The bright neon lights flickered overhead, casting a bluish glow over the dimly lit bar.
In the middle of the crowded space, two disheveled figures suddenly materialized out of thin air—a bearded man in a torn shirt and a bald man with a resigned expression on his face.
It was none other than Tony Stark and Yinsen, freshly spat out from the chaotic portal that had yanked them from that nightmare cave in Afghanistan.
For a long moment, the entire bar seemed to freeze.
Heads turned.
Glasses paused halfway to lips.
Some patrons squinted through their alcohol-induced haze, wondering if their drinks had finally betrayed them.
Others simply shrugged it off, assuming it was just another weird party trick in a place that had seen far stranger things at 2 AM.
But a few people recognized him.
Whispers rippled through the crowd like a slow wave.
“Tony Stark?
No way!”
“Is that really Tony Stark?
Didn’t the news say he…?”
Eyes widened.
Phones started coming out.
The man who had been all over the headlines not long ago—billionaire genius captured by terrorists—now standing in the middle of this dive bar looking like he’d been dragged through hell and back?
It was the kind of sighting that could make someone’s night.
But after the initial buzz of curiosity, the crowd slowly lost interest.
Most were too drunk to care, their hazy minds dismissing the whole thing as a hallucination or just another one of Tony Stark’s infamous stunts.
Before long, people returned to their drinks, loud laughter, and questionable dance moves on the tiny floor.
“Where… where the hell are we?” Tony mumbled, rubbing his temples.
He blinked rapidly, shaking his head as if trying to clear the portal-induced fog.
The world around him spun for a second, but his trademark Stark-grade resilience kicked in fast.
“Home,” Yinsen answered, though his voice carried more hope than actual certainty.
Tony blinked a few more times.
Then realization hit him like a arc reactor blast.
“We’re saved!”
Without any warning, he threw his arms around Yinsen and lifted the poor man into an overly enthusiastic bear hug, spinning him slightly.
“We made it, Yinsen!
We’re home, buddy!”
The billionaire’s eyes scanned the bar, taking in the mismatched furniture, the pulsing neon signs, and the overwhelming smell of spilled beer and regret.
He had expected a grand return—maybe some heroic entrance with flashing cameras and cheering crowds.
Instead, the universe had dumped him into a dingy bar filled with questionable characters nursing their drinks.
The patrons continued to glance their way, but most had already moved on, chalking it up to typical 2 AM nonsense.
But Tony didn’t care.
The relief flooding through him was too overwhelming to be ruined by minor details like “where exactly are we?”
After shaking off the last of the dizziness, Tony finally tried to get his bearings.
The bar was packed, but something felt… off.
Most of the patrons were guys in various states of intoxication, shouting over each other and chugging drinks like tomorrow might not come.
“This doesn’t look like Malibu,” Tony muttered under his breath.
He spotted a guy nearby nursing a beer and waved him over.
“Hey, buddy!
Quick question.
Where are we?”
The man blinked slowly, squinting at Tony like he was trying to figure out if this was some elaborate prank.
After an awkward pause, he mumbled, “Huh?
Bar.” Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
“Yeah, I got that part,” Tony said through gritted teeth, patience wearing thin.
“But which city?
State?
Country even?”
The guy just grunted, took a long swig from his bottle, and staggered away without another word.
“Great.
Fantastic,” Tony muttered, throwing his hands up in mock defeat.
“Portal service really went downhill.”
He vaguely remembered that kid—Eric?—who had sent them back with some casual promise about dropping them at his “favorite place.” Naturally, Tony had assumed that meant a top-tier burger joint.
Because, let’s be honest, Tony Stark and cheeseburgers were basically soulmates at this point.
The thought of a juicy patty with melted cheese had kept him going through that whole cave ordeal.
But this?
This was no burger haven.
This was a loud, chaotic bar.
Tony frowned, turning to his companion.
“Yinsen,” he said, voice flat with growing suspicion.
“Does this look like a place that serves cheeseburgers?”
Yinsen, still looking a bit dazed from the portal ride, simply blinked.
“…No?”
Determined not to give up on his dream meal, Tony flagged down a passing waiter—a skinny guy in a cheap vest who looked one spilled drink away from quitting on the spot.
“Hey!
Two cheeseburgers!” Tony called out dramatically, raising his hand like he was ordering at a Michelin-star restaurant.
“Extra fries, make it quick!”
The waiter paused, visibly confused.
“Sir, this is a bar.
We don’t serve food.”
The words landed like a punch to the gut.
“No… cheeseburgers?”
The waiter shook his head sadly.
“Only drinks.”
Tony’s shoulders slumped in dramatic defeat.
“This is a betrayal of the highest order,” he declared, slumping into the nearest chair like the world had personally wronged him.
“I deserve compensation.
I should sue.
Yinsen, remind me to call my lawyer first thing tomorrow.”
Yinsen gave him a wry, patient smile.
“Maybe we should just leave, Tony.”
“Yeah… good idea,” Tony sighed, already standing up.
Just as they were about to make their exit, a familiar voice rang out across the bar, cutting through the noise like a bad punchline.
“Tony Stark?!”
Tony froze mid-step.
He turned slowly to see a man with a toothy grin and a questionable velvet blazer pushing through the crowd.
Bob Richard.
Bob was what polite society called a second-generation chaebol—his father owned some massive corporation, and Bob spent most of his time burning through the family fortune on wild parties and even wilder decisions.
While Tony had always found him mostly harmless, he wasn’t exactly someone he wanted to run into right now.
“Tony!
“Man, I’m so sorry about what happened to you!”
Tony forced a half-hearted smile, the kind he reserved for board meetings and people he tolerated.
“Yeah, thanks, Bob.
Appreciate it.”
But then Bob’s gaze shifted to Yinsen.
His grin twisted into something more amused, almost theatrical.
“Oh… I see,” he said, dragging out the words.
“Looks like your taste has… evolved since the kidnapping.”
Tony blinked.
“What?”
Bob nodded toward Yinsen with a knowing wink.
“You know,” he continued, lowering his voice dramatically while patting Tony on the shoulder, “I never pegged you for a bald guy kind of man, Tony.”
For a moment, Tony’s brain short-circuited.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Bob smirked wider.
“Hey, no judgment!
Love is love.”
It hit Tony like a freight train.
No… No, no, no.
He quickly glanced around the bar, and the horrifying realization finally dawned on him.
There were no women.
Not a single one.
The crowd, the atmosphere, the way people were paired up—it wasn’t a regular bar.
It was a gay bar.
And Tony Stark, the world-renowned playboy, had just waltzed in—holding hands with Yinsen like they were on a date after a romantic escape.
Tony’s face went pale, then bright red, then settled into a shade of comically mortified that would haunt him for years.
“YINSEN!
WE’RE LEAVING!”
Without giving his friend a chance to respond, Tony grabbed his arm and bolted for the exit like the bar was on fire.
“Tony!” Bob called out after them, laughter echoing behind.
“If you ever want to explore something new, give me a call!”
Tony didn’t stop.
He didn’t dare look back.
“Oh, for the love of—!”
Yinsen, still utterly confused by the sudden sprint, simply allowed himself to be dragged along.
“Tony, what’s wrong?”
“Everything.”
Once they burst out into the cool night air, Tony groaned loudly, running both hands through his messy hair.
“Great.
Just great.
You know what the headlines are gonna be tomorrow?
‘Billionaire Tony Stark Returns from Afghanistan—and Switches Teams!?'”
Yinsen simply gave him a wry, understanding smile.
“At least you’re alive to read it.”
Tony paused.
Despite the absurdity of the entire situation, he couldn’t really argue with that.
“Well, I guess I can live with that,” he admitted with a tired laugh.
“But first thing tomorrow… we’re finding a burger joint.”