The old factory smelled of rust and grease, its dim lights casting long shadows over the cracked concrete floor. Leon Stark sat tied to a chair, his wrists raw from the zip ties, though his face betrayed no hint of fear. Beside him, Peter Parker squirmed, his nervous energy barely contained. Armed terrorists stood in front of them, their boots scuffing the ground, guns glinting in the faint glow.

  A towering terrorist, two meters of muscle and menace stepped inside the factory, gring down at Leon. “Contact Tony Stark. Tell him to hand over the armor designs and the blueprint of the energy core. Do it.”

  Leon tilted his head, his brow furrowing. “Armor? What Armor?”

  The terrorist’s scowl deepened. “Don’t py stupid. You know what it is.” He jerked his head, and the goon behind Leon smashed his rifle butt into Leon’s skull.

  Pain fred, sharp and hot, but Leon bit it back, his teeth grinding. ‘Idiots’ He felt Peter tense beside him, the kid’s breath catching.

  “Tell us the truth,” the big terrorist snarled, “or we’ll loosen some bones, starting with yours.”

  Leon’s eyes locked onto his, steady and cold. “You dare? Since you know the existence of the armor you should know, if Tony finds out you’ve got me, you’re dead..”

  The terrorist barked a ugh. “That’s not your problem.” He pulled a satellite phone from his belt and dialed. It rang once before Tony’s voice snapped through.

  “Hello?”

  The terrorist shoved the phone against Leon’s ear. “Speak.”

  “Tony, it’s me,” Leon said, voice even. “They’ve got me.”

  “Where are you?” Tony’s words cut like a bde, urgency bleeding through.

  The terrorist yanked the phone back before Leon could answer. “You don’t need to know where he is. You just need to know he’s ours. If you want him alive, send the armor’s designs and energy core blueprints to the email I give you within five minutes.”

  He spat out an email address and hung up, gncing at his watch.

  Five minutes ticked by. The ptop nearby stayed silent—no ping, no files. The terrorist’s face twisted with rage. He dialed again. “What’s this, Stark? Don’t you care about your brother’s life?”

  Tony’s voice was firm. “How do I know you won’t kill him anyway? You want the designs? I will only trade face to face.”

  “No chance,” the terrorist snapped. “Push us, and we’ll send him back in pieces.”

  “Don’t!” Tony’s tone cracked, just for a moment. “Fine. I’ll send the armor designs now but the energy core’s face to face only.”

  The terrorist paused, then cut the call. He stepped aside, dialing another number. “Boss,” he muttered. “Stark’s giving us the armor first. He wants to trade the energy core in person.”

  Obadiah Stane’s voice came through, smooth and sharp. “Get the energy core first. That’s the priority.”

  “Yes, boss.” The terrorist hung up, strode back to Leon, and dialed Tony again. “Send the energy core blueprint now. That’s the deal.”

  He ended the call and waited, eyes on the ptop.

  Miles away, in a beachside vil, Tony Stark’s fingers hovered over his keyboard. His jaw tightened, a glint of fury in his eyes. “Obadiah,” he growled under his breath. He sent the files but the fake ones. Obadiah would spot a fake, but this would hold them for now.

  The terrorist’s ptop chimed. He grinned, then called Obadiah. “Got the files, boss. Sending them.”

  “No,” Obadiah said. “I’m coming there.”

  A helicopter roared overhead minutes ter, touching down outside. Obadiah Stane stepped into the factory, his suit crisp against the grimy backdrop. His gaze swept over Leon and Peter, lingering on the kid with a faint frown.

  “Boss,” the terrorist said, standing taller.

  “The files,” Obadiah demanded.

  “On the computer,” the terrorist replied, pointing.

  ‘Gotcha Bitch’ Leon smirked in his mind but outside his eyes widened, feigning shock. “Obadiah? You’re behind this?”

  Obadiah turned to him, his expression ice cold. “Surprised, Leon? Don’t be.” He lit a cigar, smoke curling around his words. “Last time you got lucky.” He stepped closer, towering over Leon. “But this time, not so much. No one can save you.” His hand swung, aiming for Leon’s cheek.

  But Leon moved first. With a snap, the zip-ties broke. His hand shot up, catching Obadiah’s wrist mid-strike. His other hand cracked across Obadiah’s face, a vicious sp that rang out like a whip.

  Obadiah’s head jerked, blood and teeth spraying. He stumbled, stunned.

  The terrorists faltered, guns twitching. Leon’s grip shifted to Obadiah’s throat, his voice low. “Don’t move.”

  Peter gaped. “Leon, that was insane!” Then he blinked, puzzled. “Wait, if you could do that, why didn’t you fight earlier?”

  Leon smirked. “Later, Peter. I’ll tell you.” He gnced over. “Need help with those ties?”

  Peter tugged at his wrists. “Yeah, I’m not breaking these anytime soon.”

  “Give it time,” Leon said, snapping Peter’s restraints with a flick.

  Obadiah spat blood, gring. “You set me up, didn’t you? You and Tony, you’ve been onto me this whole time!”

  Leon’s backhand struck again, silencing him. “You did this to yourself.”

  A terrorist lunged, shouting. “Let him go!”

  Leon’s fingers sparked, and a jolt of electricity leaped from his hand, hitting a terrorist dead-on. The man dropped, smoke coming out of his body.

  “Mutant!” another gasped, his gun shaking.

  The terrorists wavered, their confidence shattering.

  ...........................................................................................

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