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Chapter 49: Ironclad Ambitions (1)

In this moment, Coulson stood outside Nick Fury's office, thoroughly perplexed. He watched as everyone who approached this corridor took a sharp right turn.

Natasha emerged from Nick's office, and Coulson stopped her, asking, "What's going on? Why are they taking the long route? I remember the quickest way to the elevator is to the left, isn't it?"

"Because our genius psychologist with a sky-high consultation fee is in the office on the left, waiting for people to seek psychological counseling," Natasha replied.

"Wait, you brought him here? How much is he charging? It can't be $100 million per hour, can it?" Coulson asked.

"No, it's not that steep. According to Nick's report, it's $50 million per hour," Natasha responded.

Coulson gasped in disbelief and said, "So, if I were to see him for counseling right now, it would be like making a cool $50 million?"

"You could look at it that way," Natasha said casually.

"There must be a long line over there, right? Can I still get in today?" Coulson inquired.

"Quite the opposite, there isn't a single person there," Natasha shrugged and walked away.

Natasha didn't look back and simply said, "I want to exercise! You know, for health reasons!"

Coulson was even more bewildered. Shortly after, Nick emerged from his office. Coulson greeted him, "Good morning, Director."

Nick nodded at him and said, "Recently, Natasha has stepped back from Stark Industries affairs, and she'll also be following up on The Hand case. Your main task is to keep an eye on that unpredictable troublemaker; make sure he doesn't cause any chaos."

Coulson acknowledged and then noticed Nick turning to the right. He stopped his superior and said, "Director, the elevator is on the left. Going to the right will add at least 5 minutes to your journey."

"I've been working on my fitness lately, planning to take the staircase," Nick replied.

Coulson was utterly puzzled. He walked to the left, reached Schiller's office door, which was left ajar, and entered. Schiller was engrossed in his work, and when he saw someone enter, he looked up in surprise, saying, "Someone actually came..."

Coulson paused and said, "Aren't you supposed to open the door now? I recall during the morning meeting, it was mentioned that psychological counseling starts today."

"Of course, the door is open! Please come in; you're the first one," Schiller replied. He even pulled out a chair for Coulson, making him feel somewhat uncomfortable. Schiller continued, "Actually, you might be the only one."

"I don't understand. With psychological counseling covered by the agency at $50 million per hour, why isn't anyone coming?" Coulson wondered.

"It's probably because I asked for $50 million, and Nick agreed..." Schiller began.

"What's the problem with that? Doesn't it show that the Director has a lot of confidence in your abilities?" Coulson asked.

"Well... aside from his macroeconomic understanding of our budget and his flexible use of reimbursement within the organizational framework, have you considered that it might be his confidence in me that's scaring people away?" Schiller questioned.

"Are you saying they think your skills are too advanced?" Coulson asked.

Schiller was left speechless. "Are you really an 8th-level Agent? What level is Natasha? Is it 100th level for the maximum?" he retorted.

"Which Agent would willingly consult with a highly skilled psychologist and reveal all their secrets?" Coulson reasoned.

"I thought it was just some basic emotional adjustment, like relieving anxiety," Schiller said.

"In that case, you could go outside and smoke a cigarette," Coulson suggested.

"No, the damn cigarette smoke detectors here are too sensitive," Coulson replied.

"Alright, are you here to alleviate some depressive feelings, then?" Schiller asked.

"Not really, it's because I've seen that Captain and you seem to get along well. I want him to sign my complete set of fan flashcards. Can you ask him for me?" Coulson requested.

Schiller sighed and said, "Well, I knew it. But since I'm making this kind of money, if it can truly ease your anxiety, give me the cards. I promise not to let a single one go unsigned. It should be worth the $50 million an hour I charge."

After Coulson left, Schiller sat in his makeshift office, leisurely sipping his coffee. However, before he could finish his morning tasks, he decided to open the door for some fresh air. Suddenly, a sharp alarm went off, and a small device on his head emitted a red light, triggering an intense alarm.

Startled, Schiller reached for his Spider-Sense, but it remained silent. As a precaution, he readied to Blink, but a loud screech accompanied the activation of the fire sprinklers, drenching the room. If Schiller hadn't moved quickly, he would have been soaked.

Coulson and a few agents rushed over, looking at the cigarette smoke detector, and then back at Schiller, who was holding his coffee cup, wide-eyed.

"You're not allowed to smoke in here," Coulson said.

"I didn't smoke," Schiller replied.

Coulson raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Your expression was the same as Natasha's when she was caught smoking. Did you throw a cigarette down the sink drain or something?"

"Of course not. I don't smoke indoors," Schiller protested.

Coulson didn't detect any cigarette odor, so he looked up at the persistent cigarette smoke detector and said, "Well, it seems this damn thing is malfunctioning again."

"How did you manage to make a cigarette smoke detector create such a deafening noise?"

"If you experienced 32 fire incidents in your house in a single month, you would understand."

Symbiote, inside Schiller's mind, said, "I'm feeling a bit dizzy and nauseous. Let's go."

Schiller replied, "It seems today's counseling session ends here, not even a full hour, but we'll count it as one. Don't forget to have Nick settle the bill. I'll leave first."

Schiller decisively left because he knew this wasn't an accident; someone didn't want him to stay there any longer. After all, going downstairs took an extra five minutes each time, which was a significant time drain.

Humans were always like this. When they didn't have the ability to read minds, they fantasized about someone understanding them, knowing their thoughts. But when someone actually acquired that mind-reading ability, everyone avoided them.

Of course, at S.H.I.E.L.D., it was probably due to Nick Fury's unconventional management system.

Back at the clinic, Schiller, who hadn't slept for dozens of hours, planned to take a short nap. Symbiote played a hypnotic piece of music, helping him fall asleep quickly. However, before he could enter deep slumber, a telephone call disrupted his rest.

"What?... Then why are you looking for me? Go find Pepper."

"She's busy? Does that mean I'm not busy? Well, I'm actually not busy, but you can't make me go back to the laboratory. I really don't want to change light bulbs again."

"Yes, yes, I know your armor is a groundbreaking piece of technology, not a light bulb. Can you get to the point?"

"JARVIS found an anomaly in the parts storage. The count doesn't match. Are you sure you didn't miscount? Okay, I understand... I know you're meticulous, but how can I help with this? I can't magically conjure up the missing parts for you, and no, magic won't work either."

"...It's hard to say." Schiller paced in the clinic's living room. "Maybe you should ask JARVIS for his estimate. He's more than just a computer now."

"JARVIS was a bit evasive? So, you don't know the answer? Or are you suspecting someone but unwilling to acknowledge it..."

"No, my mind-reading abilities don't work in situations like this. Don't joke around... I can tell you that there's an 80% chance the person you're thinking of..."

After hanging up, Schiller grabbed Pikachu and rubbed his cheeks. "A sturdy fortress of steel is always first breached from within. This situation is really hard to fathom."

"What's troubling that guy in the tough armor?" Pikachu asked.

"It seems he lost something from his suit, and his smart assistant pointed to a suspect he didn't want to hear about. Now he's questioning life."

"Human beings always create unnecessary trouble for themselves," Pikachu concluded. "That Parker kid, he's worried about accidentally killing the hostages while playing a game. It's just a game; even if the hostages die, if the kidnappers are eliminated, we still win, right?"

"So you'd go ahead and kill the hostages?"

"Well, that kid always takes forever to make a decision. What can I do? You humans overthink things, immerse yourselves too deeply in things that haven't happened yet, and avoid confronting what has already occurred."

"I never thought a mouse like you could come up with such insightful words."

"Of course, I'm the great detective Pikachu."

In Stark Tower, all the lights in Stark Laboratory were extinguished, leaving only a few instrument lights flickering dimly, like stars in the night sky.

Stark leaned on the lab table, sitting on the floor, with a symbol flashing on his mobile phone, indicating that JARVIS was still active.

"I'm trying to comfort you, sir," JARVIS said.

"So, you turned off all the lights for that?" Stark's voice was hoarse from excessive late nights, and he sounded exhausted.

"It might help you relax a bit. Dim lighting can soothe the brain," JARVIS replied.

Stark closed his eyes, changed to a more comfortable position, propped his arm on a table, and rested his head, almost speaking in a dream-like tone. "Perhaps this is karma. Stark Industries' weapons have caused countless people to suffer, and so the people I once trusted are leaving me one by one..."

"We can't be certain that Mr. Obadiah is the culprit," JARVIS said. "In our analysis, he only has about a 96% likelihood."

"You can be more direct," Stark said.

"Apologies, I meant to say there's a 4% chance it's not him."

"Who's left, then?"

"Mr. Schiller has a 2% chance, Mr. Parker has a 1.2% chance, and you have a 0.8% chance."

"Schiller? You expect someone who can't even distinguish numbered Mech armor parts from 1 to 10 to steal the most important core? And Peter, that kid may be a bit naive, but he wouldn't steal. He's the kind of guy who'd be shocked for half a day if he saw me smoke a cigarette."

"I'm trying to comfort you," JARVIS repeated.

Finally, Stark felt all the sounds of the world gradually fade away as he drifted between wakefulness and dreams, remembering Howard's face. At that time, Uncle Obadiah and his father stood together, both of them still young.

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