On the presidential plane, Stark was resting with closed eyes. To avoid being disturbed by noise, he wore headphones, which were playing recent news reports in rotation:
"The Federation’s New Technology Research Center is the first research institution established since President Wayne took office. It aims to integrate recent and upcoming new technologies under the new system, promoting comparison and integration, and considering the possibilities for implentation at the earliest opportunity.
In President Wayne’s recent speech at Columbia University, he pointed out that the existing Arican education system has beco increasingly rigid, especially in higher education, where educational and research resources have long been controlled by the elite. Academic factions and family-style research groups continue unchecked, offering no upward mobility for young researchers, leading to further loss of high-tech industry talent, which is completely unfavorable to industrial repatriation.
At the sa ti, Mr. President also stated that, despite this, we cannot afford to lose sight of the forest for the trees. If research project groups are dismantled on a large scale, it will be even less conducive to scientific research developnt. Therefore, he established the New Technology Research Center and intends, over the next decade, to allocate more scientific research funding to young researchers who can develop new technologies and produce new results. Reportedly, many universities have protested, believing this undermines the foundation of the Federation..."
Stark impatiently removed his headphones and muttered, "I’ve spent my whole life doing research, and now I end up as a young researcher..."
He then turned to look at Doom beside him, feeling frustrated when he saw him leisurely munching on snacks. He tried to sit up straight, using his hand to brace against the armrest, and almost hit the stewardess beside him with a wave of his arm.
While apologizing, he lowered his voice and said, "That Batman brought us here just to shove us into so erging, unknown scientific research organization? Nick has already gone off to beco the director of the National Defense Security Bureau!"
"Batman didn’t invite you," Doom said.
"He didn’t invite you either," Stark said, folding his arms, "You insisted on coming. And I’m worried you’ll research so information stream that’ll blow up the universe, humiliating us, so I ca to keep an eye on you."
"Then you should be pleased that Doom is placed in an erging, unknown scientific research organization, because there likely isn’t any equipnt to support experints."
"But if you can’t produce any results, isn’t that even more embarrassing?"
Doom pondered, "Your anxiety hasn’t improved. Perhaps you should try changing psychiatrists."
"Haha, it’s because my psychiatrist is currently unavailable," Stark sighed, folding his arms, "I really don’t understand what the cosmos is thinking, allowing Batman to beco president. Aren’t they afraid he’ll rena Arica to USB?"
"Doom thinks it’s a good idea, because it sounds like data transmission would be very smooth," Doom said.
"Oh, co on. We already have an elusive Electronic Life. If data transmission becos smoother, we’ll be left in the dust,"
As they chatted, the plane soon landed. When Stark exited the cabin, he instinctively put on sunglasses, but then took them off as he descended the stairs, because this gloomy Gotham had no sunlight, nearly winter, and it was misting rain today.
Stark took the umbrella from the bodyguard, while Doom, draped in a cloak, didn’t need an umbrella. As the two walked onto the special vehicle, Stark imdiately frowned.
"The car engine seems..."
"It’s using Magic Energy," Doom said, "Seems like they’re not short on Energy here."
"To guard against Electronic Life?" Stark said, unbuttoning his suit jacket, "There’s never too much Magic Energy. If not for the fuss that guy caused here, Batman probably wouldn’t have chosen to fit a regular car with a magic engine."
"This isn’t a regular car," the driver said from the front, "This is the Batmobile."
"Oh, I get it. Any car touched by Batman is a Batmobile," Stark snorted, "Did he carve his beloved Bat tag on the engine? Is the engine called Bat Engine too?"
"Yes, if you look closely at the chair back, you’ll find embossed bat patterns underneath. This is the emblem of the Batmobile, sir."
Stark was indeed curious. He leaned down, reaching to feel under the seat, and touched so tiny patterns along the edge of the seat cover, but couldn’t tell whether they were bats.
Just as he was about to continue his sarcasm, from this angle, raising his head, he saw the driver’s pale jawline. The other turned slightly, his familiar profile sharpened under the cold light of an overcast sky, as if it suddenly filled a blank in his mory with a fragnt from the past. Seeing him, Stark then realized all his imaginings of Shiller’s youth were inaccurate—this was Shiller’s youth, without confusion or indulgence, he had long completed his self-exploration, just like an incisive scalpel, precisely dissecting the world.
"Hello, Dr. Stark, I am Agent Rodriguez."
"I don’t care who you are," Stark held out One Hand, making a blocking gesture, then said, "First, don’t call doctor, that makes sound like a mad scientist."
"Hello, Detective Rodriguez, or should Doom address you as Director?" Doom said, "Actually, Doom quite likes the title of doctor, because Doom knows that mad scientists aren’t necessarily derogatory. In exploring the world, everyone is a bit mad. Those with a strong desire for knowledge and exploration often have the most significant impact on the world, don’t they?"
Stark pushed him aside, using One Hand to lean on the front passenger seat back, sticking his head between the two front seats, then said, "Okay, call yourself whatever you want. So Batman said you’re the Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation?"
"Yes, to welco our esteed guests, Mr. President invited personally to pick you up. Would you like to introduce the New Technology Research Center to you?"
"I’d rather you introduce yourself to us," Stark said, "I really can’t imagine which Shiller could be Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Are you really cut out to be an agent?"
"As you wish, Doctor. Although saying this may be presumptuous, I might indeed be the most suited among all Shillers to be an agent. I don’t spend vast amounts of ti spouting nonsense, nor do I expend most energy on trying to increase others’ consultation fees by 30% yearly. I lack overly excitable spirits and abundant energy, never exceeding the mark. I’m efficient because I’m focused."
"Then you really should change your na," Stark couldn’t help but say.
"Very good suggestion, Doctor, but I hope you consider the current situation before making it."
"What?"
"You’re sitting in the car, with a safety awareness so weak that you didn’t put on a seatbelt, and the steering wheel is in my hand."
As soon as he finished speaking, the car suddenly made a sharp turn, with a bang, Stark’s head directly collided with the nearby glass, along with his entire shoulder and half of his arm, all slamd heavily against the car door. He let out a miserable scream, instinctively reached for his head, and drew in a cold breath from the pain.
"The dical kit is under the seat," Stark heard Shiller say from the front, "There are 20 minutes left until you face Mr. President, but if you want to et him with that bump on your head, perhaps you can skip bandaging."
Stark opened his mouth, but the curse words stopped at the tip of his tongue. Indeed, now in the car, the other person holding the steering wheel, foot on the accelerator, could give him another bump on the head at any mont, so it’s better to say less.
But if Stark were so easily subdued, he wouldn’t be Stark. He haphazardly dabbed his head with iodine, pressed it with an ice pack and then said, "So are you hired by President Batman too? You work for him?"
"Usually, yes," Shiller said, "If you’re asking what detectives typically do, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. My work is far less thrilling than in agent movies. The main job now is to assist Mr. President in promoting his policies and addressing any potential security incidents."
"Sounds quite busy," Stark leaned back, placed both hands behind his head, his elbows almost hit Doom beside him, he slightly moved back and then said, "Then what’s the biggest thing you’ve done in this cosmos?"
"Certainly flipping you over," Doom said.
Stark rolled his eyes and ignored him. Shiller continued driving and said, "Does forcing the trace of Electronic Life through self-incrimination count?"
"Oh, I thought you all excelled at managing those cosmic-level events," Stark said, pursing his lips, "Of course, being a governnt errand boy is pretty good too, coming to my company every day under various excuses to drink coffee, eat donuts, and then go back to talk bad about . You’re very good at this, right?"
"I don’t like eating donuts."
"So you like drinking coffee?" Stark seed to have caught Shiller’s weakness, he said, "Standing by the coffee machine, spending two hours choosing a favorite flavor, another three hours changing the milk carton, and leaning on the counter beside the coffee machine, stirring coffee with a spoon while complaining about work with colleagues, and there goes a pleasant day."
"You seem to have a deep prejudice against detectives, Doctor. Does Mrs. Romanoff know this?"
"Can you guess where my prejudice cos from?"
"So you are quite familiar with her, which ans her prejudice against you is not entirely without reason."
"Hiss..." Stark angrily drew a breath, just about to say sothing when he heard Shiller from the front say:
"I heard you’re claid to be the smartest person in your cosmos? Isn’t it a coincidence? I recently shot the smartest person in this cosmos with a sniper rifle, but God was on his side. Did you bring cha?"
Stark was taken aback, stuttering slightly, "No, didn’t you say Electronic Life might invade the cha so don’t bring it?"
Shiller reached out and took a cigarette box from the passenger seat, but Stark saw a strap inadvertently brought to the space between the seats. Stark didn’t know what it was, about to ask, but Doom elbowed him, then pointed to the reflection on the windshield — a sniper rifle was blatantly lying on the passenger seat.
Stark imdiately shut up.
But curiosity killed the cat. It wasn’t long before Stark asked again, "Are you sure you’re Shiller? Why do I feel like you’re completely different from the other Shiller?"
"Oh? What’s different?"
"You... I an, the other Shiller wouldn’t threaten like this, they’re pretty friendly to ."
"Including the younger ?"
"Uh, that wasn’t very friendly, but he was a child, and you’re an adult, there’s no need to have such hostility to soone you’re eting for the first ti, right?"
"Are you talking about yourself, Dr. Stark?"
"What do you an?" Stark said discontentedly, "You imply I have hostility to you? How do I?"
"Can you shut up?" Doom, unable to bear it anymore, shoved Stark back to his original position and said, "China has a saying, ’If you’re sick, go treat it.’ You should really give your psychiatrist a raise."
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