Home Defense

Although Leon's mastery of firearms control paled compared to Tony's expertise, his reaction speed and physical agility far surpassed his. Clad in armor he'd only just acquired minutes ago, Leon stormed through the villa and charged towards the three terrorists.

With a roar, Leon crashed into one of them. The impact was devastating, the terrorist flew backward, slamming into the wall with a sickening *crunch*. Blood sprayed as he crumpled, ribs shattered, his head spinning with intense amounts of pain. He was out of the fight instantly, life or death unknown.

The other two terrorists froze, their pupils shrinking in dread as they stared at the steel-clad figure before them. "What is this monster?!" one stammered, legs trembling beneath him. "No doubt about it, Tony's got freaks guarding this place. No wonder they nabbed Jerry," the other muttered, voice quaking with realization. Bullets ricocheted harmlessly off Leon's armor, and his speed defied their ability to track him. They were outmatched, and they knew it.

"Withdraw- retreat!" the first shouted, turning to flee. The second followed without hesitation, desperation driving his every step. As he ran, he ripped a grenade from his belt and lobbed it at Leon, not daring to look back. He hit the ground hard, diving for cover as the pin clattered behind him.

*Boom!* The grenade detonated, filling the air with smoke and debris. The terrorist peeked back, heart pounding. "Did I get him?" he whispered, squinting through the haze. Leon was nowhere to be seen 'had he been blown to bits?' "No way," the man reasoned. "That steel monster shrugs off bullets, a grenade probably wouldn't turn him to dust."

A chilling voice cut through the smoke. "Are you looking for me?" The terrorist's blood ran cold. He spun, scrambling to roll away, but Leon's armored boot descended with merciless precision. *Crack* The sound of splintering bone echoed as the man's chest caved in, ribs snapping and heart stopping under brutal force. He was dead instantly.

Leon's gaze shifted to the corridor ahead, frowning slightly. The third terrorist had slipped away during the chaos, using his comrade's sacrifice to escape. But Leon wasn't fazed, these intruders were more than just threats; they were bio-energy, walking fuel for his gene extraction system. Letting one go wasn't an option.

Before tonight, Leon had amassed 2,800 bio-energy points. He'd started with 1,700, earned 200 more from killing two attackers in an earlier ambush, and harvested 900 by wiping out nine others with a grenade on the hill in Afghanistan. Total 2,800. It sounded impressive, but it wasn't enough, not when every 1,000 points unlocked a random gene ability, and he'd only get two chances with his current stash. He needed more, and these terrorists were his ticket.

Leon bolted after the fleeing man, eyes sharp. The terrorist, panicked, hurled another explosive over his shoulder. Leon slid back, but a blinding flash seared his vision— a flashbang. His eyes burned, temporarily blinded, but his spider-sense tingled. Without hesitation, he activated the armor's thrusters, rocketing backward as he ordered, "JARVIS, take him out, now!"

"Yes sir," JARVIS replied. A shoulder mounted turret snapped up, firing three precise shots. *woosh-woosh-woosh*. The bullets struck the head, heart, and throat. The terrorist's eyes widened in shock, then dulled as he collapsed, dead.

As the blinding light faded, Leon's vision cleared. He glanced at the corpse and muttered, "Gear makes all the difference." Without the armor, he could have dodged the attack, sure, but counterattacking while blind? Impossible. With JARVIS's assistance, the man never had a chance to escape.

Leon turned toward the gym, determined to grab his sword. Guns were effective, but he craved the intimacy of a blade. Minutes later, sword in hand, he resumed his hunt, JARVIS scanning for stragglers. He locked onto another terrorist. The terrorist saw Leon and started spraying bullets wildly. Leon sidestepped with ease, drew his epee, and swung. *Shlick* The blade sliced the man in two, blood painting the walls in a gruesome arc. Leon's stomach churned at the sight, but he pressed on.

"Monster!" a terrified voice shrieked down the hall. Another intruder fired blindly before sprinting for the exit, his screams joining a chorus of panic. The once confident terrorists were now broken, fleeing the "steel demon" who carved through them with relentless precision.

....

"Hey, what's the situation?" Tony Stark called out, his voice laced with irritation and a hint of amusement. Outside his sprawling villa, the aftermath of chaos unfolded. A few of the intruders knocked cold around him. Then, out of nowhere, a group of them burst from the building, sprinting like the devil himself was on their heels. Panic so raw it almost made Tony pause.

Still, he wasn't about to let them scatter like roaches. With a flick of his wrist, repulsors hummed to life, and he launched after them. Precise blasts tore through the air, slamming into legs and arms, non-lethal, but damn effective. The runners crumpled, clutching shattered limbs, alive but out of the game.

Ten minutes later, the fight was over. The villa's manicured lawn was a battlefield now, littered with groaning bodies, some dazed, some writhing in pain. Leon had gone full berserker, his blade leaving a trail of carnage, while Tony kept it surgical, pinning down threats without crossing the line into murder.

...….

"Leon, seriously, what the hell did you do in here?" Tony's voice cut through the silence as he stepped back into the villa. He stopped short, gagging at the sight. "How'd you turn my living room into… ugh, a damn slaughterhouse?" The floor was a ghastly scene, bodies hacked apart, guts spilling onto the tiles, the air thick with the iron stench of blood. It was less "battle aftermath" and more "horror movie set."

Leon glanced over, wiping his sword with a rag like he was cleaning a kitchen knife. "Couldn't be helped," he said, his tone flat, almost bored. "They rushed at me."

Tony shot him a look, equal parts incredulous and disgusted. "You butchered them. Look at this guy…" He gestured at a corpse cleaved in two, intestines trailing out. "That's not 'dealing with it,' that's a war crime."

Leon smirked, unfazed. "If you're going to deal with your enemies, you have to eliminate them completely."

"Eliminate, brother they are literally in pieces!" Tony threw up his hands, shaking his head. "You're a menace, you know that?" He pulled out his phone, already dialing. "I'm calling for a cleanup, this place reeks worse than a landfill.

...….

Miles away, in a dimly lit villa, Obadiah Stane sat frozen, his eyes locked on a laptop screen. One of his men, a survivor, had shoved a USB drive into his hand, babbling about "a steel man" at Tony's place. Obadiah had snorted, sipping his red wine with a smug grin. "What, a guy in a tin suit took out twenty armed elites? Spare me the fairy tale."

Then he pressed play. The wine glass nearly slipped from his fingers. On the grainy footage, Tony, decked out in sleek armor firing repulsor shots. Seeing that Obadiah choked, spitting his drink across the table.

"No… no way," he rasped, leaning closer. "Tony, you sneaky bastard." His voice dropped to a whisper as the implications sank in. 

His expression darkened, greed and fury twisting his features. As Stark Industries' second-biggest shareholder, he'd been blindsided. "All this time, playing the eccentric genius, and you've been sitting on this?" he growled. "Keeping it from me?"

He snapped the laptop shut, his mind racing. "I need that armor," he muttered, eyes glinting with avarice. "With that kind of power, I'd own the arms trade, sell to every warlord, every government, no questions asked."

One of his men shifted uneasily. "Boss, maybe we lay low. Tony doesn't know we sent those guys. Showing up now could blow it."

Obadiah's glare was ice-cold. "Lay low? Do you think I'm scared of a little risk? That armor is a fortune waiting to be claimed. Get the car, I'm going to Tony's."

The man hesitated, swallowing hard. "But, sir, it's dangerous"

"Enough!" Obadiah snapped, his voice a whip-crack. "Arrange it. Now."

The henchman scurried off, leaving Obadiah alone with his thoughts. "He doesn't suspect me," he murmured, a sly smile creeping onto his face. "I'll play the concerned friend… and take what's mine."