A sharp hum, like a thousand red-hot steel needles, pierced deep into Tony Stark's brain.
His world was collapsing.
The dust of Afghanistan, the flames of the missile, the look of despair and release in Yinsen's eyes as he fell... Every nightmare he had deliberately buried was now being dragged from the abyss of his subconscious by this strange gun called the "Dominator," lashing repeatedly at his fragile nerves.
"Let go! Tony! Let go of it!"
Paul's shout seemed to come from another world, distant and filled with an unprecedented alarm.
Tony wanted to, but his hand felt as if it had been welded to the grip by high heat. Every muscle fiber defied his brain's commands, clenching even tighter.
The gun was dominating *him*.
Just as Tony's consciousness was about to be devoured by darkness, Paul finally reached him.
He didn't try to snatch the weapon. Instead, with incredible speed, he extended two fingers and pressed them precisely at the junction of two faint blue light strips on the side of the gun's frame.
At the same time, a short, strange syllable escaped his lips.
"Stop."
It wasn't English. The pronunciation was dry, yet it carried an undeniable sense of command.
VMM—!
Instantly, the skull-piercing hum ceased.
The blue light on the gun extinguished, returning to its original dull finish. The invisible force that had welded Tony's hand to it vanished.
Clatter.
The Dominator slipped from his nerveless grasp and hit the floor with a heavy thud.
"Hah... hah... hah..."
Tony's knees buckled. He braced himself on the workbench, gasping for air. Cold sweat soaked his expensive T-shirt, dripping from his forehead onto the cool floor.
The lights in the garage seemed to brighten again, but afterimages of the horrific visions still lingered in his sight.
He looked up at Paul, who was bending down to pick up the gun. For the first time, his eyes held something akin to... fear.
"What the hell was that?" His voice was hoarse, trembling with the aftershock of the ordeal.
Paul's face was also a little pale, but he quickly regained his composure, his brow furrowed as he examined the gun in his hands like a flawed piece of art.
"A... somewhat immature prototype."
Paul placed the Dominator back in its metal case, though this time, he didn't close the lid. He walked over to the console, his fingers tapping rapidly across the virtual keyboard.
A holographic projection materialized between them.
On the display was a detailed three-dimensional schematic of the Dominator, with countless streams of data flowing around it.
"The Dominator. Full designation: Autonomous Threat Judgment and Processing System." Paul's voice was as calm as if he were giving an academic lecture, a stark contrast to his earlier panic. "It's based on direct brain-computer interface technology. It bypasses conventional neural responses to exchange information directly with the user's subconscious."
He pointed to the grip on the hologram. "When you hold it, it reads your biometrics to authenticate your authority. Simultaneously, it scans the environment and, based on preset threat models, projects its assessment directly into your brain as a 'voice'."
Tony's pupils contracted.
Projected directly into his brain? No wonder the voice had been so clear, so... intimate. This was beyond any known communication technology.
"What you just experienced was its first mode: Non-lethal Psychological Deterrence," Paul continued. "It captures the target's subconscious fears and amplifies them, inducing a state of mental paralysis. However... its cognitive module is still unstable. The safety threshold was set too low, which nearly caused permanent neurological damage. My mistake."
He admitted the error so casually, as if he were just remarking that the milk for his breakfast had been a bit cold.
Tony's lip twitched. *Nearly caused permanent neurological damage?* And the kid called that "a mistake"?
Ignoring Tony's expression, Paul swiped a finger through the air, and the holographic Dominator began to change.
The gun's external armor plating cracked open, reconfigured, and extended, forming a much longer, sleeker barrel that glinted with a cold metallic light.
"Mode Two: Lethal Physical Elimination."
"In this mode, it functions as a conventional kinetic weapon. However, its targeting is AI-assisted, capable of predicting ballistic trajectories and target movement. The hit rate... is theoretically one hundred percent."
Tony's heart skipped a beat.
A gun that could predict the future?
This wasn't a weapon anymore. It was an attack on the level of causality.
Before he could recover from the shock, Paul swiped his finger again.
The weapon in the hologram began a far more incredible transformation.
The entire frame flowed and reassembled like liquid metal. The barrel retracted, replaced by a strange device that spun and gathered a faint blue light, looking like some kind of energy core.
"Mode Three." A hint of barely perceptible... fanaticism... had finally entered Paul's voice.
"I call it, Judgment Mode: Existence Erasure."
"Existence... Erasure?" Tony repeated subconsciously, a chill running up his spine.
"Yes." Paul nodded, his eyes shining with an astonishing light. "It fires a highly-directed disintegration field that completely breaks down the target at the atomic level, leaving not a single trace behind. Whether it's a carbon-based lifeform or the Iron Man armor you wear, it makes no difference."
A dead silence fell over the garage.
Tony stared at the spinning orb of light, imagining his prized Mark II armor silently turning to dust under that blue beam.
An unprecedented sense of powerlessness and fear gripped his heart.
He whipped his head around to face Paul. "You... you built this?"
"Merely to test a theory," Paul replied with the same detached calm.
Tony took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He was Tony Stark, the foremost scientist and inventor on the planet. He couldn't lose his composure in front of a fourteen-year-old kid.
He stepped forward and picked up the heavy Dominator again. This time, it didn't feel cold, but searingly hot, enough to scorch the soul.
"Let me try."
Tony raised his arm, the dark muzzle aimed directly at Paul, who stood opposite him.
Paul didn't move, didn't even blink. He just watched him calmly.
Tony's finger slowly settled on the trigger.
Just as he was about to squeeze, the cold, synthetic electronic voice echoed in his mind once more.
`[Target locked: Paul Stark.]`
`[Threat level assessment... zero.]`
`[Non-threat target. Safety protocols engaged. Trigger locked.]`
Click.
The trigger wouldn't budge, as if it were welded in place.
Tony froze.
He looked down at the gun, then up at Paul's "I-knew-this-would-happen" expression, and a sense of the absurd washed over him.
This gun... it had its own judgment? It deemed its own creator a non-threat and therefore refused to be used against him?
This wasn't intelligence.
This was... a will.
"How... How did it..."
"Because its core logic isn't 'obedience,' it's 'judgment,'" Paul said, stepping forward to take the Dominator from Tony's hands. "It wasn't created to allow its user to kill indiscriminately. It was created to end 'threats.' When the target poses no threat, it's just a useless piece of metal."
Tony was silent.
He watched Paul casually place the weapon, a creation worthy of a god, back in its case, a storm raging in his heart.
He remembered his declaration when he shut down Stark Industries' weapons division, the promise he had made to the world.
And now, his son, a boy of only fourteen, had casually created a "judgment gun" far beyond the sum of all weapons on Earth, a tool to decide life and death.
What was this? Some kind of irony?
"You shouldn't have built this, Paul," Tony finally found his voice, his tone heavy. "This isn't power mankind is meant to have."
"Is that so?" Paul snapped the latches on the metal case shut with a dull thud. He turned to face Tony, his clear eyes holding a depth Tony couldn't comprehend.
"Power isn't about 'should' or 'shouldn't.' It's about who wields it."
He paused, then suddenly changed the subject.
"Aren't you going to Gulmira to settle the score with those terrorists?"
Tony started, then nodded.
Paul patted the metal case beside him, a meaningful curve playing on his lips.
"Take it with you."
"What?"
"Take it with you on your mission," Paul said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I need combat data to refine its cognitive module. Especially... for its third mode."
He took two steps forward and leaned in close to Tony's ear, whispering in a voice only they could hear:
"According to my intelligence, the target you're looking for is no ordinary terrorist leader."
"He is... a being so dangerous that the Dominator's threat index... will go right off the charts."