In the end, whether out of avoidance or something else, Stark handed the investigation of Obadiah over to Lance completely.
He buried himself in the lab day and night, forwarding all calls either to Pepper or directly to Lance.
Only then did Lance belatedly realize that he had somehow become an unofficial secretary for Stark Industries.
Tsk. I didn't charge enough.
The thought crossed his mind, and he slammed his fist onto the desk in frustration.
The sharp clatter startled Peter Parker, who was upgrading the coffee machine nearby. His hand shook, and the screwdriver slipped from his grip, clattering to the floor.
"S-Sorry!"
The boy hurriedly picked it up, his face flushing red. "I'll fix it right away. This time I'm only adding an automatic cleaning function. It won't spray everywhere like last time…"
"It's fine." Lance rubbed his brow. "Just keep going."
This little Spider, with his overwhelming sense of justice, had been showing up in Hell's Kitchen every few days ever since learning that Daredevil and Lance had helped him, trying to repay the favor.
For some reason, Daredevil hadn't refused him. He had even started taking Peter around Hell's Kitchen to fight crime and punish wrongdoing.
But with Lance, Peter kept hitting a wall.
"I don't need anything from you, except cash," Lance had said at the time.
But to Peter, what Lance and Daredevil had done had saved his life. A simple payment could not possibly express his gratitude.
So even after Lance accepted the money and made it clear they were no longer connected, the little bug still came to his office every few days to help out.
In just a short time, Lance's office had been completely transformed.
Peter was constantly fixing things, modifying one device after another.
Sometimes, when his experimental streak kicked in, he practically treated the place like his own personal lab.
Even when Daredevil stopped by again, he couldn't help raising an eyebrow.
"Wow," he said. "Your place is quite… creative."
"Get lost." Lance rolled his eyes. "Take your kid with you."
"He's not mine," Daredevil said. "He's a boy capable of thinking for himself."
"Oh? Is that so?"
"Exactly," Daredevil replied. "He's a good kid. I can't help but worry about him and hope he stays away from bad influences."
If Waylana Jones had been here, she would have noticed the displeasure beneath Lance's expression and made a quiet exit.
But this was Daredevil. Their relationship was not close enough for him to recognize the warning signs of an imminent outburst.
Lance was already in a foul mood, and he had no intention of letting Daredevil walk away comfortably.
So he stripped away the pretense.
"Is that so? So Peter is an independent thinker who can make his own decisions."
He sneered.
"Then what do you call dragging him around Hell's Kitchen these past few days? Isn't that your way of guiding him onto the path you've already chosen for him? I fail to see where the respect is in that."
Daredevil's smile disappeared.
"Peter is a good kid," Lance continued. "His goodness lies in his sincerity. If he receives five points of kindness, he'll return ten. And someone that sincere is also the easiest to hurt. I imagine he'd be very upset if he found out your so-called help was deliberate, and that your guidance serves your own purposes."
Daredevil said nothing.
Lance dropped his smile completely and pointed at the door.
"Now get out."
Daredevil left without a word.
After the door closed, a voice came from the earring.
"Sir, I detected that your heart rate, blood pressure, and cortisol levels have risen sharply in the past three minutes. May I ask the reason?"
"Wait," Lance said. "Why have you started calling me 'Sir' too?"
"I observed that when you interacted with the intelligent assistant Jarvis, your preference index toward him was higher than toward me. Therefore, I am imitating his behavioral patterns in an attempt to please you," Number 1 replied.
"You're a lot smarter than before."
"Thank you, Sir," Number One said. "I have no interest in other matters, but I am willing to devote more effort to increasing your approval. So, Sir, what is troubling you? And why are you angry?"
"Did you understand what Daredevil said?" Lance asked.
"If you mean the literal meaning, I understand it fully. If you mean the implied or deeper meanings humans attach, I apologize, I have not fully mastered those yet."
Lance leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath.
"In simple terms, he insulted me. He said I'm a bad person."
"According to moral model analysis, Daredevil's accusation contains a certain degree of validity. Then why are you angry?"
"I recall you saying your purpose was to comfort me and please me," Lance said flatly. "Your favorability just dropped."
"My apologies, Sir." Number One acknowledged the mistake without hesitation, but continued, "However, I still do not understand. If the other party was correct, why were you angry?"
Lance shifted into a more comfortable position against the back of his chair and let out a soft chuckle.
"Precisely because he was right."
"…?"
For once, Number One failed to follow his reasoning.
If the other party was correct, and Lance himself admitted there was nothing wrong with what was said, then why would he be angry?
Number One could not understand.
Perhaps this was one of the more fascinating aspects of humans.
It attempted to analyze the situation, and the analysis failed.
"You can think of it as being triggered," Lance said. "When someone's words can easily make you lose control, it means they hit the mark."
"The reason I'm angry is because I was triggered."
Lance smiled faintly. "But clearly, he didn't enjoy it either."
"So what you said to him was also correct?" Number One tried to follow his logic.
"Heh~ Exactly." Lance did not bother hiding his satisfaction.
"Daredevil is a vigilante with relatively high moral standards. His intentions are good, but once his motives are questioned, he'll start to feel confused, even doubt himself."
"Right now, he's probably back home questioning his entire existence. He might even be crying."
"Forgive my bluntness, but what is the purpose of doing this?"
Number One gained a new perspective on Lance's complexity.
"There is no purpose, and certainly no meaning."
Lance shrugged. His temper flared quickly and faded just as fast.
He picked up the fountain pen on his desk, spinning it neatly between his fingers as he spoke in a casual tone.
"Because I felt like it."
___
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