The morning sun streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows as Leon balanced a slice of cold pizza on his knee, his Twitter feed exploding like a digital grenade.
"Stark Industries stock drops 18% following COO scandal..." CNBC's ticker scrolled across the hologram. Below it, a viral meme showed Obadiah's face photoshopped onto Icarus mid-plunge.
Leon swallowed a mouthful of congealed cheese. "Note to self: Never tweet during a PR crisis."
Pepper's stilettos struck marble like gunshots. "Praying won't fix this!" She thrust a triple espresso into his hands. "Your brother's been underground for 72 hours welding God-knows-what, and you're here playing social media philosopher?"
Her tablet flickered with simultaneous board meetings – Stark Industries' weapons division liquidation, StarkNet's server migration, and a holographic complaint from the Canadian Pornhub team about copyright disputes.
"Three companies, two vanished geniuses, one overworked PA." Pepper's eye twitched. "If Tony doesn't surface by noon, I'm drafting my resignation letter in blood."
Leon raised grease-stained hands in surrender. "Easy, Pep. I'll—"
"No." Her glare could've melted vibranium. "You'll either drag Tony out of that lab or take over StarkNet's Singapore expansion. Choose."
Sublevel 3, Stark Mansion
Tony's workshop resembled a cyberpunk junkyard. Half-assembled Mark VII parts floated in anti-grav fields while Daft Punk's Technologic blared at deafening decibels.
"JARVIS! Mute!" Leon's command shattered a champagne flute.
The music died. Tony emerged from an armor cocoon, welding mask askew. "Since when do you—"
"Pepper's resigning."
Tony froze. The plasma cutter in his hand sputtered out. "She... what?"
"Her exact words?" Leon plucked a circuit board from Tony's hair. "Either Stark men start adulting, or I'm opening a B&B in Fiji."
The genius billionaire playboy philanthropist deflated like a punctured balloon. "Right. Priorities." He gestured at the holographic schematics – a nanotech suit with built-in espresso machine. "Just needed to perfect the—"
"No." Leon tossed him a clean shirt. "Shower. Shave. Be human."
StarkNet Headquarters, 14:00 PST
Leon strolled past glass-walled coding pods where programmers worshipped at the altar of Java. In the R&D wing, engineers debated whether to call their new AI "Jeeves 2.0" or "Skynet Junior."
"Mr. Stark!" A frazzled intern waved schematics. "The Canadians are threatening to—"
"Give them the alpaca server farm in Quebec." Leon didn't break stride. "And send a fruit basket with maple syrup."
He found Pepper buried under holographic contracts. "Your solution better involve—"
"Promote Claire from Legal." Leon swiped away her stress migraines with a bioelectric pulse. "She's been running R&D since I left. Time to make it official."
Pepper's shoulders sagged. "And Tony?"
"Prepping his 'I'm Not a Reckless Man-Child' press conference." Leon grinned. "We're rebranding weapons division into... sustainable energy solutions."
"Solar-powered missiles?"
"Wind turbine repulsors."
Their laughter echoed through the boardroom. Outside, Stark Industries' stock ticker began its slow climb from the grave.