More gunfire rang out, along with distant explosions, and Tony could probably have named the weapons systems used, if this cave system had better acoustics, feeling sorry for the poor bastards that were assaulting his captors. Past that was the screams, the yelling, the shouting, angry at first, but sounding more and more… scared?
And the sound of gunfire slowly lessened, but below that, not as sharp but just as evident, was the sound of wet crunching.
And now one of the screams was of pain-no, wait, it cut off instantly.
Wonderful.
"Okay, I think we need to initialize the power sequence," Tony advised mildly, panic helping no one here.
"Y-Yes," Yinsen agreed, turning away from his friend, adjusting his glasses, and hesitating, starting to panic.
"Now!"
"Tell me, Tell me," Ho replied, shaken out of his paralysis, adept at how the body functioned, but not basic information infrastructure.
While unable to see the screen, the inventor didn't need to. "Function eleven," he stated, walking Ho through the process, as the gunfire started to peter off more and more, until he heard the chime of the program starting. "Okay, now finish buttoning me up."
And then the gunfire stopped completely, Jihadis at their door, slamming on it, screaming something as they tried the handle hard enough to set off the fuse of Tony's booby trap.
"What are they saying?" Stark questioned, as Yinsen froze for a second, then started drilling the last screws with renewed fervor.
Hand shaking slightly, the surgeon clearly put-off by what he was hearing, Ho finally said. "They, they say a Shaitan is coming. A Demon. They are begging for us to have mercy. To open the doors and let them in."
"Oh, now they want us to have mercy," the inventor snarked, watching the progress bar slowly crawl across the screen over the doctor's shoulder, kicking himself for not having his friend do so earlier, the second the firing started, but there was no use crying over spilled code at this point. Counting down in his head, he advised, "Cover."
Yinsen took a step to his right as the trap went off, the blast-wave missing them, the armor's rack absorbing the bit that would've hit the pair, and the shape of the cave they were stuck in further ameliorating the damage done.
A hoarse, panicked scream rang out, accompanied by a burst of gunfire, and someone ran towards them. Tony, facing in the wrong direction, armor hidden so as to avoid their captor's cameras, could only hear as something very wet seemed to slither behind him, and suddenly the screaming man was ripped backwards, his shrieks dopplering slightly with the speed he left with, at velocities more akin to cars than pedestrian travel, as Ho froze, pneumatic drill dropping from his nerveless fingers, the man staring down the tunnel.
The wet crunching sound, evocative of nothing so much as a great beast eating the last terrorist, probably didn't help.
"Ho, Ho, what is it?" Stark questioned, realizing that, until it finished powering up, he was now helpless in his armor, like a handsome, witty, genius crab, ready to be cracked open and have his insides sucked out.
Well, he'd certainly been called selfish many a time, by people with more outrage than sense, which was most, but he'd never been shellfish before.
"E-Eyes," the Afghani man stuttered, staring. "G-Glowing Eyes!"
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I leave those on?"
The sound was clear, almost glistening, like the auditory version of having butter poured into your ear, which wasn't nearly as enjoyable as it might sound.
That was one Red Lobster he was never allowed back in, but it had been worth it.
"Is that better?"
"Have his eyes stopped glowing?" Tony questioned.
The doctor nodded.
"Is it better?"
The doctor shook his head.
"There's no pleasing some people," the mysterious being remarked, amused.
"I'm sure it'd please us both if you could wait a couple minutes," Stark commented, watching the progress bar slowly creep across the monitor. "Take a breather, grab a beer, you know, relax."
"… ya know what? Sure. You guys want me to grab some for you too? I think I passed the messhall, like, three turns and forty-eight terrorists ago."
Looking to Yinsen, the man shook his head no.
Not sure what else to say, Tony called out, "Grab three. If my friend doesn't want his, I'll drink it."
"Will do," the distinctly male but just as distinctly wrong voice called back to them, the sound of retreating footsteps clear, clicking on the stone, and the inventor breathed a sigh of relief. "Your armor should be finished booting up by then."
Oh, hey, there went his relief. "How does he know about…?"
"Shaitans know many things, but lie as they breathe," the suddenly very religious scientist replied, still staring.
"Well, is he gone, at least?"
"He has made noises as if he has," Ho replied, which wasn't the same, and now Tony really wished he'd been able to see what the Doctor had, but was left waiting, in his armor.
After an awkward moment, Tony asked, "So, am I all into this thing? I probably should be, if I'm going to go fight a 'Shaitan'."
His joke fell flat, the Afghani man taking him far too seriously, quickly finishing the job, the bar on the loading screen skipping to the end, like they always did, the power draw so much that it shorted out their cave's local circuit, plunging them both into darkness, only the light of the Arc reactor in his chest still active, burning brightly, illuminating the space.
"Stay behind me," Tony ordered, lifting an arm to check the interface's functionality, everything working as intended.
The doctor nodded, advising, "Do not use the flamethrower. It will turn the fire back upon you."
"…sure thing," the inventor replied, each movement heavy, weighty, but the actuators were doing their jobs perfectly and he effortlessly stepped out of the holding rack, and turned, looking down the dark tunnel, where something shifted, glistening, and-
"Huh. Not bad for a first attempt."
Out of the darkness stepped a white guy, in a black leather jacket, which was over a tan zip-up hoodie, which was over a white button-down shirt with its collar popped. Lifting up three bottles, the man asked, "Your beer?" Tossing one to his off-hand, he opened the cap with a flick of fingers that didn't move quite right, and took a sip. "They're cold!"
"… sure," Tony shrugged. "I could never say no to a drink."
Walking up to the inventor, their visitor's movements were…off…wrong, just a bit too fluid, like he didn't quite have the correct bones, but Stark held his armored hand out, and their visitor dropped the beers in his glove before freezing, going perfectly still.
"Oh, missed a couple. Be right back."
And then, in a blur of wet blackness, he was gone.
No human could move that fast, not unaided, and suddenly Ho's worry didn't seem quite so silly.
As the sound of screaming, gunfire, and an explosion, along with more just… pleasantly wet crunching, Tony shrugged and popped the top on one of the beers himself, flipping the faceplate of his mask up to take a sip.
"You are accepting the Shaitan's gift?" Yinsen hissed, mortified.
"I'm accepting his beer. Which isn't even his beer. It's the terrorist's beer," Stark replied, taking another sip. "And, like them, it's kinda shit, but it's what I've got."
Deciding to make way for the exit, since Ho had gone through all the trouble of memorizing the route, Tony started walking forward, nursing the cold drink. The sounds of gunfire tapered off, then the screams, then the wetness, until all he could hear was the sounds of his own armor, and of Yinsen's nervous breath and halting steps behind him.
Exiting the first tunnel, unlit due to blown-out fuses, they both started going down a well-lit corridor.
Well, well-lit as far as barbaric terrorist compounds went.
Something bothered Tony, though, and it wasn't their mysterious savior, or the lack of any opposition, though as he realized what it was, the three were interrelated.
There were no bodies.
No bodies, no blood, no guns or shrapnel, hell, it wasn't even dusty, though the floors were the appropriate Jihadi chic of packed dirt, at least. If it weren't for the bullet holes and blown out sections of cave, there'd be no sign a battle had even happened.
And then, without a sound, their savior was there, silently stepping around a corner, almost making him jump, but also telling him the 'footsteps' they'd heard earlier only had made noise because the man had been trying to make noise. Though he had gotten the beers, so it seemed that the man had done so for the purpose of putting them at ease, at least.
Too bad he was so shit at doing so with everything else he did.
"Okay the coast is definitely clear now. Come on, you guys have been in there for long enough."
"Uh, thanks for the assist?" Tony offered, following the man as he turned his back to the pair, showing an odd, fractal pattern across the back of his leather jacket, one that resembled wings but which also glowed a dull red in the faint light of the cave, causing Yinsen to gasp. Not pausing, their murderous rescuer started to walk down the tunnel, gesturing for them to follow. However, the way he waved for them to do so, it was like he had an extra joint in his forearm, though nothing seemed broken.
"No problem, least I could do for…" it paused, "Someone like you."
Wait, what? "Someone like me?" Stark echoed, remembering how their terrorist hosts had also said they were admirers of his work, calling him the 'world's most famous mass murderer', which was wrong on so many levels. "You know me? You a fan?"
Lifting a hand, the man in front of them wiggled it. "In a way. Your weapons are pretty basic, but your armor's not bad. For being in a cave. With a box of scraps."
"Basic?" he replied offended, frowning, thinking, remembering the man's earlier words. "Wait, you knew where I was?"
"Desert terrorist base," their savior shrugged, something about it off, but he couldn't tell what. Taking a fork in the cave, the being picking up his beer as he passed it, the drink left behind as he'd gone to deal with, with the others. "Harder than you think to find, especially when I didn't know the country, but doable. Kinda weird that no one else did. Probably something to do with that jammer I broke on my way in. We're almost there."
Before the inventor could ask, Yinseng questioned, "Where are the fighters?"
"Disposed of."
And with that ominous response, they were out, seeing sunlight for the first time in a week, the first time as a free man in what felt like years. After a moment, though, and after his eyes adjusted, Tony looked out, and finally saw the warzone he'd been expecting.
The twisted remains of dozens of bodies were everywhere, the sands stained red and brown with their blood. No corpse seemed to be in less than three pieces, some cut, some smashed, some ripped apart, with a level of brutality that seemed, well, inhuman.
However, vying for his attention, now that he wasn't trying to pay mind to the terrorist leader dictating terms to him, where Tony was one wrong move from getting filled with holes, Stark was able to look more clearly, past the stacks of weaponry covered with basic camouflage webbing, and saw that it wasn't just weapons his captors had had, but other things he'd invented, one of which, the selectable signal jammer, a device that'd let whitelisted devices communicate without issue, wasn't even meant to be sold yet, but there it was, if clearly broken.
"Disposed of," Tony echoed numbly, having seen battlefields before, but never anything like this.
"Less of an issue," the hooded man shrugged, completely unbothered by the hellscape he'd made.
And, like that, a bit of a mental circuit breaker popped, and Stark turned on the mysterious entity. "Okay, who are you?"
"Have a seat, this is gonna take some explaining," their savior directed, pointing to a cleared section, conspicuously free of gore, at which two chairs and a crate at sitting height for his armor were set up, and where two more crates had been stacked to make a table, three MRE's set out, tea brewing in a pot.
The man almost poured himself into his chair, arm reaching out to grab one of the meal-packets, but they were out of range, only for his limb to lengthen, jacket and all, to pick it up. "So, to start with, Mr. Stark, tell me, what do you know about multiverse theory."
No… It was crazy, but then again this entire thing was. "Well, it's the idea, unproven, by the way, that our dimension is just one of many. Like TV channels, and each has its own physical laws and universal constants. Like gravity, or electromagnetism, or cheeseburgers. They're all on the same television set, which would be the 'Multiverse', which holds each different universe within it. And there's an infinite number of them, all different, in an infinite number of ways."
"Pretty much," the not-a-man nodded, speaking clearly despite having a mouth full of rations. "Except those with base-level changes are different enough no one bothers with them. They form natural barriers, at least, too strange for strangers in their strange lands. There's also Planck-level changes, but differentiating between those is a bitch and a half," he remarked casually. "It's the 'close but not quite' dimensions that matter here."
"Like the ones where I'm not a Genius Billionaire Playboy, but merely a Genius Millionaire Playboy?" Tony questioned, mind racing. His first guess at what had saved them wouldn't have been 'horror from beyond space and time', though, looking, around, it was a lot less outlandish than it first seemed.
"Or the ones where you're a Genius Billionaire Playgirl," it said, pulling a tablet computer from, from nowhere, the device just appearing out of mist and shadows that were both very, very out of place in the desert sun, and tapping at it, the hooded thing turning it to show him…
"Well, at least I'm still hot," Tony replied idly, mental gears gumming up, noting the armor, liking the color scheme, the rose-gold upper-bust a nice touch as it gave the impression of skin without compromising on structural integrity, noting the recessed yet upgraded Arc reactor in her chest, the armor plates, the inclusion of what looked like his repulsor-designs into the palm which, if combined with ones in his boots, would provide a four-point stabilized flight system of sorts, which would be incredibly energy intensive but he'd, or she'd, have energy to burn, starting to understand the design methodology, trying to commit it to memory in the moment before the thing pulled the image away. As for what the being was saying, well, when the other possibilities were removed, whatever was left, however implausible, was probably the truth, unless you missed something important. "So, what, you're from another universe?"
"To put it simply..." the thing shrugged, not just with its shoulders, but every part of it rustled organically, like every aspect of it, from its dress shoes to its jeans to its coat to its skin, was part of the same body, which, itself, was made of a million black threads only pretending. "Yes."
…what.
"Shaitan!" Yinsen shouted, pointing an accusing finger at the creature.
Instead of being offended, which was really just a… good thing all round, the creature rolled eyes, which, under his hood, did glow slightly. "Do I look like the bastard child of a snake, a cougar, and a really retarded goat? Nah, they're dicks, and wouldn't bother with a place like this."
"Demons," Tony clarified. "You're talking about demons."
"Devils, actually," it corrected. "Demons are almost always near-mindless corrupted spirits of violence, and those that aren't, despite their alignment with 'freedom', are usually still slaves to their natures, whereas Devils are usually the deceiving, sneaky, legalistic assholes. Also, terrible project partners."
Feeling very 'Alice in Wonderland', by way of Dante's Inferno, Stark felt compelled to note, "Neither of those are real."
"Most things are real somewhere," the being countered, and, well, he would know. "Magic's a thing here as well, though until, well, it'll be a few years before the wizards decide the modern world is worth paying attention to again. The thing is, there are, well, Prime timelines, dimensions, whatever. The ones where everything goes right. The ones where the right people get lucky. The ones … The ones where the last minute saves work, and the heroes win, and the ones where the one-in-a-million chances always pay off."
Tony thought about that, and didn't like the conclusions he drew. "This isn't one of those, is it?"
The being smirked, mouth twisting a bit further than was natural. "You always are quick on the uptake. Then again, if you weren't I doubt you'd be able to invent... sorry, spoilers."
"Spoilers are fine with me," Stark argued. "I'm okay with spoilers. Love 'em. On cars, movies, spoil away!"
But their savior sighed, shaking his head, though the inventor wondered if it even needed to breathe at all. "No, Tony, this isn't a Prime. Those are valuable, more precious than you can imagine, the Infinity Stones pieces of industrial equipment in comparison."
The what stones?
"Then what happened?" Doctor Yinsen asked, despite himself.
"Captain America died," the being shrugged again, which was rather disturbing to watch, though, now that he was no longer shocked, Tony's eyes were drawn to the mechanics of it, the interior strands glowing an odd orange-red, a little like molten metal, while otherwise pure black. "And thus, for want of a nail, this dimensional will burn. Or it would've."
"Captain. . . he was supposed to survive?" Stark asked, only somewhat following the conversation, though, by the looks of it, he was doing better than the good doctor. "But wouldn't he be nearly a hundred? I'm all for respecting your elders, but while the oldies are golden, you don't use that for armor plating."
"He would've been frozen in ice, and thus frozen in time, like a caveman from a bad scifi movie. That supersoldier serum really is something else," it commented idly. "Fury would find that first Avenger, and he would be the anchor for the heroes to come. Heroes like you."
The way the alien said that, the inventor didn't think the old man just got angry, however, more importantly, "Like me? Do I look like I wear spandex? I'm sure I could pull it off, but that's really not my style."
The thing laughed, a raspy, slithering sound. "No, Iron Man, as you saw, as you are, you wear Power Armor. The Mark Two's a lot better, though there is the Icing Problem to deal with," it added knowingly, which was another data-point to be collated.
"And him?" Tony questioned, jerking a thumb Yinsen's way. "Is he 'Engineer Lad'?"
Their rescuer's good humor was gone in an instant, and Stark tensed, wondering what he'd said wrong. "No, he dies. Buying you time for your suit to boot up. Finally reunited with his family in the afterlife, and giving you a single request, 'Don't waste your life.'"
"His. . . Ho," the inventor said, turning to his friend, who was staring down at clasped hands. "You said your family was. . . no, you said you missed them. Were you planning on surviving at all?"
With a rueful grin, Yinsen admitted, "I would've liked to, but a good death would've been… a relief."
Well, that was a bit hypocritical, wasn't it? After the good doctor's entire 'don't let this be your life' speech, Ho was going to pull that? However, Tony remembered what it was like to lose his own old man, and, while he'd never had a wife, let alone kids, he wasn't a genius for nothing, and he had an idea of what that might be like. More importantly, though, "You said the universe would've burned. It won't now?" Stark shook his head, smiling at the absurdity of such a thought. "Saving me, saved the universe? I mean, I like to think I'm special, but doesn't that seem a bit much?"
"You'd think so," it agreed easily. "But no, the timeline is still effectively Prime. The only change is a bit of shrapnel buried in Steve Roger's head, instead of the ice beside him. You would have likely survived this, killed dozens, and escaped in a fiery explosion as you set the munitions around us ablaze in righteous fury. Then you would've wandered the desert until the US Army found you, declared that Starktech was out of the weapons game, and the person who arranged for you to be taken off the board with this little ambush of theirs, the same man who supplied these weapons to the Ten Rings, would be pressured into action."
Holding an armored hand up, Tony couldn't help but ask, "And that isn't spoilers?"
"No, that was going to happen regardless," it deferred. "Years down the road… who knows?"
"Who was it?" the armored man demanded. "Who was it that did this to me?"
But the being shook its head. "You're smart; you'll figure it out."
While frustrating, he couldn't exactly make the alien tell him, even with the armor he wore, easily able to see where the being had appeared to tear through it like Play-Doh, so instead Tony questioned, "Then, why do this? Why are you here?"
It smiled. "Because I'm a reaper, of sorts. One of many. And this dimension is my signing bonus."
Oh, that did not sound good. "So, what, 'everything the light touches is yours, Simba'?"
It shrugged. "If you follow the 'Might Makes Right' rule, Mufasa, then maybe. I'm still young. Thanos might give me some trouble. But no. It would be more accurate to say that this place is merely my. . . hunting grounds."
Yeah, getting definite bad guy vibes now, and, looking to Yinsen, the other man's expression practically shouted, 'See! Shaitan!' "And what do you hunt? The most dangerous game?" Tony questioned. "Because that usually doesn't end well for the hunter."
"Oh, that's easy. I'm hunting evil," it smiled, with far too many teeth, all of them pointed and serrated, like a shark's, but too white, so like a shark's that went to the dentist. "The scales have been tipped, and while I'm trying to tip them back, too much and you won't learn. Nor will Banner. Or Natasha. Or Thor. And you'll all need to."
"Thor. God of thunder, Thor?" Stark checked, as, somehow, that was harder to believe than multidimensional aliens.
"There's some problems in Asgard, succession crises, you know how that is, but he's an okay dude," the being shrugged. "Bit of a fratboy, in a way, but with a good heart."
"And Zeus? Ra? Buddha? The Flying Spaghetti Monster?" Tony checked, carefully not mentioning Yinsen's god.
Again came the full-body shrug, "No idea. If they exist here, they'll keep a low profile, at least for the immediate future, though half the time the last one's just Y̵̛̪̞̩̥̊́͊̈́̅̃͑͗̐̒͘͝O̶̹̪͓̬̹͕̤͕̙͙͕̺͓̝̜͛̐͋͛̃̐̄̚ͅͅḠ̵̞̘̹̯̋̀̓̿͝͝-̵̤̣̺͔͇̜̲̺̀͛̌̀̃͋̀̈́̀͘̚͜͝Ś̶̯̹̘͙̳͈Ã̴̧͈̣̠͈̱̱̞̃̃̀͂̊͗̌̈̓̈̂́͝͝T̷͙̳̄͊H̷̨̛̥͇̩͚̐̿̒̂͆̉͜͝Ọ̸̡͖̳̟̳̰͇̼̝̠͉̥̝͗̈́̆̈͂̚͝Ṭ̶̛̱̹̗͇̦̗͕̮͚́͆͂͑̚͝H̷̢̧̤̪̗̗̦̜͖̟͈̥̗̦̋́̈́̒̏͘͝ͅ being cute."
Both men flinched, as the thing's words seemed to cause the world itself to shudder, just for a moment, like something was pressing against the air, reality itself bulging slightly, before it all went back to normal.
Even the being seemed surprised. "Oh, he's here? Huh. Well, given the lack of cults, the barrier's good, so not something to worry about."
"I'm sorry, but um, that seemed very worry-worthy"
The look the likely eldritch being gave them was drier than the desert around them. "You lack the equipment to even say its name, and, trust me, when I say he's not an issue, he's not an issue. As to the rest, to be honest, I don't care. No, I'm here, and I have my targets, though they are determined by morality, not capability." It chuckled. "But I'll make it work. After all, I'm no Cain."
"Cain? The Cain? He's real," Tony checked.
"Probably not. But even if he was, he's certainly not Able to help."
Oh no.
They were doomed.
The eldritch being had dad humor.
"So, you come here, save me," Stark said, bringing the topic back to something remotely close to sane, "which I appreciate, by the way, but it doesn't seem to fit your 'tough love, those kids need to learn somehow' approach you're talking about taking."
It shook its head. "I've just minimized collateral damage. You've still got quite a bit of a journey left in this trip, and many more trips to go before you can rest. More than you would normally, if I have any say in it, even if you would have died a hero's death, saving literally half the universe."
Tony blinked, "Oh, wow, you weren't kidding. Wait, like, literally half? How does that work?"
"You'll find out. It's a really Strange thing, trust me," it said, with its odd intonation, like it was making references only it understood so easily it kind of backed up the entire 'there are many universes, but this one is mine' thing it was going with. "But, since I can't trust everything will work out, I offer you a gift. Tell me, Tony Stark, would you like a superpower of your own?"
The inventor stared at the being beyond, apparently, time and space. "You know, as sales pitches go, that's not half bad. A bit rambly, and way too smug, but nine out of ten, would listen to the mysterious multidimensional man again."
It rolled its glowing eyes, alright with being sassed, which, Tony had found, normally meant good things when it came to working relationships. After all, Obi and Pepper both did the same thing. "So is that a yes on the superpowers…"
"What is the cost, Shaitan?" Yinsen questioned. "There is always a cost."
"Go out. Help people. Don't waste your life," It told him with a smile, for a second its voice matching Ho's exactly, which, alright, that was going to give Tony nightmares now, as it turned to meet the inventor's gaze. "Do what you would've done without me. I'll just supply a bit of a safety net."
"And the superpower? Is it flight? I've always wanted to fly," Tony remarked with a smirk, buying himself time to think, as this entire thing screamed trap, loud as an AC/DC concert.
It looked at the inventor's boots, and the jump-jets hidden within them, "You can do that now. No, it's a rechargeable personal shield, the ability to empower your gear to give them extra oomph, and a physical upgrade. All that, and a random superpower that is determined by your own soul. Could be metal-only telekinesis, limited super speed, a burst of greater strength, illusions, it's really up to you. No idea what mine is, actually, as it doesn't really come with an instruction manual, and I've only had it for a couple weeks, most of which I spent here, looking for you."
Which meant that the power didn't come from it, or, at least, not in any kind of innate way. Assuming it was telling the truth, which was a big if. "And if I say no? Or is this an 'offer I can't refuse' kind of thing?" Tony inquired.
"Then I'll ask again later," it replied, pausing, and looking at the doctor as the Afghani man opened his mouth to respond. "Which, yes, I know is classic Shaitan behavior, but it's also 'when the student is ready, the master appears', only I'm a journeyman at best, so I'm working on my timing. Also, if you want, Ho Yinsen, you can have the same," it offered, but the man shook his head no. "Fair enough. Contact Tony if you change your mind, as he'll be easier for me to get to then you likely will."
Turning back to the inventor, it asked, its voice sarcastic. "So, kid, ya want superpowers? I've also got free candy!"
That got an unexpected laugh out of the man, as he hadn't realized the creature knew how absurd what he was offering sounded, and the inventor shook his head, checking, "I, I'm able to do whatever it is I'm supposed to do without?"
And again, like a switch had been flipped, their otherworldly savior looked at him seriously, all humor gone, "If you get lucky, you will. Do you want to risk that?"
Tony considers that fact, not trusting the creature, who, by its own word, hadn't saved his life. It said it'd saved Ho's, but hadn't used that fact against them, which helped, but... "It's worked so far," Stark smiled, turning the alien being down.
For a long moment it stared at Tony, who wondered if, now, just like with the terrorists, the mask would come off, but, to his surprise, the thing wearing the shape of a man sighed, stating, "Fair enough." Picking up the small tablet it'd summoned, it tapped at its screen, then handed it over to the inventor, who cautiously accepted the device. "In that case, you want to call for pickup? I've got universal coverage. Literally."
"Beats the hell out of my phone plan," Stark replied, seeing the dial-pad, and putting in Pepper's number.
"Hello?" he heard her say, after a moment, and, unexpectedly, he choked up, causing her to repeat, "Hello?"
"Hey Peps, it's me," he told her, voice unexpectedly hoarse. "Kinda got lost, and I need a ride home."
"TONY!?!" she gasped, "Where are you? What happened? Are-are you okay?"
"I've been better," he admitted. "But I'd, I'd like to go home now. Have J.A.R.V.I.S. track the call."
The AI, which had interfaced with her phone, chimed in, stating, "I cannot do that, Sir. According to what I can tell, the call appears to be coming from within your home, yet scans show you are not present."
Putting the phone down for a moment, Tony looked at the eldritch being. "Really?"
It chuckled, "It's always good for a laugh." Giving Stark the exact GPS coordinates of their location, down to the fractional second, it ended by stating, "Got that, Jarvis?"
"I do," the AI replied, continuing quietly, "Sir, there are odd harmonics in your companion's speech."
"That's not the only thing odd about him," Tony observed, knowing the alien probably heard everything.
"I'm sorry, Tony, but, is, is that really you?" Pepper questioned, voice sounding oddly fragile, which pulled at his heartstrings in ways he didn't realize existed.
"It is. J.A.R.V.I.S., that ride?" he inquired briskly.
"Colonel Rhodes has been informed, and, if issues present themselves, a civilian transport can be chartered," his digital assistant informed him. "Your coordinates seem to be uninhabitable desert. Do you have adequate shelter and supplies?"
Seeing their savior making a closing motion with his hand, Tony told both of the people who cared about him, "Yeah, I'm good. And, and it's good to hear your voices. See you soon."
"Wait, Tony-" Pepper started to say, as he hung up.
Turning to the hooded thing pretending to be a man, the inventor said, "Um, there's gonna be a lot of guys with a lot of questions-"
"Don't worry, I'll be long gone," it promised, the phone in Stark's hands suddenly vanishing, leaving part of him to wonder if it'd ever been there at all. "Seeya around, Tony, and remember, Icing Problem."
Then, the alien being from beyond the stars seemed to fall apart, glowing black strands folding and warping as it literally poured itself out of the chair, shifting into a pure black cheetah, courtesy of H.R. Giger and crossed with a bit of stealth bomber. Turning one unnaturally glowing red eye his way, its pupil a five-pointed star, it winked before it took off, silently, leaving the camp in seconds, the black shape visible against the sands as it sped up, like a racecar, then faster, until it was moving at well over three-hundred miles per hour across the dunes, which shouldn't be possible.
"And his superpower isn't speed?" Tony asked, well, no one really.
Beside him, Yinsen let out a shuddering breath, dumping out the tea their savior had given him, and which he hadn't drank at all. Looking to Tony, the Afghani man smiled a little, "While I do not think I could have spoken as you did, that was not the worst outcome. Truly, it is for the best that you did not accept the Shaitan's offer."
"You're really committed to that 'devil' thing, aren't you?" Stark questioned, still trying to process, well, everything.
Ho lifted an eyebrow. "A mysterious being saves you from a situation that it admits you would have survived anyways, and offers you power? I am a man of science, but there are more things in heaven and earth, than are dreamt of in our philosophy."
Leaning back, getting ready to wait, Tony shrugged. "I don't know about that, Ho. I don't dream small, and this, this has given me a lot more to philosophize about. That said, can you get the drill? I'm pretty much wearing an oven now, and even with the lower draw, I'd rather not pull too much power from the thing keeping my heart functioning."
"I, of course, my friend," Yinsen agreed, getting up and walking back into the cave, leaving Tony to crack open the second beer, and take a long sip.
"Well… this changes things."