"This fragile blue planet needs... Ultron."
Stark was still sitting in the lounge area of the lab, taking a break—which was rare for him—but his mind was still filled with all kinds of struggles, struggles with himself.
The original Stark had been an extremely confident man. He would never refuse to do something just because someone else said something. Once Stark decided something was worth doing, he would verify it himself even if someone tried to stop him.
He had always believed that hearsay was unreliable, and that only personally investigating, verifying, and understanding something counted as the truth. Otherwise, he would never have kept trying to break into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database.
And by doing so, he had indeed uncovered many false and erroneous pieces of information, as well as things others wanted to keep hidden.
Perhaps when ordinary people looked up certain information, they only needed to search for whatever the authorities had officially released, or use the materials provided by the authorities.
But to Stark, much of what the authorities had released had even been written by him. He was a creator, a pioneer.
At least after graduating from university, he had been a pioneer of the entire industry.
And precisely because of that, he knew which things were correct and which were wrong.
He understood that what the authorities needed was sometimes not correctness or justice.
There were too many things they had to take into account, and as a result, the truth was usually buried at the very bottom.
That was why, to Stark, anything he had not witnessed with his own eyes was false.
Yet this man who had once been so resolute was now hesitating intensely.
He unconsciously toyed with a small wrench in his hand, but his eyes were filled with inner conflict.
The