After Tony listened, the expression on his face seamlessly switched from concern to disgust. He glanced down at Linn and confirmed that the kid's mouth still had a slight curve in it. It was obvious that he had succeeded in complaining and was satisfied before falling asleep. Then he stood up and patted the gravel on his knees.
"He's too exhausted and has fallen asleep again." He glanced around at the people gathered around him, his gaze lingering on Rogers, Thor, and Hulk for a moment each. "Who's going to carry him back? I really don't want to hear any more nonsense when he wakes up."
Rogers glanced down at his hand still gripping the shield, its surface still smeared with the energy remnants of the Chitauri soldiers. His expression was serious and earnest as he said, "I need to go downstairs and check the evacuation situation," before turning and heading towards the stairwell. Thor put Mjolnir down from his shoulder, looked at Lynn sleeping soundly on the floor, then at Tony, and said in God of Thunder- like, candid tone, "I'm going to find Loki," before striding towards the other side of the rooftop. Loki was embedded in the Dali floor, probably still not fully recovered. Hulk ... looked down... Looking at his enormous green hand, Tony paused for a moment, seemingly considering whether to pick Lynn up. But when he reached out and saw the stark contrast between his fingers—enough to crush Leviathan's armor—and Lynn's bloodless face, he hesitated. Without waiting for the others' reply, Tony turned to Natasha, then to Banner, and shrugged. "Which of you two will carry him back? I can't either; I need to deal with my armor. The thrusters overloaded." He then turned and headed towards the elevator leading to the laboratory on the top floor.
Natasha watched Tony's retreating figure speechlessly, then glanced at Hulk, who was still staring blankly at his fingers. She silently gave all the male Avengers present a score in her mind. Then she looked up at the air and asked, " JARVIS, which floor does Lynn live on?"
" Mr. Lynn's residence is located below the top floor of Stark Tower, connected to Mr. Stark's top floor by a private elevator. Access is currently temporarily granted to you, Agent Natasha." JARVIS's voice cascaded down from the ceiling.
Natasha bent down and lifted Lynn from the ground. He was a bit heavier than she had anticipated, but not to the point of being impossible to move. She draped Lynn's arm over her shoulder, supported his weight with her side waist, and carried him into the elevator. The elevator doors closed, and it descended smoothly. Hulk watched the elevator doors close, scratched the back of his head, and then turned and walked towards Thor and Loki.
Lynn's new home was still tidy. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the New York skyline had gradually faded from the daytime hustle and bustle into the night. The night sky after the wormhole disappeared was as clean as if it had been washed... Only a few buildings in the distance, still emitting smoke, reminded people of what had happened here a few hours ago. Natasha placed Lynn on the bed in the master bedroom and checked his breathing and pulse. The gem embedded in the groove of his chest had completely dimmed; she touched it lightly with her finger—it was cold and showed no residual energy. She straightened up, intending to return to the Helicarrier, but stopped at the bedroom door. She glanced down at the bandage still wrapped around her leg; after the series of battles, fresh blood had seeped through the edges of the gauze. Then she looked at the young mage on the bed, his face as white as paper, his breathing weak but steady. She quickly weighed the options in her mind for a few seconds, but ultimately couldn't leave him unattended.
She pressed the communicator button to contact Fury. "Director, I'm currently at Stark Tower, handling some follow-up matters. I'll report back to the mothership later." Her tone was still that of a standard professional agent. Fury was silent for a moment before replying, "Roger." Then she turned to JARVIS: " JARVIS, order me two sets of clothes and a set of medical supplies—including sterile wipes, sterile gauze, antibiotic ointment, and medical tape. Have them delivered to this floor."
"Order placed, Agent Natasha. Expected delivery within twenty minutes." JARVIS's voice was calm and composed.
Natasha hung up the call and went to the bathroom to remove the bandage from her leg and re-bandage it. When she came out, the ordered items had already been delivered to the storage cabinet by the door via the building's internal logistics channel. She changed into clean clothes, folded her soiled combat uniform and put it aside, then sat down on the single sofa by the window in her bedroom. The Manhattan skyline outside the window was beginning to darken, and the faint sound of fire truck sirens could be heard in the distance. She leaned back on the sofa, put her legs on the footstool, and closed her eyes.
In the top-floor laboratory of the same building, Tony leaned against the central workbench, his armor not yet fully removed, the reactor beneath the half-removed armor emitting a steady blue-white light. He heard the sound of elevator doors sliding open behind him, followed by heavy footsteps and the soft flapping of a parrot's wings— Ivan Vanko had entered. Ivan didn't say, "Are you alright?" nor did he ask, "How is Lynn?" He simply walked to the opposite side of the workbench, leaned against the edge of the CNC machine, crossed his arms, and quietly watched Tony. Tony knew that look all too well; Lynn had looked at Lynn with the same gaze when they first confronted each other in the lab about the price of Maxwell's Demon.
"Is what you came here to ask the same thing I'm looking for?"
Ivan didn't answer, he just looked at him quietly.
Tony nodded, raised his hand, and called out, " JARVIS, bring up Lynn's combat data and the data from the last test. He told me before that he tested the magic circle's effect all night last time, is his condition the same as today?"
Two sets of data were simultaneously displayed on the holographic screen in the center of the laboratory. The left side showed the record of the last test, with the timestamp indicating it was several months ago. The magic array had been running for several hours, and the nerve conduction velocity, heart rate, and brainwave activity were all within the normal fluctuation range. The right side showed today's data. The information processing efficiency curve was so steep it looked like it had been vertically stretched, with the peak value reaching five times that of the last test. However, the nerve conduction velocity curve showed a significant lag compared to the same period last year.
" Mr. Lynn's last test of the magic circle's effects, running for a whole night, didn't result in any large-scale personality changes," JARVIS's voice unfolded calmly. "During Mr. Lynn's battle, based on my continuous monitoring, the personality change is highly likely due to the gem he embedded in his chest. In my data model, that gem amplified Mr. Lynn's computational efficiency; today, Mr. Lynn's peak information processing efficiency was about five times that of the last test. His neural conduction speed didn't increase proportionally, making him unable to process redundant information unrelated to the current task, forcing him to focus only on the immediate objective. This led to the significant changes in personality and behavioral patterns you observed. The root cause of the personality change is the passive extremization of the information filtering mechanism, rather than a permanent change at the personality level."
The lab remained silent for a long time. Tony leaned back in his chair, removing the last piece of his breastplate and placing it on the workbench, the metal clanging against the metal. He braced his hands on the edge of the workbench, bowed his head in silence for a moment, then let out a long breath. Ivan lowered his arms from his chest, said something to himself in Russian, and the white parrot tilted its head, glanced at him, and then gently pecked at his ear with its beak.
"That means he's still him," Tony said, his tone regaining its usual Stark- like certainty.
"The concept of good and evil still exists," Ivan replied in English.
"Personality doesn't matter. As long as I can be sure he won't tear me apart next time he's like this." Tony straightened up from the workbench, stretched his stiff neck, and the signature Stark smile finally returned to its proper place.