Noah Vale didn't bother dressing it up.
He laid out his worldview for Tony Stark as plainly as possible—cold, direct, and impossible to misinterpret.
"If you're my friend," Noah said evenly, "I don't care what you do. As long as you don't cross me, your choices are your own."
He took a step closer, voice steady.
"But if you're not… then when someone stronger comes after you, I won't help you."
A faint pause.
"I might even help them."
Tony held his gaze, jaw tight.
Noah shrugged lightly. "You can call it crime, injustice—whatever you want. Labels don't change reality."
Silence hung in the room.
Then Noah smiled slightly.
"So. Decide."
His tone was almost polite.
"Do you want to stand against me… or stand with me?"
A beat.
"And think carefully," he added. "You don't get a second chance."
Tony exhaled slowly, tension building in his shoulders.
This wasn't negotiation.
It was pressure.
Blunt, calculated pressure.
"…Fine," he said at last. "I'll do it."
Noah nodded once. "Good. Smart choice."
For a brief moment, he considered forcing compliance through other means—but there was no need now.
Tony leaned back, some of his usual confidence gone, replaced by something quieter.
"What's the plan?" he asked.
"Simple," Noah replied. "You contact the administrator."
He gestured toward the floating interface.
"You repeat everything he says to you. I'll tell you what to send back."
Tony nodded, focusing on the private message window.
After a moment, he began reading aloud.
"'Hello. Welcome to the chatroom.'"
"'If you have any questions, feel free to ask. I'm the administrator.'"
Tony paused, then continued.
"'If you can provide your birth details, age, and personal history, I can help predict your future.'"
Noah raised an eyebrow.
So that was the angle.
Not actual foresight—just fishing for context, then matching it to what he already knew.
"Does this guy actually know the future?" Tony asked.
Noah let out a short laugh. "Not even close. He's just read enough stories to fake it."
Tony frowned. "Stories?"
"Your life," Noah said, "your world—it's entertainment to him. Comics. Movies. That's how he knows what happens."
Tony stared at him.
"That's… not possible."
"It is," Noah said calmly. "Think about it. Infinite universes. Infinite variations."
He folded his arms.
"If something can exist, then somewhere, it does. Including worlds where your entire life has already been written down and published."
Tony didn't respond immediately.
But the idea clicked faster than he expected.
He'd dealt with enough theoretical physics to understand the implication.
"…So you're saying someone out there has been watching my life like a show."
"Something like that."
Tony let out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck.
"…Great. That's not unsettling at all."
Then his eyes narrowed.
"Wait. If that's true—how do you know all this?"
Noah met his gaze without hesitation.
"Because I've seen it too."
That was answer enough.
Tony studied him for a second longer, then shifted back to the conversation.
"Alright," he said. "What happens next in this 'story' of mine?"
Noah's expression didn't change.
"If things play out normally, you survive this. Become a hero. Clean up your company. Fight threats bigger than yourself."
A brief pause.
"Eventually, you die saving the world."
Tony blinked.
"…Well, that's a hell of a spoiler."
Noah shrugged. "That's the version where nothing interferes."
He tilted his head slightly.
"If you keep stalling, though, your story ends a lot sooner."
Tony didn't ask what that meant.
He didn't need to.
Meanwhile, in another world—
The Overlord leaned back on a worn couch, staring at the silent chat window.
Tony still hadn't responded.
His patience was wearing thin.
Did he already get captured?
Then—
A message popped up.
Tony Stark: Sorry. Just got taken by militants in Afghanistan. Only now had time to check this place.
The Overlord's eyes lit up.
So it really is that moment.
Perfect.
Overlord: That's unfortunate. Your situation sounds dangerous. If you need help, I can assist.
A moment later—
Tony Stark: I've got a plan. I'm going to build a small arc reactor and use it to power a suit. That should get me out.
Back in the room, Tony glanced at Noah.
"I thought we were trying to lure him in," he said quietly. "Why am I telling him I've got a plan?"
"Because you're Tony Stark," Noah replied. "You don't trust strangers. You don't ask for help right away."
He leaned against the wall.
"If you act too cooperative, he'll get suspicious."
Tony considered that.
"…Fair."
In the chat, the Overlord nodded to himself.
That matched what he knew.
Tony Stark wasn't the type to rely on others—not unless he had no other choice.
No rush.
Give it time.
When things got worse, he'd come asking.
Overlord: Understood. If you're confident, I won't interfere. Reach out if anything changes.
Noah straightened.
"For the next few days, you stick to that story," he said. "Focus on 'building' your way out. Watch the chat, but don't engage too much."
He paused.
"Ten days from now, go to this location."
He gave Tony the coordinates.
"I'll meet you there."
"Ten days?" Tony frowned. "You're really playing the long game."
Noah didn't respond directly.
"Until then," he said, "do whatever you want. I won't interfere."
With that, he turned and walked toward the door.
"Wait," Tony called after him. "You're just leaving? You could at least give me a ride back to New York."
Noah didn't even slow down.
"Handle it yourself," he said.
"I've got somewhere else to be."
He stepped outside—
And launched into the sky.
The air cracked with a thunderous boom as he vanished upward.
Tony stared after him.
"…Himalayas?" he muttered, recalling what Noah had said.
High above the clouds, Noah adjusted his course.
Nepal.
The Himalayas.
If he was already this close, there was no reason not to pay a visit.
Ancient One.
He was curious.
Very curious.
A master of the mystic arts.
Keeper of the Time Stone.
Someone who might already be aware of him.
But just as he accelerated—
Space itself split open.
A circular gateway formed in front of him, edged with swirling orange sparks.
On the other side—
A bald woman sat calmly, watching him with a faint, knowing smile.
...
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