Well. There was surprisingly little bloodshed. Things had quieted down, and by now it seemed safe enough for a current non-combatant to actually try to take stock of what was going on.

What, Tony? Diving for cover? Nope. Never. If nobody had seen it, it didn't happen.

More superhero talk, but not quite from his particular stretch of the universe. At least nobody was going to spring some other future-speak on him. Bugs, symbiotes. Things just got more complicated, instead of simpler.

A hand had gone to his brow. Sooner or later, he was going to stop thinking about what was going on around him, and that would be dangerous. The culture shock was too much.

Still, he was damned tired. All Tony really wanted was a scotch. Screw explaining any of it.