Chapter 35: Fledgling Hero (Part 1)

"You said you intend to close Stark's weapons manufacturing department?" Shiler asked.

"But you shouldn't come to me to say this," Shiler continued.

Stark covered his forehead with some distress and said, "Just because of the good things you did, Pepper has received thousands of employee complaints in the past few days. She has to re-formulate the entire employee benefit system and is busy."

"Actually, this is not the point," Shiler said. "If you want to say it, she is always willing to listen."

Stark touched the bridge of his nose and didn't reply.

After a while, he said, "Okay, I know how much pressure this decision of mine will bring to her. I know I am a damn selfish person. I know, she has helped me enough. I know I shouldn't do this, but I have no choice."

Shiler spread out the notebook on his side. He wrote while saying, "Let me think, what you want to do now is like sentencing a gun to death."

"But my weapons have killed many people."

"Weapons also have no choice," Shiler said.

"Don't you expect them to be like Jarvis? Can speak, can protest to you, do you think they like to go to that ghost place in Afghanistan? Or do you think a bullet head is produced, and its lifelong ideal is to go to the battlefield to kill others?"

Stark sat silently opposite, looking a bit fragile, and said, "I admit, I blame all this on weapons because I know I am the culprit, but I can't judge myself."

"But I also have to say, Mr. Stark, you can't judge yourself, not because you want to survive, but because you feel you have the ability to make up for all this. When a crisis occurs, only you have the ability to save the world and turn the tide. Out of this sense of responsibility, you did these things."

"But I say bluntly, have you ever thought about it? It is a rather arbitrary and reckless idea to find a person or thing that should be responsible for an event and judge them."

"But the occurrence of an event always has its roots."

"But this root is not necessarily right or wrong. You should know better than me that this world is not black and white. You found this thing you think should be responsible, and it didn't make the whole thing better. You think weapons should be responsible, so you want to close the entire weapons manufacturing department, then let Pepper not sleep for a few nights, let many employees lose their jobs, and even those people on the battlefield won't be grateful to you."

"Is the pain brought by this kind of getting to the bottom of the matter really worth it?"

Stark looked very painful, his five senses almost wrinkled together. If Spider-Man's transformation was like a grand firework, then Stark's transformation was perhaps a collapse of the final star.

Stark didn't know yet that he would have a dispute with Steve over the same problem, thereby destroying the entire Avengers.

"My brain tells me there is no way not to think about right and wrong," Stark said.

"Okay, since that's the case, then your brain must be responsible for this. It doesn't want to let you go, so you should go find its trouble. This is the theory you insist on, right?"

"Go ask your brain, is there any way to both achieve what you want and not hurt the people around you? This is the answer it should give you, because it is it that makes you so painful."

Stark didn't feel any better. He leaned back in his chair and said, "Look, I, this idiot, used 100 million US dollars an hour to hire a devil doctor, a Satan..."

"Your damn psychological consultation has never brought me any positive changes. Every time I leave you, I become more uncomfortable."

Stark said almost through gritted teeth.

Shiler rarely didn't joke with him and said, "You can treat me as a catalyst. You will understand later..."

"Thinking will bring pain. No one can be an exception. Helping you get a shot in advance, you will be much better in the future. You will thank me."

Stark drew a cross on his chest and said, "If you continue to be so arrogant, you will almost surpass Howard's status in my heart."

"This is the first time I've heard you take the initiative to mention your father, but this is rare. Generally, when people are in pain, they like to call mom more."

Stark hammered the table hard. He didn't want to admit that he mentioned his father because he was uncomfortable.

He was not a fledgling bird that needed shelter. That male eagle that flew away from the cliff and never returned was not the person he should think of when he was in despair and pain.

Shiler said, "Perhaps because of this, you will make mechs for yourself. You wear that iron shell wherever you go. You feel that only it can protect you, and only by wearing it are you the most powerful Iron Man."

"But I have to say, if you can't learn to take it off, you will never be able to become a real Iron Man."

Shiler had thought about it before. Stark and Batman were really a bit similar. Their growth experiences and educational backgrounds were strangely similar, and the methods they chose when facing certain problems were also surprisingly consistent—

Making a pile of weapons that no one else could make for themselves, then arming them on their bodies, feeling that they were powerful, and then falling into a painful struggle when they found that this couldn't solve everything.

Shiler wrote and drew in his notebook. Stark said, "What are you writing?"

"Steve's psychological consultation is temporarily over, so Natasha took back the wiretap, and I have to handwrite the medical record for you."

Stark narrowed his eyes and said, "Did you write down everything I just said?"

"Others didn't, but I remember that sentence you called dad very clearly."

"5 million US dollars."

Shiler threw the notebook directly in front of Stark. Stark picked up the lighter and lit it. He cursed in a low voice: "How could I believe the evil of a damn vampire doctor?"

"It's getting late, you should go back. The quarrel with Miss Pepper can't be solved by you hiding outside," Shiler said.

Stark obviously didn't want to leave at all. He said, "That spider kid can live here, why can't I? I don't even dislike your broken place, and you also have the luck to make a breakfast for the genius Stark."

"Yes, then Miss Pepper is working overtime alone in Stark Tower, the employees have long gone, and that building is dark and cold... Oh, Jarvis might accompany her. I heard Jarvis also has feelings. Perhaps he understands Pepper's loss better than you."

Stark couldn't sit still immediately. He jumped up from the chair and put on his coat, saying, "I won't be jealous of my own smart butler, absolutely not."

Shiler opened the clinic door for him and said, "Yes, of course, of course, God bless Jarvis."

After Stark left the clinic, his mood was quite bad. Various thoughts were a mess in his brain.

He had long accepted the fact that geniuses were lonely. Most of his life had been like this. He always felt that he lived well, rich, smart, and had enough capital to realize his life value. Excessive sense of responsibility wouldn't make him feel distressed, but he had never felt so much need for company as today.

He rarely didn't call for the battle suit, and even turned off his mobile phone. He walked slowly through that street, came to the dilapidated bus stop sign, and the driver of the last bus had a heavy smell of smoke, which made Stark very uncomfortable, but he still walked up and found a seat to sit down.

Thanks to Shiler's formidable reputation, no one in the nearby block dared to mess around. Stark safely took the bus and left Hell's Kitchen. On the streets of New York, he stopped a taxi and sat in.

"Stark Tower," Stark said.

The driver glanced at him from the rearview mirror. He didn't see that this was the owner of Stark Industries. After all, when Stark was on TV, he was high-spirited, and now, he was more like a middle-aged loser.

The taxi carried Stark through the cold neon of New York. The street scene retreated rapidly in his line of sight. The jazz music played in the taxi matched New York's late autumn very well. Stark sat in the back seat, his hands supported on his knees, covering his face.

He thought in his heart, okay, okay, I am just such a fragile little boy, not a great hero at all. I just want to see Pepper now, and then give her a hug, let saving the world go to hell.

Stark was never willing to admit his childishness. He preferred to call it innocence, the innocence unique to geniuses.

But it had to be admitted that in everyone's life, there must be someone who plays such a role, like a hawk returning to its nest, sheltering the fledgling birds under its wings.

Pepper was just an ordinary person, not any eagle or raptor, but when Stark, this fledgling bird waiting to be fed, felt cold, he still wanted to drill under her feathers.

After getting off the car, Stark almost couldn't wait to run towards the building. He knew that the lights in the office on the top floor must still be on. Pepper would work there until late at night every time.

Stark ran quickly into the elevator. He didn't know what was wrong with him, just like a fledgling bird that had just come out of the nest. He rubbed his hands nervously in the elevator, kept walking in place, and as soon as the elevator door opened, he rushed out quickly.

He wanted to say something to Pepper. He should have said something.

But there was no light on the entire floor. Stark turned around in place. He couldn't see any office with lights on. This was very abnormal.

"Pepper, Pepper, are you there?" Stark shouted loudly.

But the only answer to him was the echo in the office. Stark hammered the glass door next to him hard and shouted: "Jarvis? Are you there? Jarvis, where did you go?"

Responding to him was also a silence.

This time Stark was really panicked. If Jarvis didn't respond to him, it meant that he was likely hijacked or cut off from energy. If someone really did this, their target must be Pepper.

Stark ran quickly in the office. He ran to the office Pepper usually used.

But Stark without a mech was just an ordinary person, without night vision ability. Jarvis didn't respond, so the smart lighting system of his entire office wouldn't light up.

As soon as Stark rushed in, he was tripped by an office chair that crossed over. After he climbed up, he found that he couldn't see the surroundings at all, let alone check any details.

He opened his mouth to shout for the mech, but without Jarvis, the smart remote control of the mech wouldn't respond.

Stark was really a bit collapsed. He suddenly found that everything he thought was under his control didn

His voice trembled slightly as he began to fumble around in the dark on Pepper's desk. As if trying to comfort himself, he whispered, "Damn it, she'll be fine... This is Stark Tower, no one can breach the defenses here, and I am Stark..."

Suddenly, the lights on the entire floor turned on. Stark was dazzled and covered his eyes as he turned around, only to find Pepper standing at the office door holding a remote control. Stark froze in place.

Before Pepper could even speak, Stark rushed over and hugged her. Pepper had never seen Stark so terrified before.

She heard Stark muttering incessantly, "I knew you'd be fine... Of course you'd be fine..."

Pepper sighed. This fledgling, who was already nearly larger than an eagle, was so detestable, yet so impossible to refuse.

Now, let's turn back the clock a bit, to shortly after Stark had left the clinic, when Schiller received a call from Pepper.