"Of course I'll go! Are you kidding me? This is the kind of chaos I live for!" Leo snapped out of his trance, the heavy thoughts of palladium poisoning and future sacrifices shoved back down. He practically launched himself out of the lab chair, a sudden spark of adrenaline in his golden eyes.
Tony shot him a pointed, dismissive look. "Hold on, kid. You can't exactly waltz into a black-tie event looking like you just fought a bear in a welding shop. Go change. You need to look like you belong on this planet." Tony paused, scrutinizing Leo's rapidly developing frame.
"Have you been growing or something? You still look like you could fit in a briefcase, but that custom suit I had tailored for you should still be acceptable. It's hanging in the closet in your room. Don't stain it."
Leo dashed upstairs, finding the closet stocked with several perfectly fitted, high-end suits. He pulled out a sleek, modern black number. To his surprise, it wasn't just acceptable; it fit him with impeccable precision, tailored for a body that was still maturing but rapidly gaining definition from his training.
Meanwhile, Tony had quickly slipped into his own impeccably cut black suit, slicked back his hair, and meticulously shaped his signature mustache. The transformation from grease-stained engineer to world-class playboy was instantaneous and practiced. He grabbed the keys to a brand-new, metallic-silver Audi R8 concept car and headed toward the still-damaged garage door.
Tony peeled out onto the coast highway, the supercar eating up the asphalt as it sped toward the gleaming cityscape. Leo sat comfortably in the passenger seat, subtly adjusting the cuffs of his suit jacket. "Mr. Stark, was this suit… custom-made for me, or did you just pull it from some pre-made 'Genius Teenager' collection?" he asked, genuinely curious about the sudden generosity.
"Is there a problem with the tailoring? Because my tailor is a national treasure," Tony replied, his eyes focused entirely on the winding road.
"No, no, thank you very much! It's perfect. Shockingly perfect, actually," Leo confirmed, grinning.
"Good. I'm just trying to minimize the potential for acute embarrassment by bringing you along. Can't have my companion looking shabby when I'm about to steal the show," Tony countered, tossing the backhanded compliment over his shoulder.
The conversation lulled for a moment, and Leo saw his opportunity. He shifted in his seat, his tone becoming serious and low. "Mr. Stark, can you do me a serious favor? Right now?"
"You'd better hurry. I only have enough patience for one serious conversation before I start drinking."
"I need you to completely scrub all my information from the public internet, especially anything linking me to Aunt Jenny and Uncle George. I need all traces of that association gone, deep-cleaned."
Tony's hand tightened slightly on the steering wheel, and he frowned. "What exactly is that supposed to mean? You don't want to be associated with them? Are we having a sudden existential crisis about your upbringing?"
"What I mean is, I'm genuinely worried about blowback. If I start attracting major trouble—and let's face it, your Mark III is going to attract every lunatic with a grudge and a rocket launcher—I don't want them to be easily targeted. They are the two people I care about most in this world, and I can't stand the idea of them getting hurt because of me." Leo spoke, his gaze fixed on the endless, sparkling dark of the ocean view.
Could anything unexpected happen? Leo thought, realizing the enormous risk he was taking simply by being Tony's companion. His powers were growing, but he was still just a child in a world full of spies and assassins.
"I don't know the future, but I know how the world works, Mr. Stark. I'm small; even though I try my best to be invisible, exposure is inevitable. By wiping the information, it means that even if I'm compromised, my family remains untraceable and safe from a quick background check," Leo finished, the casual fearlessness gone, replaced by calculated anxiety.
"Okay. I get it. Family first," Tony said, his voice softening, a rare moment of genuine empathy surfacing. He activated his headset. "Jarvis, did you copy that? Priority one: execute a complete deep-information purge of Leo's family ties to Jenny and George. Remove all associated public records, cross-reference social media, and eliminate anything that points back to their identity or current location."
"Affirmative, sir. Initiating deep information removal across all publicly accessible networks and private databases. Estimated completion time: thirty-two minutes. I will alert you upon confirmation."
Leo knew this was somewhat self-deceptive. Nothing was ever truly erased. But it would erect a firewall, eliminating the low-hanging fruit for any hostile organization—like the shadow of S.H.I.E.L.D., which he knew was already compromised by Hydra. Leo decided to remain hidden in plain sight, maintaining his facade: I'm still just a genius child prodigy.
Perhaps one day, when my Immovable Golden Body is truly immovable and my control points are over one hundred, then I can protect them properly, and then I can stop pretending and make a real impact.
Twenty minutes later, the concept supercar, glistening under the spotlight, pulled up to the ornate main entrance of the Disney Concert Hall. The key was tossed casually to a stunned-looking valet parking attendant, and Tony and Leo walked toward the massive, arched gate.
Tony Stark's arrival caused immediate, explosive commotion. Cheers, camera flashes, and the excited shouts of onlookers erupted instantly.
All the guests swarmed toward the entrance, eager to get a look at the infamous billionaire. A woman in a dangerously low-cut gown, one of the many familiar faces from Tony's past, leaned forward aggressively. "Hey, Tony, do you remember me from the Maldives party? It was three years ago!"
"Of course, I don't remember you. Next," Tony said smoothly, walking past her without even glancing her way, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.
He clapped an elderly man with impeccably styled gray hair on the shoulder, greeting him loudly as if they were old buddies. The stylish old man, who was draped in a luxurious burgundy coat and flanked by two stunning blonde women, paused and looked confusedly at the back of Tony's retreating head.
Leo, walking slightly behind and taking in the scene, suddenly recognized the elegant older man. He stepped forward and offered a respectful, if slightly stiff, greeting. "Hello, sir."
The elderly man, sporting burgundy-tinted glasses and holding an unlit pipe, turned and looked down at Leo with an amused, spirited expression. "Oh, a child! You must be the future," he declared dramatically.
Leo's breath hitched slightly. Stan Lee. The Watcher, the ultimate cameo king. Leo studied the familiar, smiling face, trying to detect any sign of recognition or cosmic awareness in those eyes.
To his relief and lingering unease, Leo saw no change in his expression. The golden eyes of his power saw only an ordinary, elderly man enjoying a glamorous night out. He was not the clandestine observer Leo had half-expected. The ambiguity of the encounter left a vague, unsettling tick in Leo's mind—was the man truly just a charming coincidence, or was he playing a role too perfectly?
Leo quickly offered a polite nod and moved away. Stan Lee watched him go, then turned back to his companions with a strange expression. "Odd child," he muttered, before wrapping his arms back around the waists of the two beautiful women.
At that exact moment, Obadiah Stane, looking stiff and uncomfortable, was conducting a routine interview with a line of reporters near the entrance. Tony strolled straight over and interrupted him mid-sentence. "What kind of party is this if the host isn't even here? The guests arrived first, Obi."
Obadiah managed a slightly strained, embarrassed laugh. "Tony! Look at you, hey, I genuinely wasn't expecting you to show tonight."
Tony gave a perfunctory nod. "Bad timing, I guess. See you inside." He started to walk away.
"Listen, Tony, don't even think about company business tonight, alright? I've already taken care of the board. Everything's fine," Obadiah said, stopping him with a firm hand on his arm, a note of frantic reassurance hidden beneath the surface.
"Relax, Obi. I was just feeling stir-crazy. Needed some fresh air and a drink," Tony said, brushing him off and walking into the dazzling, crowded venue.
Obadiah, still on camera, watched Tony's retreating back, his forced smile vanishing instantly. His eyes narrowed, contemplating Tony's unpredictable return, clearly worried that Tony might say or do something completely destabilizing.
As Obadiah turned, his gaze snagged on Leo, who was observing him from the side. Obadiah's face immediately snapped into his customary, avuncular smile, the kind that promised an expensive gift.
"I'm going to go find Mr. Stark now," Leo said quickly, not giving the older man a chance to speak. He quickly walked away, leaving Obadiah's expression to darken further as the realization of his own isolation set in.
The party was in full swing. Tony's first stop was the bar, predictably. "A triple Scotch, please. Keep it neat."
Agent Phil Coulson, who had been discreetly waiting nearby in an unremarkable suit, immediately recognized his target. "Mr. Stark?"
Tony turned, taking in the man's entirely forgettable appearance. "And you are?"
"Agent Coulson."
"Ah, yes. The guy from the… what was it again? The incredibly poorly named organization…"
"The Strategic Homeland Attack and Logistics Agency," Coulson finished smoothly, saving Tony the effort of fumbling through the awkward acronym.
"My God. You guys desperately need a rebranding workshop," Tony chuckled.
"Yes, I hear that quite a bit," Coulson said, maintaining a genuine, non-threatening smile. "Look, I know this whole experience has been difficult, but we really need you to file an official report. We still have a lot of questions, and we'd like to get the details down before they start getting fuzzy in your memory, you know?"
Tony's eyes, distracted, suddenly focused on a familiar figure across the crowded room, his gaze glazing over with sudden, intense interest.
"So, how about we skip the bureaucratic hassle here and finalize a proper meeting? Say, Stark Industries, seven PM sharp on the 24th?" Coulson suggested, seeing his opportunity to pin down the elusive billionaire.
Tony, whose entire focus was now glued to Pepper Potts' stunning figure in a backless dress, just wanted the interaction to end. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan. You're right. Let's settle on that. I'll go track down my assistant now and make sure she slots it in."
Tony mumbled an excuse and walked straight toward Pepper.
Pepper looked up, genuinely surprised. "Tony! What are you doing here? I thought you were holed up in the lab for the rest of the decade."
"I am on the run from that government agent over there. He looks like a high-school principal and he keeps talking about acronyms," Tony whispered conspiratorially.
"Did you come alone?"
"Leo's here too, lurking somewhere. Just brought the essentials," Tony confirmed.
"You brought Leo? Oh, Tony, where is he? I need to make sure he hasn't vaporized a priceless chandelier," Pepper asked, scanning the room.
Tony glanced over his shoulder. "He's playing a 'who can stare creepier' game with the aforementioned agent, I think. Where did you get that dress, by the way? It's… spectacular."
Pepper also spotted Leo perched at the bar. "Oh, this? It was my birthday gift, actually."
"That really proves I have magnificent taste," Tony complimented, completely failing to notice the significance of the exchange.
"Yes, you do!" Pepper chimed in, smiling genuinely.
"Want to dance with the returning prodigal son?" Tony asked, holding out a hand.
"Oh, Tony, no. I can't possibly," she demurred, looking flustered.
"Don't do that. Come on, one dance. For the fans."
"Thank you, but no, really," she insisted.
Tony simply ignored her polite refusal, took her hand firmly, and pulled her to the center of the dance floor, leading her into a spontaneous, slightly awkward slow dance.
On the other side of the crowded hall, Leo had smoothly found his way to the large, semi-circular mahogany bar.
"A tall glass of milk, please. Whole fat, if you have it," he requested from the confused-looking bartender.
"Uh, sorry, kid. We're only serving aged spirits, champagne, and imported beer tonight. It's an adult function," the bartender replied, slightly condescendingly.
"Is there anything even remotely non-alcoholic I could consume that won't rot my teeth?"
"We have filtered ice water. That's about it."
Leo looked at the glass of water the bartender begrudgingly handed him, with only three miserly ice cubes floating in it. He took a sip, completely unimpressed. "Who said you can only have alcohol if you're over 21 in this country? This is so incredibly boring."
Agent Coulson, having been politely rebuffed by Tony, immediately spotted Leo sitting alone. The young prodigy, the constant shadow of Stark, was an unexpected and possibly far more pliable target. Coulson walked over, his demeanor shifting instantly from professional investigator to interested mentor.