The world shifted with the force of an apocalypse.
Tony and Pepper fell through a kaleidoscope of collapsing timelines, tumbling faster than light, faster than reason. A dizzying blur of realities flashed around them—an endless expanse where every universe seemed to break apart in fragments.
"Hold on!" Tony shouted.
But the words barely left his mouth before they were sucked into a new reality.
They landed hard—metal screeching against concrete. Tony's armor sputtered in the wake of the violent landing, but it held. Pepper's armor clattered against the cold ground, but it too flickered back into full integrity.
They were no longer in the memory void.
They were in a city. The sky above them was choked with smog, and the horizon was a haze of red. Cracks ran through the ground, shimmering with electric pulses. The very air hummed with power, but it was the kind of power that felt wrong.
Doom's failsafe had thrust them into a world where Tony Stark never died.
Where Tony Stark ruled.
Iron Tyrant.
In the distance, towering over the city, was a monument—a twisted, colossal version of Iron Man. The city's skyline seemed to bow to the gleaming monstrosity, its face a twisted mockery of Stark's own. This was no symbol of hope. This was a reminder of absolute control.
This was Tony's future…
And it was a nightmare.
Tony staggered to his feet, heart pounding as the full scope of their surroundings registered. The streets below were lined with soldiers—Iron Men, but unlike the armor he wore, this was a dark version. Their plating was blackened, their eyes glowing red. They marched like an army, no longer individuals—just faceless drones.
"Where are we?" Pepper whispered, her voice trembling.
Tony's stomach twisted. He didn't want to believe it, but the signs were undeniable. The architecture was unmistakable—this was his design. His mind had created this twisted version of the world, a perfect city ruled by one perfect man.
A god who had fallen.
He tried to reach for his suit's remote interface, but it was unresponsive. His armor flickered once, twice, before it sputtered to a halt. No power.
"Doom's failsafe," Tony muttered, fists clenched. "He's done it. He's thrown us into a future where I—I became the enemy."
Pepper looked around. Her face reflected the horror he felt. The Iron Tyrant stood at the center of this dystopia, towering above like a king in a throne of rusted steel.
But as they looked closer, the image of Iron Tyrant seemed to distort.
Tony felt a pulse in his chest—like an old wound. His pulse quickened.
"Tony…" Pepper began.
Before she could finish, a massive explosion tore through the streets in front of them. A wall of fire and smoke erupted, and Tony leaped into action, his instincts taking over as his repulsors flared to life.
He shot into the air, the thrusters struggling against the weight of the air's oppressive atmosphere. From the debris emerged a group of Rebels—scrappy, desperate. They didn't look like soldiers. They looked like survivors.
One of them raised a hand, beckoning Tony to follow. His face was grim, eyes wild with fear.
"You have to come with us, Stark," the rebel shouted over the noise of distant gunfire. "They are coming."
Tony hesitated. Something was wrong with the tone of the man's voice. He looked to Pepper, who was already moving forward, her instincts mirroring his. He nodded.
"Lead the way," Tony ordered.
The rebel turned, leading them through the shattered streets. As they ran, Tony's eyes darted to the Iron Tyrant's tower in the distance, the dark silhouette growing ever closer. There was no escaping it. It was the center of this chaotic world, and they were heading straight for it.
Suddenly, a roar echoed from behind them.
The ground shook.
The Iron Tyrant had seen them.
He wasn't going to let them escape.
Tony's suit flickered again—now barely functioning. Pepper's armor was showing similar signs of weakness. The rebel stopped, turning around, fear in his eyes.
"They've activated the hunt," he said, pulling out a worn, rusty gun. "You won't make it to the tower. Not unless you want to die."
Tony's mind raced. The Iron Tyrant was going to hunt them down. It was only a matter of time before the entire city knew they were here. The Legion of Iron Men would come for them, hunting them like prey.
Tony Stark—this version of him—had turned the world into a prison, and there was no escape.
But what if there was?
Just as Tony was about to speak, a shadow fell over them. A figure—tall, masked—dropped from the sky. Iron Man's twisted reflection.
This wasn't Tony.
This was the Iron Tyrant—his twisted future self. And he was about to end them.