From the memories Dave received, he knew the old Dave had met Tony once—when he took over Stark Industries. Back then, it was the old Dave, but now, as old Dave had died and he has transmigrated in this body, it was him meeting Tony for the first time. Of course, Tony didn't know that.
"How are you holding up?" Tony asked, looking at him closely. "It must be difficult, losing your father."
"It is. I miss him every day," Dave sighed. From the memories he had inherited, James Garcia was a great father. In this new life, Dave knew he had been fortunate enough to experience something he lacked before—a family. Yet, despite those memories, he still felt like an orphan, caught between the past and present.
"It's okay. You'll learn to live with the pain," Tony said, patting Dave's shoulder in a rare moment of sincerity.
Dave nodded and looked at Tony. "What about you?" he asked, shifting the focus.
"What about me?" Tony replied, ordering another round of drinks.
"I mean, your company is still selling weapons, isn't it? Even though you stood in front of the whole world and said you wouldn't." Dave's voice was calm but direct, causing Tony to pause.
Tony glanced at him, a bit taken aback. "They might just be leftover stockpiles," he replied casually, but the shift in his tone was noticeable.
"Really? You should check your company once in a while," Dave said as he stood up. "But if you ever need help in tracking down and destroying the weapons still floating around the world, you can ask me."
"I will, though I'm not sure if you could help me," Tony said, shrugging while giving Dave a long, skeptical look.
Dave chuckled and casually let a swirl of dark crimson fog form in his hand. "I'm more than what I seem," he said, letting the mist disappear before turning to walk away.
Tony blinked, then glanced over at Pepper. "Have I had too much to drink tonight?" he asked, genuinely unsure.
Pepper shook her head, eyes still on the spot where the strange fog had just vanished. "No, I saw that too," she replied, eyeing her drink cautiously. She placed the glass back on the table and stood up. "I think I've had enough surprises for one day," she added with a sigh.
"Hmm, in that case, let's dance," Tony said, taking her hand smoothly. He led her to the dance floor, ignoring the lingering mystery for the moment.
As they danced, Pepper chuckled. "You do know what people will say, right? Dancing with your secretary."
Tony shrugged nonchalantly. "Let them talk. They'll say what they always do—I'm dancing with my brilliant, stunning secretary. What else?" he said, waving off the concern with his usual carefree charm.
Pepper couldn't help but smile at his response as they continued to sway to the music, her mind still drifting back to the crimson fog and the enigma that was Dave Garcia.
'He seems... weird,' Pepper thought, unable to quite describe Dave as she watched him walk away.
While Tony initially found Dave a bit peculiar, he brushed it off as he continued dancing with Pepper. Eventually, the dance ended, and Pepper excused herself to tend to some business matters. Tony, left on his own, made his way to the bar and ordered a drink.
As he sat there, a female reporter approached him with a mocking look. "Isn't it the famous Tony Stark?" she asked with a hint of sarcasm.
"If you're looking for another groundbreaking headline, I'm afraid you're out of luck. I've made some changes for the better," Tony replied, glancing at her with his usual nonchalant tone.
"Thanks for the clarification, but that's not what it seems. Why is your company still manufacturing weapons when you've publicly stated you won't?" she asked, her voice sharp as she handed him photos—evidence of Stark Industries' weapons being used by terrorists in Afghanistan.
Tony's face hardened as he took in the images, but his expression quickly turned neutral again. "Don't worry. You'll have your headline soon enough," he replied coolly, before standing up and heading toward Obadiah Stane.
Spotting Obadiah in the crowd, Tony made his way over. Once close enough, he gestured for a private conversation. "Forgive me, everyone, but I need a moment with Mr. Stane," he said as he led Obadiah to a quieter corner.
"What's going on, Tony?" Obadiah asked, raising an eyebrow. "You can't just blow off the press like that. You know how important PR is."
Tony's eyes narrowed. "Why hasn't the weapons manufacturing stopped yet?" he demanded, his voice low but firm as he leaned in closer.
Obadiah sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, Tony, I'm doing what's best for the company."
"What's best for the company? I told you to stop the production," Tony snapped, his frustration growing.
Obadiah straightened his suit and gave Tony a measured look. "You don't run a company on morals, Tony. You run it on profit," he said coldly, turning away and leaving Tony standing there, anger simmering beneath the surface.
Dave approached Tony right at the perfect moment, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, I guess my hunch was right all along," he said, catching Tony's attention.
Tony turned toward him with a skeptical look. "What do you want now?" he asked, clearly on edge after his exchange with Obadiah.
Dave chuckled, noticing Tony's wary expression. "Don't be so suspicious. I only want my investments to stay intact," Dave replied smoothly, pulling out a pair of gauntlets from his pocket.
"You can have this. It's called the Gauntlet of Hellfire—Ifrit. May it help you succeed in destroying your own weapons," Dave said, handing over the artifact to Tony.
Tony stared at the gauntlet in his hands, unsure of what to make of it. His eyes flickered with curiosity but also skepticism. "What is this?" he muttered, inspecting the strange, dark-red gauntlet that seemed to pulse with energy.
Dave grinned as he watched Tony. "It's one of a kind. A little something to help you deal with the mess your company's in. Consider it a gift... or an investment in our shared future." With that, Dave gave Tony a nod and walked away, leaving the stunned billionaire behind.
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