Stark didn't look much younger either, if anything his long nights spent on experiments had aged him beyond his peers. With Little Pepper yet to arrive, his appearance was particularly unkempt, the spitting image of a wastrel hopelessly addicted to a hedonistic lifestyle.
What Strange hadn't expected was that Stark from this period was even ten times, a hundred times more annoying than the future version. Dealing with him, Strange had, on numerous occasions, wanted to abandon his plans and just punch the man in the face.
Fortunately, his studies in magic hadn't been in vain. At the very least, meditation had bestowed upon him a tenacity and composure stronger than most, allowing him to control his emotions, barely keeping the anger provoked by Stark at bay.
It didn't take long for Strange to realize that Stark's disheveled exterior and irritating persona were more of a filter mechanism. He didn't flaunt his ultra-intelligent mind. Instead, he'd constructed a sharp shell around himself; only the truly smart could see the gemstone hidden beneath these repulsive conditions.
With each coincidental meeting, their conversations grew deeper, and this mature version of the future Supreme Mage finally managed to get a grip on the yet-to-mature Iron Man. They became friends, each viewing the other as a confidant.
In an offhand remark, Strange had mentioned that he took psychology electives in university and pointed out that Stark could be suffering from anxiety. Stark neither confirmed nor denied this nor showed any interest in addressing it, so Strange chose not to press the issue.
But soon, someone who would change Stark's life appeared—Pepper Potts. At this time, Pepper was youthful, radiant, and full of fiery spunk.
After she took over as Stark's personal assistant, she effortlessly eradicated the longstanding issues from previous years, reorganized the various teams around Stark, including the medical team that Strange was a part of.
Of course, Pepper also gave Stark a hard time, scorching him to the core, and curiously enough, Obadiah stood by her side, trying hard to correct his nephew's bad habits.
Facing immense internal pressure, Stark couldn't help but complain. But his wealthy friends, all struggling with similar woes, couldn't offer any viable solutions. One night, Stark invited Strange out for drinks. As they sipped until slightly tipsy, Stark couldn't hold it in any longer.
"She... she's very pretty," Strange said, swallowing his saliva. "It's not that she's extraordinarily beautiful, but she has a certain quality of beauty, a sort of grace. I don't know how to put it, but I admire her spirit."
With a scoff, Strange added, as Stark glared at him, "What do you mean by that? Can't I admire someone's spirit?"
"Yes, just like last week when you invited that yacht full of supermodels over, surely to 'admire their spirits' all night long," Strange said, pressing his glass to his lips.
"That's different!" Stark said, raising his voice, his neck stretched out like a turkey, then he muttered, "I don't know what it is, but the way I feel about her is different from others. It's not some kind of physical impulse but... I urgently want to understand her, to know what made her the person she is today, to find out what shaped her. Doesn't that sound a bit strange?"
"Not strange at all, what ordinary people usually call that is having a crush."
"You're saying I'm in love with her?" Stark reacted as if hearing some ludicrous joke. Shaking his head, he said, "No, that's impossible. How could I fall in love with such a woman? She nags like an old lady, always causing me trouble, and even runs to my uncle to complain. How could I possibly be in love with her?"
"Then take her on the yacht..."
"Shut up!" Stark, feeling as if he'd been massively insulted, roared, "I've never thought that! That would be an insult to her; you can't talk about her like that, she's not like those models."
"Then you are in love with her."
Stark fell silent, downing drink after drink until his words began to slur. He said, "But it seems like she doesn't really like me much, she looks at me with such disdain, just like you did at first."
Resting his head on the countertop, Stark blinked and said, "How do you think I should pursue her? I've never seriously pursued anyone before. What if she rejects me? What if I end up making her hate me? Do you think she would like me a bit if I just did what she says?"
From an angle Stark couldn't see, a smile crossed Strange's face before he responded, "I could teach you a method, but whether it works will depend on your performance."
Stark suddenly sat up and stared at Strange's profile, asking, "What method?"
"Take a hostage, nurture a kidnapper."
After getting utterly plastered, Stark stumbled back to Stark Building and collapsed onto the sofa. Half an hour later, he was startled by a scream. Groggily turning over, his stomach churned, he managed to hold back the urge to vomit, then staggered up and rushed to the bathroom where he retched miserably.
"Oh God, Tony? What happened to you?!" Pepper's voice came from outside the bathroom door. Stark, gasping for air over the toilet and feeling somewhat relieved after vomiting, said, "It's nothing, just a little... eh... dizziness."
"You drank too much," Pepper remarked, frowning as she caught the scent of alcohol in the air. She was about to say something when she saw Stark's pale complexion.
"God, are you really okay?" Pepper was clearly a bit frightened as she said, "I'm going to call the doctor."
"No, don't." Stark gargled, washed his face, and propped himself up on the sink deep in thought before speaking, "It's just mixing a few drinks, feeling a bit uncomfortable, I'm fine."
"You don't look fine to me." Pepper said, "Come here quickly, I'll put a hangover patch on you."
Stark lay down on the couch, still echoing with Strange's words in his mind; seeing Pepper busy above his head, he decided to give it a try.
"I thought you'd be very angry." Stark lowered his eyelids, his hands clasped together at his chest, and said, "Okay, I shouldn't have gone out to drink so late, especially after you have told me so many times, but I met an old friend and we talked a lot about Howard."
Pepper's movements halted immediately, her expression softened a great deal and she no longer used her work formulaic persuasion, instead saying, "If you're always sad about things so far in the past, then there are too many things in this world worth being sad about, but you can't always be sad, Tony, someday you have to let go."
"It's not exactly sadness, more like nostalgia," Tony said, "When he was still around, I always felt like I couldn't meet his expectations, that's why he always avoided me and wouldn't come home, and when he did, he came back dead drunk."
"Back then I didn't understand what was so good about alcohol, but now I sort of get it; when you want to escape something, alcohol numbs your brain and lets you indulge in an illusion of joy. Do you think he was escaping from something, Pepper?"
"Certainly not the responsibility of raising you." Pepper sat down in a chair next to the couch, tilting her head as she looked at Tony and said, "He didn't dare face you, but it wasn't necessarily about escaping his feelings for you, he had no reason for that, maybe it's more like... he didn't want to give you hope."
"Why wouldn't he want to give me hope?"
"I don't know, Tony, I don't know. Everyone in this world wants to be a good father, everyone wants to be their child's hero, even in the most desperate of moments, no one wants to appear weak in front of their child, if he did so, he must have had his reasons."
Stark turned his head back, blinked, and said, "Thank you, Pepper, I find this talk a lot more helpful than alcohol."
He acted very childishly, but Pepper laughed, saying, "Really? Probably as good as a bottle of whiskey?"
"At least as good as a bottle of whiskey, but I think maybe it's worth two, and I only drank a bottle and a half," Stark said, pursing his lips towards her.
"Then your alcohol tolerance is too poor, I can drink two bottles." Pepper said, and soon she lowered her eyelids and said, "What I'm about to say next isn't as your personal assistant, but as myself, Tony, I can see you're not as decadent or fallen as you make out, you have been contributing to the company."
"You only show yourself in that way because you feel unprotected, so you're afraid to show the real you, but some bad habits once formed are like sails on a ship, carelessly pushing you off course, which will drag your prized wisdom into the mire."
"From my personal perspective, I don't want you to become like that, so if you have a way, even a slim possibility of changing it, please try hard to do so, okay?"
"Do you think I can be a good father?" Stark looked at Pepper, his eyes not yet surrounded by so many wrinkles, all was gentle, shimmering with warmth, like a sea agleam with reflected light.
"You will be, Tony." Pepper consoled him, saying, "You will definitely be the hero in your child's eyes."
Strange stood in a narrow alley, fully merging into the darkness, his figure slim like a solitary ghost.
A shadow darted swiftly past the alley; just as it whisked by the front of the alley, Strange raised his hand and black energy surged forth, forming a long tentacle that pulled the person into the alley.
The other party kicked his legs in utter panic, but was eventually devoured by the black energy, leaving not a trace behind, until Strange opened his hand and a small piece of paper appeared in his palm, inscribed with a secret order and a slogan—"Hail Hydra!"
In the following two days, there were continuous sneaky shadows lurking around Strange's car until one day, Strange saw the familiar red head in the bar.
Natasha was as stunning as ever, like a beautiful serpent hissing, she twisted her waist and leaned onto Strange in the dance floor, and Strange, going with the flow, held her and danced through a song, observing the thin sweat on Natasha's neck reflecting the dazzling lights of the dance floor.
"It's not very polite to stare at a lady like that." Natasha's English showed no accent as Strange leaned on the bar, propping his chin with his hand, staring at Natasha with his thin lips slowly speaking out.
"'Hail Hydra'?"