Hello New Moore. No need to be alarmed. I've just hacked into your local network. Need a bit of help. See these people?

[An audio feed switches to show a handful of those doctors who give everyone their 'you're fictional' debriefing. Then it's back to Tony. He offers a wry smile.]

Apparently they only speak crazy. So if one of you good people will just inform them that I am Iron Man, and not a strange talking robot from a fictional world like they seem to think, that'd be great. Normally I would just pull it up for them, but they are on some kind of closed circuit network here. How do you people live without Twitter? Tumblr?

Google?.

Obviously their backwater island search engine is based on a seriously flawed and underdeveloped software.

Can we get this over with? I have places to be. People to do. Meetings to - well. Okay. Yeah. The meetings can wait.

How are the beaches here, anyway?

This whole 'being fictional' thing? [Clint even uses air quotes to emphasize.] Right. I'm a story book character. If I sprout wings and fly I'm going to be seriously pissed. I'm not a flying monkey, I'm not some character in some damn book.

I feel very real thank you. Besides, this hospital is creepy and I'm about two seconds away from punching something just to hear a satisfying crunch.

Aw, hell.

This stipend thing ain't gonna cover two nights of drinkin', and no one's givin' me my senior discount. Ain't even planes for me to fly here, so what's a girl to do?

I'm not goin' back to waitrissin', before ya even suggest it. Come on, this ain't how ya treat a vet real good.