[Tony Stark's POV]
The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was white. Not just ordinary white, but an endless, suffocating expanse of it—pure and blank, stretching infinitely in every direction without even a hint of shadow or border.
Normally, I would've stayed put, taken a breath, and tried to assess my situation with some degree of composure. But right then, something in me cracked—a compulsion, an instinct, whatever it was, pushed me forward. I didn't even think about it; I just started walking.
My hands slipped into my pockets almost by reflex, a small attempt at normalcy in a situation that was anything but. My footsteps made no sound, and the longer I walked, the more surreal it all felt. My thoughts were a complete jumble, a knotted mess of confusion and disbelief.
For starters, I didn't expect to be stabbed through the fucking heart today. That was… yeah, definitely a new experience. One I'm not fond of. One I would really, really prefer not to repeat. I glanced down at my chest out of some morbid curiosity, half-bracing myself for what I'd see. When I didn't find a giant gaping hole where my heart should've been, I exhaled in shaky relief. Not that I know what my reaction would've been if there was one—screaming? passing out? vomiting?—but at least I was spared that particular horror.
Still, I could feel it. The phantom pain lingered like an echo I couldn't shake. A burning sensation in my chest that made heartburn feel like a day at the spa. Imagine heartburn having hard-core sex with a paper cut, then multiplying their pain a million times over. That's what I was feeling. And the sensation of blood rushing up my throat, threatening to suffocate me… yeah, also not something I'm putting on my bucket list.
Luckily, I'd made some preparations. You don't spend years as Tony Stark without accounting for the universe's favorite hobby of screwing with you. Especially after seeing how all the other version of me had turned out. I wasn't about to let the multiverse play "twinsies" with my body.
But the pain wasn't the only thing gnawing at me. The second, far bigger issue was why. Why the hell was Ultron here? That… thing shouldn't have been anywhere near us. Did he somehow follow us through the Quantum Portal? And if so, how? The math, the logistics—it didn't make sense. What was his angle? His plan?
I clicked my tongue, the sound unnaturally loud as it echoed through the empty whiteness. I had so many questions and absolutely no answers, and there's nothing I hate more than not having the answers.
I kept walking, my mind cycling through endless scenarios, when something finally broke the monotony of the white void. Way out in the distance—so faint it was almost a mirage—something stood out. At first I thought my brain was playing tricks on me. But the closer I got, the clearer it became.
A bench. Just a simple wooden bench sitting there like it belonged in a park instead of… whatever this place was.
And the most concerning part? The bench wasn't empty.
Someone was sitting there with his back turned toward me. An outline of an old man—broad shoulders, slightly hunched posture, gray hair peeking from under a cap. He looked like he was waiting for a bus that would never come.
"Uhhh… hello?" I called out, my voice sounding strange in the vast emptiness. I took a cautious step closer, then another, trying to see his face.
The old man turned, and I froze. My throat made a sound I can't even begin to describe—somewhere between a gasp and a squeak.
Because staring back at me, smiling with an unmistakable twinkle in his eye, was none other than Stan Lee himself.
He patted the empty space beside him with an inviting grin, but I just stood frozen, mouth hanging open. "Holy fuck!"
"Language, please," he chided gently, his voice patient but amused.
"Sorry but I mean—holy fuck!" I blurted again, throwing my hands out for emphasis.
"What did I just say?" he asked, his tone playful now, one eyebrow arched like he was enjoying this far too much.
"Jesus. Fucking. Christ!" I fired back, unable to stop myself.
"Okay, now you're just doing that on purpose." He sighed with exaggerated exasperation and shook his head. "Stop being so surprised and sit down already."
"I—You—Me—Fucking hell," I stuttered incoherently, my brain short-circuiting as I finally forced my legs to move. I dropped down onto the bench beside him with all the grace of a brick, leaning back against the seat like I might faint.
Stan smiled at me kindly, placing a warm, steady hand on my shoulder. "So you've died and gone to heaven."
"What?" My head snapped toward him, eyes wide. He's joking… right? "W-What do you mean I'm dead? I can't be dead—I put countermeasures in place for this exact kind of scenario!"
"Kid, I'm messing with you," Stan said with a faint grin, the corners of his mustache twitching in amusement.
I just stared at him, narrowing my eyes in suspicion. Who the hell jokes about something like that? Okay, fine, I would. But that's beside the point—it's about the principle of things.
He chuckled at my expression, his laughter carrying warmly across the empty expanse. For a moment, the infinite white didn't feel so overwhelming.
Finally, I broke the silence. "What am I doing here? I mean—why are you here? Why are we both here, in general?"
Stan merely shrugged, as if he was just as confused as I was, which I seriously fucking doubt it. "Who knows why we end up where we end up? Maybe… maybe we're right where we're meant to be."
I frowned, my irritation slipping back in. "What do you mean 'who knows'? You clearly know, given who you are. And don't start throwing vague philosophical fortune cookie crap at me either. That doesn't answer anything."
He just gave me another nonchalant shrug, like some cosmic troll enjoying the confusion. Maybe he wasn't supposed to answer. Or maybe he was just screwing with me. Both options were equally possible.
I exhaled sharply, trying to calm myself. No point in losing my cool here. "So what you're saying is… I am supposed to be here?"
"Who knows," he repeated, his grin widening.
Yeah, he's definitely fucking with me.
Before I could snap back with something snarky, he tilted his head toward me and asked suddenly, "So… how have you been enjoying yourself?"
"What?" I blinked, caught off guard.
"I was referring to your life as Tony Stark." He leaned back, studying me with that same amused twinkle in his eye. "How have you been enjoying yourself?"
I hesitated, chewing over the question, then decided to answer honestly. "I mean… apart from awesome, I don't know how else to describe it." I let out a small laugh, realizing how ridiculous it sounded out loud. "I never really stopped to think about it… But it's kinda crazy. I don't have to go to bed hungry anymore. I can fly. I shoot freaking lasers out of my hands. I've traveled at the speed of light. I've explored worlds that, back where I came from, were nothing but pixels on a TV screen. I've… somehow ended up with not one but two girlfriends, which I'm still trying to wrap my head around." I rubbed the back of my neck sheepishly. "So yeah… there's really no other word for it but awesome."
Stan chuckled warmly, leaning back against the bench with a satisfied sigh. "I see. I'm glad to hear that you're enjoying yourself."
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