Genius Sets Out Again (Part 1)

As night fell in New York, the city lights gradually went out, leaving only the top few floors of Stark Tower with faint lights. Pepper, who had been busy all day, stepped onto the elevator. When the elevator indicator light came on, she took a deep breath, but she didn't completely relax.

The elevator doors opened, and the ceiling lights lit up one by one as she walked, guiding her to Stark's laboratory, a place she hadn't visited in a long time.

The laboratory door opened slowly without making a sound. The entire laboratory was pitch black, with only the lights from the experimental instruments dimly glowing. Stark lay slumped over the lab table, seemingly asleep.

Jarvis turned on a soft light, enough for Pepper to see her feet without waking Stark, Stark was fast asleep. When Pepper went over, she noticed his brow was furrowed.

She saw a pile of documents on his lab bench. In the past, those documents contained experimental data that Pepper couldn't understand, but today, Pepper saw several books that shouldn't have been there.

Social Engineering, Game Theory, political science, international relations, and so on. Pepper even saw several of her own university textbooks there, all of which showed signs of being flipped through, and some were even open and face down on the table, clearly indicating that Stark hadn't finished reading them yet.

She moved closer and picked up the documents, which mostly contained intelligence related to the military, Congress, and S.H.I.E.L.D.., especially information about their personnel.

Pepper was about to walk around the lab table to Stark's side when Stark moved, coughed, and woke up. In the dim light, he saw Pepper standing in front of him and thought he was dreaming.

Stark shook his head and blinked hard, looking very confused. Pepper often saw him with this expression, usually after drinking or staying up all night doing experiments.

"Oh, you're here. Are you done with your work? How have you been lately?" Stark seemed a little flustered, as if he hadn't seen Peto for so many days and felt somewhat unfamiliar with him. He greeted him in a somewhat awkward tone.

Pepper, however, was unaffected by him. She walked over and asked, "What's wrong with you? Why are you reading these books?"

Stark glanced back at his desk, his expression resembling that of a child caught secretly playing video games by their parents. He twisted his neck awkwardly and said, "A friend recommended this book, saying I should read more of these kinds of books, otherwise I won't be able to handle those troubles."

Stark paused for a moment, then lowered his head, his voice low and unusually serious.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.., the military, and Congress have basically gotten what they wanted. What follows will be the final negotiation in this matter."

"I represent Stark Industries, and I know that this time no one will handle these troubles for me. I have to learn to deal with all of this myself."

"I've never participated in any proper negotiations. Sometimes, even when I did go, I just had to sit there and wait for Uncle Obadiah to finish talking. I'm just a symbol. Everyone knows I'm a genius, so even if I show impatience or leave early, no one dares to say anything..."

"I know, I'm really terrible. I've made a huge mess and caused a lot of trouble. I've mocked the other person's representative as an idiot, or deliberately made a mess of coffee all over the table so I could leave sooner."

"I can't even remember how many times I've done something this stupid, but I know that this time I have to do it myself."

Stark rubbed his eyes, then rubbed his face with both hands, trying to hide the sad and disappointed expression. He said, "No one will do these things for me anymore, no one will solve these problems for me anymore, and no one will even see my inventions or listen to my brilliant ideas anymore..."

Pepper had to admit that this was the first time she had ever seen Stark look so sad. In the past, he would make sad faces to make jokes or to amuse people, but now, he was genuinely sad.

After a moment's pause, Stark clapped his hands and said, "Okay, that's settled then. I can handle all of this, right?"

"I'm Stark, how could I not? How much harder can these things be than building a Jaeger? Just watch, once I've read through all these documents and books, I'll be able to take them down by myself in the negotiations a few days from now..."

Pepper felt a pang of sadness. Before this, whenever Stark acted spoiled and didn't want to do something, she felt a headache coming on. She felt that she was wasting too much time coaxing this big kid and hoping that Stark could mature quickly.

But now, as Stark calmly accepts doing what he doesn't want to do, Pepper suddenly wishes he could still be as willful as before.

She didn't know what was wrong with her. Stark had matured, which should be a good thing, but Pepper knew all too well that such growth would inevitably be accompanied by intense pain and sorrow. She would rather Stark never have to experience this pain and live forever in an Utopia.

Peto choked up, and just as she was about to say something, her phone rang again. She had no choice but to leave to answer it, and before she could even chat with Stark, she had to deal with the seemingly endless work again.

Stark watched Pepper's departing figure, his pain and helplessness reaching their peak. He braced One Hand on the lab table and covered his eyes. He had never realized how long the New York night could be.

When he was engrossed in his experiments, the night seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Before he could finish even a small part of the experiment, dawn would break. He would always complain that such pure and happy times were too short.

But tonight's darkness seems endless, as if no matter how long he suffers here, the sun will never rise.

In the dim and dark room, Stark thought that what the book said made sense. In this world, not everything can be overcome by simply rushing through in a mech suit. Humans cannot survive outside of social rules. As long as they live in this society, they must abide by some of these rules.

Stark previously thought he didn't have to follow any rules, didn't have to think about anything, and could live as he pleased every day. But now he realizes that someone else is paying the price for following the rules for him.

They paid the price first so that Stark could live in this warm eggshell forever, without thinking about anything.

Stark knew that Pepper was busy until midnight every day dealing with his sex scandals, and that Obadiah had cleaned up all sorts of messes for him more than once.

But since the kidnapping, reality has been like a heavy hammer, smashing open the fledgling's shell and letting the cold winds of reality blow on its still-growing feathers, making it tumble a few times, get covered in mud, and then struggle to get up again.

After the warm wings he craved left him, he had to face everything on his own. The cold wind howled over this nest perched on the cliff, but Stark had to learn to fly on his own.

After a while, Stark seemed to accept the fact. He slowly tidied up the scattered documents on the table, then put bookmarks on the various books and put them aside. He picked up one of them and continued reading.

In fact, Stark didn't know if what he was doing would be of any use. When he learned from Schiller that the parties had almost prepared their Chip and only the final step of negotiation to divide all the benefits remained, Stark had never felt so anxious and flustered.

For many years, he had never thought about these things, but at least he knew that if he did nothing, it would be tantamount to giving up the entire Stark Industries, abandoning his father, his uncle, and all his hard work.

If he doesn't take this step, Stark Industries will only keep retreating until they are completely exploited and divided up.

Now, no one else can turn the tide and save the day under these circumstances except for Stark himself.

For many years of his life, he had never had to consider anyone else's feelings. Now, he was about to participate in what might be the highest-level negotiations in the country, involving long-time politicians, behind-the-scenes S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, and an aggressive and insatiable military leader.

Stark, in this situation, was like a primary school student suddenly thrown into a doctoral forum. He had no theoretical knowledge or practical experience, and he didn't even know how to read people's expressions. Stark could already imagine that his previous unreasonable and irrational actions would only allow these wolves to make a big fuss and take a bigger bite out of him, and would have no other purpose.

He had to learn to stay calm, to remain composed, and to use his wit and skill to wage a war without gunfire on a battlefield without the sound of gunfire.

This is not easy, nor is it any easier than starting a real war.

Stark was like a newborn baby; on Schiller's advice, he could only start learning from the theory first.

Not all politicians are skilled in these things, but they do have a wealth of practical experience.

Stark was a complete novice in this area, but fortunately, he was a Stark. His brain allowed him to memorize all the knowledge in a very short time. Even if there was no time for him to practice and integrate it, having this knowledge in his mind was better than having none at all.

Stark thought Schiller made sense. Since he had already decided to humble himself and learn these theories that he had previously disdained to read and thought were just empty talk, he should try to read them as quickly as possible and try to understand them.

The former was not difficult. Stark's genius brain allowed him to memorize several books in almost one night. When his brain was working at its peak, he had a photographic memory.

However, reading and memorizing are two completely different things from understanding and applying them. After Stark finished memorizing, he still had to refer to the information on his interpersonal relationships and connections to figure out how to act.

How will some of them react to certain topics? Within the same faction, what are the intricate subdivisions? Which relationships can be exploited? Why are some people's bottom lines lower than others'? And why are some people willing to pay higher Chip than others?

These questions nearly overwhelmed Stark, and even as a super genius, he couldn't learn the essence of human knowledge overnight.

More importantly, Game Theory and psychology sometimes seem more like mysticism, because human nature is always mysterious and unpredictable. Using theories to analyze everything will only lead to more and more wrong answers. Everything still depends on on-the-spot reactions, which really puts a lot of pressure on Stark.

Finally, in the deep darkness of New York, Stark muttered, "You're a genius... Stark, you're a super genius... There's no one in the world smarter than you, of course you're no problem..."

Then, as his voice faded away, he drifted off to sleep, just as a crimson glow began to appear on the New York skyline.