"Hard left! Turn it all the way! What kind of drifting is that?"
Tony Stark lay sprawled in a beach chair, wearing brown-tinted sunglasses and shouting at the jet ski tearing across the sea.
"Shut up, rich boy! I was driving garbage trucks in New York when you were still playing in the dirt!" Jessica's voice carried with startling clarity across more than a hundred meters of waves.
With a terrifying roar of its engine, the seventy-thousand-dollar limited-edition jet ski carved a physics-defying, sharp-angle drift across the water. The wall of spray it threw up nearly knocked Trish off her surfboard nearby.
Tony's mouth twitched hard. He turned toward Yang Ming, who was quietly sipping an ice-cold Coke beside him.
"Doctor Yang, are you sure that little assistant of yours is a normal human?" Tony pointed toward the sea. "That jet ski's steering rudder is made of steel alloy. She just bent it with one hand!"
"She's just a little stronger than most people." Yang Ming adjusted the gold-rimmed glasses on his nose, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "No need to make a fuss, Mr. Stark. Is the contract for the equity stake you promised ready?"
"Pepper's drafting it." Tony picked up a glass of green chlorophyll juice and took a sip, frowning slightly.
"But before that, you need to make sure we survive tonight. JARVIS just reported that those three mercenary squads have split into smaller groups and infiltrated the Malibu District."
"How many in total?" Yang Ming set down his coconut and picked up a slice of chilled watermelon.
"Thirty-six, fully armed. Their leaders are hardened operators fresh out of the Middle East." Tony lowered his voice and swiped a finger through the air. "Should I activate the villa's highest-level defense system?"