He staggers. His back foot sinks into the sand as he raises his hand and curls it around the cold blade sticking out from his stomach. A dark-faced giant strides toward him, murmurs: "Half of humanity will still be alive."
He disappears. A smaller figure takes his place, raises his hands as they drift away in pieces. "Mr. Stark..."
Tony reaches for him. All he finds is air and ash.
He knows what comes next. It was the only way. He turns, weak and weary, toward where Strange has collapsed against the rocks and wreckage--
And finds someone else. A scarred face. Huge, dark eyes.
"Statement ends."
Tony gasps awake.
It's a small gasp. More like a wheeze as he curls up and his hand clenches into the couch upholstery. In the dark apartment, it takes a dizzying second to remember where this is, what this is.
The kid's alive. He's alive. Tony touched him, held him. Whatever the hell is going on outside of this pocket universe, the Peter here is real. So real that Tony feels anxious every second the kid's out of his line of sight, even though he knows he's capable on his own.
What if he loses him again? He can't lose him. He...
Tony shakes his head, shuts his eyes. He feels like he wakes up from a dream like this every night since he got here, which might make sense if he was terrorized as frequently on the Benatar... but he wasn't. And even when he was, the nightmares were varied -- of Titan, but also of Earth, of Pepper, of good times long past. Now, they're all the same, one after another, and that face--
Something rustles in the kitchen.
Tony sits up. He can see a crack of light from the kitchen doorway -- the fridge is open.
Cold fear grips him. Whoever it is, it isn't Thor -- he would've made a ruckus striding in from his "revelries," and those stupid, ridiculous wings would've probably gotten caught on the doorframe.
Plus, Tony would've. Uh. Probably sensed he was around. Because of other reasons.
Tony stands. He creeps forward and raises his hand, lets his nanites form a repulsor on his palm. It's been about a week since downing the cat and his nanites are back to full form -- or 20% of it, anyway. Enough to deal with whatever the hell is on the other side of the open fridge door as he stalks into the kitchen.
A giant shadow twists and grows on the wall as it blocks out a patch of the fridge light. Tony inhales.
He darts behind the figure and yells. A sonic blast fires from his hand. The thing goes flying into the cabinets, splintering the wooden doors underneath the sink with a deafeaning crack.
Tony kicks the fridge door shut. He hits the light, and--
no subject
He staggers. His back foot sinks into the sand as he raises his hand and curls it around the cold blade sticking out from his stomach. A dark-faced giant strides toward him, murmurs: "Half of humanity will still be alive."
He disappears. A smaller figure takes his place, raises his hands as they drift away in pieces. "Mr. Stark..."
Tony reaches for him. All he finds is air and ash.
He knows what comes next. It was the only way. He turns, weak and weary, toward where Strange has collapsed against the rocks and wreckage--
And finds someone else. A scarred face. Huge, dark eyes.
"Statement ends."
Tony gasps awake.
It's a small gasp. More like a wheeze as he curls up and his hand clenches into the couch upholstery. In the dark apartment, it takes a dizzying second to remember where this is, what this is.
The kid's alive. He's alive. Tony touched him, held him. Whatever the hell is going on outside of this pocket universe, the Peter here is real. So real that Tony feels anxious every second the kid's out of his line of sight, even though he knows he's capable on his own.
What if he loses him again? He can't lose him. He...
Tony shakes his head, shuts his eyes. He feels like he wakes up from a dream like this every night since he got here, which might make sense if he was terrorized as frequently on the Benatar... but he wasn't. And even when he was, the nightmares were varied -- of Titan, but also of Earth, of Pepper, of good times long past. Now, they're all the same, one after another, and that face--
Something rustles in the kitchen.
Tony sits up. He can see a crack of light from the kitchen doorway -- the fridge is open.
Cold fear grips him. Whoever it is, it isn't Thor -- he would've made a ruckus striding in from his "revelries," and those stupid, ridiculous wings would've probably gotten caught on the doorframe.
Plus, Tony would've. Uh. Probably sensed he was around. Because of other reasons.
Tony stands. He creeps forward and raises his hand, lets his nanites form a repulsor on his palm. It's been about a week since downing the cat and his nanites are back to full form -- or 20% of it, anyway. Enough to deal with whatever the hell is on the other side of the open fridge door as he stalks into the kitchen.
A giant shadow twists and grows on the wall as it blocks out a patch of the fridge light. Tony inhales.
He darts behind the figure and yells. A sonic blast fires from his hand. The thing goes flying into the cabinets, splintering the wooden doors underneath the sink with a deafeaning crack.
Tony kicks the fridge door shut. He hits the light, and--
He blinks. Heaves in a breath.]
"Furcon?"