Inside a private room at the Afghan airbase, Noah Vale stood with his arms crossed, watching Tony Stark with a calm, unreadable expression.
Tony stared back, recognition hitting instantly.
"You—" he said, sitting up slightly. "You're Noah Vale. What are you doing here?"
Noah didn't move. "Saving your life, obviously."
That answer dragged everything back.
The convoy. The explosion. The missile—his missile.
Tony's hand instinctively went to his chest. He pulled open his shirt.
Smooth skin. No open wounds. Just faint scars, barely visible.
"…What the hell happened?"
Then he noticed it.
A translucent interface hovering at the edge of his vision—about the size of a tablet screen. Messages flickered across it now and then, like a chat window waiting for input.
That must be what he meant…
Tony's eyes narrowed slightly, but before he could focus on it—
"Start there," Noah said, cutting in. "The attack."
Tony looked up.
"This wasn't random. The people who ambushed you? They were hired."
A pause.
"By Obadiah Stane."
Tony blinked.
"…What?"
The disbelief was immediate.
"That's ridiculous. Obadiah wouldn't—"
Tap.
Noah flicked his forehead.
Not hard.
But somehow, it felt like getting hit with a steel rod.
"Ah—what the—!" Tony grabbed his head, wincing as a sharp ache spread across his skull.
Noah lowered his hand. "Don't interrupt. You're slowing this down."
Tony glared at him, rubbing his forehead, but didn't argue further.
"For now, just remember what I said," Noah continued. "If you don't believe me, investigate when you get back."
Tony exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to stay quiet.
"Now," Noah went on, nodding slightly toward Tony's line of sight, "about that interface."
Tony's eyes flicked back to it instinctively.
"It's a communication platform," Noah said. "Connects people across different worlds. I'm a member. You were pulled in at the moment of the attack."
Tony studied the floating display, curiosity creeping in. The messages updating in real time, the unfamiliar names—it didn't look like any system he'd ever seen.
He reached out, almost reflexively—
"Don't."
Noah's voice dropped.
"If you value your life, keep your hands to yourself until I'm done."
Tony froze.
"…Right. Okay. You talk."
"Good."
Noah shifted slightly, leaning against the wall.
"I joined that system about two months ago. Some of the things I've built—some of what you've probably heard about—came from there."
Tony raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"When I joined," Noah continued, "there was already an administrator running things. He has certain privileges—control over communication, moderation, that kind of thing."
A faint pause.
"He didn't like me."
Tony smirked faintly. "I'm shocked."
"He muted me the same day I joined," Noah said flatly. "I can read everything. Can't respond. Can't interact."
Tony tilted his head. "So you want me to talk to him for you? Get him to lift the restriction?"
Noah looked at him.
Not annoyed.
Just… disappointed.
"No," he said.
"I want you to pretend you've never heard of me. Join the conversation. Gain his trust."
A beat.
"And then bring him here."
Tony's expression slowly flattened. "Bring him here… so you can what?"
"Kill him."
The room went quiet.
Tony studied him for a long moment.
"You're serious."
"Yes."
Tony leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. "All this… over being muted?"
Noah didn't even hesitate.
"I don't care why he did it. I don't care who he is."
His voice remained calm—almost casual.
"Maybe he's a criminal. Maybe he's a saint. Doesn't matter."
Tony frowned.
"If someone crosses me, they deal with the consequences."
That was it.
No justification. No moral framing.
Just a statement.
Tony let out a slow breath. "And you expect me to help you with that."
"I expect you to decide," Noah said. "Are you in, or not?"
Tony met his eyes. "What happens if I say no?"
Noah's gaze didn't change.
"Then you become part of the problem."
Tony's shoulders tensed slightly. "You're saying you'd kill me too?"
"No," Noah said.
"Not just that."
He straightened, ticking points off on his fingers like he was outlining a business plan.
"You die."
"Then I work with Obadiah. Help him take over your company."
Tony's jaw tightened.
"I hear you've got a thing for your assistant," Noah continued casually. "Pepper, right?"
Tony didn't respond.
"Would be a shame for her to be alone," Noah went on. "Maybe Stane steps in. Takes care of her."
A faint smile.
"Visits your grave every year. Brings flowers. Keeps things respectful."
Tony stared at him.
"…You're insane."
"I've got plenty more ideas," Noah added lightly. "But I think you get the picture."
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, Tony exhaled.
"…And if I say yes?"
Noah smiled.
"Then you get my friendship."
Tony blinked.
"That's it?"
Internally, he almost laughed.
That's supposed to sell me?
Noah seemed to read the thought instantly.
"Superheroes make terrible friends," he said. "They interfere. Judge you. Try to fix you."
He shrugged.
"I don't."
Tony raised an eyebrow.
"As long as you don't cross certain lines," Noah continued, "I don't care what you do. Your life is your own."
He stepped closer, voice lowering slightly.
"And my connections become yours."
Tony's expression sharpened.
"Ever heard of Wilson Fisk?" Noah asked.
Tony didn't answer, but the name registered.
"Biggest crime boss in New York," Noah said. "Half the city's under his influence. He's useful."
A brief pause.
"My friends are his friends."
Tony considered that.
"And in the future?" Noah went on. "When I have more control—more reach—you benefit from that too."
Tony let out a short breath, shaking his head.
"You're pitching me immunity and influence like I don't already have both," he said. "Money solves most problems."
Noah chuckled softly.
"That's where you're wrong."
His eyes locked onto Tony's.
"Without protection, money just makes you a bigger target."
Tony didn't respond.
"If someone stronger than you decides they want what you have," Noah said quietly, "what exactly are you going to do about it?"
The question lingered.
Noah took a step back.
"You don't have to use what I offer," he said. "That's your choice."
A pause.
"But you don't get to not have it."
His gaze hardened slightly.
"No one refuses my friendship."