Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1034, Section 1030: Overwhelmed (Second Update)

In 1991, Tony Stark's mother, Maria, sang while playing the piano. Sunlight streamed through the white curtains, illuminating her tightly tied blonde hair and the pearl necklace around her neck. Howard, with his white hair, pulled back the blanket covering the sofa, revealing Tony Stark underneath. Maria stopped playing and looked at them with a smile. Howard Stark had asked Tony to come back from MIT so he could stay home. He actually loved the job, but only if his parents stayed home, or if he didn't know what was going to happen next.

"Who's that homeless guy on the sofa?" Howard Stark asked with a mocking smile. Tony sat up from the sofa, adjusting his Santa hat, his usual way of creating a festive atmosphere, but which now looked terrible.

"That's why I'm going home for Christmas, because you guys happen to be away from home during that time."

"Be a little nicer, honey," Maria scolded her son for talking back. But then she turned to Howard, "He's been studying abroad and only comes home once in a long while."

Howard Stark merely raised an eyebrow, unmoved. "You have a favor to do me," he tossed the Santa hat onto the sofa, "Try not to burn the house down before Monday."

Tony Stark nodded, feigning seriousness, and stood up. "Okay, Monday, right? I got it. I'll adjust my poker party plans accordingly. Where are you guys headed?"

"Your father is planning to take me on vacation to the Bahamas," Maria said.

"We might have to go somewhere first," Howard added.

"The Pentagon?" Tony couldn't help but ask, always teasing Howard about his clandestine military operations. He leaned down to his mother and said, "Don't worry, you'll love the cafeteria's holiday menu."

However, the joke didn't amuse Howard Stark. Tony could sense the conflicting emotions in his eyes—a complex mix of love, hate, and frustration. "You know, they say sarcasm is a measure of potential," Howard said. Tony turned and walked to the other side of the room. "If that's true, you'll definitely be a great man someday." Howard waited for Tony to retort again, but his plan failed. He turned to Maria and said, "I'll go get my bag."

“He really missed you while you were gone,” Maria said to Tony, who was leaning against the doorframe. She lowered her voice, seemingly not wanting to embarrass the two men in the house. “To be honest, you’ll miss us, because this is the last time we’ll be together. You know what’s going to happen next. Say something, or you’ll regret it.”

Her words seemed to stir up emotions that had been building up for years. Tony turned to his father and said the words he could never bring himself to say in real life: "I love you, Dad. I know you've done your best."

Salomon, dressed in a suit, stood in the back of the audience, arms crossed, watching the present-day Tony Stark appear in the holographic projection. He had been watching his past self and his parents who had passed away years ago. "This is what I wanted," he said. "Through binary regression reconstruction, or 'dual reconstruction' for short—I need to study this acronym properly—controlling the hippocampus, clearing traumatic memories. It's an extremely expensive method." Tony Stark leaned against the piano, causing ripples in the holographic projection, shrinking into pixelated pieces. The 1991 living room scene slowly disappeared, and he stood on the stage of the MIT auditorium. The stage contained only a small white room and a piano, prepared to simulate a certain realism. The scene he presented to the audience was poignant, but it wasn't what actually happened. "This doesn't change the fact that they couldn't make it to the airport, nor does it change the efforts I made to alleviate their grief."

Salomon walked around the audience and went backstage.

He watched Tony Stark walk past the rambling professor, trying to beg for funding with his foolish ideas, and an assistant apologizing for a teleprompter error. He watched Tony Stark go in and out of the restroom, then head dejectedly towards the elevator. He wanted to go up and talk to him right away, but Tony Stark had someone else waiting for him—a middle-aged Black woman. Tony Stark's first thought was that she was a fan; his admirers always seemed to show up in the most unexpected places.

"What you've done for those young people is truly amazing," she said.

"They deserve it," Tony Stark said sincerely. "And of course, it makes my conscience a little better."

"Someone once said that generosity and remorse are related. But do you think that having money gives you the right to act recklessly and make mistakes at will?"

Tony Stark was momentarily speechless. He pressed the call button on the elevator. "Are you going up?"

"I'll stay here," the middle-aged woman said, opening her purse. Tony immediately became alert, stepping forward and grabbing her wrist tightly. She didn't pull away, but instead stared directly into Tony's eyes, a gaze that sent chills down his spine. He could only apologize and take a step back, explaining that it was an occupational hazard. It was indeed the truth; since joining the Avengers, he had learned many terrifying things, not to mention... an even more bizarre world.

Salomon looked at the photo that had been taken of Tony Stark's chest.

This is a question from a mother who has lost her child; he shouldn't bother her under any circumstances.

“His name was Charlie Spencer,” she said. “He was killed by you in Sokovia. It means nothing to you because you think you’re fighting for us, but you’re only fighting for yourselves. Who will avenge my son, Stark? He’s dead, all your fault.” She turned and walked away, leaving Tony Stark standing there with a picture of Charlie Spencer. In his life, he had rarely been speechless, but this was one of the few times, because no matter how he argued, Charlie Spencer’s mother was right; the Avengers had killed him.

“Life is a number.” It wasn't until he spoke that Tony Stark noticed Salomon leaning against the wall. The sorcerer was quite relaxed, lighting a cigarette and exhaling a long breath. Stark, however, was startled, his fingers instinctively pressing to his watch. It was a special watch that granted him defensive capabilities in emergencies. Salomon, however, paid no attention to his small movement, as nothing here posed a threat to him. “From a macro perspective, life is a number, but an incredibly heavy number,” he emphasized again. “From an emotional perspective, I support her statement. But from a rational perspective, I must abandon this weakness.”

"What are you doing here!" Tony Stark demanded angrily.

Salomon didn't answer the question, but continued talking to himself. "Think about it, the Avengers faced two choices. One was to let Ultron's actions go unchecked, letting it crash down on Sokovia, triggering massive earthquakes and volcanic eruptions in Europe, killing billions of people, and tragically killing those who should have been saved; the other was to do everything in their power to stop it, saving lives, no matter how many." He said, "If you disregard the fact that you caused this, billions versus thousands is a simple math problem. Did you have the right to sacrifice the lives of those billions of people? Or are the dead deprived of their human rights? Who denied their right to live?"

"Why did you do this?" Tony Stark strode closer to Salomon. "You started a war, you killed innocent people, you even wanted to drop a nuclear bomb! I don't know why you did it, but you're a butcher now! Where is the Salomon I knew? Where is the kind, humorous teenage Salomon?!"

"I ask you, do you have the right to give up the lives of over a billion people? The answer is obvious, and that's why I did it, Tony Stark. I'm dealing with 3.5 billion people and a few million. Can I give up the lives of 3.5 billion people just because I wouldn't give up the lives of a few million?"

Salomon's face remained expressionless. "I also considered waiting until the alien fleet began its invasion, until the infrastructure and organizational structure of human society were dismantled, before stepping forward to lead humanity in resisting the alien solar system fleet. If I did that, the problems I faced would be reduced to one percent of what they are now, because by then there would be no force on Earth capable of fighting against the organization I've been secretly cultivating. The independent survivors would be absorbed by the powerful army, transformed into part of the organization, and continue fighting. My voice would be heard freely on Earth. As long as I didn't reveal the secret of the alien fleet to others and continued to gather resources, I could wait until the day I seized supreme power. Guess why I didn't do that?"

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)