"Of course, but if it were him, he'd definitely say—"
León drawled, mimicking Tony's voice:
"Pepper, I have many habits, but nostalgia isn't one of them. So take this thing and deal with it—smash it, burn it, whatever you want."
"Pfft~"
Pepper couldn't help but laugh. León's imitation was uncanny.
She looked down at the Arc Reactor in her hand, her eyes softening. She never grew tired of looking at it.
"That really does sound like him." Her smile was warm. "Where is he now?"
León shrugged. "He's sleeping. He's been pulling all-nighters for days doing research, so I knocked him out."
"Not sleeping for days? Oh my god, León, you did the right thing. Is he in the bedroom?"
"Of course. Go up and see him."
"Okay, okay, I'll go right away!"
Pepper nodded excitedly and hurried out of the lab, her steps light and quick.
Before leaving, she turned back. "León, you too—make sure to get some rest, alright?"
"Got it, got it!" León grinned. "Once I finish cleaning up these little things, I'll rest too."
Pepper gave him a confirming look. "That's what I want to hear."
Once she disappeared into the stairwell, León let out a long breath.
"Phew… handled."
Jarvis's voice echoed through the lab. "Mr. León, are you sure this was the right course of action? Mr. Stark didn't—"
"What's wrong with it? If I hadn't stepped in, Tony would have given that Arc Reactor to Pepper and said exactly what I said."
León spoke nonchalantly. "Run a simulation. Doesn't it match?"
Jarvis paused. "Buzz… Based on Mr. Stark's historical behavior patterns, the simulation result shows an 83% similarity."
"See? I just made the process a little more… poetic."
León spread his hands. "In the end, Pepper's happy, Tony's happy, and I get some free time. Win-win-win!"
Jarvis replied, "Mr. Stark will surely be grateful when he finds out."
León raised an eyebrow. "He better be! Anyway, now that no one's around to bug me—let's get to work on building that armor!"
When Tony finally woke up, something felt… different.
Pepper was being extremely gentle.
Jarvis kept asking about his well-being.
And León? That cunning brat wouldn't even let him into his own lab!
That was his lab!
Hmph. León was probably bluffing—he likely couldn't build the armor and didn't want to lose face. That's why he was hiding everything.
Tony sulked as he realized he'd slept through an entire day.
"Fine!" he muttered, stomping into the underground garage. "Even if I can't enter the lab, I'll still crush León in the competition. And then I'll pour a cup of hot soda straight into his smug mouth!"
He called out, "Dum-E, bring me the support bracket! And Butterfingers—"
He waited.
Nothing happened.
"Dum-E? Butterfingers?" Tony looked around.
No response. None of his robotic arms were present.
"I can't believe this! León took all my helpers?!" Tony was livid. "They've all become his now?!"
Frustrated, he stormed back into the lab and demanded León return his "little helpers." Without them, he couldn't even assemble armor, let alone compete.
Two days later.
It was another rare sunny day on the West Coast.
Sunlight shimmered on the surface of the sea, casting prisms in every rolling wave. From Stark Mansion, the ocean stretched endlessly, sailboats and cruise ships dotting the view—serene and beautiful.
But inside the mansion, the atmosphere was anything but peaceful.
In the underground garage, the tension was thick. The massive space was sliced in half by sunlight streaming in through the entrance, creating a stark divide of light and shadow.
León walked into the garage from outside. The sun caught in his hair, giving it a golden glow.
Tony sat in the shadows, wearing a fedora tilted just right to shade his eyes.
"I'm here," León said coolly.
"I've been waiting." Tony's voice was low, calm. "You're going to lose. You never should've come."
Suddenly, intense, sharp music blared through the garage—startlingly loud and dramatic.
"WTF?!" Tony jumped out of his seat in surprise.
Clearly, he'd just lost round one.
He ripped off his hat and slammed it on the table. "Jarvis! What is that music?!"
"Mr. Stark, this is 'Extreme Ways,' the theme song from The Bourne Identity, which Mr. León requested be played in advance."
Tony was dumbfounded. "León, we're competing with armor, not having a gunfight. Are you planning to shoot me if you lose?"
"What are you talking about, Tony?" León looked innocent. "I just wanted to set the mood—intense music for an intense battle."
"Oh, I see. So now big talk makes you a winner? If that were true, underground rappers would rule the world!"
León stayed calm. "You're the one bragging before the contest even begins. Who's feeling guilty now?"
"Then prove it!" Tony challenged. "Let's see what you've built in the last two days!"
He looked around. "But I don't see anything here. Is it because… you haven't actually built anything? Just putting up a front and refusing to admit defeat?"
Tony opened his arms. "León, don't do this. As your brother, I've always taught you to be honest. If you just admit it, I'll forgive you."
"Heh. Don't worry. You'll see it soon enough," León said, smiling.
"Why not now?"
León pointed a finger at him. "Because according to international protocol—ladies first."
Tony's face darkened. "Kid, I don't recall teaching you to talk to a gentleman that way."
"Really?" León crossed his arms. "Who was the old man that said 'ladies first' to me at my graduation ceremony before going onstage to give a speech?"
"That was nearly a year ago!" Tony groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"But you taught a young gentleman how to address another gentleman," León persisted.
"Fine, fine, my bad. But don't say things like that again—it's impolite." Tony, unusually serious, gave him a look.
León nodded. "Of course. I'll only say them to you."
Tony turned around with a sigh. This kid was impossible.