, saw your energy signature, and figured I'd drop in for a formal introduction. I was a bit of a chaotic element back in Manhattan; I wanted to say hello properly."
"So you're really not with the Military? No General Ross waiting in a black SUV around the corner?" Banner asked, his eyes scanning the windows one last time.
"Absolutely not, Doctor. I'm my own boss," Leander said firmly.
Banner studied the kid for a long moment, searching for any sign of deception. Finding none, he finally extended his hand. "Then thank you, Leander. For the chains in Harlem. You probably saved my life—and Betty's."
"Don't mention it. I was just a kid playing with powers I barely understood back then," Leander joked, shaking the doctor's hand.
"I hear Stark is making waves back home," Banner noted, looking at the horizon. "Something about an 'Iron Man'? The news here is months behind, and my phone doesn't get a signal in this valley."
"He's the real deal," Leander confirmed. "But the world is getting weirder, Doc. Aliens, ancient gods, secret societies... being 'extraordinary' isn't as rare as it used to be. Even Captain America is back in the picture."
Banner sighed, the weight of the world returning to his brow. "I'll need time to process all that. Life is quiet here, and I'd like to keep it that way. Please... keep my location between us."
"Your secret is safe with me, Dr. Banner. But I have a feeling the world is going to need you sooner than you think. I'll be waiting for your return."
Leander stepped out into the humid Indian night. With a light tap of his foot, he ignited his wings, turning into a streak of violet-gold light that vanished into the stratosphere before the sound of the takeoff could reach the town.
Banner watched the empty sky for a long time. A faint glint of emerald flickered in his pupils for a split second before fading back to brown. "He wasn't lying," he muttered, tightening his grip on the tiny metal model.
Fifty minutes later, Leander crossed the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean. The cold air of the high altitudes didn't bother him; he was too focused on the sprawling, neon-lit coastline of California. He banked left, descending toward the familiar cliffs of Malibu.
He didn't bother with the front door. He coasted straight down the driveway, his wings folding silently as he drifted through the open bay door of Tony's seaside villa workshop. He landed with a soft metallic click, his feet settling on the polished concrete.
Tony Stark was standing in the center of the room, dwarfed by a massive holographic projection. It was a 3-D model of a skyscraper that looked like a shard of glass reaching for the heavens.
"Leander! Perfect timing," Tony said, not even turning around. "Come take a look at the future of the New York skyline. Stark Tower. Midtown Manhattan. Ground's already broken. Thoughts?"
Leander walked up beside him, looking at the gleaming structure. "It's slick, Tony. Very 'you.' But at that height, how long is it going to take to actually build?"
"The foundation's already set," Tony said, a hint of pride in his voice. "I bought out three construction firms just to fast-track the project. My estimate? One year, three months. And the best part? The whole tower runs on my new arc reactor tech. I'm going off the grid, Leo. No more paying the city for electricity."
"Zero electric bills for a skyscraper? That's going to make a lot of people very angry," Leander noted with a smirk.
"Angry? They'll be crying," Tony snapped his fingers, and the projection vanished. He moved toward his desk and slid a warm pizza box toward Leander. "You're faster than I expected. Try this—hot-dog-bacon-crumble-cheese. I had Jarvis order it from that place in Brooklyn you like. Simple and greasy."
Tony lounged back on his leather sofa, looking exhausted but wired. "So, let's talk. You've been busy. New Mexico, then a sudden detour to Africa... what did you find in the dirt, kid? Any new toys?"
Leander took a slice of pizza and sat opposite him. "You heard about what happened in New Mexico, right?"
"I haven't had time to look," Tony said, rubbing his eyes. "My company's pivoting is taking up every waking second. The government regulations are a nightmare. Honestly, if I were President, I'd have fixed the energy sector by lunch. So, give me the SparkNotes. What went down in the desert?"
Leander took a bite of the pizza, chewing thoughtfully. "A god fell from the sky, Tony. Thor, the God of Thunder. Real hammer, real lightning."
Tony let out a dry laugh. "Funny. You're joking. I've been up for forty hours, Leo; if you're trying to pull my leg, I'm too tired to hop."
"I'm dead serious," Leander said, his expression flat. "Maybe 'god' isn't the right word. Think of him as an alien from a civilization so advanced that their science looks like magic to us. But he's real, and he's incredibly strong."
Tony straightened up, his playfulness evaporating. "Jarvis, pull the New Mexico satellite feeds and any S.H.I.E.L.D. chatter from the last seventy-two hours. Let's see if the kid's hallucinating."
"Yes, sir," Jarvis replied. "Retrieving now."
A series of blurry, low-resolution clips appeared on the wall monitors. One showed a beam of crimson energy—the Destroyer—slicing through a small town and obliterating a S.H.I.E.L.D. surveillance van. Another showed four figures in archaic armor walking through a dusty street as if they owned it.
"These the Viking cosplayers you were talking about?" Tony asked, leaning in. "That girl in the armor... she's got a look. But look at those energy readings." Tony began hammering on a virtual keyboard, modeling the Destroyer's beam. "This isn't plasma or lasers. This is... concentrated molecular disruption."
He looked at the simulation, his face turning grim. "That beam packs a serious punch. It could vaporize almost any Earth-based alloy in seconds. Where is it now?"
"It was the All-Father Odin's armor," Leander explained. "The Destroyer. It's scrap metal now. Thor handled it and went back to his home world, Asgard. They can't reach Earth for a while because the bridge they use was destroyed."
"Tell me more, Leander," Tony said, his voice quiet. The arrogance was gone, replaced by the intense curiosity of a scientist realizing he's just seen the tip of an iceberg.
"Mr. Stark, the universe is much bigger—and a lot nastier—than we thought. There are things out there that make the Ten Rings look like a group of toddlers. Earth has had its protectors for a long time, so the big invasions have been on hold. But the doors are opening."
"Hold on—protectors? Plural?" Tony stood up, pacing the floor. "You're losing me. What else are you hiding? What's the 'Big Bad' that's coming?"
Leander looked at Tony, his golden eyes glowing with a serious light. "Have you ever heard of the Tesseract, Tony? Because S.H.I.E.L.D. has it, and they're playing with matches in a room full of gasoline."