Joe Quesada was utterly shocked. Never before had he seen such a thing. Sure, he had seen one the heroes he had been given reign over in the flesh. This wasn't some fanboy cosplaying or Robert Downey, Jr. playing a role. This was the REAL Iron Man, Tony Stark himself, standing right in his office before him. He didn't quite know how he knew this was the genuine Tony Stark; he just knew. "What's going on? How is this possible?" Joe stuttered out. Iron Man simply glared at the man through the slits in his helmet. He had risked everything to get here. He wasn't even sure with the stricter physics in this reality that the Space Gem would even work again. For all he knew, he could be stuck in this mundane and unassuming world for the rest of his life. That was the chance he took to avenge himself and his friends. "You have to answer for Happy Hogan and you have to answer for Captain America. You must pay for your crimes." Iron Man told the bewildered Editor-in-Chief. "What are you talking about? I haven't done anything wrong!" Iron Man became increasingly angry. "Don't you deny it! Deadpool told me EVERYTHING! You're behind at all!" "What?" whispered from Quesada's lips barely noticeable as his accuser continued with his list of crimes. "You drove Wanda insane! You had her kill Scott Lang and her own husband! You had her play with our emotions and distort reality! You destroyed Stamford! You made me do horrible things! I killed Goliath because of you! I sent friends of mine away to prison in another dimension because you made me do it! Cap is dead and it's all your fault! Spider-Man's first love is tainted forever because of you! His aunt lies dying in a hospital bed because of what you've done! And you WILL pay for every crime, every atrocity you've inflicted on my world!"

Quesada protested "Y-you can't charge me for any crimes! I-I-I didn't do anything wrong! I-I just make comic b-books! A-all those are j-just interesting plot dev-v-ices! I never killed anybody!" Once again, the mere implication of what Quesada was saying made Iron Man even madder. "Do you have any care about what you've done? I was a hero! I saved lives! You turned me into a monster! You made me create some perversion of science and nature out of the image of my friend! And it killed a good man! Do you have ANY idea how sick that is? I've spent the last year not being able to look at my own face in the mirror! I've spent the last year HATING myself, thinking I was no better than Doctor Doom or the Red Skull! And now I find I have YOU to thank for that. And you dare tell me after all the things you've made me do that you've done nothing wrong? That distorting my will and my mind is okay for you? That you can just kill a great man like Captain America like some kind of mangy dog and that's fine?"

The sheer rage behind Iron Man's voice was near palpable. Joe didn't know what the man would do. Would he kill him? Surely not, he figured. He's a superhero. Superheroes don't kill. Perhaps if he explained, Iron Man would realize what was happening and give up this mad quest. "You must know, we just write comics! Captain America was just a character we owned! We weren't trying to murder somebody! We just did it to make money!" Iron Man stood now equally confused as he was enraged. "WHAT? You killed Captain America… to make money?" Quesada could tell Iron Man was truly puzzled. He figured a capitalist like Tony Stark could understand the economics of the situation. He eyeballed the copy of Captain America #25 sitting at his desk and grabbed to show it to the enraged Avenger. "We made a fortune off it!" Almost immediately, Joe Quesada realized that his statement may have very well been the stupidest thing he had ever done. Iron Man snorted behind his armored mask like a bull ready to gore his prey. He had known Cap as a friend and ally for years and for this greedy opportunist to treat the Star-Spangled Avenger like some sort of stock option whose life could be bought or sold at will, that was it. He smacked away the book and grabbed the petrified editor by the collar. "I don't care about that! YOU TOOK AWAY MY FRIEND! You forced him to commit an act of treason on the very country he loved and then you killed him like nothing! And then you put the blood in MY hands!" Iron Man then threw Quesada across the office room to the wall. The acrid taste of blood hit Quesada's mouth with alarming speed. "You killed my friend and put the blame on ME! You've killed the greatest man I ever knew and now you're going to suffer for it!"

Joe tried to reason with his aggressor, "Please, don't hurt me! I'm not guilty of anything! There are just comic books! You aren't even real!" Joe could see Iron Man was grinding his teeth under his mask. He wasn't helping his case very much. Now he was denying his attacker his very existence. The armored Avenger didn't hold back his contempt at such a statement. "How dare you? Who are you to tell me who's real and who isn't?" Iron Man yelled back. "Because we're somehow influenced by what you do, we're just puppets for you to make money off of? That makes us any less alive?" Joe was trying to rise back to his feet, but the shock of the throw left him still dazed. Perhaps this was all in his head. Maybe he was hallucinating. "That has to be it" he thought, "This must be in my head." His head rose slightly while his body still leaned against the wall. "You're just a comic book character. We were created by Stan Lee, for God's sakes! I-I-I must be hallucinating!" "Then, you don't have to worry about what comes next…" Iron Man replied. Joe worried about that could mean. A low hum started to rise out of the right gauntlet. Energy whirled around inside at break-neck speed. Joe knew what that meant: the repulsors were charging up to fire. This realization gave the frightened EIC the needed adrenaline to get off the floor. "What are you doing?" Joe frantically asked. "You must answer for Captain America and you must answer for what you've done to ME. You killed my world's greatest hero and you've put the stain of murder on me. What did you think your punishment would be?"

Panic crept in. Joe Quesada knew what he had done recently was highly controversial within the comic book world, but he never expected this. "Are you going to kill me?" he squeaked out. "That IS generally what we do with murderers, Mr. Quesada." Iron Man coldly stated. The gauntlet now glowed a bright yellow. It was clear to the terrified Editor-in-Chief that the repulsors were charged now. One blast and he'd be nothing but a pile of ashes on the floor. "You can't do this! Y-y-you just can't! You're not a killer!" "Of course, I am. You spent the last year and a half to make sure of that." Iron Man raised his hand. Joe tripped back to the Plexiglas frame of his front office wall. It was clear he knew he was about to die. "Hey, don't worry about it" the angry hero snorted, "I'm not real, right? So you have nothing to worry about from a guy who isn't real. And if I am… well, you had this coming, then, right?" Joe then closed his eyes as tears strolled down his eyes. "Dear God, this is it, isn't it?" he thought as a stream of repulsor energy shot out of his executioner's palm.

Joe crashed through the wall and hit the floor right in front of the big counter outside. Iron Man walked through the massive hole that once held a wall in place and bent down to face the tormentor he had not known of until a few hours ago. "Hurts, doesn't it?" Iron Man said with a slight inflection of pleasure and humor behind it. Quesada didn't understand. He shouldn't be alive. In fact, he shouldn't even be in one piece. He should be nothing more than a stain on the floor. Yet, beyond some superficial cuts and bruises, he was fairly okay. His attacker continued, "No, Joe, I'm not going to kill you. I wouldn't dare give you the satisfaction of knowing you succeeded in turning me into a monster. I will tell you this though: You're done. Your little reign as the master of my world's fate is over. You are going to resign today. You're going to give your office to somebody that actually respects the mantle you've defiled. There will be no more turning great men into traitors and murderers to make a quick buck. No more will there be this blatant disregard for honor. If I find you anywhere near a drawing board or a creative meeting, I will be back. And I WILL kill you. You are over. You understand me?" All Quesada could do was nod in affirmation.

"Attention, Marvel staff!" Iron Man yelled. Several of the major writers and artists had just left the conference room from an adjourning meeting where their leader was so suspiciously absent when they turned to see the red and gold adorned Avenger facing them and the rest of the staff on the floor. He continued, "Of the last few years, many terrible things have taken place. Heroes striking against heroes. Saints becoming defiled. People dying in undeserving ways. It ends today." The Director of SHIELD then raised his finger to the crowd with a solemn warning: "Should any of you treat us with the kind of disrespect and contempt as this man at my feet has done, I will return. And it won't be as pleasant as it was today." He then saw a man in the crowd and pointed him out. "YOU! You there! Who are you?" The man's heart sank. "Um… I'm B-B-Bob Layton, sir." Iron Man then said "You… for some reason… I trust you. You will take this man's place. But take this as a warning: should you treat me or any of my people with the same ill regard as this man here, you will feel infinite more pain and suffering than I given him. I trust you will not repeat the mistakes of this man. You better not." And with that, the man known as Iron Man had done what he came to do. The reign of Quesada was finished. His underlings such as J. Michael Straczynski and Mark Millar had been warned. Never again would they distort his world to line their pockets. The Avenger then turned to his left and exited the office.

Approaching the roof of the office building, Tony Stark felt the need to remove his helmet. Tears streaming down his face, he was overcome with emotion. He had succeeded in what he set out to do. He had avenged his fallen friends. He had gotten payback on the man who played with his strings and the strings of so many others. Still, he felt like he failed somehow. Captain America was still dead. Nothing could change that. Then, he remembered something Deadpool told him. That the world they lived in wasn't as rigid as they thought. Rules of physics could be bent. They could be broken. Death could be reversed. "What was the word he said? Ret-conned? Heck, he wanted to bet that Cap would be alive by next year." Tony just cracked a small smile. "Maybe the crazy little SOB is right… we'll see." With that, Tony Stark raised the Space Gem over his head and simply said, "If you can here…just take me home, will you?" Another whirlwind of cosmic energies formed and Tony Stark once again slipped into the abyss.

One year later, Tony Stark walked across the floor of the main office level in the Helicarrier. It had only been three months, it felt like, but Tony was able to deduce that his world aged only a quarter of a time compared to the "real" world. He thought about how much changed since his mission to the Marvel offices. Things weren't exactly easier, but he knew things were different than before. He no longer had people giving him the evil eye anymore on the streets. The entire mess over the registration business had been settled. With everyone having a clear head now, a fair compromise was reached between the two warring factions. There was much strife within the planet that was over now. The threats weren't any less serious. The villains weren't any less tough. However, Tony knew who he was and who his friends were. He knew, together, they could stop anything. As the cold bottles cooled the palms of his hands, he almost skipped across the floor. He had someone of vast importance waiting in his office. He opened the door and greeted the man inside.

"Hey, Cap. It's good to see you. Water?" Cap let out a small grin. "Sure. Let me have it." Captain America then caught the ice cold bottle as Tony sat down in his chair and put his feet up on the desk. A month prior, Captain America had revealed he had, in fact, faked his death in order to investigate a growing Skrull crisis. It sounded dubious but Tony didn't really protest. He knew Deadpool's premonition had come true. His friend was back, alive and well. Tony chuckled lightly under his breath. "Siryn's going to mad I gave Deadpool her number over a bet." He then turned to Cap watching the TV Tony had put in his office. "What are you watching, Steve?" "Something called Young Frankenstein. Sam keeps telling me it's a 'crime against nature' that I haven't seen it yet. It's on AMC right now and I figure, if anything, I can get him to shut up now that I'm seeing it." Cap then turned to more personal matters, "Hey, did you hear about Pete? It turns out that whole incident with Gabriel and Sarah Stacy turned out to be not exactly how he thought. It seems Osborn engineered some cloning experiment in Gwen's womb and tricked her into thinking she slept with him." "Yeah, I heard." Tony said. "I already sent Pym's team over to pick him up in Colorado." "Seems kind of lofty, doesn't it?" Cap said. "No more than a girl like Gwen Stacy having an affair with a man like Norman Osborn." Cap tilted his head in concession. "True." Just then, the phone rang out. Tony turned to hit the speaker. "Stark. Go ahead." It was Dum Dum Dugan. "Sir, Doctor Doom has landed a massive army on the beaches of Virginia and he's looking to march to Washington!" "We're on our way" Stark responded as both heroes dashed out the office.

Moments later, the Avengers waited as Iron Man and Captain America leaped into the Quinjet. As the Quinjet rocketed out of the massive air fortress, Cap turned to Tony.

"So, Tony, how long you think this is will take?"

"Oh, about five of six issues."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh… nothing…"