"Collateral Damage, Tony!" Obadiah Stane, traitor, murderer, and all around snake in the grass called out from his bloated abomination of a suit, the thing bearing all the hallmark's of the man's design philosophy, replacing efficiency and flexibility with brutality and raw durability. To make his point, the hulking ten-foot tall mini-mech held the van, complete with family inside, up like a rock he was going to pound the inventor with, cave-man style, forcing Tony to use his chest-mounted repulsor canon to blast his once partner back, catching the van, and struggling to put it down safely.
The arc reactor now in his chest was meant to power his Mark One armor, not the Mark Three, but it was all he'd had when Obadiah had paralyzed him with some kind of sonic device and ripped his upgraded power source out of his chest.
"I got this," a familiar voice whispered beside him, the car suddenly becoming much, much lighter. "Take the fight away from civilians."
Glancing over, Tony stiffened, seeing one of the terrorists from the base he'd been held in, with the man's hands out, holding the car, and for a moment, Stark wondered if this was one of those fun PTSD hallucinations he'd heard so much about, only to realize the man's eyes glowed, and there was no mistaking that voice.
The being he'd named 'Shifty' in his head, for many reasons, had been a ghost, no record of him to be found anywhere, and, now, Tony saw why.
It wasn't just voices he could mimic, apparently.
"Thanks for the assist," Stark said, as the middle-eastern looking man stepped aside and casually put down the car between them, only for the mother at the wheel to floor it. "Maybe we-" he started to say, but when the van screeched away, it was just him once more. "Or not. Okay. My problem. My fix."
However, as Stane came jumping towards him, jets in the walking tank's feet firing, Tony turned to try and hit him with his repulsor again, only for it to not fire in time, Obadiah slamming a fist into the inventor, sending him flying, bouncing up and over the divider, the man starting to stand when the warmonger grabbed a motorcycle that was stupidly driving past the huge death robot, the driver going flying, and threw it at Tony before he could fully recover.
This time he clipped it with a repulsor blast, but his aim was off, sending the vehicle into a wicked spin instead that caught him in the side, sending him flying, again, groaning, still not having recovered from what Stane did to him the first time, and once more he was struggling to his feet. At least the civilians were all running away now, so technically he was doing what Shifty asked, though, if he really wanted something like that done, he could help Tony right now.
Only, even pained, even exhausted, even with everything that was going on, Stark understood. This was his fight, and Shift… Shifty was just the 'safety net'. Which meant Tony could do this, but how?
Tagging the jumping warmonger with missiles that should've hulled tanks, they detonated, putting Obadiah back a step, scorching the metal, but that was it, the other man running through the detonation with a swinging blow that took Tony and bounced him off a bus, its occupants fleeing, the inventor, hey, what do you know, still struggling to stand.
And, double hey, Stane was helping him up, as two enormous metal hands gripped his armor, the older man, full of condescending fury, sneering, "Thirty years I've been holding you up!" To punctuate the point, the walking tank lifted Tony above its head, only to spike him back into the ground, damage reports flashing in Stark's vision, body pulled and twisted, only the safety-features he'd designed specifically for his bio-mechanics stopping his bones from snapping like twigs.
Struggling, again, Obadiah slammed an enormous metal foot into Tony's back, as he desperately tried to get away, the murdered declaring, "I built this company from nothing!"
Which wasn't even true, but Tony was trying not to pass out, and not really in the mood to debate, frantically wondering how the hell was he supposed to win this fight?
Or even if he was at all.
Was he?
Or would Stane beat him, break him, but leave him for dead, not realizing Tony still lived, and Shifty was just here to make sure his father's old assistant merely didn't murder him for real, just like he'd tried to not even two hours ago.
And then… And then Obadiah would go after Pepper, who knew too much. And Tony had no idea if Shifty would let him.
After all, he'd said Tony had needed to learn.
Bodily picking Stark up again, Stane declared, "Now nothing's gonna stand in my way!" And then threw Tony through the bus, which compacted around him, as he strained against the wreckage, his internal systems failing.
Furiously, Tony tried to think of what he should go for. The neck section on Obadiah's armor looked less armored, as it needed to be to have the head free-moving, so… maybe that?
But he'd need to be lucky to make that shot work.
And Shifty had been clear that no one was lucky here.
The walking tank seemed to retreat, the inventor's scanners picked up as one of the panels in its back opened up, a missile unloading and preparing to fire, but one of the stock ones from their armory, not custom built, which meant he had a chance, as he knew that weapon's yield, and his armor should be able to take it.
"Least of all, you!" Obadiah sneered. "And Tony? Mine's bigger."
And with that, he shot the laser guided projectile, Stark blasting off as it did so, getting clear, though still thrown a bit, reflexively snapping his thrusters to hover, then wanting to slap himself in the forehead, as why hadn't he done that to start with?
"Impressive!" Stane crowed, as Tony tried to figure out how the hell he was gonna take this thing down. Maybe get him to arm the missiles on his left arm, and hit it with a repulsor? J.A.R.V.I.S. could help with his aim, but-
"You've upgraded your armor!" Obadiah continued. "I've made some upgrades of my own!"
Which, since this was the first time it'd seen action, as maneuverable it was not, didn't even make sense!
And, stomping downwards, the mini-mecha's feet shifted, and, were those solid-state rockets?
Looking at the suit's base titanium alloy cover, the exact same material that Tony had started with, the inventor couldn't help but think, Oh, Obi, you always did rush production.
When Stark did it, it was because he was firm in his creation's capabilities, but Obadiah Stane never really made anything himself, he guided other inventors, trying to make their designs fit his vision, and, when you didn't have to use the damn thing, that was fine.
But now, now he understood why Shifty had told him to leave.
"Sir, it appears that his suit can fly," J.A.R.V.I.S. observed needlessly, scans of the mechanism appearing on his glitching H.U.D., and, yes, it would do exactly what Tony needed it to do.
"Duly noted, take me to maximum altitude," he ordered, muscles quivering, the AI doing half of the flying for him.
Thankfully, Stane's flight was as slow and ungainly as the rest of him, as his digital advisor started to object, "With only twenty-percent power-"
"I know the math!" Tony shouted back. "Do it!"
The suit moved, and he moved with it, flying higher and higher, the warmonger nowhere near as maneuverable, but it had momentum, and reserves, lightening as it went, speeding up, while Stark's arc reactor quickly drained more and more, J.A.R.V.I.S. counting down, which did nothing for his nerves, Repulsors starting to fail, but he was going to outrun-
A blast caught him, sent him spinning, his back aching, as he realized that Stane had pegged him in the spine with a missile at point blank range, the recoil from launching it not even deterring the flying tank, as it snatched his spinning armor out of the air, easily manhandling Stark like he was a child, enormous hands covering his entire chest, as arm-sized fingers wrapped around his suit's neck.
But, even as it did so, it crackled with ice.
"You had a great idea, Tony," Stane informed him, as arrogant in 'victory' as he always was, "but my suit is more advanced in every way!"
Looking back at him, even the lights of Obadiah's 'eyes' which he of course made glow, had a rime so thick you could cut it up and serve it in cocktails. "Every way?" the inventor questioned, so incredibly glad he'd taken Shifty's advice and sent the suit up in drone mode for the altitude test, when his AI had warned him.
It'd been a pain, pulling it out of the ocean, but he shuddered to think what would've happened had he still been inside it.
"Yes!" Obadiah yelled.
"How'd you solve the icing problem?" Stark inquired.
There was a moment of silence. "Icing prob-"
And then the light from the walking tank's eyes flickered and died, his thrusters cutting out, and both of them starting to fall.
Game. Set. Match, Tony thought, having maneuvered them up over the industrial part of town, so wherever this abomination of a suit landed, no one should get hurt.
"Might want to look into it," Stark quipped, giving the helmet a firm knock, as the hands loosened around his neck, watching as the man he once looked to like an uncle fell, likely to his death, and, if Tony weren't beat to hell and back, he might've cared.
"Eight percent, Sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. noted.
"Got it, heading down," Tony replied, cutting power to his repulsors and dropping himself, pulling in arms and legs, thankful for those skydiving lessons as he arrowed down past the falling, frozen mech, heading back for his factory, where Pepper was waiting.
Getting close, he powered his repulsors back on, giving himself some wiggle room, which he was very grateful for as they sparked for a couple very tense second before firing, eating up half his safe distance, but still slowing himself down enough that he landed at a bit of a run on his factory's roof, sighing, re-opening the line to Pepper, looking up, but having lost track of Stane, calling out, "Potts!"
"Tony!" his assistant called, panicking, though given Obadiah had been a second away from trying to murder her, that was understandable. "Oh my god! Are you okay?"
"Been better, where are you?" he demanded.
"I, I'm still in the parking lot," she replied, which was good, as it meant Stane wouldn't hit her, though, he looked around as, with how heavy that armor had been, it should've sounded like a meteorite hitting the ground, but he didn't hear anything, though his sensors were on the fritz, having been damaged, as well as pretty much every other system he had.
Then the ground shifted, a bit, as Tony turned, only to see Obadiah had landed, right behind him, fist reared back as the older man sneered, "Nice try!"
Ducking under the first blow, Stark blasted Stane with a repulsor-blast from his hand, but it was weak, only driving the warmonger back a single step, the murderer's return blow catching Tony in the side of the head, safety-measures straining as he was thrown backwards.
Desperate, and with no other plan, Tony scrabbled forward on all fours, using a burst of his repulsors to jump like Obadiah had, and punch the man in his armored head.
Which did nothing.
Worse than nothing, as Stane lashed out in a bear hug that caught Tony, then crushed him against the chest piece of the warmonger's armor, already damaged systems breaking completely, armor fracturing, nothing happening as he tried to blast Obadiah with every weapon he had, his assistant informing him, "Repulsors offline. Missiles offline."
And then, with a snap, Tony's legs didn't hurt anymore, even as his ribs still slowly cracked.
"Flares!" the inventor screamed, and J.A.R.V.I.S. set them off, the chaff flash-banging the older man, making him reflexively let go, but Tony couldn't run away, couldn't even crawl, because he couldn't move his legs.
Instead he furiously dragged himself towards the factory's skylight, wondering where the hell Shifty was! Didn't he say he was going to be Tony's safety net!
Only… that's not what he'd said, was it?
With a sinking feeling that was completely separate from the agony he was experiencing, Tony realized the being had offered him power, and that was supposed to be his safety net.
And he'd turned it down.
Shifty was here, but the alien's statement about 'hunting evil' made it clear that his priority wasn't Stark, it was Stane, who absolutely qualified. However, at no point had he said he'd save Tony again, and beings like that, they tended not to take being told no very well, from what he'd read.
Which meant Tony was on his own.
Completely.
And Shifty might not start his 'hunt' until after Obadiah had finished killing him, Pepper, and who knew who else.
Fuck.
"Very clever, Tony," the soon-to-be-hunted man remarked with wry amusement, as the inventor finished dragging himself behind an HVAC unit.
Taking a shuddering breath, Stark looked around, the only thing in sight the skylight, which was right over the…
Industrial Arc Reactor.
…Screw it, he was going to die anyways.
And at least this way, it would only be him.
"Potts," he whispered, comms one of the few things still working. He wished he could do more for the woman, but that's just how the cookie blew the hell up in this non-prime fucked up timeline, apparently.
Prime Tony probably kicked Stane's ass with style, he thought with gallows humor. Lucky bastard.
"Tony!" his assistant called back, and then, coming out of the darkness beside him, made of glistening, constantly interweaving obsidian threads, was Shifty.
"Hey, Tony," the humanoid being whispered, a smile in its tone, despite the fact that it was currently lacking a face. "You want to go ahead with the possible suicide play you're considering, or you want me to take care of this?"
Stark stared at the thing, wondering why it took this long to show up, but, as Pepper asked in his ear, "Tony?" he knew why.
"Stay safe, cavalry's here," he told her, closing the line, and looking over at the multidimensional reaper. "Would it've worked?"
Not even pretending it didn't know what he was referring to, the formless man nodded. "If you were lucky enough, then yes."
"...I really would've done it?" he asked.
"If it would've made sure you didn't add the 'greatest weapon yet' to this world's arsenal?" it inquired in turn, extending an upraised limb towards him. "Yes. So...?"
That… wasn't why I was going to do it, the inventor thought, but then realized that, with never meeting Shifty, things would've gone differently. Without the knowledge that Obadiah would be hunted down like the dog he was, which was really just an insult to dogs, that might've been it, but now?
Now he had just wanted to protect Pepper.
Chuckling, then gasping at the pain, Tony slapped Shifty's outstretched hand-like blob. "Okay coach, you're in."
The strands tightened, making the man he'd met before, and it smiled that shark's smile, before its body shifted again, compressing, forming into armor that looked like a dark mirror of his own, disturbingly organic in ways his wasn't.
Standing, it casually turned the corner, with its too-smooth walk. "Obadiah Stane, you've been a naughty, naughty boy."
"…Who the fuck are you?"
Huh, this is what it's like to be on the other side of things, Tony couldn't help but think. I see why he does it now.
"I'm a Reaper of Karma, and I'm here to collect."
Oh, I'm sure that sounded cooler in your head, the inventor thought, turning, despite himself, to see what was about to happen. That said, for all the he knew, the alien might have been literal, as he could hear the capital letters in his tone, somehow.
"Collect this," Obadiah declared contemptuously, opening up with his minigun, and while some shots were deflected, others seemed to hit home, Shifty jerking a little, but still slowly stepping forward, and he didn't stop until the gunfire trailed off. "What?" the warmonger questioned, seeing his hits had landed, even more confused.
"Would you like them back?" Shifty questioned, lifting an arm, which transformed, but, when it fired, it crackled, the snap of hypersonic rounds being fired with no bang of powder, as the rotary cannon built into the mini-mech's arm was ripped to shreds, forcing Stane back a step.
"Who, who are you?" Obadiah demanded. "A friend of Tony's?" Lifting his other arm, the warmonger fired a rocket, which Shifty blurred forward towards, catching, then holding the explosive casually as its thruster continued to burn and the fins tried to turn back and forth to correct its path, until it ran out of fuel, at which point the shapeshifter threw it right back at Obadiah, who protected his head, leaving the rocket-pod on his left arm exposed, which the alien obliterated.
"I'm a Reaper of Karma, and I'm here to collect," it repeated, still slowly walking forward.
"Just die!" Stane yelled, lifting a fist high, and taking a step forward to bring it down on Shifty's head, only for the alien to, almost casually, reach up and catch it as well, the concrete of the roof cracking a little, but that was all.
Undeterred, Obadiah brought down his other fist, which was also caught, further cracking the roof, servos screaming with effort.
But Shifty?
He almost sounded bored.
"You don't actually know how to use that, do you," he sighed, his suit growing a tail, which stabbed into the concrete behind him, as Shifty leaned back, pulling Obadiah closer, then lifted his legs up to brace against the walking tanks' chest piece, holding himself up by his new appendage alone.
And then he pulled.
The screech of tortured metal was almost deafening as the alien, who shimmered a deep red for a moment, almost casually yanked the mech's limbs off, tossing them to the side, and shoving Obadiah back, the now disarmed mech stumbling to remain standing.
Then the monster moved forward, Tony very glad his suit was recording, as there was a flash of something darkly metallic, too fast to process, and the enormous suit's legs fell off, leaving the torso to hit the ground.
With a light leap, Shifty landed on top of the remains of the mini-mech, only the head and chest remaining, and using its long, wicked, and insectile looking claws, squatted down and began peeling open the reinforced titanium armor like Stark would an orange.
"Who are you!?" Stein demanded, his voice coming not through his speakers, but through the hole in his suit.
"You know, the definition of insanity is asking the same question, over and over, and expecting a different result," the alien commented, like it was quoting someone, continuing to rip open the titanium alloy.
Tony saw Obadiah's hand thrust up out of his armor, towards Shifty's head, making the creature freeze in place, a faint yet distinct whining sound coming from something in the murderer's hand that made Tony shudder in memory of the pain he'd suffered from that device, the one that'd rendered him powerless to do anything as Stane ripped out the one thing keeping him alive.
The warmonger laughed in victory, and Stark started to drag himself towards the pair, wanting to help, any way he could, even if he could barely be able to accomplish any-
"I'm sorry, was that supposed to do something?" Shifty questioned, reaching over with a gauntleted, clawed hand, and squeezing, breaking it, along with the murderer's bones, as Obadiah screamed in pain.
"What are you!?" Stane demanded, as Shifty reached forward and pressed something against the man's forehead.
"Better, but the answer's the same. I'm a Reaper of Karma, and I'm here to collect yours, Obadiah Stane. Now be a good little Villain, and lose." Then, with a vicious strike to the face, Obadiah was knocked unconscious, but clearly still alive, which was… unexpected.
Standing up, Shifty easily dropped onto the roof, body transforming back into the multilayered combo of hipster and business casual that he'd first worn, ambling over to Tony, pausing as he saw the man crawling on the ground. "Um… huh, that wasn't supposed to happen. Gimme a sec to fix this."
"I'm pretty sure my spine's broken, probably in multiple places," the inventor remarked, trying to be positive, and failing. "That's not something you just 'fix'."
"Which one of us is the interdimensional bounty hunter here?" Shifty questioned, extending long, black tendrils which gently lifted Tony into the air. "Also, that's pretty rich, being told something is impossible, from a dude who invents Long Distance Time Travel."
"Wait, I do what?" Stark questioned, feeling half-delirious. "That's…"
"A terrible fucking idea, yes," Shifty 'agreed', which wasn't what Tony was going to say. "Like, it kind of made sense at the time, but that shit's on the proscribed list for a reason. Now, hold still. I might be a trained surgeon, doctor, biologist, and more, but none of them had my capabilities."
"I, you, wha-gah!" Tony gasped, as he felt something going into him, a lot of somethings, actually, like a dozen snakes seamlessly slipping under his skin, then deeper. "At least take me out for dinner first," he sputtered, lost, and feeling scared in a way that he hadn't at all fighting his old business partner.
"Like I'm going to step on Pepper's toes like that," it remarked, which, wait, it knew the future, did that mean-
"Aaah!" Stark cried out, as suddenly he could feel his legs, and they were on fire.
"Okay, nerve damage, I can bridge that with… hey, Tony, try and figure out what I did before the week it takes to set itself and I'll come back and re-cripple you, understood?" it stated with a mild tone but dead seriousness. "I know you're curious, but your bailiwick is technical engineering, and you aren't a bio-engineer. You're smart enough that mucking about with this might set off a minor apocalypse, and I'll know it was you."
"You could've just asked me not to," the inventor replied defensively, wincing, still more uncomfortable than he ever had been in his life.
The eldritch being from beyond time and space, with knowledge beyond mortal men, gave him a flat look.
"Okay, yeah, you're right," he admitted. "I would."
"Give it a week and it'll settle down," Shifty advised. "If you have to know, just think of them like… stem cells that are too stem for their own good."
Tony blinked, as he was set on his feet, and, while his legs were sore, so was every other part of him. "That… actually helps. What about Stane?"
"SHIELD can take care of Iron Monger. Now, need a lift down?" it inquired.
Tony considered that, as his repulsors were still broken, though the armor should be able to take the drop. That said, he did just get these legs back from the shop, so he nodded, "If you don't mind."
Reaching a hand to grab the back of his suit, Shifty hoisted him up, then ran for the edge of the roof, just… jumping off it, landing down next to a horrified looking Pepper, gently dropping him to the ground.
Giving Shifty a worried glance, Pepper stepped close to her boss, asking, "T-Tony, are you alright? I heard screaming. I heard you screaming."
The eldritch being smiled, which didn't exactly help. "Don't worry, your husband's fine."
Pepper flinched away from the alien, holding onto Tony's armor. "What? Oh, we're not, um, who're you? Wait, are you Shi-"
Not wanting to see the eldritch being's response to his nickname, Stark cut her off, nodding, saying, "Yeah, he's the one who saved me in the desert. He's…" Tony trailed off, trying to think of a name, and Reaper was right out so that left, "Karma. He's Karma."
From the hooded man's knowing look, it realized something was up, but it rolled glowing eyes. "Close enough," it shrugged, all of itself, in order, which, yep, still disturbing. "Stane's down and won't wake up for a few hours. You lovebirds be safe now. Tony, I'll be in touch."
And with that, Shif-Karma took off running, straight up the wall, leaving footsteps in his wake, and disappeared, the faint sound of a single wingbeat odd, but, well, what about that thing wasn't?
Popping open his facemask, he turned to look at Pepper, who still hadn't let go of him, and considered his wants, his fears, and then decided to just go for it, turning and facing the woman he cared about, more than he had ever thought. "Pepper, I'm so glad you're safe."
"I-I, me too. I mean I'm glad you're safe too," she replied oddly nervous. "Tony, are you sure you're alright?"
With a smirk, he told her, "Never better," then leaned in to kiss her.
She stiffened, surprised, but then returned it for a long, wonderful moment, until the sound of tires on rubble made them both break apart, a silver sedan pulling into the parking lot, coming to a stop, and Rhodey getting out. "I, uh, I came to see if you needed help?"
Both he and Pepper laughed, a little nervously, but, looking at her, she didn't seem to want to brush the moment they'd just shared under the rug, her hand finding his, and he turned back to the Colonel. "I wouldn't say not to a ride home. It's been a long day."
It turned into a long week, but now it was, hopefully, over. Rhodey hadn't exactly been happy about Tony admitting the he was, in fact, that mysterious masked man, but he'd get over it, as that was one genie that wasn't going to go back into the bottle.
Returning home with Pepper, things with her were… awkward, but good awkward? She'd been a little hesitant, to give him the sort of hard time she always did, and he'd been the same, in being his normal wonderfully witty self, but things had settled a little into an odd sort of state where they still worked together, there was just a… tenderness to it.
An added depth.
Like they'd been on the diet version of their relationship this entire time, but only now started using the real version, with all of those tasty, tasty emotional calories.
Sighing, he walked into his living room, heading for the bar, as he really needed a drink, calling back to Pepper, "You want something?"
"If you don't mind."
"Jesus!" he yelped, manfully, it was a very manful yelp, unlike Pepper's shriek as they both turned, seeing Shif- seeing Karma, relaxing on his couch, the hooded not-man stretched out, completely at ease.
"While I'm flattered, I don't have his chill," the eldritch being replied, which… yeah, not touching that one.
"Scotch, on the rocks?" Tony offered, the eldritch being nodded in return, as Pepper stared. "J.A.R.V.I.S., why didn't you tell us we had guests?"
The AI responded, sounding contrite. "My apologies, sir. I did not realize I had been hacked until you began to speak with him, at which point the block self-terminated."
"You hacked my butler?" Stark questioned the hooded humanoid.
"I hack a lot of things, in a lot of different ways," it replied, lifting a hand, one finger turning momentarily clawed. "Though sorry about the shock, I'd assumed you'd see me, instead of going straight for the booze."
"Well, you know what they say about assuming," the inventor replied, looking to Pepper, who was standing, unsure. "Don't worry, Potts, he's only dangerous to bad guys."
"True," the thing shrugged, and, well, he was getting better at it, the jacket not flapping open like it was made of a thousand snake-scales, but it still just… didn't work. "So, you decided to go with Iron Man?"
Shrugging, like an actual person, Tony replied, "It's what I was supposed to do, apparently."
"It was what you would've done," it corrected, "not what you have to do. We've already started straying from that standard, and trying to ride that broken railway is a recipe for disaster."
"Would've done?" Pepper repeated, still unnerved. He'd told her about Karma, but there was a difference between hearing about it and seeing it in person, hence why, when he'd still been in the weapons biz, the inventor had made sure to show his products in action. "Are you a time traveler?" she questioned, turning Stark's way. "Tony, is he a time traveler?"
"No, just someone who got the script," he replied.
"But we're down a few leads, so we're… winging it," Karma added. "Also, the writers quit, which, trust me, is a good thing."
Writers? Tony wondered, which, going along the metaphor, was… bad. "That's a thing?"
"Not here."
"I," Pepper said, getting both their attention. "I'm… not sure what's going on here, but, Mr. Karma?"
"Karma is fine," it deferred.
"He's like Prince, or Cher," Stark joked, getting an unearthly chuckle from the aberration.
"I, I wanted to thank you. For saving Tony," she told it earnestly. "Even if he was right about not needing you in the desert, you saved his life when, when Mr. Stane went mad. Just, thank you, so much. I, I don't know what I would've done if…"
"Find new employment, for one," Stark remarked, and she glared at him.
"You're welcome, Ms… Potts," it stated, Tony sending the eldritch being a warning look, as there was a difference between wingman and pushy, and since it already crossed the line between dimensions, it might not realize it was crossing that one as well. It just grinned at him, knowing damn well what it was doing. The redhead started to nod, then looked thoughtful, as Karma asked, "So, Mr. Stark. Have you given any thought to my offer?"
"I have," he agreed, having had time to review the fight and, well, what a shitshow. He'd already lined up a combat instructor, but, reviewing everything with that in mind, he could've died a dozen times over. Karma was probably not wrong about this not being the prime timeline, but it wasn't the worst one either. However, there was something he needed to know. "If I'd taken you up on it, accepted your power and gotten that safety net, would Stane's sonic taser have worked on me?"
The eldritch being wiggled a hand, which, yeah, was extra wiggly. "Fifty-fifty. It was an attack, but it was one that tweaked biology instead of outright damaged you. My biology's… different so against that Villain's trump card I was fine. You certainly would've had more time slotting in your backup, though."
"Tony?" Pepper questioned. "What power? What's going on? What are you talking about?"
He flashed a smile the beautiful woman's way, "Not now, dear, negotiating with the enigmatically encouraging exotic entity."
"Ooh, nice alliteration."
"I try."
"But this isn't a negotiation," it mused. "If it were, you'd be able to get me to give more than I'd be originally willing to offer. But if it were, I'd also be receiving something in return."
It… wasn't wrong. Most gifts Tony had received had expectations attached, but what Karma was expecting him to do was, well, what he was already going to do. And, worse, the eldritch being knew it. "Alright," he admitted, "but I have terms."
Under his hood, the entity lifted a brow just a little too high. "Terms?"
Feeling oddly like a child trying to talk down to his father, and not really liking it, Tony nodded. "Yes. Terms."
It leaned back, regarding Stark with amusement. "And these terms would be?"
"Pepper gets it too," he declared, not willing to budge on this.
"I get what?" the woman inquired.
"Superpowers, Potts, do keep up,"
"What?"
Karma laughed. "I was going to offer them to her as soon as you took me up on it. If she's going to be around you, being somewhat bulletproof would certainly help. And it would certainly be beneficial for your peace of mind, I'm sure."
"Oh, well, that was easy," Tony remarked, then he realized why the entity was offering what he was, and sighed.
And he wasn't the only one.
"There's going to be more isn't there?" Pepper asked, showing that, while not quite a genius like he was, the woman was one sharp customer in her own right. "More problems. More dangers. More… 'Villains'?"
"I'd say this is only the beginning, but it began in the forties," Karma informed her, though not unkindly. "Steve Rogers took care of it then, but he only kicked the can down the road. And now that can, which would've killed a lot of people if it hadn't been moved, has been joined with dozens of others, all of them starting to snowball, if you'll forgive the mixed metaphor."
"I've heard worse," Tony remarked. "And, yeah, I'm in. Beam me up, Scotty. So, what do I need to do. Take the red pill? Recite the holy chakras? Swear an oath of allegiance? What?"
Standing, the outsider started to glow a deep crimson. "You just need to hold still."
"Lie back and think of England, got it," Stark replied, holding his hands out to his side, and closing his eyes.
"Tony?" Pepper asked, unsure.
"Don't worry, if he wanted me dead, he wouldn't've healed me," the inventor replied, though, he couldn't help but worry, completely trusting this clearly inhuman intelligence, but, well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.
The hand that gripped his shoulder was gentle, but as unyielding as an industrial clamp, as he felt the thing's other palm rest against his forehead, and it intoned, "For we are ourselves beyond ourselves, restrained by frail forms, yet so much greater than them. We are all, in our own way, gods, should we but reach for that which is beyond us, and, in doing so, grasp it. Be free to travel the paths yet denied, take my hand, and let us save this world together."
Something wrapped around him, infusing him, and for a moment he felt the bein- no, the man. Karma was something more than that, but it, he, was, at his core, human, though Tony didn't know how he knew that.
And then Tony Stark was standing, in his home, a Golden glow coming from him, feeling… good. Feeling really good. Like, "Damn, that's better than sex!"
Without missing a beat, Karma looked to Pepper. "My condolences."
"What, I, Tony!" she hissed.
He blinked, "Oh, I'm sure it will be better than this with you. Actually, speaking of, do her now."
"TONY!"
"If you don't want powers, I won't give them to you," Karma told her. "However, if things, which are beyond my ability to stop right now, happen as they would, you only survive due to sheer luck. Luck that you cannot rely on."
She still looked unsure, so he turned to her, even as he felt… something poking at him, but he ignored it. "Please, Pepper. For me."
"I…okay," she said, after a moment, hesitantly taking a step forward. "Go ahead."
Karma nodded, and stepped to her, glowing crimson again, like old blood, reciting the chant once more, but a matching deep Blue glow came from Tony's assistant-cum-girlfriend spreading out until it was almost blindingly bright, before fading, the light of what, Stark had to assume, was her soul, receding back into her body.
Stepping away, the shapeshifting man sagged a little, every part of him drooping independently, before, with an exhale, he snapped back into human form, just in time for Pepper to open her eyes, taking one breath, then another, blinking.
"Wow," she breathed, opening and closing her hands. "I'm… strong?"
"Yep," the outsider agreed, moving over to the bar and grabbing his drink. "So, downsides first."
"There are downsides?" Pepper questioned, suddenly worried. "What downsides?"
"There's always downsides, but unless things go very, very weird, they won't matter," Karma reassured them both. "Your soul has now been enkindled, and is effectively weaponized, so any magic that would normally need to touch your skin to work, just needs to touch you at all, and that includes any melee weaponry you may wield. Bullets are fine, beams are not."
"Beams are reaching out and touching someone, gotchya," Tony nodded.
Pepper, however, lifted a hand, like they were in school. "Uh, magic is real?"
"Yes, but very rare, and its users very insular. Hippies are probably just deluded," the outsider noted.
Tony snorted, "Nothing new there."
While she didn't say anything, the woman beside him did roll her eyes, the byplay helping to calm her down a little, though she still clearly felt as lost as he had the first time he'd met the extradimensional man.
"Upsides, you've got a forcefield, with its own internal battery, which is your soul, but depleting it won't hurt you, just tire you out. It can be measured, but I don't know how the tech that does it works. Might be Magitech. Meditating will help you understand your abilities. You can use it to make yourself stronger, but it's intent based, so you won't have a 'World of Cardboard' issue. Also, you can make forcefields," Karma instructed, holding his hand out, a flickering crimson disk appearing over it just for a moment. "I'm still figuring out how to make that work. It's a skill."
"And the superpowers?" Stark questioned, still feeling that odd sensation, like… like he had an extra limb, only, and he double checked, and he still just had the four.
Four and a half when excited, which, despite Pepper's presence, he really wasn't.
"Getting to those. You also get environmental resistances; a minor regenerative factor, though you can scar, so it won't heal that hole in your chest; you can empower your weapons, as I saw a girl kill a magic werewolf made of shadows and hate with a baguette with this once; and limited precog. Speaking of which," he said, turning, taking out a gun and shooting Tony.
And Tony dodged.
Pepper yelped, as the first bullet barely missed his hand, as he yanked it out of the way, somehow, but the second slammed into his chest, which hurt, only… it didn't?
"Like I said, over-clothing force-field, and limited 'can dodge bullets or parry them with a sword' style precog," the asshole blandly remarked.
"You, you shot me," the inventor pointed out, offended, but his shirt wasn't even rustled.
"Like you haven't shot yourself testing your armor," Karma replied dismissively, which, point. "And, lastly, you get a superpower, called a Semblance, though you have no idea what it is until it manifests. One girl could absorb electricity to empower herself, but it took her several years to figure that out."
Maybe that was it? Stark thought, using that extra 'limb' of his to reach out, feeling things around him that weren't really there, and…
The television set into the wall turned itself on.
And then he flicked it again, and it turned off.
On.
Off.
On.
Off.
And then, grabbing it, Stark got rid of Fox News, giving himself a blank screen, which, imagining what he wanted to see on it…
Hello World.
"Oh you've got to be kidding me," Karma groaned. "Of course you get Technopathy. And of course you figure out in seconds!"
"Still haven't figured yours out?" Tony couldn't help but tease.
"What do you fucking think!"
"Well, we can't all be geniuses," the inventor remarked. "Pepper?"
The redhead blinked. "I, no? What am I supposed to be doing?"
"It'll come naturally," the outsider reassured her, shaking his head. "See you later."
"You're not staying?" Stark questioned. "But, well, you just got here."
Karma shook his head, "I've got heroes to save, places to be, and people to kill. You aren't the only one that needs a safety net, Tony. But don't worry, I'll be around when the next Crisis Point arrives."
With that, the not-quite-human left, a black blur that darted over to the still unfixed hole in the ceiling, and, with a very familiar whine, blasted off, up, and into the sky.
"That cheeky bugger stole my tech," the inventor noted, then, reaching out, turned on the flatscreen, then connected it to what he was pretty sure were the outside cameras, which linked the pair through him, the monitor now displaying the dark shape as it jetted away, heading east, flying just like he could.
"Then again," Tony admitted, "now I can turn on the tv without moving, so it's a fair trade."
Things were… not going well for Thor Odinson.
His strength had been stripped from him, his hammer wrenched from his grasp, exiled to a strange land, drugged, imprisoned. He truly had been brought low by his father, Odin's blind foolishness showing he would rather see Asgard burn than allow his son to stand up for his people, to be the same leader that Odin himself once was.
The man had grown up on stories of his father's conquest of the Nine Realms, of how, through strength, their king had brought peace.
But when Thor tried to maintain that peace?
Tried to ensure that, when he succeeded his father, as his father succeeded his father before him, that peace would remain?
'You are vain, greedy, cruel boy!'
The father's words still rang in the ears of his son, as if Thor's efforts to be a good king were nothing, were 'unworthy', that he was 'unworthy'.
It seemed, to Odin, that the only one worthy was himself, but not even then, as Thor loved his father, even now, had tried to be just like him, but it was all for naught. No, perhaps if he was a weak milkmaid, cowering while the other Realms forgot why they behaved, in fear of Asgard's wrath, as they fell into chaos and darkness once more, the old man would look upon Thor with approvement.
What was a warrior to do, then, once he had been brought so low?
As now he lay, weak bonds of cloth chaining him, but he was Thor Odinson, and, even rendered meek like he was, he still had strength.
Readying himself to break his bonds, however, the warrior stilled, as he was not alone.
He could not see it, or hear it, but a true son of Asgard could perceive the world with more than just his eyes and ears.
"Show yourself!" he ordered, and a being stepped from the shadows, in a similar dress as the others he had seen in this realm, but this one possessed grace akin to a warrior.
Or perhaps a hunter.
The man was pale, and still soundless, as he regarded Thor with faintly glowing eyes.
"Svartálfar?" the Asgardian questioned, feeling particularly vulnerable in this moment. The depictions of them had shown them with bone white masks, long black ears, and voids for eyes, but other accountings had spoken of their glowing pupils and their affinity for shadows. Mayhaps this one, the first he had laid eyes upon, had doffed their traditional garb, wearing the strange coverings the others in this realm utilized, though he lacked the solid blue of the local healer's attire.
"Peace, Thor Odinson, for I am no dark elf," it said in sliding tones that caused the warrior to stiffen, sensing something truly dangerous about this being. It approached him, holding up a hand, one finger lengthening into a vicious claw, and the Asguardian prepared to break his bonds, to fight, instead of being slaughtered like cattle.
However, moving with deliberate care, it brought the claw down to Thor's wrist, and, with smooth precision, sliced open the strap holding him down, then the one around his ankle, taking a step back, hand returning to a normal form, and then clearly waited.
Not taking his gaze off the dangerous creature, Thor questioned, "Did my brother, Loki, send you to assist me?"
It shook its head no, and gestured to the warrior's other wrist with one hand, reaching behind itself and bringing out a set of clothing with another. Understanding its intentions, the warrior freed himself, and accepted the garb, swiftly donning it.
He had fought in a dress before, but this bare covering the locals had forced upon him was even more paltry than that, and this unknown being did not do him the insult of taking his eyes off of Thor, treating him as the threat he was.
No, treating him as the threat he used to be, despite his obviously weakened state.
That was an unexpected courtesy, and, though it felt odd, one that was not unappreciated. No longer bound, and properly clothed, he nodded to his rescuer, indicating the pale man with the glowing eyes should continue.
"Welcome to Midguard. Glad to see you've survived." Its eyes flicked down the warrior's battered form. "Mostly. Let's get you up and out of here. There's much we need to discuss, Thor Odinson, and never enough time to do so in."
It felt odd to be in such a state, beholden to another instead of being beholden to, but the Asgardian prince, perhaps ex-prince now, remembered his manners. He might have disagreements with his father, but he would not dishonor his mother so much as to forget them now. "You have my thanks. May I have the name of my savior?"
It smiled, with too many serrated teeth, showing its monstrous nature, but, while most things that appeared such held evil in their hearts, the warrior had met enough to know that such things were not ironclad. And, the being had come to his aid, when no one else would.
The monster in the shape of a man spoke again, with that odd, multitudinous voice of his, and honored Thor's request.
"Call me. . . Karma."