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Tony was somewhere between ecstatic and terrified.
On one hand, Jane Foster—crazy, genius, determined Jane Foster—had been right. Her theory on interdimensional bridges was damn spot on; the fact that she had managed to build one, astounding .
On the other hand, Tony was now somewhere far, far away from Earth. At least any Earth he knew.
Dr. Foster doesn’t have Tony’s penchant for technology, so it’s not unforgivable that her machine had malfunctioned, firing itself up while he was inspecting it and forcing him to take a trip to wherever the hell he is , it’s just that--well--the machine didn’t come with him.
The machine didn’t come with him, and now he has no way to get back.
*
The interdimensional bridge dropped him on a ground surrounded by towering swells of billowing water on the first glance, immensely tall grass on the second, and bendy metal spikes on the third.
It is a metal, he finally figures, eyes blinking rapidly as he acclimates to the suddenly different surroundings. Metal cylinders that taper as they reach far above his head. His landing site might have been covered by the same pylons before the bridge punched him here, as evidenced by the silvery liquid spread around where he lays. He grimaces where his hands, coated in the stuff, start tingling and give a slight burn. Hopefully it’s no more than just slightly toxic to his exposed skin.
The sky above is a dull green-gray, and there’s a dim white… sun? peeking over the top of the spires on one end.
The air smells of copper and sulfur.
The most startling aspect of the travel here had been the vertical feeling. Admittedly, even after his years as Iron Man, his human self was biased towards thinking of travel in translational terms, not elevational ones. But with this bridge he had been thrown upwards until he hit this new planet, the ground below his feet having once been above his Earthly sky according to his limited personal perception.
If he was practiced and prepared, he probably could have braced himself for impact and landed on his feet, but he was neither practiced nor prepared, so he ended up tumbling into an ungraceful heap, ankle twisting under his sudden weight and arms barely catching himself before he head-butted the ground. Luckily, though his wrists were sore from the impact, his arms were unbroken. His ankle, however, was sprained, and that did not bode well for his chances of survival on whatever lump of rock this is that he’s found himself on.
From his… unfortunate time in Afghanistan, he knows what his necessities are for survival, what the bare minimum is that he needs to survive.
First orders of business are water and shelter.
He has no idea what kind of weather this place has. Most planets with atmospheres have storms, though the details of when and what that might materialize as are as of yet unknown. It’s an unreasonably vague goal to create a shelter without any idea of what he needs to shelter from ; poison rain? Volcanic ash? Floods? Floods of something not even water?
Water is the more direct issue. It’s something he has a very definite time limit to get, and--more terrifyingly--is something he might not even be able to find on this planet. There’s hope, though; the atmosphere is breathable, so oxygen exists, and chances are hydrogen does as well. If he can find a way to harvest these elements and bind them together, he’ll have water. Once again though, he has his biological time limit and a lack of tools; even less than what he had in Afghanistan.
It’s not looking good. Chances of survival are low, and chances of returning home are astronomically less than that.
He will definitely fail both, though, if he continues to sit here.
Tony heaves himself up. Gravity here is similar to Earth’s, if not a little reduced. Another stroke of good luck, as it means less weight that he has to bear down on his sprained ankle. He hobbles himself over to the edge of his landing site before slowing to peer through the metal spires. It’s...dark in that forest of metal.
A sudden blast bowls him over, his senses temporarily overwhelmed by a cacophony of noise and light. It ends as quickly as it began, and the near silence sends his ears ringing after that assault on his hearing. His eyes blink rapidly as they readjust to the dim sunlight. Some clanking thuds alert him of movement and he snaps his head up, squinting until the two gold blobs focus into a pair of armored people; soldiers.
Tony’s torn. They obviously used some sort of bridge, similar to the one who got him here, so they might have the tech to send him home. On the other hand, these are soldiers, obviously sent here for him , and they’re advancing quickly. Any number of probable misunderstandings or defensiveness could end with him dead. He could try to run, but his ability to get away from these soldiers, let alone survive once he has, is uncertain. Running would also lower any possible diplomatic standing he might have with these people and raise his chances of injury.
Mind made up, he gathers himself and stands, taking a deep breath as he faces the gold-covered soldiers.
“Hello,” he starts, only halfway surprised when they don’t respond. They’re surprisingly human looking, from what he can tell under that armor, but considering the number of languages on Earth alone, extraterrestrials not understanding him is to be expected, though the complete lack of any response is still unsettling.
“Uh, yeah, hi. So--look--I’m not really supposed to be here-- I’m fully aware of that. Fully aware.” He presses his hands forward in what’s a placating manner on Earth, but who knows how his audience will interpret it. The soldiers still advance, showing no sign they’ve even noticed to gesture.
“My friend is trying to figure out interdimensional travel, but her machinery isn’t exactly up to snuff, and so it looks like I might be stranded here…” Tony doesn’t exactly have anywhere to back up to, not to mention that giving ground would be a show of weakness.
“I don’t suppose you might have similar technology that could send me home? No?” The soldiers snatch up his arms, no fanfare about it whatsoever. Tony goes easily… for now.
“Look… I’m not sure how to take this exactly. Are you going to help me? Are you going to kill me? Are you going to take me to your leader?”
They drag him to the center of the circle, showing no sign that they’re even aware of him talking. “HEIMDAL!” the one on his right calls.
Tony perks up, “Wait, did you say Heim --”
A flash of light, and the strangely circular clearing is three beings fewer.