Ominous, ghostly green characters hovered on the screen, a gaze from the abyss, before slowly dissipating into a deathly silence.
"Warning… Threat source has vanished… J.A.R.V.I.S. core permissions restored…"
The AI butler's smooth, electronic voice returned, now tinged with the gravity of a near-disaster.
Paul collapsed into his chair, utterly drained, cold sweat soaking his back.
Was it over?
No, it had just begun.
*"I've found you… Stark…"*
The words were a curse, seared into his mind. Was their target Stark—his father, or himself? Or… both of them?
An unprecedented sense of crisis descended upon him like an invisible net, trapping him completely. He had to get stronger. He had to possess the power to fight this unknown threat.
The extreme mental strain and exhaustion made Paul's eyelids feel as heavy as lead. He slumped onto the desk and fell into a deep sleep in the pre-dawn darkness, his dreams still haunted by that suffocating, ghostly green.
…
Night fell, and the lights of the Malibu cliffside mansion glittered like diamonds.
A flashy red Audi R8 roared as it drifted perfectly into the garage.
Tony Stark whistled, loosening his tie. Even a custom-tailored suit couldn't hide the fatigue and roguish charm in his eyes.
"J.A.R.V.I.S., put on some music, and get me a whiskey, neat."
"As you wish, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice echoed through every corner of the villa. "Also, a friendly reminder: based on your itinerary and heart rate fluctuations over the past twenty-four hours, alcohol is not the optimal choice."
"Zip it, J.A.R.V.I.S. I need a butler, not a nanny," Tony said, tossing his jacket onto the sofa and sinking into its cushions.
But the next second, his gaze was drawn to something out of place in the center of the living room.
It was a bright red briefcase, square-shaped and exuding an industrial design aesthetic, a stark contrast to the other works of art he collected.
"J.A.R.V.I.S., where did this thing come from? Did Pepper buy me another weird collectible?"
"Sir, that is Master Paul's work."
"Paul?" Tony raised an eyebrow and stood up from the sofa.
His feelings for his fourteen-year-old son were incredibly complex. He knew Paul was a genius, one who even surprised him in certain aspects. But the relationship between father and son was always separated by an invisible wall, distant and polite.
He walked over to the briefcase, examining it with curiosity. The surface was smooth, with only a single, barely noticeable circular indentation.
On a whim, he reached out and pressed his finger against it.
*Click.*
With a soft sound, the case popped open.
Immediately, something white inflated with a *whoosh*, like a giant balloon being rapidly blown up.
Startled by the sudden development, Tony stumbled back a step, nearly letting out a curse.
In just a few seconds, a round, chubby, white inflatable robot over six feet tall stood before him.
The robot was pure white, its material looking both soft and durable. Its black optical sensors were connected by a simple black line, forming a goofy,呆萌 expression.
"Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion."
A gentle, monotone, and emotionless electronic voice spoke.
Tony froze. He circled the "marshmallow," a look of sheer absurdity on his face.
"Personal healthcare companion? A toy Paul cooked up?"
He reached out and poked Baymax's soft belly. The texture was surprisingly pleasant.
Just then, a blue light emanated from Baymax's optical sensors, performing a quick scan of Tony from head to toe.
"Scan complete. Based on a comprehensive analysis of your heart rate, blood pressure, and body surface temperature, you are currently in a sub-health state."
"Huh?" Tony found it somewhat amusing. "Sub-health? I just got back from an eighteen-hour party and I'm still standing. You call this sub-health?"
Baymax tilted its round head slightly, as if processing information.
"Your physiological data indicates chronic sleep deprivation, excessive alcohol consumption, accompanied by mild lumbar muscle strain and…"
Baymax paused, as if searching for the right term.
"...and, signs of mild kidney function deficiency."
The air instantly froze.
The smile on Tony's face stiffened. He cleaned out his ear, suspecting he had misheard.
"You… what did you say?"
Baymax repeated its conclusion in the same placid tone, "Cross-referencing with Traditional Chinese Medicine theory, your symptoms are consistent with a preliminary diagnosis of 'Kidney Deficiency'."
"Kidney—Deficiency—?"
Tony Stark, billionaire tech mogul, playboy who had graced countless boudoirs, felt his dignity being ground into the dust by this white blimp.
A vein throbbed on his forehead as he pointed at Baymax and roared, "J.A.R.V.I.S.! Throw this nonsensical marshmallow out! Now! Immediately!"
The tremendous roar penetrated the walls and reached Paul's room on the second floor.
Paul was startled awake. Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he came out and immediately saw his father, who was raging in the living room below, and the goofy figure standing beside him.
His head began to ache.
"What's your deal, Tony? It's the middle of the night and you're arguing with an inflatable doll?" Paul yawned as he descended the stairs.
"Inflatable doll?" Tony was so angry he nearly fainted. "You'd better explain why this thing of yours said I… that I have…"
He couldn't bring himself to say the word.
Paul understood instantly, an "I knew it" expression crossing his face.
"It's just making the most objective diagnosis based on data. Why are you getting so worked up?"
"Objective? This is slander! Blatant slander!" Tony pointed at his own face. "Look at me. Do I look like someone with… that kind of problem?"
Paul couldn't be bothered to argue. He grabbed a roll of heavy-duty tape from a nearby workbench.
"What are you doing?" Tony watched him warily.
Paul didn't say a word. He strode forward, slapped the tape onto Tony's arm, and with a sharp *rip*, tore it off.
"Ow!"
Tony yelped in pain as a small patch of arm hair was ripped out by the roots.
The moment he was about to erupt, Baymax moved. It walked over with slow, steady steps and extended a soft arm.
"Pain detected. Your vocalization indicates a pain level of 'moderate'."
As it spoke, a small spray nozzle emerged from Baymax's fingertip.
"I can apply an antibacterial spray to soothe the pain."
Tony looked at the patch of skin on his arm, which had instantly turned red, then at Baymax's precise reaction and solution. For a moment, he was speechless.
His earlier rage now seemed a bit unreasonable.
Paul stood to the side, arms crossed, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Now, do you still think it's talking nonsense?"
Tony's anger gradually subsided, replaced by the intense curiosity of a master engineer.
He ignored Paul's teasing and began to study Baymax meticulously, as if he had discovered a new continent.
"This outer shell… it's not ordinary vinyl. It has extremely high tensile strength, and it's incredibly light." He pressed his fingers against Baymax's body, feeling the internal skeletal structure.
"Carbon fiber skeleton. The joint design is brilliant, mimicking human muscle contraction to maintain stable movement in an inflated state. Remarkable."
Tony's eyes grew brighter and brighter, completely immersed in the ocean of technology.
"What's its diagnostic logic? What vital signs can its sensors detect? Where is the data processing module?"
He fired off a string of questions, all his previous disdain and anger gone, replaced by a pure quest for technical knowledge.
For the first time in a long while, father and son weren't arguing or maintaining a distance. Instead, like two rival engineers, they launched into a late-night technical discussion in the living room.
Paul answered his questions one by one, from Baymax's medical database and behavioral logic algorithms to the formula for its flexible material.
The more Tony listened, the more astonished he became.
He discovered that the technology inside this goofy, harmless-looking robot surpassed many of the projects currently under development at Stark Industries.
Especially the sensor array that covered its entire body—it was a work of pure genius!
"I'm buying it."
After a long silence, Tony suddenly spoke, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"What?" Paul didn't react at first.
"I said, I'm buying the design data and a one-year exclusive technology license." Tony's business instincts were on full display. "Name your price, son."
Paul smiled. This was exactly what he'd been waiting for.
"For the sake of our father-son relationship, I'll give you a discount. One hundred million dollars."
Tony's eyelid twitched, but he nodded in agreement. "Deal. J.A.R.V.I.S., draw up the contract tomorrow morning and transfer the funds."
To him, money wasn't the issue. This kind of disruptive technology was priceless.
He could already foresee the storm "Baymax" would create in the global healthcare industry once it was released.
"Last question," Tony said, staring at the circular power port on Baymax's chest. "What's its power source? To drive the entire carbon fiber skeleton and sensor system in such a small package, a standard lithium battery wouldn't cut it."
He expected Paul to mention some new type of hydrogen fuel cell, or perhaps a miniature Arc Reactor technology.
However, Paul just yawned and lazily threw out a term.
"Oh, that."
"Graphene battery."
The expression on Tony's face froze solid the moment he heard the words.
Graphene… battery?
The stuff that only existed in theoretical physicists' papers, hailed as the "miracle material of the 21st century," yet had never been stably mass-produced or commercialized?
He looked at Paul's young face, which wore an expression of "of course," then at the goofy white robot beside him. His mind buzzed as if countless universes were being born and destroyed before his eyes.
*Who am I?*
*Where am I?*
*Has the world gone completely insane?*