Stark's eyes widened the moment he saw the thin mist drifting toward him, and he did not even spare a thought for the pain in his body.
Of course he knew who the mist represented. The problem was, how could Schiller of this era possibly have mist? Hadn't he only been able to turn into mist because of the Symbiote? Were Symbiotes already around in this era?
Wait, could Schiller have traveled back in time too?!
Having suddenly realized he had found The Truth, Stark roared inwardly, "Schiller, you lying bastard!!!!"
But before he could do anything else, he noticed that the previously shifting mist had abruptly gone still.
Air was constantly moving. Nothing within it could remain completely motionless. This caused the abnormal thing to be utterly separated from the air, creating an eerie sensation all its own.
Garrett whipped around, but Stark saw more clearly than he did. The mist vanished in an instant, and a small figure appeared behind them.
Stark thought it was Schiller, and he did indeed have the face of a young Schiller, but he wore blood-red clothes.
"Ah!!!"
Stark sucked in a sharp breath and jolted upright in bed. Through his hazy, dazed vision, the Chandelier on the ceiling swayed precariously.
A pair of warm, large hands immediately grasped his hand. When he turned his head, Howard, his eyes bloodshot, was staring at him.
"Oh God, thank goodness you're all right." Another pair of hands pulled him into an embrace. Maria said in a tearful voice, "Thank goodness you're all right, little Tony. God bless..."
Stark's reason gradually returned, followed by his memories. Then he could not help shuddering. The bone-deep chill brought by certain fragments of memory from that night left his whole body frozen in place.
Howard had clearly noticed something