"Alright, Sir," Jarvis's voice cut through the heavy silence of the workshop, sounding more clinical than usual. "Retrieving inventory data now. Data extraction complete. I should warn you, only audio data is available for this specific timestamp; I am unable to reconstruct a physical simulation scenario for the 2008 encounter."
"Just play it, Jarvis. I don't need a hologram. I just need to hear him," Tony said, leaning against his workbench, his hands trembling as he poured another drink he didn't really need.
A burst of static hissed from the speakers, and then, a voice that felt like a punch to the gut filled the room.
'Mr. Stark, I need a favor?'
Leo. It was definitely him. Younger, the tone still carrying that strange, precocious weight that had always unsettled Tony. Hearing it now, in the wake of the New York invasion and the persistent panic attacks, Tony felt his breath hitch. His mind immediately raced back to that first day—the kid in the hoodie who seemed to see through walls and time itself.
'Oh, why do you think I'd help you?' Tony's own voice echoed back, dripping with the arrogant, razor-sharp sarcasm of the man he used to be. 'Why wouldn't I go help the homeless people on the street instead?'
Tony winced. Hearing his old self was like looking at a cringeworthy photo from high school, only the stakes were much higher. He looked at the floor, feeling a sudden, sharp pang of embarrassment. He had been such a prick.
'I imagine you have a lot of questions you want to ask me, don't you? This could be a trade, couldn't it?' Leo's voice was steady, almost business-like.
'What else do you know?' the younger Tony asked in the recording.
'Too much. Besides your past, there's your future. The answers to many questions can be found with me, but it will also come at a cost. However, I believe you'd be willing, wouldn't you?'
Tony frowned, tapping his fingers against the glass. "Strange... Jarvis, pause. He speaks like he knows the script of the world, but there are holes. He talks about 'costs' and 'answers.' Is it a flawed ability? Or was he just being cryptic to keep me on the hook?"
"It is difficult to ascertain the limitations of a phenomenon we do not fully understand, Sir," Jarvis replied.
"Fast forward. Skip the bartering. I remember there was a moment... something about Yinsen. Find the Yinsen sequence."
The audio skipped with a digital chirp.
'...But only the more important, meaningful things,' Leo was saying. 'Yinsen holds great significance to you, so I know about him.'
'What else do you know about Yinsen?' the recorded Tony sounded uncharacteristically quiet. 'Does he have any family left?'
'Yinsen didn't lie to you. His family truly did die at the hands of those people. He left without regrets, Tony. Or rather, perhaps his only regret was not being able to witness the man you've become firsthand!'
Tony closed his eyes. The "childish" quality of Leo's voice back then made the words feel even more haunting. He tilted his head back, draining the amber liquid in one go. A wave of nostalgia, thick and suffocating, washed over him. He missed Yinsen's quiet wisdom. He missed Leo's annoying, mysterious certainty. He was surrounded by millions of dollars of tech, yet he felt like a ghost in his own house.
'By the way,' Leo's voice continued, 'do you know why Yinsen thought of installing such a device in your chest to save you?'
'Hmm?'
'At that conference in 1999, Yinsen at that time...'
Tony snapped his eyes open. He leaned toward the speaker, his heart rate picking up. This was the piece he had forgotten.
'...Introduced you to his friend, Dr. Wu from China. He had made great progress in combining robotics with heart disease research, which is why Yinsen knew the technology existed to save you. Oh, right—at that time, there was someone else who came looking for you, but you ignored them and went to a woman's room. You've offended quite a few people in the past, you know!'
'I don't care. Other people's unhappiness has nothing to do with me...'
"Wait! Stop!" Tony shouted.
The audio froze. Tony's brow was creased in deep thought. Back in 2008, he had brushed that comment off as Leo just being a smart-aleck. He was Tony Stark; he offended people before breakfast. It was his brand.
But now? After Happy's report? After seeing that name—Aldrich Killian—on his screen?
"Someone else who came looking for me," Tony whispered. "A guy I ignored to go upstairs with a botanist. Someone who waited on a rooftop in the cold while I laughed."
The realization hit him like a physical blow. Killian. The guy wasn't just a businessman; he was a grudge with a budget.
"Leo, what else did you know?" Tony muttered to the empty room. He felt a phantom headache beginning to throb behind his eyes. Leo had tried to warn him about the enemies he made in his "careless" years, but Tony had been too busy being a superstar to listen.
He didn't have time to dwell on it further. He had a different crisis to manage: Christmas. He checked the time and realized he needed to make a grand gesture for Pepper before the world ended or he lost his mind—whichever came first.
Meanwhile, across town, the "Brain Presentation" was reaching its climax.
"Imagine being able to hack into the very BIOS of a living creature," Killian was saying, his eyes glowing as he manipulated a vibrant, pulsating holographic brain. "To re-encode their DNA. To upgrade the human hardware."
Pepper stood by the window of the conference room, her expression guarded. "It's brilliant, Aldrich. Truly. But I've spent the last four years trying to pivot Stark Industries away from the 'Merchant of Death' label. This... this sounds like a weapon. Super soldiers, private hit squads. Tony would never sign off on this."
Killian's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Tony. Always Tony. You know, I invited him to collaborate with A.I.M. thirteen years ago. He stood me up on a roof in Switzerland. He refused me without even looking at my data."
He stepped closer to Pepper, his presence suddenly looming. "But things are different now. The woman in charge is a visionary. She doesn't need to bow to Tony's whims, nor is she burdened by his... legendary arrogance."
Pepper met his gaze, her voice firm. "I appreciate the pitch, and I appreciate the history. But the answer is no. Stark Industries isn't interested in biological weaponry, no matter how shiny the packaging is."
Killian sighed, the holographic brain vanishing with a flick of his wrist. "Well, I can't say I'm not disappointed. I remember my father used to say, 'Failure is just the mist on the path to success.'"
Pepper blinked. "That's... incredibly profound. I don't think I even understand what it means."
"Oh, I don't either," Killian laughed, the tension breaking instantly. "Maybe he was just a bit dim. We'll meet again, Pepper. I'm sure of it."
Before she could offer a polite handshake, Killian leaned in, bypassing all professional boundaries, and pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek.
Pepper froze, her eyes widening in shock. By the time she recovered her voice, Killian was already halfway to the door, his "shifty-eyed" bodyguard, Savin, trailing behind him like a hungry wolf.
Happy Hogan appeared in the doorway a second later. "The car's idling, Pepper. Shall we?"
Pepper touched her cheek, looking flustered and more than a little annoyed. "Yes. I just... I forgot something in my office. I'll meet you down there."
Happy didn't follow her. Instead, he watched Killian's sleek black sedan pull away from the curb. He pulled out his phone and snapped a clear, high-res photo of the license plate. "I see you, pretty boy," he muttered.
Late that night, Pepper drove herself back to the Malibu villa. The winding roads of the Pacific Coast Highway usually calmed her, but today felt off.
As she pulled into the driveway, she slammed on the brakes. Standing in the middle of the small plaza at the entrance was a giant, terrifyingly large rabbit doll. It had to be nearly three meters tall, wearing a custom tag that read: 'Pepper, Merry Christmas.'
"Tony," she sighed, a mixture of exasperation and genuine affection crossing her face.
She walked into the house, her heels clicking on the polished floors. "Tony? I'm late, I'm sorry, I... what on earth is this? Are we wearing the hobbies at the dinner table now?"
The Mark 42 armor was sitting on the designer sofa, its metal legs crossed casually. It looked like it was deep in thought, staring at the fireplace.
"Is that the Mark 15?" Pepper asked, walking closer.
"Mark 42," the armor replied, the voice echoing slightly. "And yes, we are. Everyone needs a hobby, Pep. Mine just happens to be bulletproof."
"Do you have to wear it in the living room? You're going to scratch the leather," Pepper said, kicking off her shoes.
"I'm just testing the fit. It's a bit... snug in the lower regions. Every time I move, I feel like I'm being folded into an envelope." The Mark 42 stood up with a series of mechanical whirs. "Did you see the rabbit? It's a bit small, I know. I'll have someone knock down the west wall tomorrow so it can have its own room."
Pepper actually laughed. "I love it, Tony. It's ridiculous, but I love it. Now, why don't you open the faceplate and give me a kiss? Or do I need to go get the hydraulic shears?"
The armor tapped its metal head. "Damn. Mechanism's jammed. Do you mind kissing the titanium? It's medical grade."
"I'll go to the garage and find something to pry you out," Pepper teased, heading toward the stairs to the basement.
But when she reached the workshop, she stopped dead.
The real Tony Stark was there, shirtless, sweat dripping off him as he finished a set of grueling pull-ups. The Mark 42 armor walked down the stairs behind her, mirroring Tony's movements through a remote neural link.
Tony dropped to the floor, panting. Dummy, the robotic arm, rolled over and offered him a slice of cold pizza.
Pepper looked from the empty suit to the man on the floor, her smile vanishing. "That's terrible, Tony. It's date night. We had plans. And you've already started eating without me?"