Malibu, California – 6:45 PM

Back on Earth, overlooking a different horizon, Tony Stark was blissfully unware of the threads being pulled by the Fates. He's been up since daybreak, even earlier if one doesn't count the obligatory hour long teleconference with Pepper Potts and the board of directors from the East Coast Headquarter. After the mostly professional exchange, they ended the call amicably though with a parting downturn glance from Pepper that spoke volumes. It was honestly too much for those who knew well of the genius billionaire ex-playboy philanthropist could handle. Predictably, Tony sought distraction afterwards and descended straight into his lab, unrelenting in his escape to improve the latest and greatest prototype. It was either that or drown his demons in a bottle. Having been there and done that, the genius sought a different kind of oblivion.

Suffice to say, Tony's been at this game of productive avoidance for months now. With every completed Mark numeral, a dozen more avant-garde concepts would pop up to be executed on the next iteration. A never ending cycle of innovation and madness. A madness currently fueled by coffee, adrenaline, and chemical fumes. These days sleep was a commodity Tony Stark trade in spades. For he rather haunt the living than be haunted by fevered dreams of alien invasion.

Everything changed post falling out of a space portal. Earth as a whole, had their eyes forcefully pried open by a gaping wormhole that vomited armor space whales and shrieking grey-skin aliens. Thus skewing public opinion on extraterrestrials heavily towards the violent edge and off the metaphorical cliff.

Globally, international policies, religion, the views on vigilante heroism and enhanced individuals to name a few were trending from every known pundits in every forum and format. While N.A.T.O. fronted the endeavors, it was S.H.I.E.L.D. who swooped in early and seize the narrative; taking the opportunity presented to seek more funding and expand their influence behind the scenes. Unknowingly paving the way for the shadowy organization lurking within.

Overnight, stocks on defense contractors, weapons manufacturers, and construction companies soared through the roof, setting new records. Even Stark Industries whose been out of the game for years now received an influx of new investors hoping the tech giant will reclaim the throne in weapons production. After all, Iron-Man was filmed using cutting edge weaponry throughout, Iron-Man single handedly delivered the payload to end the invasion, and Iron-Man was synonymous with Tony Stark.

Initially, Tony evaded the aftermath like the plague and plopped the nightmare scenario onto Pepper's already full plate as CEO. While he barricade behind lab doors, Pepper cooked up a brilliant though flawed plan. A month later, Stark Industries altered their stance on war and resurfaced as a military contractor that primarily focuses on the defensive rather than offensive. It stands to reason, Stark Industries took the lion share of contracts and claim over the alien scraps. Tony was on board for securing alien tech from falling on the wrong hands but the rest he was not. In fact, he argued whole-heartedly against it but was out voted by the board and Pepper's silence on the matter was more than shattering.

As much as Tony Stark would like to continue this game of avoidance however, the Fates had a thread to unfurl.

While automated machinery renders the latest chest plate in the background, nimble fingers flies across the customized keyboard, encoding at a speed most programmers would envy. Unlike most programmers though, not all the genius' focus was given to the mundane task. A portion nodded to screeching riffs of Metallica as backdrop, another portion to the memory nodes circuit simulation on a different screen and another portion to the muted news updating the latest terrorist attack at Rose Hill, Tennessee. The news was relegated to a small rectangular corner of that screen complete with closed caption texts.

With all bases covered, Tony was in the groove until the guitar solo comes to an abrupt stop.

"Incoming call from Captain Steven Rogers, sir."

Announces a disembodied voice called JARVIS.

"Hm," Bent over a large workbench, Tony's soldering hand pauses briefly, then with a quirk of his lips he instructed, "Patch him through, Jarv."

Tony couldn't let the opportunity go to waste. With an exaggerated Italian accent he picked up from his mother's side of the family, he starts with, "You have reached Tony's Pizzeria, how may I take your order, 'ey?"

"Tony?" There was no mistaking the crisp Americano voice, as hesitant it might be. Tony giggles before continuing, "Today's special is ah…anchovies with olives and our vegan tofu pizza."

A sigh and a breath of fortitude later, Steve sounded put upon when he said, "May I speak with Tony Stark: the genius, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist please."

Grinning ear to ear now, Tony relents the game and resumes his soldering but kept up the banter, "Speaking and its former playboy, oh Stevie of Wonders. Pepper took offense last time you called. Hmm, speaking of which— hey, Jarv! Strike that from my moniker on all calling cards will ya?"

"Duly noted, sir," the AI humors back in reply.

Not even waiting a beat after, Tony whips up another wisecrack, "Did you butt dialed me again, Capsicle?"

Steve spluttered in defense, "Only once, Tony. Once."

Tony shrugs despite having no audience and says, "Only takes once from the butt to—"

"Have you got any tattoos, Tony?" cuts in Steve a little too loud to avoid the genius completing that lewd comment.

Unfazed by the non sequitur, Tony merely smirks and rolls with the punches, "Huh? You're all caught up on trends now? Don't do it, Cap. Go google saggy skin tats and it will forever scar your innocent baby blues."

"It's not—look. It's important. Did you have any new or suspicious markings?"

Tony could practically hear the eye roll through the call, also the odd notion that it was important somehow. Yet he couldn't see how considering the topic. He scoffs in disbelief.

"Hey, just because I drunk science in my," his fingers plus soldering iron raises to make air quotes, "hey day as you old folks would call it, doesn't mean I do drunk tats. Although, I am going on a science binge – how long now, Jarv?"

To the point as always, the AI was prompt in its delivery, "Thirty two hours, fourteen minutes and twenty six seconds and counting, sir."

Not exactly proud of those numbers for he's been on longer binges, Tony's bored expression entirely at odds when he chirps back, "There you go, a day and some chunk change of science is barely tipsy, I –"

Steve cuts him off rather sternly, all business and tie; borderline hostile takeover, "Can you check for any weird marks on your body, please? Arms, legs—"

Tony could literally hear Steve muffling the speaker for a few seconds before finishing in a decidedly higher key, "butt cheek?"

Tony stops soldering entirely and stares at the circuit rendering with a gob smacked frown, "This call is getting weirdly explicit and veering towards phone sex category. I'll have to charge you $4.95 per minute from here on out. Is this a dare? A bet? Crank call?"

Then the tone shifts to exasperation loud and clear through Steve's authoritative one liner, "Tony."

"Fine. Jarv! Scan please."

Then a minute of complete awkward silence. Shallow versus deep breaths may have been exchanged.

"Scan complete. Sir, has zero artificial markings upon his person as of this moment."

Followed by an abrupt, "Thank you."

And a dial tone remains.

"Rude," grumbles Tony under his breath before stating loudly as he hunch over the workbench once more, "Jarv, resume music."