Sorry I was a bit sick and I kinda forgot I uploaded here as I generally stack the chapters before uploading here. If you want thousand words chapter every day. Visit the book on Webnovel
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Chapter 78 to Chapter 86
After chatting for a while, Leon finally understood what Jeff and the other teens were thinking. He had to admit, their thought processes were a bit hard for him to follow, but there was something undeniably charming about them.
Jeff was full of energy, always lively and mischievous, with a great sense of humor. Even with strangers, he exuded warmth and enthusiasm. He approached life with an optimistic outlook and was determined to follow through on his goals—like their RV vacation trip.
A year ago, Jeff had the idea to travel with his friends in an RV, but his savings weren't enough to buy one. So, he spent two school holidays working odd jobs to save up. He even went out of his way to learn practical skills: car repair, electrical work, computer programming, drawing, route planning, shooting, and cooking. And all this while still being a sixteen or seventeen-year-old student. It was rare to see young people with such admirable qualities, and even more impressive that they had formed a tight-knit group.
Leon couldn't help but be intrigued. Despite their quirky behavior, these teens were promising. Their character, determination, and the way they handled themselves—even after witnessing a battle between Leon and Mephisto—was commendable.
With that in mind, Leon suddenly wasn't in such a rush to leave. He glanced up at the sky, his presence seeming to break through the dark clouds overhead. However, the storm tonight was intense. As they spoke, the clouds rolled back in, and the rumble of thunder echoed above them, signaling another downpour.
"Looks like it's going to rain heavily again," Leon said with a smirk. "Do you mind inviting me into your RV? I'm curious to see what it's like."
Jeff's face lit up with excitement. He exchanged glances with the three girls before nodding enthusiastically. "Of course! It would be an honor!"
After Jeff spoke, he and his friends seemed almost giddy with excitement. They quickly opened the door to the RV and eagerly invited Leon and Wanda inside. Leon, smiling, followed Wanda into the vehicle.
Thanks to Jeff's thoughtful planning, the RV was spacious, even with its furniture in place. Despite having an extra person onboard, it didn't feel cramped at all.
Jeff hopped into the driver's seat and revved the engine, but the road ahead was a mess due to the battle between Leon and Mephisto. The ground was full of potholes, making it impossible to drive through. Luckily, Texas roads are often parallel to open plains, so Jeff just needed to veer off the main road and make a wide detour to get back on track. Being quick-witted, he immediately turned the steering wheel and pressed the gas pedal, trying to get ahead of the incoming storm.
Inside the RV, Leon and Wanda sat together in the front row, with Pietro and Sumarokov behind them. Lina and the three girls were across from them, while Adam sat in the front as the co-pilot and navigator.
The girls were lively and chatty during the ride, though they kept their questions somewhat restrained. They didn't directly ask about Leon or Wanda's identity but were curious about things like how many monsters existed in the world and what kind of demon Mephisto was.
Leon, with his easygoing personality, didn't mind answering a few questions. He picked some that he could answer without too much detail, leaving the girls looking pleasantly surprised.
As the night went on, the group relaxed, eating snacks, playing games, and chatting as the RV rolled through the stormy night.
After learning Leon's name and hearing how Pietro and Sumarokov addressed him as "Boss Leon," the others quickly followed suit, imitating them.
Rumble!
As the RV got back on the road, a loud clap of thunder echoed across the sky, and heavy rain poured down, drumming against the RV and the ground below. The sudden downpour filled the air with moisture, making it cooler inside.
During the ride, Leon, Wanda, and Jeff exchanged social media accounts and phone numbers, even discussing the possibility of visiting each other in the future. When Leon casually mentioned that he lived in a wooden villa built by friends in the Ural Mountains, Jeff, Lena, and the girls were immediately intrigued. To them, it sounded like the base camp of some secret guardian organization, fueling their imaginations.
Jeff was so excited that he jokingly suggested they change their travel plans and drive all the way to the Ural Mountains. Of course, it was just a joke—Jeff and his friends had meticulously planned their current RV trip, saving enough money and mapping out their route. Changing plans on a whim wasn't in Jeff or Adam's nature.
Still, they were so excited about the idea that once their RV adventure was over, they promised to start planning a trip to visit Leon's mountain retreat—this time, likely by plane rather than RV.
Leon didn't mind, but Pietro and Sumarokov found it a little odd. They rarely saw their boss being so enthusiastic about anyone. Usually, Leon was calm and composed with others. Wanda, being more observant, had a sense of what was going on in Leon's mind. She didn't oppose the idea of adding more people to their "family," just as she had welcomed Natasha, Death, and Clarice when they joined as backup members. In fact, Wanda liked the idea of expanding their circle.
Psychologically speaking, people often crave what they lack, and Wanda was no exception. Having lost her parents when she was just ten, she had always longed for a sense of family. Leon and the children he had rescued from the base provided her with that feeling, but she didn't see any harm in expanding that family further.
Wanda wanted more family members, as long as they met one condition: their character had to be approved by her, Leon, and the rest of the group.
After spending some time with Jeff and his friends, Wanda quickly picked up on their personalities. Jeff, in particular, was an open book with a distinct character, never hiding who he was. Wanda appreciated Jeff and Adam's good nature. Maybe their only flaw was a tendency to exaggerate and make up stories, but Wanda found that trait endearing. People like them made life a lot more fun.
…
After arriving in a nearby city, Leon, Wanda, and the others said their goodbyes to Jeff and his group. The girls seemed reluctant to part ways.
Once they left, Leon asked Keisha to keep an eye on Jeff and the teens during their RV trip. He didn't want anything happening to people he cared about, especially while traveling across the U.S., where anything could happen. Even though New York had a high crime rate, places like Texas weren't much better. Texas had its own dangers, with its rough culture encouraging ruthless criminals. Highway robberies and similar crimes were common occurrences.
As for the incident with Mephisto, that was just a coincidence. It didn't follow the planned path of Wanda, Pietro, and Sumarokov's mission. Through their computer network, the trio had discovered strange happenings in Texas, which led them to investigate further.
Meanwhile, Leon was more than happy to return to the New York manor. Wanda, Pietro, and Sumarokov were just part-time workers without Leon's leadership, so there wasn't much for them to do. As a boss of his stature, Leon only needed to step in when the situation was critical.
While Leon and his group moved on, the Texas government found itself in a state of crisis. By that evening, as the rain continued to pour, the authorities received word of the strange events. The location was significant—it was a major transfer point between several nearby cities.
By early the next morning, local and state police, along with the FBI from surrounding areas, were dispatched to investigate. Law enforcement agencies, including mounted police, gathered at the scene. Several sergeants coordinated efforts and reported back to the government, which held an emergency meeting.
They quickly formed a joint investigation team made up of detectives from nearby cities. The idea was simple: everyone would share the responsibility. If the investigation failed, they'd share the blame; if it succeeded, they'd share the credit. It was clear that the higher-ups had a plan to cover all their bases.
Several city police chiefs were hesitant about getting involved. For them, whether this incident turned into something significant or not didn't matter as much. What did matter was avoiding any mistakes. However, when the government issued an order, they had no choice but to follow through.
Led by the police chiefs from Houston, Woodland, and Beaumont, the investigation team consisted of about forty-five officers. Alongside them were a group of on-site investigators and law enforcement officers eager to assess the scene.
But when the sergeants and officers arrived, they were stunned by what they saw. The area stretched nearly 10,000 meters, completely devastated as if countless missiles had hit. Cracks extended for miles, making it unclear whether the destruction was caused by an earthquake or some sort of massive explosion.
Everyone fell into a heavy silence.
"So, are we sure the military isn't testing new missiles here?" the white police chief from Houston asked, removing his sunglasses with a baffled expression.
The other chiefs had similar looks of disbelief. Even the officers filming the scene seemed lost for words. A drone flew overhead, capturing footage that revealed deep craters of various sizes, resembling the surface of the moon. The only difference was that the craters here were filled with rainwater, making the scene even more surreal and murky.
"Damn it, this is a real mess. Johnny, what did you find over there?" shouted the white sergeant from the Houston Police Department to one of the officers inspecting the area. Officer Johnny, who was using instruments to scan the scene, looked up and responded loudly, "No signs of explosives. It doesn't look like it was caused by a blast."
"Could the rain have washed away the evidence?"
"No way. Rain would still leave some traces behind, but here, there's nothing at all," Johnny replied confidently.
Other officers from nearby cities nodded in agreement. The white sergeant, looking even more baffled, took off his hat and scratched his white hair. He glanced at the other police chiefs, all of whom were just as confused.
Finally, a black police chief hesitated before offering a guess, "Could this have something to do with mutants?"
"You think there was some kind of mutant fight here last night?"
"Maybe?" he replied with a shrug.
"It's a possibility," the white sergeant said, not dismissing the idea. "If mutants were involved, the scale of the battle would've been pretty intense."
He then turned back to Johnny. "Get a team together and start searching the area for any body parts or traces of blood. We need to figure out what went down here."
"Yes, sir," Johnny replied as he quickly set off to organize the search.
Under the supervision of the police chief, the entire joint investigation team began a thorough search of the area. After two hours of effort, the results were disappointing—no body parts or blood traces were found.
The police chiefs, after confirming the findings, were left frustrated and confused. They gathered around a police car, discussing the situation while smoking cigarettes.
"Damn it, could this be some kind of supernatural event?"
"Who knows," another chief replied. "If this much damage wasn't caused by explosives, only mutants could do this. But with no blood found, is it possible no one was injured? Or maybe someone cleaned up the scene?"
"That's impossible," one of them quickly retorted. "Even if someone cleaned up, it would take professionals to leave no clues behind. Plus, with this much destruction and in such bad conditions—at night, during heavy rain—there should still be something left."
As all their theories seemed to fall apart, a voice suddenly called out from the team.
"Sir, we found a faint tire mark not far from the scene."
The chiefs immediately perked up, tossing their cigarettes and hurrying over. Sure enough, they spotted a faint tire track just off the road. Although the marks were intermittent, it was clear that a vehicle had left the road, made a wide loop, and rejoined the highway on the other side.
…
This discovery quickly became a breakthrough in the strange case. The joint investigation team, composed of seasoned police officers with years of experience, recognized the importance of the tire marks.
After measuring the tracks, they came to a somewhat unclear but crucial conclusion.
"These are two overlapping tire marks," said an older officer, squatting down to inspect them. He stood up and continued, "That means either two vehicles passed by during the incident, or the same vehicle returned. Whoever was driving may have witnessed what happened."
A white police officer lit a cigarette and asked, "Can you tell what kind of car it was?"
"The tracks are too faint and have been run over twice, making it difficult to determine the vehicle type," the officer replied.
"Alright," the sheriff said, thinking quickly. "Send someone to check the surveillance in nearby cities. I want a list of every car that came through here during that time. Find the owners and bring them in for questioning."
Thanks to modern technology, every detail could now be magnified, ensuring a thorough investigation.
Meanwhile, at the RV parking lot in Houston City Park, Jeff and his friends were still fast asleep, unaware that a federal investigation team was about to track them down.
As for Wanda, Pietro, and Sumarokov, they had already vanished without a trace.
But this incident had now caught the attention of someone else—someone at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.
In the early morning, dew dripped from the leaves onto the school's beautiful campus. Along the pathways, children walked together, chatting as they made their way to the cafeteria for breakfast.
Inside the principal's office, Professor Charles Xavier sat in his wheelchair, watching the children with a calm, relieved expression.
Behind him, the X-Men had gathered. Once everyone arrived, Charles turned his wheelchair to face them, ready to explain why he had called the meeting.
"Yesterday, I sensed the presence of someone who doesn't belong to this world," Professor Charles began, his tone heavy. "A battle broke out somewhere in the United States, and it was on a very high level."
He paused, emphasizing the gravity of the situation. As the world's most powerful psychic, Charles could sense high-level energy disturbances, even without the use of a psychic amplifier. If he chose to unleash his full psychic abilities, they would spread across the globe in an instant.
"How powerful are we talking?" Logan asked, clearly puzzled. The concept of "high-level" was too vague for him to grasp.
The rest of the team saw the professor's serious expression and realized the weight of the matter.
"I've never encountered a battle of this magnitude in my life," Charles admitted grimly.
Jean, catching onto something, asked, "Professor, you mentioned someone who doesn't belong to this world?"
"Yes," the professor nodded, his brow furrowing. "Very evil and pure—an evil unlike anything I've sensed on Earth before. It's as if it comes from a different, sinister dimension."
"A being from another world...," Scott muttered, crossing his arms in thought. "But who fought against them? Did you sense that as well, Professor?"
"No, the battle was brief, and there was a strange force that blocked my psychic abilities," Professor Charles explained.
"Someone can block your psychic power?" Logan asked, surprised.
The other X-Men exchanged uneasy glances. Logan, always eager for a clear enemy to fight, was visibly frustrated. "What a hassle," he muttered. He preferred straightforward battles—ones where he could charge in, unleash his claws, and tear his enemy apart. But this mysterious, elusive threat bothered him.
Jean frowned, her concern growing. "If it's just an accident, we might not need to worry, but if it's intentional... we could be facing a new, unknown enemy. Professor, should we warn the government?"
"The government's already involved," Charles replied, shaking his head. "They've sent a joint investigation team to look into it, so they're aware. But so is the enemy. Our situation is much better than before, and tensions between humans and mutants have eased. We just need to stay vigilant. When the time comes, we'll face this new threat together."
Professor Charles, a firm believer in peaceful coexistence, had always advocated for harmony between humans and mutants. Though he sought peace, he wasn't naive. He understood that timing was everything. Offering help when it was needed most could strengthen their position, rather than simply stepping in when things were still calm.
"When the government and the people face a crisis, it's the best time for us to act," Professor Charles said thoughtfully. "We've been extending goodwill to the mainstream public, so the timing doesn't really matter."
The rest of the X-Men nodded in agreement.
The professor paused, his expression deepening. "Though... perhaps someone else is already fighting against that evil force."
"Who?" everyone wondered, startled for a moment before a familiar name came to mind.
"Professor, are you talking about Mr. Leon?" Jean asked, her eyebrows raised.
Leon, the mysterious figure they all knew, looked young but had a maturity beyond his years. His abilities seemed limitless, and his kindness toward mutants had left an impression.
"If it's him, it's possible," Ororo agreed, recalling her positive encounters with the mysterious Mr. Leon.
Scott also nodded, still remembering when he was knocked out by a surge of red energy by a girl. "Yeah, if anyone could handle something like this, it's probably him. Even his subordinates were very strong."
…
Scott, the future leader of the X-Men, couldn't forget that moment—a teenage girl knocked him out, even though he had been under the influence of drugs. It was a humiliation, to say the least. Thankfully, Scott wasn't the type to hold a grudge, otherwise, he'd have to carry that memory forever.
After some reflection, Hank turned to the professor. "Do you know where this battle took place?"
"Near Houston, most likely," Professor Charles replied.
Hank nodded and moved to the desk, opening the professor's laptop. After a few minutes of searching, his eyes brightened. "Found it."
He stepped aside to show the others what was on the screen. The X-Men gathered around to see images of the aftermath displayed on the computer: aerial shots from drones. The highway near Houston appeared utterly devastated—a 10,000-meter stretch had been torn apart by an immense force. The road was fractured, surrounded by craters of varying sizes, with deep cracks spreading for miles.
Everyone was stunned.
"I accessed the Houston Police Department's network," Hank explained, "and retrieved the data and images sent to them from the investigation site. The federal government's already involved, and they've formed a joint task force with nearby cities."
Ororo's eyes widened in disbelief. "It looks like a battlefield hit by missile strikes. The level of destruction is terrifying."
"Agreed," Cyclops said, still processing the images. "The power needed for that level of damage is unreal."
Seeing devastation from different angles the X-Men realized that the intensity of the battle was far beyond anything they had expected.
Hank then asked a very interesting question. "Professor, do you think it was a coincidence that Mr. Leon was fighting this evil force from another dimension? Or was it intentional?"
This question left everyone deep in thought.
Coincidence and intentionality are intriguing ideas. If it was just a coincidence, it's simple enough. But if it was intentional, it suggests Leon might have a way to predict or track down these evil forces. That would mean he's actively seeking out such threats, which could provide more insight into his character—clearly someone aligned with the side of defending against evil.
Considering Leon's history, like the raid on Trek Test Base, this possibility shouldn't be dismissed lightly.
The professor paused, thinking aloud. "It could be a coincidence, or it might have been a deliberate action on Leon's part."
"Either way," he continued, "the evil presence has vanished, and Leon seems to be the one who came out on top this time."
Logan, growing impatient, cut in. "Why are we sitting around guessing? Why not just call him and ask? We've got his contact info, don't we?"
His straightforward suggestion caught everyone off guard for a moment. Then Professor Charles smiled, a bit sheepishly. Logan had a point. They might not know Leon well, but they had communicated before. Asking him directly wouldn't hurt their relationship.
With a nod from Charles, Hank pulled out his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and dialed Leon's number.
Beep... Beep...
After a moment, the call connected, and Hank put it on speaker. Leon's distinct, youthful voice came through, clear and composed.
"Good morning, Professor, Hank, and Jean."
A simple greeting, but it left everyone in the room stunned. How did Leon know who was there without being told? For a moment, they might have wondered if he had planted bugs or cameras at the school, but they quickly dismissed the idea. That was impossible.
Still, it added another layer of mystery to Leon.
Professor Charles, unfazed, responded with a warm smile, "Good morning, Mr. Leon. Sorry to disturb you."
"Not at all. I just got up," Leon replied with a light chuckle. After a brief pause, his tone shifted slightly. "Professor, I assume you're calling about last night? You sensed it, didn't you?"
Although phrased as a question, Leon's tone made it clear he already knew the answer.
The professor and the others exchanged looks. Leon's response confirmed their suspicions—it was him involved in the events last night.
At this point, the professor decided not to beat around the bush any longer. He spoke directly.
"Yes, there was a lot of commotion last night," Charles began.
Leon responded calmly, "There was no avoiding it. This time, the opponent was different."
"Oh?" Charles' face grew serious. "Can you tell me, Mr. Leon? I'm curious as well."
There was a brief silence, though it felt far longer to the X-Men, filled with tension and anticipation about this mysterious enemy. Finally, Leon broke the silence and said one word:
"Mephisto."
The name sent a shockwave through the room, leaving everyone but Logan visibly stunned. Eyes widened, and Hank couldn't contain his surprise.
"W-What? Mephisto?" Hank blurted out. "As in the Mephisto?"
"Yes, Mr. Hank," Leon replied with a slight chuckle in his tone, though no one paid attention to his amusement.
All focus was on the name that had just been uttered—Mephisto, the demon lord of Hell. The weight of Charles' earlier words suddenly bore down on the team. This was not just some powerful opponent; Mephisto was from another dimension entirely, a being of cosmic, malevolent power.
Magneto, once considered their most dangerous foe, seemed like nothing in comparison. The very concept of Hell and all its dark associations rushed into their minds. If Mephisto was truly involved, what did this mean? Did he intend to claim Earth for himself, to open the gates of Hell and turn the world into his own infernal playground?
Hank rubbed his head, his face a mix of disbelief and anxiety. "This has to be a dream, right?" he muttered, a bitter smile on his face.
…
Mephisto.
The Lord of Hell himself.
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The pressure brought by only the name was overwhelming.
But Professor Charles, ever thoughtful, asked, "Mr. Leon, how powerful is Mephisto? If it's the one from Hell, shouldn't the destruction have been far greater?"
He wasn't wrong. The aerial images of the battle were terrifying, but for someone like Mephisto, the damage should have been catastrophic, possibly leveling entire cities. Something didn't add up.
Leon's answer confirmed his suspicions. "For certain reasons, Mephisto cannot manifest on Earth in his true form. What I fought was just a soul projection, much weaker than his actual self."
Suddenly, everything made sense. The relief was almost palpable. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Leon ended the call.
Charles wisely refrained from pressing further. The relationship between the X-Men and Leon was still new and cordial, and he was, after all, a benefactor.
There were answers, but mysteries still lingered—like why Mephisto couldn't come to Earth in his true form and what his true intentions were in sending a soul projection. Was this part of a larger scheme?
These questions weighed on everyone's minds. The X-Men weren't eager to get entangled with Mephisto, but the magnitude of his presence was undeniable. The uncertainty of how this might impact them was unsettling.
Seeing their concerned faces, Charles spoke calmly, easing the tension. "Mr. Leon has already defeated Mephisto's projection, so it seems the Earth is safe for now. However, I'll continue monitoring this situation. Jean, keep an eye on the joint investigation team as well. They might uncover something useful."
"Okay," Jean gave a nod.
At his New York manor, Leon hung up the call with Professor Charles. He wasn't surprised that Charles had sensed something—there were only a few on Earth with the ability to perceive events across the globe.
Though besides the Ancient One, such individuals were rare.
He didn't mind being a bit cryptic; after all, his relationship with the mutants hadn't reached the level where he needed to explain everything.
Casually slipping his phone into his trouser pocket, he adjusted his white shirt, which was neatly rolled up at the sleeves, and glanced down at his outfit—trousers and white sneakers that complemented his toned, straight posture.
Despite the simplicity, he had a look that balanced maturity with a youthful, fashionable edge.
The real reason he was up so early, though, had nothing to do with work. Natasha, dearest, was returning from Russia, and she wasn't coming alone—she was bringing her "family."
The four young ones in the household had already left for school at a private academy. Though the curriculum was flexible, the school day started early, and the family's butler had taken care of their ride, chauffeuring them in a Bentley that emphasized their status.
Leon didn't care much for aristocratic schools, but he understood the importance of appearances in that world.
As he stepped out onto the manor's lawn, the maids greeted him with respect. He strolled forward, enjoying the peaceful morning.
Unlike the bustling heart of New York City, the early morning at the manor had a unique charm. The sounds of birds, cicadas, and the distant neighing of horses from the stables blended into a calming symphony.
It was a setting that brought tranquility and contentment—a perfect moment before the day unfolded.
Leon savored the peacefulness of the moment. In his previous life, the constant rush had been exhausting, but now, in this world, he could finally slow down and appreciate life. Most people never get to enjoy this kind of calm and serenity.
As he waited, his thoughts drifted to those who always seemed bent on destroying the world or wiping out humanity. Sure, many of them had tragic backstories, painful experiences that drove them to extremes. But still, if they had the power for revenge, why not aim it at the real culprits—governments, corrupt corporations? Why target the whole world?
Leon leaned back in his chair, imagining the simplicity of sitting on the porch of a villa, surrounded by nature, watching the rain or snow fall. Why not appreciate this beautiful world instead? When you're tired, grab a juice, coffee, or even a whiskey. He knew he wasn't in a position to judge others, but still, when it came to world destruction, he had one thought: Is it really worth it?
Destroying the world seemed exhausting, a complete waste of time and energy. Worse, you might get taken out by some superhero along the way. And yes, he was definitely thinking about Thanos. Sure, family planning on a galactic scale sounded noble, but really, planning for the entire universe and Earth? It was only a matter of time before someone came after him.
His thoughts were interrupted as he looked up and saw a sleek, black fighter jet descending from the blue sky, its optical stealth system disengaging. The wind from its tail engines swept across the lawn as it landed gently. The jet's perfectly streamlined design would make any military enthusiast drool.
With a hiss, the hatch opened. A metal ramp extended down, and Natasha, clad in her combat uniform, descended gracefully. Following her were Yelena, Melina, and Alexei, all dressed casually.
When Natasha saw Leon, her eyes lit up with joy. "Leon~~!" Her pace quickened as she walked over, arms open wide, and wrapped him in a warm hug. There was something undeniably comforting about her embrace. Round, soft and inviting.
Leon enjoyed the moment, pressing gently against her as her familiar perfume filled his senses. For a brief second, his youthful impulses stirred, but he quickly composed himself, releasing Natasha without making it obvious. She noticed, of course, giving him a playful smile, but said nothing. He turned his attention to Yelena, Melina, and Alexei, offering each a polite hug.
"Hey, welcome to the manor. It's good to see you all," Leon greeted warmly.
Alexei, wearing a red-and-white plaid shirt, looked around with wide eyes. "We're happy to see you too, Leon. Wow, this place is amazing. I mean, this is the kind of rich life people dream about!"
Leon laughed, playfully punching Alexei's broad chest. "Just remember, Natasha's the one holding all the wealth. You might want to be careful with your words—you don't want to offend her."
Alexei chuckled awkwardly, glancing at Natasha. "Come on, Natasha, you know I wasn't talking about you." But the humor in his voice couldn't hide the fact that he knew he'd slipped up.
Natasha smirked, her red lips curving slightly as she shrugged. "You better figure out how to fix that."
Alexei wore a bitter expression, staring at Leon with mock resentment. Leon just laughed, shrugging it off, indicating it wasn't his fault.
Yelena and Melina smiled, clearly enjoying the playful banter. The lighthearted teasing created a sense of harmony, drawing everyone closer. Even though Alexei was the most straightforward of the group, the rest were content, and the atmosphere felt naturally comfortable.
Leon then led everyone to the racecourse, while Natasha went back to the manor to change her clothes. At the horse farm, breakfast tea and fresh fruit had already been prepared by the maids, per Leon's instructions. More than a dozen strong horses wandered leisurely across the spacious fields, occasionally breaking into a run.
The racecourse, part of Leon's luxurious estate, was as grand as one would expect. Equipped with top-tier facilities, it also boasted stunning surroundings. Rolling buildings lined the course, with vibrant green countryside visible in every direction. White grandstands reflected the morning light, adding a clean, elegant touch to the scene.
In the distance, a dense forest framed the view, while the vast, well-maintained lawns could double as a golf course. Not far from the racecourse, a lake with crystal-clear water shimmered under the sunlight.
The private grandstand featured a wide, three-dimensional wooden floor, leading to a two-story structure designed specifically for the estate's owner. This structure was made mostly of transparent glass, allowing for relaxing, dining, and conversation while enjoying the view. The rooftop of the second floor provided a perfect spot to overlook the beauty of the racecourse.
The racecourse was located quite a distance from the main manor, requiring a specialized electric transport vehicle to get there.
Leon and Yelena strolled casually, taking their time and enjoying the surroundings without any urgency. When they reached the open-air rooftop on the second floor, there were no railings around it. The area was furnished with handcrafted wooden tables and chairs, along with neatly tied sun umbrellas.
Alexei sat at a long wooden table, sipping from a tiny cup and pretending to savor the fragrant breakfast tea. He couldn't help but exclaim, "Ah, this is heaven."
Melina, sitting nearby, shared his sentiment. She adored the luxurious estate, thinking back on her past life, which felt like a stark contrast between hell and heaven.
Yelena, on the other hand, was more spirited. She shouted playfully, "If I lived here, I'd become a lazy bum waiting to die!" Her energetic outburst made Leon laugh.
"Of course," Leon said, smiling. "You're all Natasha's most important family, which makes you our family. Treat this place like your home."
Alexei, clearly delighted, patted Leon on the shoulder with a force that could knock over a cow. "I like you, Leon. If you ever need someone beaten up, just let me know. The great Captain Alexei will tear them to pieces!"
Leon chuckled. "I believe you can."
Leon effortlessly deflected Alexei's powerful pat and spoke softly. He truly believed in the strength of the Russian warrior. Alexei, after all, had been injected with the super soldier serum, making him a match for Captain America in terms of combat prowess—just without the famous shield that Steve Rogers was known for. Despite his time in prison taking a toll, a little effort would easily get Alexei back in shape. If he ever truly unleashed himself, he could rival any superhero in New York.
The key difference between him and someone like Rogers was that Alexei didn't hold back. If he considered someone his enemy, he'd be relentless, like a Russian bear tearing into his prey. He had brutally dismembered hundreds of enemies, breaking throats with merciless efficiency.
Leon asked, "What are your plans for the future?"
"I'm still a bit unclear about that," Melina admitted. She trusted Leon because Natasha did, and from what Natasha had said, Leon's character shone through despite his tragic past. He was mature, sincere, and gentle—a person worth relying on.
Yelena, with a polite grin, extended her hand and said, "I want to learn how to beat Natasha here."
It was a goal she was determined to achieve.
Leon smiled and glanced at her. "You'll have to work hard for that. There's still a big gap between you and Natasha."
Just then, Natasha emerged from the stairs, catching her sister's remark and teasing her with a playful jab.
"Believe me, Yelena, it might take you a hundred years to beat me. Actually, there's a good chance you'll never manage it in your lifetime," Natasha teased, overhearing the conversation between Yelena and Leon. She joined Melina's side as she spoke.
"Ugh, whatever," Yelena huffed, unwilling to accept defeat. Though she knew talking back was pointless, inwardly she was determined. She secretly vowed to learn Natasha's methods, push herself harder than ever, and one day, finally defeat her sister. In her imagination, Yelena pictured herself triumphantly pinning Natasha down, a grin spreading across her face at the thought, nearly drooling in amusement.
Neither Melina, who looked on with quiet exasperation, nor Natasha, who gave Yelena a "what is wrong with you?" look, missed her bizarre reaction.
"Wanda and the guys...where are they?" Natasha asked Leon, rolling her eyes at her sister's antics.
Leon, with nothing to hide, answered plainly in front of Melina and the others. "They're off hunting dark races in different parts of the world."
"Oh? Looks like some things have been happening lately that I'm not aware of," Natasha remarked with curiosity.
"Quite a lot," Leon confirmed.
"But Wanda mentioned you had a surprise for me," Natasha said, her eyes lighting up. Her smile widened, her lips curling as she looked at Leon, her beauty captivating. "I'm really looking forward to it."
"A really nice surprise," Leon replied, smiling back. "We'll talk about it later."
Leon smiled but didn't explain further. Instead, he turned to Melina and said, "Natasha mentioned that you were involved in some of Dreykov's classified research and development projects."
…
"Indeed, Dreykov trusted me," Melina said calmly with a nod. However, that trust had been earned through years of service, completing countless missions for him. In exchange, her hands were stained with the blood of innocents, including children who had died under brutal training regimens while she could do nothing but watch.
She would have preferred never to have gained that trust.
Unlike Natasha, Melina had never been brave enough to escape. After Natasha fled, guilt and shame gnawed at her countless times. But now, things were different. The demon—Dreykov—was dead, and the nightmare that had haunted her for so long had finally dissipated. She could now confront her past with a sense of calm.
Leon smiled, giving a knowing nod to Natasha, who placed a tablet in front of Melina. She hesitated for a moment but took it, her expression doubtful. As she reviewed the confidential information displayed, a flicker of surprise crossed her eyes.
"You took over his scientific research team? And the Sky Fortress Project is 80% complete?" she asked, astonishment in her voice.
Leon nodded. "Yes. Ms. Melina, are you willing to take over this team? I need someone who can supervise it, and I believe you've had contact with them before."
Indeed, it was the Sky Fortress Project. After using Wanda's chaos magic to alter Dreykov's will, Leon had seized his gray assets and scientific research division. With the acquisition of Sky Blade No. 7, he entrusted Keisha to advance the Sky Fortress technology.
Sky Blade, originating from a high-tech civilization far more advanced than Earth's, made the Sky Fortress seem almost trivial in comparison. As a result, the initial estimate of four to five years for the fortress's completion had been shortened to just six months—or even less.
The Sky Fortress was intended to serve as a foundation for cultivating future forces, a critical piece in Leon's long-term plans. Sky Blade had always been his hidden trump card, and he had no intention of involving Wanda or anyone else with it. Even if he gained access to Merlot Heaven later, he planned to keep those powers completely separate from Earth.
Leon's plan was simple: use Earth as a springboard to build strength and, in the future, create a kingdom similar to Asgard. However, he intended to keep the angelic civilization, which he had control over through the Sky Blade No. 7, secret and independent.
On the surface, two massive forces would appear unrelated, but behind the scenes, both would be controlled by Leon. In time, a new kingdom, comparable to Asgard, would rise to face the universe, while the Sky Blade No. 7—and eventually the angelic civilization—would act as another transcendent power.
As the Sign-in system's rewards became more powerful and the angel civilization was perfected, Leon's sights would shift to new targets.
The so called "Angels" of this universe. He preferred the term birdmen for them.
The resources in Heaven's dimension were vast, and Leon planned for the angelic civilization to one day replace the birdmen and take control. This was another of his hidden cards.
Since the appearance of Sky Blade No. 7, Leon had adjusted and refined his future plans. But these ambitions were kept entirely to himself, buried deep within. Not even Natasha, Wanda, or anyone else he trusted knew the full extent of his vision. These hidden cards would only be revealed when a new crisis emerged.
As a wise man once said, amateurs chase the sun and get burned. Power stays in the shadows.
In the chaos of the cosmos, playing it safe was essential. One wrong move and he could easily be swallowed by an unknown threat. Caution was second nature to him, ingrained deeply in his character.
As for Melina, she had no idea of Leon's broader strategy. From her perspective, being entrusted with the scientific research team was a significant gesture of trust.
From Melina's perspective, Dreykov's scientific research team was a highly valuable asset, cultivated over many years with immense resources. Even a billionaire might not have access to such a team, but Leon had entrusted it to her.
Taking a deep breath, Melina nodded. "I'm willing to manage this team."
"That's great. I believe the Sky Fortress will soon become one of our key trump cards," Leon said, giving the impression of issuing casual instructions. "In addition, the team is working on a new technology that deserves special attention."
"New technology?" everyone asked, puzzled.
"Yes," Leon continued. "I found this technology in an incomplete set of technical drawings from a secret Hydra database. It's artificial intelligence."
"Artificial intelligence?" The group was stunned.
"That's right. According to the data, if fully developed, AI technology could lead the world's technological frontier. It could play an immeasurably important role for us, especially when integrated into Sky Fortress to assist its operations."
What Leon referred to as "AI" was actually Keisha from Sky Blade. Developing advanced artificial intelligence was not only feasible but easy for Sky Blade No. 7, capable of surpassing even Tony Stark's famed Jarvis.
But how could any artificial intelligence compare to Keisha? With the development of AI and futuristic technologies, Leon didn't need to over-explain. He could simply attribute advancements to the AI and move on.
"I understand," Melina said thoughtfully. "Sky Fortress is impressive, but to keep it flying for extended periods, it requires a powerful energy source. The current engines need constant replacement to activate the energy core, and that's costly."
Leon nodded in agreement. Dreykov's Sky Fortress, while advanced for human technology, had its shortcomings—especially when it came to sustaining flight, which required immense energy. Even with turbine engines and anti-gravity tech, the resources it consumed were a significant financial burden, even for Leon.
Natasha thought for a moment before chiming in, "I remember that Stark Industries developed a massive Ark reactor. The power it generates is substantial and could probably sustain Sky Fortress for a long time."
"But that technology is the Stark Group's core secret. It won't be easy to get our hands on it," she added.
"Leave that to me," Alexei interrupted, pounding his chest with confidence. "That playboy Stark? I'll beat him until he hands it over."
"Tony is missing," Yelena said, rolling her eyes. "Who exactly are you going to fight?"
"Wait, missing?" Alexei's fierce expression quickly turned to confusion.
…
Leon briefly explained Tony Stark's disappearance. Alexei's expression shifted to one of sudden understanding, but gloating quickly followed, showing his lack of fondness for Stark Industries.
Continuing, Leon shared that while the Sky Fortress's energy problem could be easily solved, the source was tricky to explain. He couldn't risk exposing the existence of Sky Blade. The Ark Reactor seemed like a good alternative.
"In that case, maybe we can use Tony Stark to our advantage," Leon mused aloud.
"Use him? But hasn't he been missing for two or three months? After being gone that long, he's probably dead," Yelena objected.
Leon chuckled, shaking his head. "Not necessarily. Everyone has a motive. I think it is someone in his company who is behind the kidnapping. Ordinary terrorists or criminals are just not equipped enough to do that. A billionaire and genius weapons developer? They want something—money, technology, or something else."
"Leon's right. The odds are Stark is still alive," Natasha agreed.
"So, if we save him, do you think he'll thank us with a few Ark Reactors?" Leon asked casually, taking a sip of juice. The taste was refreshing, reminding him how juice and coffee easily trump wine.
Alexei grinned, thumping his chest with confidence. "If we save him and he doesn't show gratitude, I'll take an arm off and make sure he's no longer a man."
Yelena smirked. "He'd probably be just freaked out by Alexei and call the cops."
"Haha!" The other couldn't help but laugh.
Alexei wasn't offended or embarrassed by Yelena's joke; instead, he felt proud. For this Eastern European man, having a fearsome body and appearance was something to take pride in.
"Then let's save this billionaire," Leon said with a smile.
After enjoying a lovely morning, Leon, Natasha, and the others had a lavish, nutritious lunch on the manor's rooftop. The sheer variety amazed Alexei: roasted whole chicken, pan-fried steak, lamb chops, hairy crabs, and other seafood filled the table. Alexei boasted that he could handle it all, but when he saw Natasha and Leon's appetites, he was stunned.
They ate enough food for five or six adults by themselves, finishing the entire spread quickly and gracefully. Alexei, shocked, had no chance to eat more and wondered if Natasha and Melina were emotionally starving during their time apart.
Naturally, Yelena didn't let the opportunity pass, teasing Alexei about his earlier boast.
After lunch, everyone returned to the main manor. The maids had already tidied up, allowing Yelena and the others to take a short break. Finally, Leon revealed the surprise he had prepared for Natasha.
Super Soldier Serum.
As Natasha gazed at the injection tube in front of her, her delicate and charming face lit up with astonishment. "Is this the surprise you prepared for me?" she asked, stretching out her hand to pick it up. A slight smile appeared on her lips, and a ripple of intrigue danced in her beautiful eyes as she regarded Leon. She sensed that he was becoming more mysterious with each passing day.
"This serum can enhance your physical capabilities significantly," Leon explained with a smile. "After injection, your strength will skyrocket. It will require a short period of adaptation, but since you have already built a foundation during your time in the Ural Mountains, this adjustment period will be shorter."
He gently touched her back, emphasizing her figure as he spoke. "And it will also repair any wounds in your body."
Natasha's eyes sparkled with excitement, and she repeated his words in disbelief. "Repair all wounds?"
"Everything," Leon confirmed with a nod.
A complex mix of emotions washed over Natasha—excitement and hope intertwined with memories of her past. The truth weighed heavily on her: she was not a complete woman. After enduring rigorous training in the Red Room, Dreykov had cruelly removed her uterus, stripping her of the natural ability to conceive. It was an indelible trauma that had buried deep within her heart.
Like many women, Natasha desired to embrace her womanhood, but she felt that this was taken from her. Now, however, she saw a glimmer of hope.
All of this was brought about by Leon. Natasha looked at him, her beautiful eyes shimmering with affection. His handsome face and gentle gaze radiated warmth, illuminating her like the sun. He had changed her destiny, guiding her out of confusion. Now, he was here to help her heal her remaining regrets and traumas.
"Leon~~" Natasha couldn't contain her emotions any longer. She reached out, hugged him tightly, and buried her head in his neck. Leon felt Natasha's unique softness, but instead of feeling overwhelmed, he was filled with concern. He understood that beneath her tough exterior as a secret agent, she was incredibly tender—just like now, when she finally opened her heart and let go of the need to pretend.
The two embraced in silence and tenderness for a long time. He gently patted her shoulder and whispered softly, "Go, Natasha, be your true self."
"Um," Natasha replied, leaving Leon's arms and nodding tenderly.
…
After an hour, Yelena's incredulous scream echoed through the manor.
"My god! Oh. My. God! Are you kidding me? How did you do it?"
Yelena sat astride Natasha on the sofa in the manor hall, holding Natasha's charming face between her hands, moving closer and examining it intently, her eyes wide as if inspecting it with a magnifying glass.
She had just gone to sleep, and after waking up, she suddenly noticed the incredible changes in Natasha sitting on the sofa. It wasn't an exaggeration—Natasha had changed so much that Yelena could hardly believe her eyes.
Natasha's once delicate and charming face now seemed to have undergone some kind of precise plastic surgery. Her pores had disappeared, her skin was whiter, and everything looked far more refined.
The most striking detail was that Yelena clearly remembered the scars on Natasha's arms, exposed by her short vest, and the one on her face—both had vanished.
It seemed as if they had been magically repaired.
As the saying goes, "whiteness hides all flaws." Natasha's skin, as a Russian, was naturally pale, but it had never been as white as that of someone with truly porcelain skin. Now, however, her skin had become even more flawless, with her pores shrinking, making her appear more refined and beautiful. Even her overall aura seemed to have improved.
As a woman, how could Yelena not feel a surge of envy and jealousy? Her jealousy was about to spill over.
A fanatical Yelena grabbed Natasha's face and demanded urgently, her voice full of desperation. She too wanted to become more beautiful, more refined.
And it wasn't just her. Melina, standing beside them, also cast envious, eager glances in Natasha's direction.
Natasha, for her part, seemed to enjoy it. Relishing her sister's obsessive admiration, she allowed Yelena to manhandle her face without protest, teasing her with silence.
"Not telling you," Natasha finally said, the words as sharp as a knife.
Yelena froze, her entire body going rigid. An intense murderous intent flashed in her eyes as she lowered her voice, sounding like a deranged killer.
"Believe me, if you don't tell me your secret, I'll use the cruelest methods imaginable to dismember you, tear out your throat, and rip out your heart."
"No way. I'm not telling you. No. Matter. What," Natasha replied, completely unfazed.
This made the once-menacing Yelena transform instantly into a little girl who had missed her bedtime candy. She clung to her sister, using the most irritatingly sweet voice imaginable.
"My dearest sister Natasha, we're blood relatives! Are you really going to treat your beloved little sister like this? Tell me, sister Naaa~taaa~shaaa~"
Yelena was relentless, willing to risk everything. Beside her, Melina couldn't bear to watch anymore. She sat down next to Natasha, her beautiful eyes full of warmth as she gazed at her.
All the commotion didn't go unnoticed. Alexei, who was grabbing whiskey from the bar's refrigerator nearby, couldn't help but shiver.
Feeling goosebumps rise, he muttered under his breath, "Am I still dreaming?"
Beside him, Leon, who was squeezing juice, smiled quietly and said nothing, casting a gentle glance toward the sofa.
Sure enough, Natasha, who had undergone such a drastic change, had become something different—perhaps even more sinister. But, in his heart, Leon admitted he liked this version of her.
Houston Police Department.
The police station was bustling with activity as officers hurried back and forth.
Inside the station's conference room, several sergeants from the joint investigation team sat in their chairs, surrounded by a cloud of smoke. The white police chief of Houston stood at the podium, while a projector displayed surveillance footage from several locations across the city. His expression was grim.
"Damn it, there's nothing there! Did he just vanish into thin air?"
The investigation team was stumped. Tire tracks clearly indicated that two cars were headed toward Houston along the highway, but the surveillance footage didn't capture either of them. They found other cars passing by, but after thoroughly reviewing the footage, the target vehicles were nowhere to be seen.
In fact, those cars weren't found on the highway at all. They were picked up on different roads entirely, but still left tire marks on the highway. It made no sense.
It was as if the two cars simply disappeared from the footage. Several police chiefs even suspected that the surveillance had been tampered with, but after consulting multiple experts, the final judgment was that everything was functioning normally.
But it defied reason.
It was as if the laws of physics had been violated. How could two cars just vanish like that? It was beyond bizarre.
"We just need one goddamned clue. Just one! Fuck!" The investigation seemed to have hit a dead end, frustrating several police chiefs.
What made it worse was that the military satellite footage had been obscured due to stormy weather at the time. The screen was unclear, then a golden light flashed briefly before dark clouds blocked the view again. No one could figure out what had happened.
As the police chiefs sat smoking cigarettes, deep in thought, a knock on the door interrupted their conversation. The white police chief called out, "Come in." A female officer opened the door and announced, "Sir, the FBI is here."
At her words, several men in suits entered the room. The police chiefs exchanged glances, no longer holding their cigarettes to their lips. The white police chief, Marley, wore a cold expression. He glanced at the visiting FBI agents and said, "I'm Marley. Is there something you need?"
The FBI, after all, isn't directly affiliated with local police departments, and there's often tension between the two. They have no hierarchical relationship, so there's no need for formalities. Local police typically have a different attitude toward troublesome federal agencies like the FBI—unless there's an acquaintance involved.
The lead FBI agent, a white man, didn't seem bothered by the cold reception. He smiled gently, took out a document, and handed it to Chief Marley. "Sorry to interrupt your meeting, Chief Marley. We only have a brief understanding of the situation, but it's drawn the attention of multiple departments."
"We don't intend to interfere with the joint investigation. In fact, we're here to offer some assistance. Once the investigation is complete, you can close the case, and we won't take over any further follow-up."
After hearing this, the police chiefs' expressions softened noticeably.
Several of the senior police chiefs understood the subtext behind the FBI agent's words. They were here merely to observe, not to intervene, offering help without the intention of taking credit afterward.
Marley eyed the white agent in front of him thoughtfully. "This isn't like the FBI's usual style."
The FBI was known for being more aggressive, and this approach felt almost like charity.
The white agent maintained a neutral expression, pretending not to hear the remark. After all, he wasn't really from the FBI.
…
In the office of the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., a knock on the door interrupted Nick Fury, who was buried in paperwork. Without looking up, he continued processing the documents and said casually, "Come in."
As the door opened, a tall woman in a Kevlar uniform walked in. She had a sharp, attractive face and a cold demeanor.
The female agent approached Fury's desk, placing a file within his reach. "Sir, there's news from Agent Fisher," she reported.
"Hmm? How's the investigation going?" Fury immediately stopped his work, raised his head, and began flipping through the file.
"It's not going well. One of the key leads has completely dried up, making the investigation difficult. Agent Fisher has requested assistance from the Science Department."
"Blurred tire marks, two cars vanishing into thin air?" Fury read through the report, his face emotionless. After setting the document down, he tapped his pen on the desk absentmindedly, deep in thought.
"This is getting interesting. Seems like we're dealing with things beyond our usual scope."
Various possibilities flashed through his mind. However, based on the existing clues, there wasn't enough to form a solid analysis. The only thing he could confirm was that the large-scale destructive power observed had no smoke or explosive reaction, indicating it wasn't caused by modern synthetic materials or conventional munitions.
Fisher had applied to involve the Department of Science and Technology because he suspected that the energy reaction wasn't of human origin.
"Mutants, maybe?" Fury pondered. But most of the world's dangerous mutants were already under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s surveillance, so it seemed unlikely.
Fury felt a headache coming on. The energy fluctuation was terrifying. Although it had lasted only for a brief moment, the intensity made him briefly think the military had detonated a nuclear bomb on U.S. soil.
The damage shown on the screen covered only a few thousand meters, but that was due to the yield. With a higher yield, the explosion would have covered a larger area, yet the energy itself was almost comparable. The temperature at that moment had been so extreme that parts of the surface had been directly carbonized.
That's why the impact of this incident is so severe. It's not that local nuclear tests haven't happened before—most civilians don't know about them because the government and military have suppressed the information. While the government and military are aware of those incidents, this time, an energy equivalent to nuclear power exploded on the mainland without their knowledge.
This is a major breach, and it's causing a lot of tension.
The government and the military are still arguing over the incident.
Agent Fisher seemed to agree. Fury tapped the table thoughtfully before something came to mind. "I remember the Department of Science and Technology recently brought in two new members with impressive credentials, right?"
"Yes, Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons."
"Send them both to investigate."
"Yes, sir."
After giving the order, Fury raised his head and looked at the female agent in front of him. "Hill, any news from Tony Stark yet?"
"No, sir. Coulson has been keeping an eye on it, and none of Tony Stark's friends in the military have given up."
"Alright, tell Coulson to keep at it. Stark's not the type to die so easily. This kidnapping probably has something to do with Stark Industries."
"Understood," Agent Hill replied, then turned and left after Fury's explanation. Fury gazed at the pictures in the document he was holding, his single eye filled with deep contemplation.
"The strange disappearance is somewhat similar to that incident. Could it be those people?"
The Middle East, with its vital strategic location, has long been a region of conflict due to competition over freshwater and oil resources, as well as deep religious and cultural differences. The region is marked by perennial instability. Its dry, hot climate and plateau terrain block moist ocean air, worsening the area's drought and giving it a predominantly tropical desert climate.
In a remote desert area in the Middle East, the sun blazed overhead, and the heat distorted the air. A temporary camp was set up there, with over a dozen military vehicles and several helicopter gunships parked in its vicinity.
Colonel James Rhodes, a close friend of Tony Stark, stood frowning at a distribution map of the Middle East displayed on his computer. A large, dense red area was highlighted on the map—the region he had been searching for over the past few months.
Still, there was no sign of Tony Stark.
In fact, as early as the first month after Tony's disappearance, the military had lost interest in continuing the search. It was Rhodes who insisted on pressing forward. Tony's secretary, Pepper, had assured him that all the search expenses were being covered by Stark Industries. With that support, Rhodes had withstood the pressure and led a military team to continue the search.
But now, even Rhodes was beginning to feel a bit hopeless. He closed his eyes, sat on a bench, pulled a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it, letting the nicotine fill his lungs with its familiar, intoxicating sensation. In his exhaustion, the nicotine was the only thing that could offer him some relief.
No one disturbed him during this moment of solitude. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but as he neared the end of his cigarette, a strange feeling crept over him. This sense of unease immediately put his instincts on high alert. A veteran warrior, Rhodes reacted swiftly—his eyes snapped open as his hand reached for the pistol strapped to his leg, pointing it forward in an instant.
The moment his eyes opened, he realized what had triggered his discomfort.
A graceful figure had somehow appeared in his camp, silently observing the map of the Middle East on his computer, which marked the areas where the search for Tony Stark had been concentrated.
The intruder had short, slightly curly burgundy hair, and was dressed in a short-sleeved vest, tight combat pants, and white shoes. Although Rhodes couldn't see her face, the tall, elegant silhouette suggested she was likely a very beautiful woman.
But none of that mattered. What mattered was that she shouldn't be here—not now, not in this place.
Rhodes frowned, noticing she hadn't turned around yet. He warned her, his voice calm but firm: "If I were you, I'd turn around immediately and tell me who you are and why you're here. Then maybe I'll consider not arresting you."
In the Middle East, where warlords waged constant battles, anyone—man or woman—could be an assassin or a suicide bomber. He couldn't afford to take any chances.
…
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