"It's been so long, but how do I explain it to myself?"
Tony walked toward Pepper and said, "Gods? Aliens? And me? Just a man hiding in a tin suit."
Since the Battle of New York, Tony's life had undergone huge changes. Facing gods and alien invasions shattered his worldview, leaving him with severe anxiety.
Gods?
Thor, the God of Thunder. Loki, the God of Mischief.
And aliens invading Earth.
In the face of Thor and the Chitauri, Tony wore the Iron Man armor and fought for Earth's survival.
But to put it bluntly—
Tony still wasn't really Iron Man.
Beyond a high-tech suit and weapons decades ahead of their time, he was just a rich man. A brilliant one, yes, but still just a man.
And being smart didn't mean he could erase the trauma on his own.
The appearance of gods and aliens shattered his sense of reality.
It made him realize that once the armor came off, he was just a mortal. In front of these incomprehensible forces, money was nothing but paper.
That was why he locked himself in his workshop, building armor after armor. It was the only thing that gave him a sense of security.
"I haven't collapsed yet, only because you moved in here."
"It's good. I love you, and I'm lucky to have you with me in times like this."
Tony looked at Pepper, not knowing where to put his hands. "But, honey, I can't sleep. You go to bed—I'll stay here, tinkering."
By "tinkering," he meant building more Iron Man suits, chasing that fragile illusion of safety.
Sitting on the table, he said helplessly, "Dangers are everywhere. I want to protect people, and the only thing I can't lose is you. And, of course, these suits. They're…"
"Machines," Pepper interrupted.
"They're part of who I am."
"You're running away."
"Maybe."
Looking at Tony—lost, like a little boy—Pepper walked over, hugged him, gently removed his visor, and whispered, "I'm going to take a bath."
"Okay."
"You come too."
"That's better."
Night.
Tony and Pepper fell asleep.
But Tony's sleep was restless.
He woke in a cold sweat, dreaming of the Battle of New York.
Pepper stirred and called softly, worried: "Tony? Tony! Tony!"
At that moment, the Mark 42 armor activated and strode silently into the room. It grabbed Pepper's hand away from Tony.
"What!"
Pepper gasped, startled by the sudden presence of the armor.
Her cry snapped Tony awake.
Seeing what was happening, he shouted, "Power down!"
The Mark 42 straightened, its eyes going dark.
Tony clapped his hands; the command link triggered, and the armor disassembled, crashing to the floor in pieces.
"..."
Tony leaned against the floor, panting in fear.
Pepper, pale and shaken, turned on the light.
"It must have come when I called it in a dream. That shouldn't have happened," Tony said awkwardly. "I need to recalibrate the sensors. Can we just—"
Pepper didn't wait for his explanation. She stood, swept her damp hair back, and walked out of the room.
"Let me catch my breath. Don't—don't go."
"I'll sleep downstairs. You can stay with… it."
And then she was gone.
Tony slumped to the ground, utterly defeated.
The next morning.
Blaine stretched.
Today was a big day.
The first day after Christmas: the official global conference.
Almost every station was talking about it.
Blaine paid attention—not because he cared about world politics, but because it meant money for him.
Definitely worth keeping an eye on.
Promises, speeches, endless talk…
To him, the global meeting was nonsense.
On Earth in the Marvel world, crises of extinction came every few years. Half the population could be wiped out overnight. The speeches of politicians meant nothing.
"…Time to withdraw money."
Blaine got dressed and checked the clock. The bank should be open.
There were no universal mobile payment apps or QR scans everywhere.
Here, most transactions still relied on cash.
Very inconvenient.
Especially for someone like Blaine, who had lived in such a world in his previous life.
He was nearly out of cash and needed more.
The bank was only a ten-minute walk away.
Since it wasn't a mission, just a trip to get money, he walked leisurely instead of rushing.
Twenty minutes later, he reached Stars and Stripes Bank.
It was winter; everyone wore padded jackets and down coats. He alone wore thin clothes, making him stand out.
"Withdraw some cash."
He only wanted enough for breakfast before heading home to play games. Christmas break meant rest.
But things rarely went as planned.
As soon as he handed his card to the teller, three men and one woman burst in, wearing grotesquely realistic masks. Armed with pistols and submachine guns, they fired into the air.
"Everyone down! Hands on your heads!"
"Ahhh!"
Gunshots and screams filled the lobby.
Blaine didn't resist. He hadn't even withdrawn his money yet—there was nothing for them to steal from him. He knelt calmly with his hands over his head, using telepathy to scan the four intruders.
What he found shocked him.
*************************************
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