Chapter 13: Chapter Twelve: The Genius Who Stacks Buffs

In Hell’s Kitchen, a window suddenly flew open, a gust of cold wind rushed in, and a silver-white suit of armor shot inside, circling the room rapidly before landing with a jet blast.

With a hum, the Mark 2’s mask lowered, and Stark stood before the table, scanning the room, saying with mild disdain: “This place is a dump.”

Shieler looked at his hot coffee, now chilled by the sudden wind, and rolled his eyes.

According to his character arc, Stark transformed after being kidnapped—shedding his repulsive playboy persona to become a superhero.

But from Shieler’s perspective, he’d merely gone from an extremely repulsive playboy to an ordinary repulsive playboy.

Unlike Bruce, who also pretends to be a playboy—Bruce might be faux leather, but Stark is definitely the real thing.

Through his interactions with Stark, Shieler had already identified the three topics guaranteed to make him explode: money, Ma Lei prowess, and that he wasn’t as good as his father.

Shieler took a sip of coffee and spoke slowly:

“I know my consultation fee is high, but no worries—you can complain some more. As long as I haven’t gotten to the point, there’s no charge.”

“Also, did you know? The look of disgust you gave after wiping dust off my table with your hand was more effeminate than a cherry on top of a cream cake.”

“I admit the environment here is poor—after all, I’m not a billionaire like you. But then again, wasn’t Howard himself once starting from a shabby room like this? That’s a hardship you simply can’t comprehend. No wonder Pepper was so worried after your kidnapping…”

After stacking all three buffs, Stark exploded as expected.

The silver Mark 2 let out a loud *boom*—Stark had clearly punched something inside.

Oh, Shieler remembered: two more triggers for Stark’s explosion were questioning his intelligence and calling Stark Industries’ products garbage.

“Poor Mark 2. Poor JARVIS. Forgive me for saying this, but the quality of Stark Industries’ products is always so…”

And of course, the final trigger: expressing sympathy for him.

“...but hey, it’s still way better than those robot rice cookers on the market. It’s a qualitative leap.”

Stark shot back out the same window he’d come through—clearly, if he stayed any longer, the Mark 2 would truly explode in Hell’s Kitchen.

Shieler sighed with renewed clarity, the gloom brought on by Gotham and Batman completely lifted.

But soon, Stark flew back. He grumbled: “You didn’t answer my call, so I had to fly to this pile of trash.”

“You broke my JARVIS last time. Today, when I tried upgrading him, I found he was completely fried—total system crash. You’ve got to fix him.”

Shieler opened his mouth to speak, but Stark cut him off: “Don’t even think I’ll pay you a single cent. You’re the one who broke him, and now you’ve delayed my new armor’s development. Fix him—or I’ll have Pepper fire you.”

Shieler thought it over. Indeed, the Mark 5 hadn’t been built yet; JARVIS might truly be nonfunctional. Though Stark didn’t rely on JARVIS for R&D, he relied on him for daily care—he couldn’t manage his own life, especially in the lab.

Shieler knew Stark was still angry, but since he himself was in a good mood, a free consultation wouldn’t hurt.

So Shieler crossed his arms and said: “Fine. This one’s free. Let’s go.”

Stark snapped his fingers, and another suit flew in. Shieler stared at it, pointing: “You’re not seriously expecting me to ride that, are you?”

“What else? How else are you planning to get there?”

Minutes later, Stark and Shieler stood beneath a dilapidated bus stop in Hell’s Kitchen. Stark muttered: “I can’t believe my cutting-edge suit’s debut is on a smoky, rusted-out bus…”

As if on cue, the smoky, rusted bus arrived. Shieler waved to the driver. Stark struggled to make the Mark 2 step its legs up the bus. Shieler said: “You could just lift the whole bus and fly over.”

“Then why the hell can’t you just fly there in your armor? What’s the difference?!” Stark snapped.

Shieler spread his hands: “Because the image of Iron Man carrying a Hell’s Kitchen bus through the air would be beautiful.”

At Stark’s lab, Stark stood before a wall of panels: “I don’t know what you did, but JARVIS crashed—or maybe he didn’t crash. His hardware’s intact, but he just refuses to work.”

“I planned to upgrade him, but I can’t have this happen again. If someone asks him a few questions and he shuts down, he’s useless in combat. That’s not acceptable.”

When it came to his field, Stark was blunt: “I want JARVIS to become a true electronic life—a fully capable butler, even the best in the world.”

“But he’s stuck on your emotional logic problem. I gave him emotional reasoning protocols…”

Shieler said: “It’s a paradox, just like the questions I asked him. An artificial life follows logical advantage—but when logical advantage conflicts with your orders, you programmed him to obey you. Yet you also gave him emotion. When emotion and logic clash, the machine can’t self-deceive like a human.”

“He can’t find excuses to convince himself it’s the best outcome. He can’t deny, forget, or escape. So of course he freezes.”

Stark waved his hand: “Can’t I just hide these contradictory logics? Like blacklisting certain words or blocking emotional questions?”

“You want him to become a true electronic life?”

“Of course. One with a soul, just like us.”

“Alright, simply put—if you want JARVIS to have real emotion, he can’t avoid these questions. But if he can’t resolve them, he’s not truly ‘alive.’”

“But if he’s trapped by these questions, he can’t work—and I need him.”

“Do I have to wait like I’m waiting for a woman to work through an emotional breakdown?”

“Do you just let Pepper work through her emotional breakdowns on her own?”

At Shieler’s look of utter disgust, Stark snapped: “Fuck, no—I comfort her! What are you thinking?”

Shieler said: “The choice is yours, Tony. Haven’t you noticed? I can call you Tony, right?”

“All his contradictions stem from you. You created him. You programmed him to serve you. His core protocol demands obedience to your orders—”

“That’s not how a human thinks.”

“Ask yourself the same questions. How would you answer?”

“If your father was dying, and one decision could save him—but he fiercely opposed it—what would you do?”

“If you obeyed his wish and didn’t save him, and he died—would you regret it?”

“If he died, do you think he’d regret having you as his son?”

“If he died, do you think he’d hate you?”

“If he hated you, would you blame yourself?”

“If you had another chance, would you make a different choice?”

“If you defied him and saved him, and he later blamed you—would you feel bitter?”

“If you defied him, saved him, but he resented you for it and regretted having you—would you hate him?”

Stark fell silent.

For the first time, he didn’t react with exaggerated anger when someone mentioned his father.

“He wouldn’t do that,” Stark said.

His voice was low, but firm: “He wouldn’t stop me from saving him. If I made a terrible mistake saving him, he’d choose to live again and do everything in his power to make it right—even if it cost him his life again.”

“Does JARVIS know you like this?”

Shieler stood, patted Stark’s shoulder: “Does he know you’re just like your father?”

“Does knowing you would solve all these questions for him?”

“You can’t expect an electronic life built on algorithms and logic to actively learn your past, your personality. What you haven’t fed him is blank to him.”

“If you want him to have true life, you must first do what your father did for you.”

“Your past, your personality, your way of thinking—you must give him a part of your own life—”

“Like the birth of a child.”

Stark fell silent for a long time. Rarely, he frowned, looking troubled: “I firmly believe there’s no mind-reading. JARVIS can’t have it. How is he supposed to know me? This is nearly impossible. You don’t understand artificial intelligence…”

“I don’t understand ‘artificial intelligence.’ But you don’t understand ‘human.’”

Stark had nothing to say. But Shieler added:

“Humans exist because of wisdom, and rise to greatness because of emotion. For all these years, Earth has sustained only us. Among all the creatures God created, we remain the pinnacle. And now you’re challenging God—he never created a being to rival humanity. But perhaps you can. Isn’t that right?”

“This is a new frontier, Tony. Even your father never reached here. You’re tackling a field where humanity has never made meaningful progress—creating a being beyond human.”

The aura Stark carried as he left made Shieler believe he might actually succeed.

Still, Shieler remembered to call Pepper: “Pepper, good afternoon. I’ve been administering Stark with some… stimulating therapy… uh, yes, my own invention, very effective—but with side effects…”

“Yes, he’s already at the lab? What? He didn’t even remember your afternoon appointment? How rude…”

“Exactly. For the next few days, this will continue. It’s a necessary phase in adjusting dopamine and adrenaline levels. Then his hormones will normalize—yes, he’ll be fine soon…”

Shieler was lying. His method was the classic “adrenaline rush”—a full-stack buff. Stark would charge into the lab with a “sense of mission” and wouldn’t emerge for weeks.

He suddenly realized he had a unique talent for stacking buffs. Shieler stroked his chin. If only he could buff himself.

But his base stats were too weak—no matter how many buffs he piled on, they wouldn’t lift him. Better to figure out how to raise his base.