Okay. Deep breaths.
In. Out.
Nope. Not working. Panic still here.
The glowing blue circle in my chest hummed softly like the world's most expensive pacemaker. My hand hovered over it and it was warm.
"Oh, God," I muttered. "I'm… Tony Stark. I'm Tony Freaking Stark."
I staggered to my feet. The place looked like a movie set except it wasn't. Sleek glass walls, workbenches covered in tech that made my old gaming PC look like an Etch A Sketch.
Some part of my brain screamed, TV! Check the TV!
I grabbed the remote from the counter and clicked it on and there he was.
There I was.
CNN was running a piece on "Billionaire Industrialist Tony Stark Rescued After Captivity." The footage showed me... well, Tony, waving awkwardly at a press conference, looking like he'd just crawled out of a war zone.
"Oh, hell no," I whispered.
I bolted for the desk. My hands, someone else's hands, snatched up a sleek, black smartphone. I thumbed it open.
Contacts list.
"Rhodes."
"Pepper Potts."
"Happy Hogan."
No Priya. No Sam. No Eddie.
It was like they'd been deleted from the universe.
I started pacing. "Okay, okay, think, Becker. Or… Stark. Or whatever the hell you are now."
My eyes landed on a sliding glass door at the back of the room. It led into the lab. I decided to step in, and my brain short-circuited.
They were here, the suits. Well one suit. Bulky, crude, straight out of a junkyard.
The Mark I.
"Oh, crap," I said out loud. "Mark One. Which means… this is still… 2008? Ish? Which means Obadiah Stane hasn't—" I stopped, my own voice sounding alien in the high-tech silence. "Right. Stane's still alive. And still plotting to turn me into an Iron-Flavored pancake."
I turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. The tools, the parts, the tech. The faint smell of oil and metal. It was surreal, like I'd stepped inside the MCU, only now I was the guy who was supposed to carry it.
And then the sound of heels clicking on tile snapped me out of it.
"Tony?" a voice called.
I spun.
Pepper Potts stepped into the lab, holding a folder. Business suit, perfect hair and a look in her eyes that said she had five things on her mind and all of them were urgent.
"Pepper," I blurted.
She stopped. "We need to discuss the charity gala in Dubai—"
"No, wait. You have to listen to me. I'm not—" I ran a hand through my hair, realized it wasn't my hair, and kept going. "I'm not Tony Stark. I mean, I am, obviously, but I'm not. My real name's Leonardo Becker. I'm from another world. I know this sounds insane but there's going to be a god named Loki, and a guy with a hammer, and aliens, and oh, crap... Thanos. He's coming, Pepper. He's coming and—"
She tilted her head slightly. "—so I've already spoken to the press team, but they'll need your approval before releasing the official statement."
I froze.
"Wait. Did you just… ignore everything I said?"
She kept going, flipping through the folder. "Also, Obadiah's office called twice. He's pushing for a board meeting."
"Pepper, I just told you about a purple alien who's going to wipe out half the universe—"
"—and I told them you're not available until next week."
My mouth opened, closed and opened again.
It hit me like a bucket of ice water: she hadn't heard me. Not like she was ignoring me, more like the words didn't register at all.
"Pepper," I said slowly, "can you hear this sentence: the chicken dances at midnight."
"Yes, Tony, I know you hate those dinners, but it's part of the job," she replied without missing a beat.
I took a step back and my heart pounded against the arc reactor.
Right. So… I can't tell anyone.
Not because they won't believe me.
Because they literally won't hear it.
---
I dropped into the nearest chair. Pepper kept talking about event schedules and PR statements, completely oblivious to the existential crisis happening five feet away.
Somewhere deep in the lab, a soft chime sounded.
[J.A.R.V.I.S. SYSTEM: QUEST LOG UPDATED.]
I looked at the floating blue interface in front of me and groaned. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
---
To be continued...