ｔｏｎｙ ｓｔａｒｋ

( Waking up not quite sure where he was, or what had happened in the time before he inevitably fell asleep wasn't something unknown to Tony Stark. Back in the days of his youth, more often than not he had woken up with his memories of the night before hazy, and sometimes completely young. But wasn't that just part of being young? You went out, you had fun, sometimes a little too much fun, and so you slowly had to piece together what had happened through word of mouth, pictures in tabloids, and later cellphones showing who you called and texted.

Generally, however, you would have vague memories of the party starting, at least. This time Tony's last memories was of bombs coming towards him. Three helicopters had shown up outside his house. He'd taken down two of them as they bombed the house. He'd put Pepper in the suit, and she'd gotten out, he hoped, and then it had come back to him. He had taken out two of the helicopters, but by the third he had been too late. Everything had happened in slow motion, then. The bomb. The breaking. The slow descent into the ocean, and that was where his last memory before waking up was. Crashing into the water with half his house coming after him. Not exactly the most promising outlook of things.

The soreness in his back, though making him groan was at least a good sign. It meant that he wasn't paralysed, and he reached up to rub his eyes, though not opening them yet. His suit was gone, it was a bit drafty. His assumptions lead him to assume he was in a hospital.)

JARVIS, what the hell happened?

(Pepper should know to have set his phone up, after all. But then there's no response, and so he opens his eyes. And well. This was not what he expected. This wasn't like anything he had seen before. A forest? And what was up with those pants. He got up quickly and spun around, trying to orient himself and see if maybe he crash landed somewhere. But no, not bits of suit anywhere, and when he looked down at himself, there wasn't a scratch on him. Save the soreness in his back. He reached over to feel whatever it was that had injured him, and.

What the hell.

Okay, no, this was a terrible dream. Terrible, terrible dream.

He squeezed his eyes shut again, counting to ten and hoping that maybe when he opened them again he would be back, if not in his own bed, at least a hospital one. But then he opened them again, and nope. Same place.)

God dammit.

(Okay, time to think rationally here. He looked around, to see if there was anyone around, or anything that would indicate just where he was, or where he could go. Which was when he spotted the leather bound journal on the ground. Alright, that probably wasn't there by accident. He picked it up and opened it first, carefully paging through it to see if anything was written, but no. It was weird, though. There were pages to write, but two cameras too, and a voice recorder.

Alright, so he would entertain the notion and sat down again, propping the journal up in front of him, and once he figured out how to get the video recording, well Luceti, have one Tony Stark looking mighty disgruntled.)

I feel like this is a little too elaborate to be a prank, plus, I thought Punk'd stopped making new episodes years ago, so.

Anyone want to go ahead and explain what's going on? My conclusions so far are either that I've become lucid under an induced coma or anaesthetic, or that this is some weird, weird version of limbo that I've somehow ended up with, but it's not at all like I thought it would be. Plus I have these wing...things, and even though I never believed in the whole heaven and hell thing, I certainly didn't think I'd have a shot at heaven