Tony's Malibu beach house overlooked the dark Pacific. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks below filled the living room, a steady, rhythmic counterpoint to the day's chaos.
Smith and Tony sat in deep leather armchairs with heavy glasses of whiskey. The ice clinked as Tony swirled his drink. He had insisted Smith come back with him, and Smith had agreed. Whatever Ross and Betty were dealing with on that torn-up campus was not their problem.
The aftermath was going to be Ross's headache. And it wasn't going to be easy. The damage from Smith's fight with the Hulk was extensive. The small forest was completely destroyed. The Kamehameha had carved a crater that looked like a meteorite impact site.
Tony took a sip of whiskey. "JARVIS, pull up what you found."
Holographic displays materialized in the air, bathing the room in a cool blue light. They showed Bruce Banner's complete file. His identity, the military wanted posters, his legend as a fugitive, his background as a former military researcher.
"Jesus." Tony stared at the file. "Ross created his own monster."
He studied Banner's academic credentials, his eyebrows rising. "Seven doctorates. A genuine genius. Hard to believe he looks like a normal guy when he's not green and angry."
He swirled his drink thoughtfully, his eyes gleaming with the familiar light of a new project. "I'm going to need to develop specialized armor for this guy. Something heavy-duty."
Smith raised an eyebrow, remembering the original timeline. The anti-Hulk armor Tony would eventually build with Banner's own input. It had been powerful initially, but they'd made a critical error. Instead of overwhelming the Hulk immediately, they'd applied gradual pressure. That only made him angrier, which made him stronger, which led to the armor being torn apart.
"Study it carefully," Smith advised, his voice casual. "Don't let that guy rip it to pieces."
Tony waved a hand dismissively. "Thanks to this battle, I have his performance data. The armor I build will exceed his maximum output."
He pointed at Smith. "Also, that scouter of yours. One hundred fifty points maximum is inadequate."
"Have Bulma send me an upgraded module. Don't tell me you don't have stronger versions. I won't believe it."
Smith nodded, a small smile touching his lips. "Alright, alright. Others might not get one, but you absolutely will."
Tony looked satisfied. Smith was reliable when it counted. "What about Bruce Banner himself?"
"According to what I just learned, he's been hiding for years. Doesn't seem to cause trouble actively. More of a victim of military experimentation."
Smith shrugged. "Leave him alone. Bruce Banner isn't actually a problem."
Tony nodded, accepting that assessment.
Smith leaned forward, his tone shifting. "Tony, there's something specific in your lab. I need you to check on it. Better if you touch it directly."
Tony frowned. "I pay close attention to everything in my lab. The armor, the AI systems, all of it."
"Not those things. Let me show you."
Tony looked puzzled, the curiosity in his eyes overriding his skepticism. He led Smith down the stairs to his workshop. The air changed, growing cooler, with the faint smell of ozone and hot metal.
He spread his arms wide. "Everything here matters to me. What specifically are you talking about?"
Smith pointed to Tony's main workbench. "Third drawer on the left. Open it."
Tony's confusion deepened. Smith was implying something existed in his own lab that he himself didn't know about.
"There's nothing unusual in that drawer. Just a gift from Pepper."
He walked over, his footsteps echoing in the large space. "That round stone you saw before."
Tony opened the drawer. An orange sphere with four red stars sat inside. He froze.
"What is this? Where's my stone?"
He picked up the Four-Star Dragon Ball. He stiffened, his eyes widening just a fraction as information flooded into his mind.
Back in the living room, Tony poured himself another whiskey and downed it in one swallow. The glass hit the bar with a sharp clack.
"So you're telling me," he said, his voice rough, "the Dragon Balls are actually sacred relics of your Fraternity, and you recognized mine the first time you saw it."
He gestured with his empty glass. "That guy John Wick... he actually used them to resurrect his wife."
"Smith, you're incredibly generous and kind-hearted. To give away something that powerful just to help people realize their wishes."
Smith shrugged and sipped his own whiskey. "Wouldn't it be nice to give this world more hope?"
Tony flicked the gold tournament coin between his fingers, the metal making a soft click-click-click. "Looks like I'm competing for the Dragon Balls too."
His expression shifted, the usual wit draining away, replaced by something more serious. He stopped flicking the coin. "You said this thing can grant any wish. Could it resurrect my parents?"
Smith had been waiting for this question. He set down his glass and thought carefully about how to answer.
The original Dragon Ball setting limited resurrections to people who'd died within one year. But the real issue wasn't time. It was that after a year, souls typically moved through the afterlife, got reincarnated, or were cleansed of their previous identity.
Without an intact soul, Shenron couldn't resurrect anyone. The key factor was whether the soul still existed in a recoverable state.
Tony's parents had been dead for eighteen years. Their souls could be in any number of places. Hell dimensions. Heaven dimensions. Other planes of existence. They might have returned to Death herself. Or been destroyed completely.
Tony waited patiently while Smith considered, his gaze locked on his friend.
Finally, Smith spoke, his voice quiet. "Tony, I can't make you any promises. The results might not be what you hope for."
He met Tony's eyes directly. "There's a prerequisite for Shenron to resurrect the dead. The soul has to still exist and remain unchanged."
"After death, souls persist for a time. They might enter hell dimensions, heaven dimensions, other planes of existence, or return to Death's embrace."
"Souls can also be destroyed."
"If the soul doesn't exist anymore, even Shenron can't bring someone back."
Smith leaned forward. "Shenron mainly resurrects people who died within a year because during that time, the soul usually hasn't changed or moved on."
"But your parents have been gone for so many years. Maybe..."
He trailed off. Tony understood without him finishing.
Tony's expression dimmed. The flicker of desperate hope in his eyes went out. He'd hoped, but reality was reality. His father and mother had been dead for eighteen years.
"Of course, if you gather all seven Dragon Balls, you could try," Smith added gently. "Just don't get your hopes up too much."
Eighteen years was a long time. Smith held out no real hope. Unless the Howards' souls had been collected and preserved by some cosmic entity, the chances were minimal.
"I understand, Smith." Tony's voice was flat. He stared into his empty glass. "I just heard about John's situation and wanted to learn more. So many years have passed."
He looked up, his gaze meeting Smith's. "But the dragon isn't omnipotent."
"No," Smith agreed quietly. "Nothing is."
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of mortality settling between them. The only sound was the steady crash of the ocean outside. Even with magic, even with wish-granting dragons, some things couldn't be undone.
Tony would compete in the tournament anyway. Smith knew that. Not just for his parents, but because Tony Stark never backed down from a challenge.
And maybe, just maybe, there was a chance. Slim as it was.
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