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Iron Man stared at the pile of items of power on his desk, and sighed. “Might as well get them organized,” he thought. He picked up the Worthy hammers and stacked them in one corner of his office. The Darkhold, Book of Parallax, Book of Oa, and
Book of the Black he stacked on a shelf behind his desk, next to a First Edition Mark Twain. The CDs he set near his computer, and the rest he simply put into shelves in his desk.
He then sat back down, put his face in his hands, and groaned softly.
“Well,” he said, “Let’s look at this logically. I am now the most powerful person in the history of… well, ever. And all the items are bonded to me, so I don’t ever have to worry about them being stolen.”
He tapped his computer idly, trying to think. “I shouldn’t use them. There’s too much risk of losing control…”
Namor’s words rang in his head, however. He knew there was a lot he could do. But after the disastrous Civil War, which had nearly ruined anything resembling a community that superheroes had, did he have the right?
The questions burned in his mind. Should he use them? Should he find a way to lock them away forever?
He held up the disc with the Master PC program. “It would be so easy…” he said softly. He could make himself immune to the mind-controlling or soul-corrupting effects of the items, allowing him to use the power freely…
“NO!” he said, putting the disc down. “No, I can’t.” He rubbed his temples, groaning. He stared around at the items, wondering and wondering…
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