Leander Hayes took a breath, feeling the weight of real gravity beneath his soles. He stepped out, his meteorite armor clinking softly. The hangar was a cathedral of high-tech engineering. To his left, a sleek, needle-shaped scout ship hummed as it prepped for departure; to his right, a massive freighter, rusted and scarred from nebula diving, groaned under the weight of its cargo.
Just as Leander was orienting himself, a uniquely shaped vessel—painted in a shimmering, iridescent teal—slid into the adjacent cove. A large, bald man stepped out. His skin was a deep, mustard yellow, and his eyes were framed by a silvery-grey coating that caught the light like polished chrome. He wore a purple military uniform with high collars, looking every bit the high-ranking official.
The man's yellowish skin tone, reminiscent of old paint, made Leander's stomach do a nervous flip. He didn't want to stare, so he adjusted the heavy metal suitcase in his hand and walked toward the main exit.
"Hey, brother! Slow down! You look like a man who's lost his map or found a treasure," a voice called out.
Leander turned to see a short, burly man trotting toward him. He had skin the color of bruised plums and a wide, friendly grin that showed too many teeth. "What brings a specimen like you to Xandar? Buying, selling, or just looking for a place to hide? I'm Yumi. I handle the logistics the government doesn't want to touch. Better prices than the official kiosks, guaranteed."
Yumi circled Leander, his eyes scanning the meteorite armor. "I'm trying to place you. You don't look like a Krylorian, and you're definitely not Kree. What's the ethnicity? New race on the block?"
Leander looked at the man's strange purple skin. It was even more jarring than Jason's red hue, but Yumi had the aura of a man who knew where the bodies were buried. In a place this big, a guide was a necessity.
"I'm looking for information," Leander said, keeping his voice steady. "Is there a place where someone can buy specific data? I need to find the coordinates for a particular planet."
"Information? Ha! Xandar is built on data," Yumi laughed, slapping his thigh. "You've got the Intermediaries, the Little Rascals, the Doodoo Birds... then there's Hatton's Shop, if you want the stuff that's been scrubbed from the official records. You haven't been around much, have you, little brother?"
Yumi leaned in, rubbing his hands together. "Tell you what. Give me two thousand credits, and I'll take you to the most reliable information broker in the sector. No scams, no Nova Corps bugs."
"I don't have credits," Leander said, lifting the heavy suitcase. "But I have this. High-quality metal. I need to sell it first."
The suitcase was a makeshift thing, hammered together from the reinforced scrap Leander had "borrowed" from the Ghost Shadow's interior. It looked crude, but the weight of the alloy inside made the handle creak.
"Metal? This little box?" Yumi's eyes squinted as he looked at the case. "Unless that's pure Uru or Vibranium, a suitcase-full won't buy you a sandwich on Xandar. Do you have a certified test report?"
"No report," Leander admitted. "But the quality is beyond anything you've seen. I know my metal."
Yumi sighed, waving a hand for Leander to follow. "Everyone says that. But hey, I've got business at Hatton's anyway. He buys exotic scrap. We can kill two birds with one stone. Come on, the street's this way."
As they exited the hangar, Xandar opened up before Leander's eyes. It was like stepping into a dream of the future. Buildings of white stone and glass rose like frozen waves toward the sky. Countless flying vehicles wove through golden "lanes" in the air, their engines emitting a soft, musical hum. In the center of the horizon stood a massive, solid square structure, a thousand meters high, pulsing with a faint blue energy.
"That's the Nova Corps HQ," Yumi said, noticing Leander's slack-jawed expression. "The Worldmind's brain. Don't stare too long; the scanners don't like tourists who gawk. We're heading to the lower tiers."
Leander walked through the crowd, marveling at the diversity. He saw aliens with three eyes, beings made of crystalline structures, and others who looked indistinguishable from humans except for neon-colored hair or glowing pupils. Xandar felt like the ultimate melting pot.
"First time?" Yumi asked.
"Yeah. It's... a lot," Leander replied.
"Xandar's alright," Yumi said, summoning a sleek, hovering taxi. "No weapons allowed for civilians, which keeps the peace, and the atmosphere is adjusted for standard biologicals. You don't need a suit to breathe, which is a luxury. My last run to Aksooga was a nightmare—had to wear a rebreather for three weeks. But Xandar is boring. No nightlife. If you want real fun, you go to Knowhere."
As the flying car arrived, Leander heaved the suitcase into the trunk. The vehicle visibly tilted to one side under the weight, the suspension hissing in protest. Yumi, already in the backseat, felt the lurch. Her cheerful expression darkened for a split second, a glint of greed flashing in her eyes.
While Leander climbed in, Yumi slid her hand into her pocket, her fingers dancing across a hidden comms device, typing a silent message: I've got a live one. Heavy exotic alloy. Looks like a backwater kid. Prep the back room at Hatton's.
Somewhere in Xandar's Industrial District
Jason adjusted the sleek black mask over his face, hiding his red skin. He stepped out of his own taxi at a mid-level road, looking at the sign for "Number 200."
He leaned back against a wall for a moment, his heart racing. He couldn't stop thinking about Leander. The kid is a walking sun, Jason thought. He's got the raw power of a Tier 1 warrior, but he's as naive as a newborn. He threatened me, sure, but he also healed me.
Jason looked at his hands, which were now smooth and strong. He had spent his life dodging Kree patrols and scraping for fuel, trusting no one. But Leander was an anomaly. An opportunity.
"If I can point that kind of power at the right target..." Jason muttered. His mind drifted to Ronan the Accuser. The man who had decimated his people and left him a scavenger.
He needed Earth. If Earth was a low-level planet, it would be the perfect place to lure a Kree fleet into a trap—or perhaps, if Leander was as powerful as he seemed, the kid could be the ultimate weapon. I need to find those coordinates, Jason thought, his teeth clenching. Ronan, I'm coming for you. And I'm bringing a god with me.
Malibu, Earth
The world was ending in fire and salt water.
Tony Stark scrambled through the debris of his living room, coughing on the dust of pulverized concrete. Above him, the roof groaned, massive slabs of stone teetering on broken rebar.
Suddenly, a golden-red figure stood over him. The Mark 42 armor, battered but functional, braced its shoulders against a falling pillar, holding up the weight of the house. The faceplate flipped up, revealing Pepper Potts's terrified eyes.
"I've got you," she gasped, her voice amplified by the suit's speakers. "I told you we should have left, Tony!"
Tony struggled to his feet, his ears ringing from the last explosion. "First of all, I was protecting you. Second, technically, I told you to leave. It's a nuance."
Another rocket shrieked in from the ocean, striking the foundation. The shockwave sent Tony sprawling across the floor again.
"Go! Get out of here!" Tony yelled, pointing toward the garden. "The suit's got an internal flight stabilizer—just think about moving forward!"
Pepper hesitated, looking at the massive crack that had split the floor between them. She wasn't a hero; she was a CEO. The armor felt heavy and alien on her skin. She looked at Tony in despair, her strength failing.
"Take Maya and go!" Tony commanded, his voice raw. "I'll find another way out! Don't stop, Pepper! Just go!"
Pepper understood the finality in his voice. She slammed the mask down, the HUD glowing blue. She turned to Maya Hansen, who was huddled under a table, and scooped the woman up with one armored arm. With a burst from the repulsors, she smashed through the remaining wall and flew—wobbling and uneven—into the rainy Malibu sky.
Tony watched them disappear. He turned back to the window just as three more rockets impacted the support beams beneath the villa.
The entire cliffside gave way. The billionaire's multi-million dollar home began to slide, tilting toward the churning grey waters of the Pacific. Tony scrambled for a grip, but the shaking room offered nothing but jagged edges and falling glass. He felt the sickening drop as the house plunged into the sea, the cold water rushing in to claim the remains of Iron Man.