Sowing Discord Expert

In Stark’s laboratory, a suit of armor took a steaming pizza out of the oven and placed it in front of Peter. Stark snapped his fingers beside it and said, "My latest invention. I finally came up with a program that lets the armor heat pizza for me. It uses the same intelligent computing circuit as the oven, and the oven sends its temperature data to it in real time…"

Peter opened his mouth and took a deep breath before asking, "Why use armor worth hundreds of millions of dollars instead of buying an oven Gauntlet that costs a few bucks?"

Stark waved a hand. "You don’t understand. The data on that oven is too complicated. How am I supposed to know what temperature to use and how long to bake it without burning it? It’s a complete mystery. I hate this occult nonsense. Armor and smart programs are much more convenient."

Peter looked at the pizza and figured there probably was nothing wrong with it, so it should still be edible. Then he reached out to take it, only to get burned. He yelped and said, "But I still need a pair of gloves. It’s way too hot!"

"Then wait for it to cool down before eating. We can chat first or something."

Peter said, "All right. My homework isn’t done anyway."

As he spoke, he pulled out a stack of books from his backpack. Stark glanced at them and said, "What’s there to write about that stuff? It’s a complete insult to your intelligence."

"No, I’m a good student. I’ve never handed in homework late in my entire life."

"Fine, write it if you want." Stark craned his neck across the table to watch Peter do his homework. He seemed to want to say something, but stopped himself.

Peter focused on writing for a while, then looked up and found Stark staring at him. The two locked eyes. Peter asked, "What is it, Mr. Stark? Did I write something wrong?"

"Uh… nothing’s wrong. I mean, it would be nice if your handwriting were a little prettier. Why don’t you try practicing calligraphy or something? You know, that fancy cursive with all the loops…"

"That won’t work. We’re not allowed to write in cursive on exams, at least not in this state. Mr. Stark, can you write cursive?"

"Of course I can."

"It doesn’t count if you do it in armor…"

Stark pressed his lips together and said, "Actually, there’s something I wanted to ask you…"

"What is it? I’d be happy to answer."

"I… forget it. The pizza’s getting cold. Eat first."

Peter picked up the pizza and stuffed it into his mouth in confusion. It had been made by that Italian chef yesterday, frozen, and only needed reheating the next day. It really did taste pretty good.

Peter was a little hungry, so he wolfed down the whole slice. Stark sat across from him with his elbows on the table, propping up his head. Peter asked as he ate, "You’re not having any? It’s pretty good."

"No, I’m not hungry."

But Peter ate with such enthusiasm. He always took huge bites and chewed and chewed, his cheeks puffed out like a hamster’s. Watching him made Stark a little hungry too, so he got himself a slice of pizza.

As he ate, he asked, "Suppose—just suppose—you wanted to help someone. What would you do?"

"Help someone? Then help them. What’s difficult about that? If there’s a problem, solve it. Once it’s solved, help them."

"But… it’s more like… there are some concerns…"

"What concerns?" Peter looked up at Stark strangely and saw the conflicted look on his face. Peter said, "If you want to help, then help. If you have concerns, maybe you don’t really want to help."

Stark stopped chewing. Peter had clearly hit the nail on the head. He said, "It’s not that I don’t want to help. I do want to help him, because he… Anyway, it’s a good thing. He wants to do something good, but if he does it himself, it might take a very, very long time…"

"If it’s a good thing, then help him. What’s the issue? Is doing good somehow not allowed?"

"But it would make me feel a little… well… like I’d lose face, you know?" Stark spread his hands. "I’m Stark! I can’t just walk up to him and say, ‘Hey, the great Stark is going to help you out now. Want it?’"

"You’d get beaten to death," Peter said. He took another bite of pizza and asked vaguely, "So if you said it like that, would he want your help?"

"That’s exactly why I’m conflicted. He probably wouldn’t."

"He doesn’t want your help, but you insist on helping him. Is that what you mean?"

"I’m not insisting on helping him!" Stark raised his voice. "There’s no person or thing in this world that Stark absolutely has to help!"

"Then don’t help. They don’t need your help, and it’s not like you absolutely have to help them. Just each do your own thing."

Stark covered his forehead. "No! I mean… I want to help him, I just want to… but it’s not like I have to… Forget it. I knew this was useless. Schiller actually told me to ask a stupid kid like you. That damned vampire Doctor, charging me millions of dollars for just a few sentences. I should’ve seen his true colors long ago…"

"Doctor Schiller told you to ask me? Why? Is this question hard? If you want to help, help. If you don’t, don’t. If the other person is willing to accept your help, then help. If not, don’t."

"Forget it. You’re just a kid. You don’t understand adult rules…"

"Oh, I get it. You want him to ask you for help, right?"

"Nonsense. I never thought that!"

Peter chewed his pizza and said, "You want to help him, but you don’t want to lower yourself. It would be best if he came and begged you, so you could do a good deed without losing face?"

Stark lowered his head and ate his pizza without answering.

Peter said, "When I do good deeds, it’s simply because I want to do good deeds. Not for face. I don’t really like those reporters always following me around either. They think they’re reporting on a good person doing good things, but all I worry about is that the aftermath of a fight might affect them. That’s not impossible."

"Anyway, if you ask me, doing good deeds and helping people isn’t anything shameful. There’s nothing embarrassing about walking right up and saying, ‘I want to help you.’ Even if you can’t help in the end, at least your intentions were good."

Peter paused, then continued, "Some people might not truly need your help. As long as you tell them that you’re standing with them, that they aren’t fighting alone, that’s enough."

"Not fighting alone…" Stark murmured.

Peter said, "Yeah, it’s actually really important. Sometimes it’s like what all of you do for me."

"Whenever I want to find someone, I can always find them. That gives me a lot of confidence in whatever I do. That feeling is really great."

"Like before, when the teacher asked me for my parents’ phone number. I couldn’t give them my uncle and aunt’s numbers, but as soon as I thought about it, several names came to mind, and I knew every one of those people would come."

"Then why did you choose me? Why not choose them?"

"I don’t know. The first thing that came to mind was Stark Tower’s phone number. Maybe because it’s easier to remember."

"Or maybe it’s because I treat you the best, kid! Those people would never let you eat this much pizza. They’d only tell you how many calories are in the cheese, and that eating a whole slice means you’d have to run several kilometers!"

Peter suddenly stopped swallowing. He said, "Oh no, I only made a workout plan yesterday, and now I’ve eaten so much. I’m going to get as fat as that Pikachu!"

He wailed, "My strength-growth phase is already over. I have to control my diet, or even the toughest spider silk won’t be able to drag my body around!"

Stark swallowed the last bite of pizza and said, "Then let’s go. Do you know what activity burns the most calories? Saving the world—especially saving the world with Stark."

At the psychological clinic, Schiller was speaking to Nick over the phone. He said, "…I don’t know anything about that. How would I know how far they’ve gotten with their serum research?"

"Last time, I tried to enter Connors and Peter’s laboratory. Less than three minutes after walking in, I’d violated more than two hundred lab regulations. They threw me right out. I didn’t even get to see what a test tube looked like…"

"…True, I studied medicine. Psychology requires neurobiology, but that was back in college. Who could still remember it? We only studied theoretical knowledge from textbooks. We never had to enter a lab…"

"You can’t expect a psychologist to know how to crack open your skull or mix up hallucinogenic drugs…"

"…I don’t know about that, but judging by Dr. Connors’s tone recently… You know, he and Stark don’t get along. With that mouth of Stark’s, who could stand him?"

"Connors said a couple of days ago that when it came to biotechnology, the Osborn Group was obviously stronger. Of course, he said that behind Stark’s back. It was normal that Stark didn’t know."

"I think it makes sense too. If I were Connors, I’d pick the Osborn Group as well. The Osborn Group and Stark Industries are at odds. If he helped the Osborn Group develop a cure serum, Stark would definitely be furious."

"…The military’s cooperation with the Osborn Group? I don’t know about that. Your intelligence on the military should be much better than mine, right?"

"But even if Dr. Connors cooperates with the Osborn Group, their results might not necessarily end up in the military’s hands. I think you’re worrying too much. Besides, a little cure serum can’t possibly be enough for the military to turn the tables, can it?"

"Preventing trouble before it happens?" Schiller switched the phone to his other ear and said casually, "I think you’re worrying over nothing. Besides, this has nothing to do with me. Even if the military gets stronger, I’m not the one who’ll suffer…"

"Deduct my pay? That’s going too far! What I receive is a base salary…"

"Those bonuses? Fine, fine, you cheapskate. If the Osborn Group gets that serum, it’ll be evenly matched with the military. Once the Osborn Group no longer fears military infiltration and control, it’ll definitely use the cure serum as a Chip to pursue deeper, more comprehensive cooperation with the military…"

"I may not understand that biotechnology very well, but it’s probably quite useful. If the military’s strength increases and it bites back at the negotiating table during the final wrap-up, S.H.I.E.L.D. will hurt for days too…"

"…You want me to persuade Connors? How am I supposed to persuade him? Why don’t you persuade Stark instead? If he sends Connors an invitation first, Connors might agree. Compared with Osborn, Stark is more inclined toward S.H.I.E.L.D. anyway. If S.H.I.E.L.D. has both Stark and the cure serum, the military will definitely be utterly defeated."

"But this really is troublesome. You know those Tartarus lunatics will do anything. They already managed to create such a huge monster. What if they kidnap Dr. Connors? How much of a Chip would a genius scientist capable of developing a cure serum add to their position at the negotiating table?"

Suddenly, a burst of commotion came through from Nick’s end of the line. Then Schiller heard Nick roar, "How were you people watching him??? How did Dr. Connors disappear anyway??"

"Damn it! Don’t think I don’t know it was those Tartarus people who did this! Tell them not to think S.H.I.E.L.D. knows nothing about their damned plans! We have plenty of evidence! If they dare do anything, I’ll report it to the Security Council immediately!!!"

Sorry for being a little late. Ten thousand words today—please vote!