New York City. The apex of Stark Industries.
Tony Stark sat in his office, idly flipping through the quarterly financial reports organized by his assistant, Pepper Potts. He scanned two pages before tossing the folder aside, his interest evaporating instantly. Administrative minutiae bored him to tears.
For years, he had delegated the heavy lifting to his partner and mentor, Obadiah Stane, and the meticulous Pepper. Tony's role was simple: steer the technological vision and lead the R&D department. The weapons systems that currently generated the bulk of Stark Industries' massive revenue were, after all, fruits of his genius. That was why the board of directors tolerated his absence, his debauchery, and his flamboyant lifestyle. As long as he kept inventing, they kept getting rich.
Then, the impossible happened.
Without a sound, without a shimmer of light, a notebook materialized on the desk in front of him.
Tony blinked, rubbing his eyes. He hadn't imagined it. One second, the mahogany surface was empty; the next, a book was resting there, physically occupying space.
"Jarvis, scan the office immediately. Look for anomalies," Tony commanded, his voice sharp.
"Scan complete, Sir. No anomalies detected," the AI's smooth British accent filled the room.
"That's impossible."
Tony stared at the object. It had appeared without any mechanical delivery system. Was this... magic? The sudden intrusion of the inexplicable threatened to shatter his strictly materialist worldview.
"Jarvis, scan the notebook."
"Scan complete. It appears to be a standard paper notebook, Sir."
Tony let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He reached out and picked it up. The cover bore a name: Lucas Chen's Diary.
Lucas Chen?
The name was clearly Eastern, likely Chinese. Tony frowned, flipping the cover open. The moment his eyes scanned the first entry, his face darkened.
June 6
Weather: Sunny. Day 1 of waiting for Tony Stark to be kidnapped.
June 7
Weather: Overcast. Day 2 of waiting for Tony Stark to be kidnapped.
June 7 (Evening)
Light rain. Still waiting for the kidnapping. Come on, Lucas Chen, you can't keep slacking off like this. You need to grind! You need to hustle!
...Actually, hustle for what? Once Stark gets snatched by the Ten Rings, Stark Industries stock is going to tank. I'll buy the dip, wait for him to return and pivot to clean energy, then sell high. One trade and I'm set for life. Who needs to work hard?
June 8
Sudden thought: As an interdimensional traveler, will I attract the Ancient One's attention? Probably not. Even if I trigger a timeline variance, it's usually Kang the Conqueror who shows up first... I hope.
June 9
Ugh, this sucks. Why did I have to transmigrate into such a dangerous universe? In a few years, that giant purple freak is going to snap his fingers and wipe out half of existence. How am I supposed to survive that? Am I really supposed to rely on the Avengers?
The entries ended there.
Tony's expression was thunderous. The diary wasn't just rambling; it was cursing him. It was expecting his kidnapping. It spoke of it as an inevitability, a historical footnote that just hadn't happened yet.
"Sir," Jarvis interrupted the silence. "I believe it would be prudent to increase your security detail."
Tony narrowed his eyes. He considered the security at his Malibu mansion and the Stark tower—state-of-the-art, impenetrable to the average threat. But Tony Stark was not a man who lived in a fortress. He was a man who lived in the world. He drank, he gambled, he chased skirts. He was a hedonist. And when he was out indulging in his vices, he usually only had one bodyguard: Happy Hogan.
If someone truly wanted to get to him... that was his vulnerability.
He thought of the statistics—thousands of deaths by gun violence every year in this country alone. For the first time, the man who thought himself untouchable felt a cold prickle of fear.
"I know," Tony muttered, his pride warring with his intellect. He was a top-tier billionaire, a master of the universe. He wouldn't cower. But he wouldn't be stupid, either.
A sudden, radical idea sparked in his neural pathways. If the world is this dangerous... why don't I build a suit of armor to protect myself?
He shelved the thought for a moment, forcing his analytical mind back to the notebook.
If he had found this in a gutter, he would have laughed. But it had manifested out of thin air, inside a secure facility, right under Jarvis's sensors. That supernatural delivery method lent credibility to the terrifying content within.
"Jarvis, open a new file. Code name: Lucas Chen."
"File created, Sir."
"Let's hypothesize," Tony said, pacing now, rubbing his goatee. "Assume the owner of this notebook isn't human, or is backed by some supernatural force—magic, sorcery, Cthulhu, whatever. Why deliver this to me? Is it a warning? Or is it a threat?"
Tony weighed the variables. If the entity behind this was benevolent, this was a heads-up: Someone is coming for you.
If the entity was malevolent, this was psychological warfare. An attempt to scare him into canceling a trip, ruining a deal, or altering his path.
"Is the mastermind this 'Lucas Chen' person, or is he just a pawn?"
"Jarvis, query the term 'Traveler' and 'Transmigrate' in the context of fiction. What does he mean?"
"Searching... In the context of online literature and pop culture, a 'Transmigrator' or 'Traveler' typically refers to a protagonist who travels from their original world into a fictional universe, such as a novel or comic book, retaining knowledge of future events."
"So," Tony's voice dropped, his eyes sharpening into dangerous slits. "If we assume the diary is true... this Lucas Chen knows the future. He knows my future."