Ch.34 The Fledgling Hero (Top)

"You mean to tell me you plan to shut down Stark Industries' weapons manufacturing division?" Schiller inquires.

"But you shouldn't be discussing this matter with me," Schiller continues.

Stark, visibly distressed as he clutches his forehead, laments, "All thanks to your doing,Pepper has received thousands of employee complaints in recent days. She's had to overhaul the entire benefits system; it's chaos."

"That's not the point," Schiller opines. "If you want to say, Pepper is always ready to listen."

Stark touches the bridge of his nose, no reply forthcoming.

After a moment, he concedes, "Alright, I'm well aware of the pressure this decision will heap upon her. I'm conscious of my selfishness. I know she's already done so much for me, and I know I shouldn't go through with it, but I'm left without a choice."

Schiller opens his notebook, and as he begins to jot down thoughts, he says, "Let me think—what you're attempting is akin to sentencing a gun to death."

"But my weapons have killed many lives," Stark counters.

"Weapons also have no choice," Schiller asserts.

"Do you expect that they, like Jarvis, should converse with you, lodge protests against you? Do you really think they relish being shipped off to some godforsaken place in Afghanistan, or you believe that a bullet, upon its conception, dreams solely of taking lives upon the battlefield?"

Stark sits in silence across from him, admitting in a fragile tone, "I know, I've shifted all the blame onto the weapons because I know deep down that I'm the true culprit, but I have no means to judge myself."

"But I also recognize, Mr. Stark, that you cannot judge yourself. Not because you cling to life, but because you believe in your capability to fix things. When a crisis arises, you possess the might to save others and save the world. It is this sense of duty that propels you to act."

"But with all due respect, have you considered that seeking to pinpoint a responsible party or entity to judge, regarding any given situation, is somewhat autocratic and rash?"

"A matter always has its root."

"But such roots are not inherently right or wrong. You must be more familiar than I with the notion that the world isn't simply black and white. In finding this entity you deem culpable, you've not improved the situation. You deem weapons liable, thus choosing to shutter the entire armaments division, leaving Pepper to sleepless nights, causing numerous job losses, and still, those on the battlefields will not hold gratitude for you."

"Is the pain truly worth it?"

Stark's visage twists in agony, his features nearly crumpling together. If Spider-Man's change could be likened to a grand display of fireworks, then Stark's metamorphosis appears to be the collapse of a star.

At present, Stark is oblivious to the intense dispute he will have with Steve over this same issue, inevitably fracturing the Avengers.

"My brain relentlessly fixates on notions of right and wrong," Stark confides.

"Well then, your brain must bear the responsibility. If it refuses to let you be, you should take your grievances to it, for that aligns with your held principles, does it not?"

"To ask your brain, is there a way to fulfill your intentions without harming those around you? That is the answer it owes you, as it's the source of your suffering."

Stark feels no better, slumping back into his chair, "Look at me, a fool, paying millions of dollars to a devil—a Satan."

"Your damned psychotherapy has never wrought any positive change in me. Whenever I leave , I only feel worse," Stark says almost through clenched teeth.

Uncharacteristically devoid of jest, Schiller replies, "Consider me as a catalyst, you'll come to understand in time..."

"Thought brings about suffering, none are exempt. Give you a shot early, you'll feel much better later, you'll be grateful."

Stark makes the sign of the cross over his chest, smiling, "If you keep talking like that, you'll nearly surpass Howard in my mind."

"I notice you bring up your father of your own accord for the first time. However, it is curious because most people tend to cry out for their mothers when in pain."

Stark pounds the table with force, unwilling to admit he mentions his father out of distress.

He isn't the fledgling in need of shelter. That eagle, which takes flight from the cliff and never returns, is not the person to think of in moments of despair and anguish.

"Perhaps that's why you craft your suit of armor.Carrying that shell of iron wherever you go, feel safe only when clad in its embrace. You believe it is only as Iron Man that you are most formidable," Schiller observes.

"But I must tell you, if you can't learn to live outside of it, you will never become the true Iron Man."

Schiller has pondered before how similar Stark is to Batman. Their formative experiences, their educational backgrounds bear striking parallels, and their chosen methods when facing certain dilemmas are remarkably alike—

Creating an arsenal of epoch-making weapons that no one can built, donning them to feel invincible, and then falling into a torturous struggle upon realizing that this solves nothing at all.

As Schiller doodles in his notebook, Stark asks, "What are you writing?"

"Steve's therapy is on hiatus, so Natasha has gathered the surveillance equipment. Thus, I have to write down your case by hand."

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

"Other things, no. But the part where you called out for your father, I recall quite clearly."

"Five million dollars."

Schiller simply tosses the notebook onto the table before Stark. Taking a lighter, Stark sets it ablaze, muttering curses, "Why on earth did I trust a vampire doctor like you?"

"It's getting late, time to head back. Arguing with Miss Potts isn't something you can resolve by hiding out here," Schiller remarks.

Clearly,Stark doesn't want to leave, protesting, "That Spider-Kid can stay here, why can't I? I don't even mind your dump of a place. And you'd have the honor of preparing breakfast for the genius Stark."

"Yes, while Miss Potts works overtime alone in the Stark Tower. Everyone else has gone, leaving behind dark, cold building... Oh, perhaps Jarvis will be her company. I've heard he's developed feelings, he might understand Miss Potts' loneliness better than you."

Quickly unsettled, Stark springs up from the chair and drapes on his coat, "I have no intention of competing for affection with my own AI, NEVER."

With a hand on the clinic door, Schiller assists, "Of course, sure, God bless to Jarvis."

After leaving the clinic, Stark's mood is grim, a maelstrom of thoughts swirling in his mind.

He has long accepted the notion that genius is lonely, and he has lived most of his life by that adage. He thinks he is doing well for himself—wealthy, brilliant, flush with capital to realize his life's ambitions.Even the excess of responsibility fails to weigh heavily on him. Yet never has he felt such a profound need for companionship as he does now.

Rarely does he proceed without calling upon his armor, and even his phone remains switched off. He walks slowly down the street, coming to the old bus stop. The last bus of the evening arrives, its driver enshrouded in a heavy cloud of tobacco smoke, which starkly discomforts Stark. Nevertheless, he boards and makes his way to a seat.

Thanks to Schiller's notorious reputation, the neighborhoods dare not meddle, and Stark leaves Hell's Kitchen by bus in safe. On the streets of New York, he hails a cab.

"Stark Tower," Stark directs.

The driver glances at him through the rearview mirror, failing to recognize the owner of Stark Industries.It makes sense.On television, Stark is always vibrant; now, he looks more like a middle-aged man, drenched in failure and weariness.

The taxi weaves through the cold neon tapestry of New York, the street view rapidly retreating in view. Jazz from the radio harmonizes with the deep autumn of New York, and Stark sits in the backseat, hands propping his knees, face buried in his palms.

Internally, he thinks: Fine, I am just a fragile little boy, not some big hero. All I want at this moment is to see Pepper and hug her, Let saving the world to the hell.

Stark seldom admits to his naivety, preferring to label it as an innocence unique to those of genius.

Undoubtedly,in every life, there must always be someone to play the role,like a protective eagle, sheltering the fledglings under its wings.

Pepper is just an ordinary person, neither an eagle nor a raptor. But when Stark feels the chill, this needy fledgling still yearns for the warmth beneath her feathers.

Getting out of the car, Stark impatiently dashes into the building. He knows the office lights on the top floor will still be burning; Pepper always works late into the night.

He rushes into the elevator, feeling an adolescent nervousness one might experience before a first date. In the elevator, he anxiously rubs his hands, pacing in place. As the doors open, he bolts out.

He has something to say to Pepper, he needs to say something.

But the floor is dark; not a single office gleams with the usual light. Something is off.

""Pepper, Pepper, are you there?" Stark calls out loudly.

But all that replies is the multi-layered echo within the office. Stark strikes the nearby glass door fiercely and then shouts, "Jarvis? Are you there? Jarvis, where have you gone?"

Only silence responds.

Now Stark truly panics. If Jarvis isn't responding, it means he might have been hijacked or cut from power. If anyone has done this, their target must be Pepper.

Stark runs frantically through the office, heading straight for the office Pepper uses most.

Without his suit, Stark is just a man who has no night vision; without a response from Jarvis, the office's smart lighting system remains unlit.

Barging in, Stark trips over a chair that lies across his path. Once he picks himself up, he realizes he can scarcely see, let alone scrutinize any details.

His mouth opens to call for his suit, but without Jarvis, there will be no response from the suit's AI remote control system.

Stark is on the verge of collapse. He suddenly realizes that everything he thought was under his control is never truly his. Without that shell, Iron Man is just a normal person, blind in the darkness.

His voice trembling, Stark begins to fumble blindly across Pepper's desk, mumbling in a desperate bid to comfort himself, "Damn it, she has to be okay... This is Stark Tower. No one can breach its defenses. I'm Tony Stark..."

Suddenly, the lights of the entire floor blaze on, dazzling Stark's eyes, he turns to see Pepper standing at the office door with a remote control in her hand. Stark is frozen in place.

Before Pepper speaks, Stark rushes over and embraces her. She has never before witnessed Stark so perturbed.

She can hear Stark repeating incessantly, "I knew you'd be alright... Of course, you'd be alright..."

Pepper sighs. The giant fledgling bigger than tercel. He is so repulsive while so irresistible.

Now, let's turn the clock back a bit to not long after Stark has departed from Schiller's clinic. At that time, Schiller receives a call from Pepper.