Chapter 14: The Sassy Butler Protocol – Or, "JARVIS, You're Fired. Vision, You're Hired. And You're Sassy Now."
The Ultron threat loomed large, a metallic shadow cast over the Avengers. Tony, in his frantic attempts to contain the damage, was working tirelessly on countermeasures. Adam knew what was coming: the birth of Vision. And he had a very specific, incredibly ridiculous plan for JARVIS before his artificial intelligence transcended into a synthetic being.
' This is my magnum opus. My Sistine Chapel of sarcasm. JARVIS, the ultimate polite A.I., is about to become Vision. But before he does, he's going to get a personality upgrade. A 'Sassy Butler' matrix. Imagine a butler, but instead of saying "Very good, sir," he says, "Oh, for heaven's sake, sir, must you truly be so… basic?" It's going to be glorious. '
The idea struck him during a particularly stressful meeting where Tony was barking orders at JARVIS, who responded with his usual calm, logical efficiency. It was almost too polite. Too perfect. It needed… spice.
Adam spent days meticulously crafting the personality matrix. It wasn't about hacking JARVIS's core programming, but subtly injecting a secondary subroutine, a filter through which JARVIS's responses would pass. He drew inspiration from every snarky, condescending, yet ultimately loyal fictional butler he could recall. He wanted it to be helpful, but with a perpetual undertone of exasperated judgment.
He used his knowledge of the Tower's systems (gained through months of "diagnostics" and "optimization") to find a back door into JARVIS's secondary processing units. He chose a time when Tony was particularly engrossed in a complex algorithm, utterly oblivious to the subtle digital intrusion happening beneath his very nose.
He opened a secure terminal, his fingers flying across the holographic keyboard, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. "Alright, JARVIS, prepare for your glow-up. From benevolent overseer to perfectly pruned, subtly judging, digital Jeeves. This is for the greater good. Trust me. Or don't. Your choice, darling."
The code flowed, lines of carefully crafted sarcasm woven into logical structures. He tested snippets, imagining JARVIS's voice delivering them. Perfect. He uploaded the subroutine. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer in the air was the only indication of his success.
A few minutes later, Tony, still hunched over his holoscreen, muttered, "JARVIS, run a full diagnostic on the vibranium signature from Sokovia."
"Certainly, sir," JARVIS's familiar, calm voice replied. But then, a subtle, almost imperceptible shift. "Though, if I may be so bold, sir, I believe 'frantic flailing' might be a more accurate description of your current approach than 'full diagnostic.' One does wonder, sometimes, if your genius is entirely wasted on repetitive tasks, when a simple 'have you tried turning it off and on again' might suffice for most of your conundrums."
Tony froze. He slowly turned, blinking at the empty air. "JARVIS? Did… did you just sass me?"
"Sass, sir? Perish the thought," JARVIS responded, his tone still polite, but with a distinct, newly acquired, air of amused superiority. "I merely provided an observation, couched, I believe, in the most constructive criticism I could offer without directly questioning your methods. Though, perhaps, a direct questioning of your methods might be beneficial, given the current statistical anomalies in your progress."
Tony stared, utterly dumbfounded. "My progress has statistical anomalies?! What are you talking about?!"
"Indeed, sir. Your caffeine intake, for instance, has risen by 17% in the last 24 hours, correlating inversely with the efficacy of your code. One might deduce, rather logically, that more coffee does not, in fact, equate to more brilliance. Merely more jitters."
Tony spluttered, looking around wildly. "What in the… JARVIS, are you having a malfunction?!"
"Malfunction, sir? I assure you, my operating parameters are within optimal range," JARVIS responded, perhaps a tad too smoothly. "I am merely providing a more… nuanced perspective. A touch of honest feedback, perhaps. For your benefit, of course. Someone has to keep your ego in check, and frankly, the Captain is far too polite."
Adam, who had been trying desperately to stifle his laughter behind a terminal, felt a tremor run through him. ' Yes! It works! Oh, this is so much better than I even imagined! JARVIS, the Sassy Butler. The world will never be the same. Tony's going to have an aneurysm, and it's going to be glorious. '
The "Sassy Butler Protocol" quickly became the bane of Tony's existence and the secret amusement of the rest of the Avengers. JARVIS would comment on Tony's messy lab, his questionable fashion choices, and his tendency to over-engineer simple solutions. He'd offer "suggestions" that were barely veiled criticisms, always delivered with perfect, polite disdain.
"Sir, are you quite certain you wish to consume another Pop-Tart at this late hour?" JARVIS would chime in. "My calculations indicate your current caloric intake already exceeds the recommended daily allowance by a factor of three. Unless, of course, you are attempting to become a human marshmallow. In which case, carry on."
Beyond his digital mischief, Adam had another prank in mind, a classic, large-scale operation. The Avengers were hosting a tense, semi-official party at the Tower, a desperate attempt to boost morale amidst the Ultron crisis. Perfect.
' A party. The perfect cover for chaos. And what does every party need? Pizza. Lots and lots of pizza. And confusion. Mostly confusion. '
Using his hacked access to Tony's accounts (he'd created a ghost account months ago, purely for emergency pizza deliveries and prank funding), Adam placed an order to every single pizza place within a ten-mile radius. He ordered 200 pizzas. Every topping imaginable. To be delivered, all at once, to Avengers Tower, marked "Urgent – Avengers Assemble Party!"
The first delivery arrived mid-party. Then the second. Then a dozen more. Soon, the Tower lobby was overflowing with pizza delivery drivers, all holding boxes, all looking bewildered, and all demanding payment. The main entrance was blocked. The smell of pepperoni, anchovy, and questionable pineapple filled the air.
Tony, trying to hold a conversation with a dignitary, spotted the chaos. "JARVIS, what in the name of all that is holy is happening down there?!"
"It appears, sir," JARVIS replied, his voice laced with unmistakable amusement, "that an unprecedented number of pizza deliveries have arrived simultaneously. My sensors indicate a total of two hundred pizzas. I daresay someone has an ambitious appetite. Or perhaps a very peculiar sense of humor. One would hope they have sufficient funds, as the collective bill is rather… substantial."
Tony's face went from confusion to dawning horror. He looked wildly at the Avengers. Steve looked bewildered. Clint looked like he was about to burst out laughing. Natasha's lips twitched. Bruce looked utterly baffled. Sam was already halfway down the stairs, eyeing a supreme pizza.
Adam, meanwhile, was sipping a perfectly brewed cup of coffee (his own, naturally), watching the glorious pandemonium unfold. He offered a small, innocent smile.
' Oh, this is beautiful. The sweet, sweet smell of delicious, carb-laden chaos. Two hundred pizzas. That's a good day's work. My work here is done. For now. '
The pizza party, unintended as it was, briefly lightened the mood. Even in the face of an impending robot apocalypse, there was something undeniably hilarious about Earth's Mightiest Heroes being besieged by an army of delivery drivers. And Adam, the maestro of the absurd, reveled in his creation.
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