This was a recollection of Anthony Stark's thoughts during the events of the Superior Iron Man Arc...
Shattered glass. Rocket fuel. Wondering whether instituting a Failsafe for my corruption then wiping my memory of instituting Failsafe for my corruption then getting corrupted was a good idea.
I’m Tony Stark. And I burdened myself with me. Or, well… my past me.
The Merchant is back. The Merchant of Death. And no one. NO ONE, will stand in my way.
Not even me…
Model 13 sends its head straight at my stomach, effectively knocking me back. The bastard. Do you know how long it took me to design you to be the best Armor of them all, and you give me this?!?!
I guess it was my fault all along. For me to easily wipe my memory of installing a guard, a last resort in case I resided into my old, alcoholic ways again.
It obviously didn’t turn out alight.
It was just me, and 13.
I ram my fist through its head, sending it flying into a wall, its helmet dented badly, like if you sucked the skull out of a certain region of the head and let it cave in. To think I would have punched me. Myself.
Me, Me, Me, Me, Me!!
Yes. Me. I’m fighting me.
A battle against Myself.