Chapter 47: Iron Man Never Retreats

Peter said while eating, “The situation seems grim—I went to the lab yesterday to see Mr. Stark, and Colonel Rhodes seemed to be pressing him hard.”

Peter said, “Though I don’t understand these things, I know that if Stark’s armors fall into military hands, it might not be a good thing.”

“Colonel Rhodes is Stark’s friend—he’s probably torn too, since he represents a group’s interests,” Peter said.

“You’re smarter than I thought—I expected you wouldn’t grasp the current situation at all.”

Peter shook his head. “Actually, I don’t understand it—but I know everyone wants those armors because they’re incredibly powerful.”

“No—it’s because they’re weapons.”

“If it were just a vacuum robot—even one that could clean New York in an instant—the military wouldn’t care this much.”

Peter fell silent. “I think we shouldn’t hand over the armors, but I know Stark is under immense pressure. What should I do… should I comfort him, or try to persuade him? I can’t just do nothing.”

“I think you should first deal with your own issues—if you can fully master your spider mutation, maybe all this will seem trivial to you.”

As Peter said, the next day, Schiller’s clinic welcomed an expected visitor: James Rhodes, otherwise known as Colonel Rhodes.

He spoke bluntly to Schiller: “The military needs Stark’s armor technology, but he’s been evasive. I just want to ask you—what’s his real plan? Is SHIELD involved?”

“You didn’t want to come,” Schiller said. “I can tell.”

Rhodes tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Looks like Tony paying you such a high fee was worth it.”

“Clearly, your superiors know this question can’t be asked of Stark—otherwise SHIELD would get the answer faster. But coming to me won’t help either.”

“The military needs Stark’s armors—they’d give us advantages in many places… and save countless lives.”

“You haven’t noticed your reluctance has made your words utterly hollow. Colonel Rhodes, I know you’re torn—the military keeps pressuring Stark, yet he’s your friend.”

“So you deceive yourself to feel better—you know exactly what these battle suits will be used for, but if you convince yourself it might be beneficial, you can ease the guilt of forcing your friend.”

“Obeying orders is a soldier’s duty,” Rhodes said.

“True—but what about Stark? Your friend? Repeatedly defying his will, forcing him to betray his own interests, using friendship to bind him.”

“You’ve always known how much Tony values you—Stark doesn’t have many friends, but you’re definitely one… perhaps the most important one.”

“You know he’s willing to pay this price for you, to do the one thing he hates most—compromise and bow.”

“You know Stark will eventually give in. If your superiors push you to the brink, he’ll save you.”

“Stop,” Rhodes said.

He pressed his lips into a tight line.

Schiller clicked his pen—the sharp sound jolted Rhodes awake. “Perhaps it’s because you possess something he lacks, that’s why he’s willing to do this. My advice to you: these are the very qualities you should hold onto. Stark’s friendship is more precious than the military’s demands—not because he’s richer—”

“But because a proud genius sees in you qualities he himself lacks—the very qualities that make him willing to pay this price. They’re worth more than hollow, grandiose honors, aren’t they?”

Rhodes fell silent.

The next day, as Schiller arrived at Stark Tower, he met Rhodes coming out. Behind him trailed an aide, whose face clearly beamed—they’d gotten what they wanted.

But Rhodes’s expression didn’t improve. He remained stiff-faced, didn’t look at Schiller, and walked straight past.

Upstairs, Stark stood before his armor, studying his creation closely.

“So you’ve made your decision—they got what they wanted, didn’t they?” Schiller asked.

“Alright,” Stark turned. He tensed his shoulder muscles, then suddenly relaxed them, letting his shoulders drop as he exhaled. “I know I should’ve followed your advice—it was right.”

“But I didn’t. I knew it was right, I didn’t have to pay any price—and still I didn’t.”

“I knew it wouldn’t succeed,” Schiller sat at the desk with his file, writing in his notebook without looking up. “Many people willingly pay huge costs chasing emotional compensation—especially someone like you, who’s never lacked material comfort.”

“You gave up the optimal outcome just because you couldn’t bear to see Rhodes caught in the middle. You paid a price to buy back his temporary friendship with you.”

“Yes, I know what you’re thinking—you’re friends, you believe that, and he believes it too. But friendship doesn’t last just because both sides want it.”

“You keep paying these prices—you’ll eventually reach a day you can’t afford. When you can’t pay, Rhodes might understand you—but the world won’t.”

Finally, Schiller said: “Once you’ve fed their appetite, the cost of preserving emotion becomes endless.”

Stark said: “I’ve thought about this. I know—once I give in, I’ll keep losing.”

“They can use Rhodes to pressure me into giving up part of the armor tech. One day, they’ll force him to make me hand over all the armors—or build them more war machines.”

“Since I learned how many civilians my weapons killed, I’ve known wisdom brings not just wealth, but disaster,” Stark said, pressing his fingers against his eye sockets. “I only just realized this now—ultimately, a genius always runs out of retreat.”

“When everyone knows you have a mind capable of saving the world, they’ll also develop the ambition to make you destroy it.”

After a silence, Schiller stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. Outside Stark Tower, New York’s sunset blazed. Stark followed his gaze—the dazzling light blurred into a hazy wash of color. Schiller said: “When you have nowhere left to retreat, what will you do?”

Stark said: “This is my home. It’s Pepper’s. It’s JARVIS’s. It’s all of Stark’s.”

“No one will ever force me to give this up.”

“If they want more…”

Stark’s eyes, always brimming with emotion, locked onto Schiller. His expression wasn’t heavy—it was calm.

“...Iron Man never retreats.”

Schiller looked at him and asked:

“Have you ever thought of overturning this absurd, boring negotiation table?”

“You’re like a devil tempting me to fall.”

“It’s far more effective than praying to God.”

“I never pray. I don’t rely on gods, or believe in those strange tricks, those ridiculous rumors and legends…”

The moment he finished speaking, Stark saw everything in his lab begin to tremble slightly.

Then, everything floated upward.

In an instant, as if gravity vanished, all objects hovered midair—cups, notebooks, computers, wrenches…

The sunset’s glow fell on places those objects had never before received light. Schiller stood at the center of it all, the light behind him casting a long shadow across his face.

The shadows of all the floating objects wove into a vast net. Stark stood at the heart of it, reached out, and a single drop of water fell from a cup onto his fingertip. He looked up, surveying the countless ordinary, mundane objects suspended in midair—the ordinary ceiling, the ordinary walls—

He saw a new world’s door.