Rowan was still wrestling with the problem of wand materials when his phone buzzed. A video call from Logan flickered to life.
"Rowan," Logan said, angling the camera. "Something silver just blasted out of Stark's place. Looked like a flying robot. Fast. This is the best shot I got."
The photo was blurry, but Rowan recognized it instantly. A rough, unpainted suit of armor.
"So he's done it," Rowan murmured. Tony Stark had finally crossed the line from theory into reality.
"Maybe this solves my problem after all."
Logan frowned. "You calling me back? Or am I still babysitting him?"
"No more tailing," Rowan said decisively. "I'll have Isa pick you up. We visit Stark properly tomorrow."
His thinking was simple. If this world couldn't provide proper wand wood, then he'd force a solution with technology. He didn't need perfection. He just needed a functional casting medium. Something that let him abandon slow, gesture-heavy spellwork and fight properly.
And if anyone could build something like that, it was Tony Stark.
The timing was perfect. With the Iron Man armor complete, Rowan's long-delayed plan to wipe out Sandel Rice and the remnants of Akerlay Genetics could finally move forward. Before, the risk had been too high. An X-24 and a sniper had been enough to threaten them.
Now?
Even without magic, Rowan could dismantle them with magnetism alone.
And he wasn't alone anymore. Logan was back in peak condition. Add Tony Stark to the mix, and the odds tipped overwhelmingly in their favor.
Waiting for enemies to strike first wasn't Rowan's style.
Minutes after Logan left his post, Tony Stark himself came crashing back home, slamming through the roof in a shower of debris and obliterating a luxury sports car in the process.
Later, ice packs pressed against his ribs, Tony sat in his workshop while Pepper fussed over a temporary arc reactor setup.
"Jarvis," Tony said, wincing. "Log this. Above forty thousand feet, the primary sensors glitched. Hull pressurization lagged. I'm betting ice buildup."
"A sound observation, sir," Jarvis replied. "If you intend to operate at orbital altitude, improved shell materials will be required."
Tony nodded slowly. "Contact Cisco. Switch the outer shell to the same titanium-gold alloy used on Seraphim tactical satellites. I want structural integrity without sacrificing power-to-weight."
"Understood. Shall I display the prototype?"
"Yes."
A gold-plated suit appeared on-screen.
Tony grimaced. "Too flashy. I'm not trying to look like a billionaire fire hydrant."
"My mistake, sir. Your aesthetic is famously restrained."
Tony glanced at his red sports car. "Add that shade."
Seconds later, the familiar red-and-gold design filled the display.
"That's it," Tony said, satisfied. "Begin assembly."
"Automated assembly initiated. Estimated completion time: five hours."
Tony paused, then added, "Jarvis. Any luck finding information on Rowan Mercer?"
"None, sir. No matching identity profiles."
Tony frowned. "Then pull records on anyone who bought Stark stock during my disappearance and sold before I returned."
Names flooded the screen.
One stood out.
"Leon," Tony muttered. "That's a serious buy-in. Dig into him."
The profile didn't confirm anything outright, but Tony's instincts stirred. Even if Leon wasn't directly involved, he was close to someone who was.
The workshop television suddenly switched to the news.
"…The Disney Concert Hall is ablaze with lights tonight as Tony Stark's third annual charity gala for firefighter families gets underway. Following weeks of absence after a controversial press conference, rumors have circulated that Stark is bedridden with severe aftereffects from a concussion…"
Tony ripped off the ice pack and stood.
"Jarvis," he said coolly, grabbing his jacket. "No waiting tonight."
If people thought he was finished, it was time to remind them who Tony Stark was.