On the other end of the line, Tony Stark was silent for a full five seconds.
Levi could practically picture his expression—disbelief mixed with irritation and an intense, burning curiosity.
"A helicopter… used as a baseball?" Tony finally said, his voice tight. "Tell me you're not watching a late-night monster movie."
"Better production value," Levi replied lightly. "Oh, and the red one? I punched him a few hundred meters into a building. He's probably still redecorating the interior walls. Anyway, I've got cleanup to handle. If your new toy doesn't show up soon, you're off the guest list."
Click.
In Malibu, Tony lowered the phone slowly.
JARVIS had already pulled satellite footage. Harlem looked like a meteor strike zone. Two giants. Military response. And then—
One punch.
Tony's jaw tightened.
He could fly. He could calculate trajectories mid-combat. He could fire repulsors with surgical precision.
But that?
That raw, overwhelming physical dominance—
His pride burned.
"JARVIS."
"Yes, sir."
"Strip Mark IV testing down to bare minimum. I want flight-ready in twenty-four hours."
"Sir, that violates—"
"Then rewrite the rules."
---
Three Days Later
New York – Private Members' Club, Top Floor
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Manhattan's glittering skyline. The lights below flowed like rivers of gold.
Nick Fury sat alone on a leather sofa. Coat off. Black turtleneck. A glass of untouched whiskey in front of him.
He had been waiting ten minutes.
The door opened.
Levi entered in casual homewear, holding a steaming mug of coffee.
"Director Fury. Sorry to keep you."
"You didn't," Fury replied evenly. "Time works differently for people who can appear out of thin air."
Levi sat opposite him.
"How's Banner?"
"Secure. Off the grid. Ross won't touch him again."
"Good."
Fury leaned forward slightly. "You leveled half of Harlem with one punch. Now you want to 'talk business'?"
"I prevented worse," Levi said calmly. "You'd be cleaning up Manhattan right now otherwise."
Fury didn't argue.
S.H.I.E.L.D.'s damage assessment had come back with a single conclusion:
Unquantifiable.
"Fine," Fury said. "Your terms?"
Levi raised three fingers.
"First. Full identity protection. Anthony Chen—and any other identity I may use. I don't enjoy IRS audits."
"Done."
"Second. Limited intelligence access. I don't need everything. Just… interesting anomalies."
Fury's eye narrowed. "Impossible."
"Then create a Special Consultant office. Filter what you deem appropriate. Send it to me."
A pause.
"…Acceptable."
"Third." Levi's tone sharpened slightly. "No surveillance. No digging into my businesses. No harassment of my associates. We're partners. Not handler and asset."
Silence filled the room.
Fury studied him carefully.
Finally—
"In S.H.I.E.L.D. threat classification," Fury said slowly, "there's a top-tier designation. 'Godfather Level.' Individuals capable of determining planetary outcomes alone."
He stood.
"Effective today, that's you."
Levi shrugged. "Flattering."
They shook hands.
"Welcome aboard, Special Consultant."
---
Nevada Desert – Abandoned Mine
Levi stood alone in the wasteland.
Time to test.
He closed his eyes.
Anger wasn't natural to him anymore. Control was.
So he reached backward—
Memories of endless overtime in a previous life.
Being disposable.
Dying alone at a desk.
A spark ignited.
Infinite Rage activated.
The spark became an inferno.
A tidal wave of fury surged—threatening to drown thought itself.
But his will, reinforced by super-soldier physiology and disciplined mind, held firm.
Rage compressed.
Refined.
Converted.
Power.
His body became a furnace.
Eyes snapping open, a faint red glint flickered within them.
He punched the empty desert.
No thunderous boom.
Just a heavy whump—like air collapsing.
A perfect circular crater—twenty meters across—materialized instantly before him. The edges smooth, glassed, vaporized.
A shockwave followed, grinding sand and scrub into dust within a hundred-meter radius.
Levi flexed his hand.
"Efficient."
But he felt it—
The mental strain.
Each activation was dancing on a blade's edge.
He would need to strengthen his will further.
---
Back in New York
Inside his penthouse, Levi opened a classified file.
Ivan Vanko.
Bearded. Hardened. Eyes full of resentment.
Son of Anton Vanko—once Howard Stark's partner.
Arc reactor legacy.
Levi tapped the desk lightly.
With Tony's new element about to go public, revenge would not be far behind.
He picked up a secure phone.
"I need full surveillance on Ivan Vanko. Moscow. Everything—purchases, contacts, movement logs. Daily updates."
He ended the call and looked out over Manhattan.
Tony Stark's future wasn't just armor.
It was AI. Clean energy grids. Technological singularity-level innovation.
And Levi intended to clear every obstacle before it could threaten that trajectory.
Because the world was changing.
And he preferred to be ahead of it.
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