Autumn has arrived.

Business at the clinic was relaxed; everything required an appointment, and Lynn would only schedule a few each day depending on his mood.

Lynn saw patients during the day and spent his nights in the underground base researching Pym's manuscripts.

Late one night at the end of October.

It was 1:30 AM.

A knocking sound came from the back door of the clinic.

It wasn't a standard, polite three-knock sequence.

It was an urgent rhythm, a series of over a dozen rapid 'bang-bang-bang's.

Lynn looked up from the console in the underground base.

Elevated heart rate, rapid breathing, excessive adrenaline levels in the blood, persistent Sympathetic nervous system arousal—the physiological precursors to a breakdown caused by long-term sleep deprivation and high mental pressure.

Tony Stark.

Lynn walked upstairs and opened the back door.

Tony was standing outside.

He looked terrible.

But the most striking thing was his eyes.

The dark circles under his eyes were unnaturally heavy—the kind resulting from weeks of sleep deprivation, constant mental tension, and surviving on caffeine and adrenaline.

His eyeballs were bloodshot, and his pupils were slightly dilated in the night.

"Come in." Lynn stepped aside to let him through.

Tony didn't say a word.

His steps were a bit unsteady as he walked into the clinic.

He went to the sofa in the lobby and collapsed straight onto it.

He lay face down, burying his head in the cushions.

Lynn closed the back door, walked over to the tea cabinet, and added water to the kettle.

"Have you eaten?"

A muffled voice came from the cushions: "I ate a... what was it... blueberry? Or strawberry? I don't remember."

"When did you eat?"

"...Yesterday?"

"You're not sure."

"I'm not even sure what day of the week it is."

Lynn didn't ask further. He pulled a pack of biscuits from the bottom of the cabinet, tore open the packaging, and placed it on the coffee table. Then, he set the freshly brewed hot tea beside it.

"Sit up. Eat something first."

Tony rolled over and lay flat on his back.

He stared at the ceiling for over ten seconds.

Then he sat up, picked up a biscuit, and took a bite.

His expression was sluggish as he chewed.

"Lynn."

"Yeah."

"You once said something. You said a person shouldn't wind their own spring too tight."

"I never said that."

"Then who said it?"

"You made it up."

Tony swallowed the biscuit and took a large gulp of tea.

"Doesn't matter who said it. Either way, my spring is broken now."

Lynn sat down across from him.

"How long has it been since you slept?"

"I've slept. Every day... two hours? Three hours? I set an alarm. But my brain won't stop. When the alarm goes off, I'm awake, and then I keep working."

"Working on what?"

Tony's lips twitched.

He didn't answer immediately.

"You know," he said, his voice dropping low.

Lynn did know, of course.

Neurotransmitter disorder caused by prolonged sleep deprivation.

Consistently high Norepinephrine.

Cortisol levels significantly exceeding limits.

The feedback loop of the Hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal axis had begun to malfunction.

Simply put, his body was being slowly drained dry by his own anxiety and fear.

"That Anti-God Armor you mentioned before?" Lynn asked.

Tony shook his head.

"It's not just the armor."

He set down the teacup, leaned forward with his hands on his knees.

"Lynn, let me tell you something. Don't laugh at me."

"I never laugh at patients. If I do, I can't collect the fee."

Tony didn't smile.

"I'm afraid."

These two words coming from Tony Stark's mouth were louder than any bomb.

"During the Battle of New York, the Chitauri mothership, the countless warships... they filled my entire field of vision like locusts."

"That was just an advance force."

His fingers began to tremble involuntarily.

"Then there was Metropolis. That Masked Man—he shattered the World Engine with a single punch."

"And that person might be right here on Earth, or living in the same city as me, maybe just on the next street over."

Lynn held his teacup, saying nothing.

"Then S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, and Hydra crawled out from within."

"Every night I close my eyes and see that wormhole, those warships. The things I can't beat. When I open my eyes, I think..."

"What's next? How strong will the next thing to invade Earth be? Are we ready?"

"No. Never."

Tony's voice was almost squeezed through his teeth by the end.

"So I don't dare sleep. Whenever I sleep, I have nightmares. When I have nightmares, I wake up. When I wake up, I get up and keep working. Drawing blueprints, running simulations, adjusting parameters, testing, tearing it down, starting over. Over and over and over again."

"Bruce told me something. He said, 'We need a shield, a shield above us.' I think he's right. But what is that shield exactly? Armor? Weapons? A system? AI?"

"I don't know, I don't know anything, I just know I can't stop."

Lynn placed the teacup on the table.

He looked at Tony.

He looked at one of the smartest people in the world, crushed by fear into an insomniac middle-aged man.

"Look at your hands," Lynn said.

Tony glanced down.

His hands were shaking, visibly shaking.

"Your Sympathetic nervous system is nearly burnt out," Lynn said flatly.

"Between the long-term sleep deprivation and the constant high-intensity mental stress, your hypothalamic feedback system is collapsing."

"If you continue like this, in three months at most, your hands won't just shake; they'll lose their fine motor control."

"At that point, you won't even be able to turn a screw. Forget about building armor."

Tony's hands stilled for a second.

Then he hid them in the pockets of his hoodie.

Tony let out a long breath.

"How much?"

"The surgery is simple. Since you gave me that equipment before, no charge!"

"Huh? Are you still Lynn?" Tony looked at him with an exaggerated expression.

Lynn ignored Tony and led him into the operating room.

...

Tony lay on the treatment bed.

His body was very stiff, a physical rigidity caused by holding the same posture for a long time.

He had likely been sitting in a lab chair for several days straight.

Lynn placed his hand on the back of Tony's neck.

He adjusted the All-Seeing Eye to a specialized scanning mode for the nervous system.

Tony's Sympathetic nervous system was indeed nearly burnt out.

From the hypothalamus to the brainstem to the lateral horn of the spinal cord, the entire sympathetic nerve chain was in a state of constant arousal.

The concentration of Norepinephrine at the nerve endings was four times the normal value.

The rhythm of the heart's Sinoatrial node was also affected; his resting heart rate was high, reaching eighty-nine beats per minute.

A normal resting heart rate for an adult male should be between sixty and seventy-five.

"I'll handle your cervical spine first." Lynn's fingers moved slowly down Tony's spine.

"C2 through C5 are all misaligned. Have you been sitting in the lab with your head down drawing for three days without moving?"