Tony only felt the scenery blur before his eyes. In the blink of an eye, he found himself on a bustling street. The narrow stone-paved road was thick with the scent of various spices.
A cat at his feet sniffed at his pant, nearly gagged on the spot, then turned around and made a motion as if burying its waste.
There hadn't exactly been proper sanitation conditions in that terrorist cave.
"What? How did you—"
"This is Constantinople. The city with the most CIA agents in all of Asia."
Joey cut Tony off. He had already taken off the conspicuous cape uniform and changed into a light linen shirt and dark green jeans.
"We just need to show our faces a little. I'm sure someone will step in and take you back to the U.S. soon enough."
Only then did Tony realize he was already on the Mediterranean coast, thousands of miles away from the Middle East.
"You can move me here in an instant—why not just go straight to New York? And more importantly, can we eat first? I'm starving!"
---
Inside a roadside KFC, Joey stared speechlessly at Tony Stark, who was devouring a burger like a man possessed.
"You came all the way to Constantinople—kebabs, ice cream, pide, so much good food—and you're eating KFC?"
"You're the one who insisted on coming here buddy, not me."
Tony was already preparing to attack a second burger.
"And hold on, don't interrupt. I'm thinking about the future of Stark Industries. As thanks for saving me, how about an insider tip?"
Joey didn't care about any insider information. He had only come to Constantinople to make a quick appearance, then figure out a way to get Tony Stark to use that brilliant brain of his to help recharge the time watch.
Tony didn't even wait for a reply before continuing.
"You could short Stark Industries stock within the next month, then sell immediately. You'd make a fortune. Because..."
Joey cut in precisely, finishing his sentence. "Because you're planning to shut down all of Stark Industries' weapons manufacturing and sales."
"Wait—how do you know that?"
"I know more than you can imagine. Including how you almost got blown to pieces by a weapon you made yourself."
Joey pointed at his eyes. "For example, I can see right now that the iron suit you left in the desert has already been recovered by the people who captured you."
This time Tony was genuinely astonished by Joey's existence. "What the hell are you? Some kind of secret military experiment?"
"Of course not. If I were, a low-grade weapons manufacturer like you wouldn't even make it onto the military's procurement list."
"Hey, do we have some kind of personal grudge I don't know about?"
Tony could clearly sense the hostility in Joey's tone.
"But don't worry. I won't be supplying weapons to the military much longer. Because—"
Joey cut in again. "Because you're a hypocrite."
"Okay, now I'm pretty sure we have some personal beef I don't remember."
Tony wasn't about to accept the accusation of hypocrisy. After nearly being killed by weapons his own company produced, he genuinely wanted to stop making weapons and do some good.
"I'm doing this for a better tomorrow—"
"Let me tell you what's really going on, Tony Stark. You're not shutting down weapons production because of some grand awakening. It's because a few days ago one of your own missiles nearly ended you."
Joey's anger wasn't without reason. He had just crossed two universes in a row and still couldn't find his way home. On top of that, remembering how he had first been blasted into these damned universes by an artillery shell left him with no goodwill whatsoever toward an 'arms dealer' like Stark.
"When the military used your weapons to slaughter locals on their own land, you didn't wake up. But the moment that same missile landed on your head and nearly sent you to hell, suddenly you had an epiphany?"
Tony shot back, "They're dangerous targets, unstable elements. They have to be eliminated. Do you even understand what a terrorist is?"
"Of course I know they need to be dealt with. I've seen more terrorists than the women you've slept with! I've seen how fanatical, extreme, and cold-blooded they are!"
In his previous life, during his brief career, Joey had witnessed plenty of brutal acts by extremist armed groups. But he had also seen far more things that would never make it into mainstream media reports.
"Where do you think they come from? Some kind of video game spawn point? No! They come from local families, local farmland, local schools!
"They don't have the BBC or the NYT speaking for them. When outsiders show up with weapons made by you, Tony Stark, to seize their resources, occupy their land, and kill their families on their own soil—what kind of reaction do you expect?"
Tony was momentarily speechless. Give him thirty seconds and he could probably come up with a brilliant angle to counter the argument. But this wasn't a debate competition with winners and losers. It was bloodstained reality.
And Joey wasn't finished.
"So spare me the crap about how you almost got blown up. The day you sold those weapons, you should've expected this. You reap what you sow."
Seeing Joey shift from grand arguments to personal attacks, a red-faced Tony chose the simplest form of rebuttal.
"I'm about to punch you in the face."
"Oh, I'd suggest you don't—"
Before Joey could finish, Tony's fist had already flown forward.
"—!!!"
Tony clutched his hand and recoiled. It felt like he had just punched an anvil. His hand hurt so badly he couldn't even pick up the burger he had dropped.
Joey had been careless—he didn't dodge, didn't bother avoiding the punch.
"You should be grateful you don't have much strength as a playboy. Otherwise it wouldn't just be a dislocated finger."
Honestly, from a rational standpoint, Joey shouldn't have picked a fight like this with Tony. If he angered him too much, he'd have to spend time figuring out how to recharge the watch himself.
And with the time device malfunctioning, time itself might be critical. The longer the delay, the greater the risk.
But after jumping into two wrong universes in a row and getting stuck here—plus returning to the Mediterranean region, the heart of the world island, dredging up old memories—his anger had nowhere else to go.
After unloading on Tony like that, even though Tony was now furious, Joey felt much better.
Still, looking at Tony Stark—face flushed red, whether from pain or anger—Joey tried to mend things.
"Uh... would you feel any better if I apologize?"