When he went to sleep at night, Schiller discovered that he could actually stay in Marvel indefinitely.
He could sleep, return to DC, continue sleeping in DC, and return to Marvel again.
Since time didn’t pass on the DC side, he could idle away in Marvel and avoid breathing the smog of Gotham City.
But the good times didn’t last long.
Before Schiller could take Peter and his family for their physical checkups over the weekend, SHIELD came knocking on his door.
It was another workday.
Schiller had just finished rounding the wards and was using the hospital’s internal system to book the physical examinations for Peter’s family when there was a knock on his office door.
Schiller didn’t look up from his desk.
Suddenly, his Spider-Sense tingled.
He looked up warily and saw an unfamiliar man standing at the door.
“Hey, Doc, don’t be nervous.
I’m Coulson, a SHIELD agent.” The man noticed Schiller’s guarded posture.
Schiller glanced at him over his glasses and said, “Let’s talk outside.
There are patients all around us here.”
Coulson nodded quickly, and the two went downstairs to sit in a coffee shop near the hospital.
Schiller frowned and said, “Has SHIELD run out of staff?
Or is it really that difficult to find a female agent who can put on a nurse’s uniform?”
Coulson was a bit puzzled by Schiller’s attitude.
Shouldn’t a normal person show fear or rejection when an agent suddenly showed up like this?
It seemed the boss was right—there was definitely something off about this Schiller.
Schiller appeared somewhat impatient.
He said, “I was late for a day and absent for another.
The entire department knows I stay up late drinking and doing drugs.
If you guys have to make trouble for me, can you at least wait until this storm blows over?
I’m going to get fired!”
“But according to our files, you are only a temporary psychological consultant hired by Presbyterian Hospital.
You are only covering because the head of the psychiatry department is away…”
“Does that matter?
I really need this job right now.
What if you guys cause me to lose my job?”
Coulson said, “I’m sorry, Mr.
Schiller.
We didn’t mean to disturb you.
We simply heard that you are Mr.
Stark’s psychological consultant, and we wanted to learn more about his mental state.
Of course, we will pay your consultation fee on time…”
“One million dollars an hour.”
“Pfft!” Coulson spat out his coffee.
He wiped his mouth and said, “If you want to refuse, there’s no need to make up such an excuse…”
“If you can’t afford it, don’t come for treatment,” Schiller rolled his eyes, stood up, and prepared to leave, acting every bit like an unscrupulous quack.
Surprisingly, Coulson didn’t stop him.
After Schiller left, Coulson pressed his earpiece and said, “There might be some secret in that hospital.
He was in a real hurry to lead me away and very anxious to go back…
Yes, yes…”
Schiller returned to his consultation room.
He focused his mind, opened his telepathy to its maximum capacity, and sensed the emotions of the psychiatric patients, recording as many of them as possible in writing.
The inner world of a group of psychiatric patients was incredibly chaotic and mad.
Schiller scribbled over a dozen pages and locked them in his drawer.
When he returned to his apartment that evening, he noticed that agents had likely searched the place.
Schiller swept the area with his Spider-Sense.
Finding no bugs or cameras, he didn’t pay it any mind.
Inside SHIELD, Nick Fury stared at a glowing data tablet containing Schiller’s detailed profile.
We found many alcohol bottles in his home, as well as some medication…”
“These are some pages we found in his office tonight.
That’s all.
It seems he hurriedly disposed of the rest, as we found a large amount of paper pulp washed down the sewer from a shredder.
Unfortunately, it’s impossible to restore.”
Nick took the papers and said, “Does he have a mental illness?
No, these don’t look like the ravings of a single person.
He’s collecting psychological profiles of psychiatric patients in the department?
How is he communicating with those patients?”
“This is clearly not information an ordinary doctor could obtain.
These records even contain the patients’ deepest, most private secrets…”
“Can he hypnotize people?” Coulson asked.
“Our psychologists can do that too.
But can they make you reveal what color underwear you liked to wear in elementary school?” Fury asked.
“Maybe he just made it all up,” Coulson said.
“He seems to have extra knowledge about the past of Stark Industries and our old friends.
Moreover, he can strike Stark’s weakness directly.
Today, he even seemed to cause Stark’s smart butler to suffer a logical crash,” Fury said.
“Do you want him to work for us?”
“He has a way with Stark, and we will have to deal with more people like this in the future.” Fury set the stack of documents aside and said, “In any case, find out what exactly is in that hospital first.
If possible, have him reassigned away from there.”
“I hate these highly educated intellectuals the most.
They are always too calm, cautious, and elusive.
Opponents who know how to use their brains are hard to deal with,” Fury said.
“Maybe he’s just an ordinary psychologist, and collecting those patients’ crazy talk is just his hobby…” Coulson said.
“Coulson, sometimes you really make me suspect that your Level 8 clearance is highly inflated,” Fury said.
“Do you think someone who can make Stark completely lose his composure within thirty minutes and then swagger into Stark Industries the next day is an ordinary psychologist?
Or do you think Tony Stark is truly just a playboy who only knows how to lounge around with models?”
“Understood.
I will have him leave that hospital first,” Coulson said.
Thus, the next day, Schiller received the news of his termination while in Stark’s office.
He shrugged and said, “You see, I simply must have your financial backing, Mr.
Stark.
You wouldn’t just watch your dedicated psychological consultant go unemployed and bankrupt, would you?”
Stark said, “Is two million dollars not enough for you to open your own private practice?”
“Money isn’t the issue.
The issue is the qualifications required for a psychological clinic.
I need to open a legitimate psychiatric clinic, not some sidewalk scam parlor that’s no different from fortune-telling.”
“With your resume, you can’t get it approved?
Jarvis told me yesterday that you have three doctoral degrees and have worked in the best hospitals across six different states.”
“Yes, it’s just that the location of the clinic I want to open is a bit special,” Schiller said, taking a sip of iced wine.
As Stark fiddled with a machine, he asked, “Where?”
“Hell’s Kitchen,” Schiller said.
Stark’s hand slipped, causing a shower of sparks to erupt from the poor Mark II.
He said, “I really can’t tell that you have the saintly, paternal heart of the Virgin Mary, wanting to save the poor and the junkies in that hellhole of a neighborhood.”
Schiller didn’t say much.
He simply said, “I need a legally established psychological clinic in Hell’s Kitchen.
In exchange, I can agree to one of your requests.”
Schiller placed heavy emphasis on the word “legally.”
Stark said, “As if I would ever have to ask you for help. New chapters come out on g.com first.
Ha, what a joke.
I’m Stark.”
“Don’t you want to know if Pepper actually likes you?”
Stark’s hand slipped again, causing the right leg of the Mark II to explode directly.
Schiller silently took a step back, looking at Stark, whose face was completely black from the blast.
Stark rubbed his face in some panic and said, “What did you say?
What about Pepper?”
Clearly, Stark had not yet realized his own feelings for Pepper.
“I can tell you at the right time whether Pepper truly loves you.
Guaranteed accurate.
You’ve seen my skills.”
“Of course Pepper loves me.
Every woman in the world loves Stark,” Stark said.
“Is that so?
She is merely one of the women in the world?
Nothing special about her at all?” Schiller asked.
Stark fell silent.
“I can agree to your terms.
Of course, starting tomorrow, you don’t need to come perform any psychological counseling for me.
If Pepper looks for you, just decline.”
“Can you not afford my fee anymore?”
Like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, Stark yelled, “Even if you charge ten million dollars an hour, I can afford it!
I just don’t need any psychological counseling!
I’m not crazy!
I’m perfectly fine!”
Schiller shook his head and said slowly, “I’m afraid the Mark II disagrees.”
He and Stark looked down at the same time at the armor that was now missing a leg.
Stark pointed to the door: “Get out right now!!!”
Schiller returned home and sent Peter a message: “The weekend physical exams are booked.
I’ll let the hospital know to provide you with excellent service.
However, our next meeting might have to be postponed, as I have resigned from the hospital.”
Peter quickly expressed his concern, but Schiller only said it was a change in his career planning, without elaborating.
Peter was quite moved.
After all, even after resigning, Schiller still remembered their scheduled physical exam.
He said with some urgency: “Are you still in New York?
If you are, I was thinking we could meet up for a meal, or you could come over to my house…”
Schiller politely declined Peter’s invitation and messaged Charles: “What do you think would happen if I opened a practice in hell?”
“I’m afraid the devil wouldn’t appreciate it.”
“You seem to speak from experience.”
“I advise you against doing so.
You may be a talented ordinary person, but ordinary people cannot resist the devil.”
“But only criminals can fight criminals, can’t they?”
On the other side of the computer screen, Charles stared at the sentence and fell into silence.
He thought, *Max, did you think so too?*
*That only by turning oneself into a criminal can one deal with the most heinous criminals?*
Charles shook his head.
No, justice must have a fair way of being realized.
If one must plunge into hell just to fight devils, how was that any different from associating with them?
Outside the window, students of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters were chasing and playing on the playground.
Storm was calling out to them to return to class, while Jean watched from the side.
Everything seemed so beautiful.
Yet Xavier knew that the shadow of the Dark Phoenix was still far from gone.