Tony stood before his makeshift arena, where a colossal steel frame loomed over a two-meter-tall figure shrouded in black cloth. The fabric stretched taut over angular protrusions—unmistakably humanoid.
"Consider yourself privileged," Tony spread his arms like a ringmaster, "witnessing the unveiling of mankind's greatest invention! Twice!"
Leon leaned against a tool cabinet, sleeves rolled up. "By all means, maestro. Impress me."
"JARVIS! Showtime!" Tony commanded.
Clang!
Mechanical arms erupted from the frame, yanking away the drape to reveal a mercury-silver armor. Sunlight rippled across its liquid-metal surface, casting prismatic flares through the garage.
Whirr-clank!
The robotic limbs dismantled the armor with surgical precision, reassembling it onto Tony's body. Plates slithered like living scales until the helmet's eyes flared cobalt.
Hiss—
Hydraulics vented steam as the Mark II levitated, repulsorsglowing. "Behold! My magnum opus!" Tony soared in erratic circles, nearly clipping a Lamborghini. "Flight stabilization! Repulsor beams! Thirty years ahead of its time!"
"Sir," JARVIS interjected, "flight systems require 237 additional test cycles—"
"Progress waits for no AI!" Tony flipped his visor up, hovering before Leon. "Your turn, kid. Where's your tin can?"
Leon circled the Mark II, tracing its alloy seams. "Titanium chassis. Arc-powered. JARVIS integration... impressive." His finger halted at a joint. "But no gold plating? Fatal flaw."
"Gold?!" Tony's repulsors sputtered. "Since when does war machinery need bling?"
"Observe." Leon raised his wrists—twin holographic bands pulsating crimson. "JARVIS! Ignite!"
Beep!
The bands flashed scarlet. A thunderous crash echoed upstairs—shattering glass and toppling equipment.
Tony grimaced. "That was my femtosecond laser array!"
"Minor recalibration." Leon floated upward as a red-and-blue capsule smashed through the ceiling.
The pod disintegrated midair, components jetting toward Leon. Plates snapped onto his limbs with magnetic thunks, forming streamlined armor that hummed with restrained power.
"Hands-free flight systems." Leon backflipped effortlessly, jets purring. "Modular weapon ports. Oh, and—" he tapped his thigh, "—built-in urinary recycler."
Tony's visor fogged. "You put a toilet in combat armor?!"
"Thought you'd appreciate it." Leon deadpanned. "Considering your Afghanistan cave 'innovations'."
"That was survival!" Tony's repulsors flared. "This is... is..."
"Victory." Leon extended a plasma-shielded palm. "Superior mobility. Faster deployment. Plus..." His helmet retracted with a snickt, "—I look damn good in cobalt."
Tony landed with a thud. "Armor's meant for battle, not fashion shows! Real tests are speed! Altitude! Combat specs!"
"Race you to the stratosphere?" Leon's jets cycled up. "First to touch the International Space Station wins."
"JARVIS! Prep GPS spoofing!" Tony's thrusters roared. "That Chinese satellite's fair game!"
Outside
Pacific winds carried their laughter skyward as two trails—one gold-trimmed crimson, one prismatic blue—pierced the clouds. Far below, Pepper sighed over security footage, dialing a number:
"Nick? Your 'Avengers Initiative' just got two new headaches."