The night was deep, and in the luxury Villa in Malibu, California, the sound of waves crashing against the floor-to-ceiling windows echoed continuously.
On the soft, large bed, Tony Stark suddenly jolted awake from a nightmare. He gasped heavily, his heart pounding as if it were about to burst through his chest, and his forehead was covered in cold sweat.
Beside him, Pepper Potts was also startled awake by the sudden movement. She opened her eyes blearily and immediately noticed something was wrong with Tony.
"Tony? What's wrong?" Pepper asked softly, propping herself up with concern. Her hand gently brushed against his damp, cold back.
Tony didn't answer; he only turned his head stiffly. Those eyes, which usually sparkled with wit and confidence, were now filled with a terror and confusion that he couldn't hide in time.
His gaze pierced through Pepper, through the bedroom walls, as if he were still staring into that bottomless void of the Universe.
Pepper held his cold hand and felt the dampness of his palm. She knew it was that nightmare again.
Since the Battle of New York, nights like this had become the norm. He was no longer the omnipotent Iron Man, but a mortal entangled in fear.
"The Chitauri again?" Pepper's voice was soft, carrying a trace of understanding and pity.
Tony's Adam's apple bobbed as he made an indistinct sound.
He didn't say it aloud, but Pepper knew he wasn't just dreaming of those ugly alien creatures, but of that infinite darkness, the wormhole that swallowed everything, and the extreme insignificance and powerlessness he felt while floating within it.
He once thought he was the center of the World, the pinnacle of human technology. A suit of iron armor was enough for him to look down on everything.
However, when he carried the nuclear bomb into the wormhole and floated in the near-death space, he truly encountered cosmic forces beyond Earth for the first time—forces that completely defied common sense.
That experience was like an invisible hammer, shattering his sense of control as a top human elite, along with his deep-rooted arrogance.
Facing the entire Universe, both he and his armor were insignificant.
"I'm fine."
Tony finally spoke, his voice raspy and carrying an unnatural steadiness. He tried to pull his hand away from Pepper's, but she held on tighter.
"No, you're not," Pepper said firmly.
"You're shaking all over."
Tony took a deep breath, trying to steady his erratic breathing. He forced himself to squeeze out a smile, which looked somewhat distorted in the dim light.
"Just... a little... Universe-level nightmare. You know, alien invasion, wormhole, nuclear bomb—standard Tuesday night family movie plot."
Pepper wasn't fooled by his joke. She knew this was his crudest disguise, using cynicism to cover the vulnerability deep in his heart.
"Tony, you should get some rest. You haven't had a peaceful sleep in a long time."
"Rest is for people who don't have to save the World." Tony rolled out of bed, his bare feet stepping onto the cold floor.
He walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to Pepper, staring at the brilliant coastal night view outside.
Those brightly lit buildings, once symbols of his pride, now seemed so fragile, as if they could be torn apart at any moment.
"I must ensure it never happens again."
He spoke in a low voice, with a paranoid resolve.
"I cannot let it happen again."
Pepper looked at his thin back, a sense of powerlessness welling up in her heart.
She knew that the "it" he referred to was not just the Chitauri invasion, but the fear that made him feel helpless.
To combat this fear, he poured all his energy into upgrading the Iron Man armor.
"Tony, you haven't closed your eyes for days."
Pepper got out of bed, walked behind him, and gently hugged him. Her cheek pressed against his back, feeling the tense muscles beneath his skin.
"Jarvis, bring up the latest armor data."
Tony didn't respond to Pepper's hug; he simply raised his hand and commanded the air. His gaze had already shifted from the night view outside to the countless armor concepts in his mind.
"Very well, sir."
Jarvis's voice echoed in the room, carrying a sense of helplessness that didn't seem to belong to an artificial intelligence.
"Tony!"
Pepper's voice was filled with exhaustion and helplessness. She let go of him, a subtle gloom appearing on her face.
Lately, she felt she was drifting further and further away from him. He seemed to be swallowed by some invisible force, and she was powerless to stop it.
She didn't know how many nights like this she had experienced.
"Pepper, I need to go to the lab."
Tony turned around and looked at her, his eyes filled with a fanatical focus, as if she were merely a brief pause on his long road of research.
"I have a new idea for an energy shield. If it's successful, maybe it can withstand even stronger impacts."
Without waiting for Pepper to respond, he hurried through the living room and headed straight for the elevator. Pepper watched his departing figure and finally just sighed silently.
The underground lab was brightly lit, the air filled with a mixture of metal, engine oil, and coffee.
The space of several hundred square meters was occupied by various mechanical arms, holographic projections, and piles of parts.
Prototypes of various Iron Man armors were either suspended in the air or lying on workbenches. Their joints still emitted a burnt smell from welding, and some were even tossed aside unfinished.
Tony picked up a wrench and skillfully tightened a bolt. His hands moved rapidly between various tools and parts, his gaze focused and calm.
He was no longer the playboy who navigated social situations with ease, but had returned to the World he was most familiar with, and which gave him the most security—technology and creation.
"Sir, this is your thirty-seventh armor prototype for 'Anti-Cosmic Invasion'," Jarvis reminded him at the right time.
"Twenty-one of them disintegrated during testing due to design flaws, thirteen performed poorly in combat simulations, and two... exploded directly. Fortunately, you weren't inside at the time."
"Shut up, Jarvis," Tony replied without looking up.
"Failure is the mother of success. Haven't you learned that human proverb? Besides, I'm preparing for the future—the future of Earth, and your future."
The mechanical arm in his hand suddenly spat out a spark, and a miniature reactor overloaded during testing, emitting black smoke.
Tony didn't care at all; he just frowned, immediately adjusted the parameters, and threw himself into a new attempt.
His dependence on the armor had reached an unprecedented level. They were no longer just his weapons or symbols of his identity; they had become his only armor against his inner fear.
Only within these cold pieces of steel and complex circuits could he find a trace of false peace.
"Miss Potts just asked when you could have dinner together," Jarvis spoke up again.
Tony's hand paused. He looked at the nearly finished miniature thruster in his hand, his expression complicated.
Dinner? How long had it been since he had a proper dinner with Pepper? Maybe three days, maybe five; he couldn't remember.
"Tell her I'll be busy tonight."
Tony ultimately chose to escape. He put his goggles back on, and the welding torch in his hand once again spat out brilliant sparks.
"Once I've solved these little problems, I'll go spend time with her."
He knew these "little problems" would never be solved because the fear in his heart was more difficult to deal with than any Chitauri.
And he could only use endless creation to numb himself, to fill the massive void in his heart created by the Universe.
During countless sleepless nights, he locked himself in this underground fortress, building one defense after another with steel and circuits, trying to completely shut out the Universe that made him feel small and powerless.
Meanwhile, Pepper could only face the long and empty night alone in the upstairs bedroom, accompanied by the faint roar coming from his lab.