Robert Downey Jr. is here. And another man.
We are standing in the elaborately decorated den of an old dusty manor. Two against one.
There are other men wearing suits searching other rooms nearby.
Mr. Downey Jr. warns me not to examine the briefcase that I find beside the fireplace, but I have already opened it. Glancing at its contents I slam the briefcase shut, but he decides that I have seen too much and must be disposed of.
He lunges at me, but I realize that the briefcase actually contains documents revealing the secrets of time travel.
In a flash I am gone, and traveling back to the moments before I opened the briefcase, I appear behind Mr. Downey Jr. and subdue him before he can attack.
In retrospect, it seems plausible that Mr. Downey Jr.’s attack on me would inevitably have failed.
This would have provided me the time to study the documents and to perfect the time travel process to such a degree that would allow me to travel back in time to teach myself time travel before I entered the room.
Glancing into the briefcase would have triggered these latent memories; reminding me that I could time travel.
At that point I would have used this ability to evade Mr. Downey Jr. Giving myself the time to study the documents at a later date.
The third man in the room must also have been me.