Advice Before Leaving

Schiller walked over, picked up the old record player, and patted it. "Hmm... it might be broken. These old things are always a bit unreliable."

Daredevil, unable to see, was genuinely startled by the music. He said, "I never knew old things like this could make such a racket..."

Peter said, "Looks like it's like Steve, refusing to get old."

Schiller fiercely warned his symbiote in his mind, "If you blast music this loud again, you're never getting a drink!"

As a result, the symbiote excitedly chattered in his mind, and Schiller took a long time to understand.

The symbiote told him that until last night, it hadn't actually reached adulthood; it was just a juvenile symbiote.

Originally, symbiotes didn't have adult or juvenile stages, but this special symbiote, created by the Symbiote God, was unique. It needed energy to nourish itself and grow.

Just last night, the symbiote discovered it had unlocked its gene bank, the code embedded in every symbiote's genes. This code allowed it to possess the abilities of other symbiotes, such as splitting and reproducing, infiltrating and controlling other objects, and even mimicking and creating things out of thin air.

Schiller could clearly feel that the symbiote's speech had become much more organized, no longer like a broken record.

The symbiote told him that this was because its genetic code contained the language of the symbiote race, the language the Symbiote God used for cursing. It hadn't known it before.

Hearing this, Schiller tried saying, "Nattaru?"

Almost instantly, Schiller felt a wave of mixed emotions—shock, anger, and grievance—emanating from his mind. The symbiote seemed utterly stunned.

Later, through the symbiote's explanation, Schiller learned that their race's language was different from human languages and any other language in the world.

The symbiote race's language was a catalog sequence. Each syllable they uttered was actually a catalog for a large chunk of information, with the actual content stored in their gene bank, understandable only to symbiotes.

The content stored in the gene bank wasn't human-readable text but a code decipherable by special organs. It was a highly encrypted language. Any race other than symbiotes, while able to hear symbiotes speaking, could not understand them at all. This was because the content of a symbiote's speech was actually a catalog from their gene bank's code.

Take the word "Nattaru" for example. Although it only has three syllables, when these three syllables are input into the symbiote gene bank's sequence, they represent almost tens of minutes of brainwaves.

And the content represented by this syllable was the sum of all the curse words in the symbiote language, far dirtier than any profanity on Earth.

The symbiote said, "This word! It gets you beaten!"

Schiller thought about it. Clearly, his useless knowledge had increased again.

Venom was either on Deadpool or in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s cultivation dishes. Other symbiotes hadn't appeared either. Even if they did, why should Schiller curse along with them? He wasn't the Symbiote God.

When Steve arrived at noon, he had missed the mealtime. Seeing Peter looking dejected, he asked, "You still haven't finished your homework. Wasn't staying up all night enough?"

"Hell of an all-nighter," Schiller said. He pointed and continued, "You'd better ask those two controllers how they were treated yesterday. I could hear the sounds of their skill combos two streets away..."

"Don't say it like that, it makes you sound like an old fossil," Pikachu said.

Steve waved his hand, "Alright, stop interrupting and let's talk business. I might have to go on a mission soon. It's not a big deal, but I want to take Peter with me. It'll be good for him to get some training."

"You'll have to ask Stark about that. Peter signed a contract with him first."

"That rich guy plans to keep Peter stuck in those stuffy labs? What does he want to turn Peter into? A sissy like himself?" Steve said.

Schiller said, "I'm also going to be leaving for a while. Before I go, I need to see Stark again, but I'm not sure if he'll agree to hand Peter over to you. After all, you know you don't have a good impression of each other..."

"You're leaving? Where are you going?" Steve asked.

Schiller shook his head and didn't speak. Finally, Matt said, "I think Peter really should go with Captain. It's not that I'm biased, but Peter seems like he's never left the town he grew up in since he was little. Boys shouldn't be like that."

"I'm going to the West. Speaking of which, it's been a long time since I was last there, but I remember the scenery was quite nice."

Peter was already tempted. Matt was right. Due to his family's tight financial situation, Peter had never traveled since he was young. The furthest he'd ever been was the outskirts of New York. And what American boy didn't have a cowboy dream when the West was mentioned?

Seeing Peter looking at him expectantly, Schiller raised his hands and said, "Alright, alright, I'll go talk to Stark. But you guys better be careful. Going out on assignment is different from doing experiments in a lab. Peter, if you get hurt, your aunt will cry a river of tears."

Peter covered his forehead. He had wanted to go out and have some fun.

Steve said, "You'd better not get your hopes up too high. Don't think this is a real vacation, kid. If you mess up, the first person to hit you won't be the enemy, it'll definitely be me."

"Who are your enemies?" Schiller said. "Of course, I only want to know what's within my security clearance. Beyond that, I have no interest."

Steve said, "Actually, they're not particularly difficult opponents. S.H.I.E.L.D. discovered some secret agents in the West. Perhaps 'agents' isn't the right word; they're more like an assassin organization."

"They seem to call themselves ninjas, appearing and disappearing without a trace. We don't know who hired them. They killed a state senator. It wasn't a big deal originally, but it seems their leader has bigger ambitions, and I happen to need a warm-up activity myself."

Matt stood up and said, "It's The Hand. Elektra told me their organization came here looking for the Dragon Bone, but they haven't made much progress. So, they've been taking contracts locally, causing many deaths..."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. probably knows about this. The fact that they haven't made any major moves suggests the situation is still under control," Schiller said. "More importantly, if S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to know about their conspiracy, they have to be patient."

Matt sat back down. He knew S.H.I.E.L.D. had been watching him and his girlfriend, Elektra, for a long time. Their inaction now didn't mean they wouldn't act later. Elektra, after all, was an assassin for The Hand and was hired by Kingpin. Matt had to find a way to get her out.

Schiller patted his shoulder. "I know what you're worried about. You're upright and have nothing to fear, but your girlfriend might not be. You don't want her to become a spy to save her own life because that's equally dangerous, but I can give you a suggestion."

"Although I don't know what the Dragon Bone is, it must be something valuable, otherwise The Hand wouldn't be trying so hard to find it. What do you think? Would Kingpin like such a valuable item?"

Matt quickly understood his meaning. Although they were both bad guys, they might not align, especially when their interests conflicted. Perhaps Elektra could find an opportunity to break free.

After Steve left, Schiller was driven to Stark Tower. Stark was holed up in his laboratory, frantically tinkering with his mechs. Seeing this, Schiller shook his head and said, "If you keep this up, it won't be me turning into a vampire, but you."

Stark tightened a wrench fiercely and said, "You don't know what the army told me yesterday. Ha, they want my mechs. Guess what they want to do with them?"

Schiller didn't answer. Stark was silent for a moment, then stood up, threw down the wrench, and looked at his mechs. "You're right. I can't just give up what the enemy wants. Now they want to turn my mechs into war machines, so should I dismantle them?"

Stark spoke to himself, "Even if I dismantle all the mechs, what will I gain? World peace? No more war?... They'll just find another way, and the result will be that people who should have been saved by me will no longer have that chance."

"I know you don't want to give them to them. You probably refused them harshly, and then they'll act like they're taking a step back, saying, 'Fine, we don't want your mechs anymore, just give us some regular weapons.' Right?"

Stark pursed his lips. He knew Schiller was right. This was an old trick of those people.

"Do I really have no choice but to go with S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Stark said.

He walked over from the lab bench, pulled out a chair, and sat down, leaning back against it with a sigh of exhaustion. "What tires me the most," he said, "is knowing every path is a trap, yet still being forced to choose one."

"I don't know if Howard knew things would turn out this way when he founded S.H.I.E.L.D. But I think he must have, because he was smart, as smart as you are, Stark. Yet he still chose to do it."

"You'd rather I sided with S.H.I.E.L.D.? If I chose S.H.I.E.L.D. now, it would certainly reduce my troubles. As long as S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't let go, no one can take my mech from me. But I just feel like that decision would bring me even bigger problems."

"Do you have a third option?" Schiller asked.

"I don't think I do, but you don't have to be so blunt about it."

"You truly don't have a third option, but you do have another choice: not to choose."

"But..."

Before Stark could retort, Schiller said:

"You're stuck in a mental loop, always thinking you have to pick a side. But that's not the case. You can stall indefinitely. If one side pressures you, just drop hints to them, like the other side's offer is better, and you're already tempted..."

Schiller continued, "You haven't realized this is a complete buyer's market. Who you choose isn't about who pressures you more, but simply who offers better terms."

"And who can offer terms that tempt the world's richest man, Stark? I imagine as an unprecedentedly wealthy and scientifically brilliant individual, no one would question you asking for a slightly higher price?"

Stark wore a very complex and conflicted expression. He said, "Are you saying... I should be like a woman stringing along two boyfriends, pretending to go with whoever performs better, but actually not committing to either, and just naturally enjoying their attention?"

"I have to say, Stark," Schiller said, "that damn analogy of yours perfectly reflects your damn character."

Stark spread his hands, unashamed and even proud. "Who understands women best? It's me, the charming Stark."

Schiller said, "Jarvis, the surveillance footage from Pepper's office yesterday should be functional, right? I can't wait to see the heroic display of Mr. Stark, the one who understands women best."

"Damn it... Jarvis, you weren't malfunctioning yesterday? You were still recording? Hey, no, don't bring up the screen, alright, I admit it, there are some women I don't understand, and Pepper is the prime example."

Jarvis beeped twice and said, "Miss Pepper has been connected for twenty-three minutes."

Stark jumped up from his chair.

"Just kidding, sir," Jarvis said. Schiller then added, "Who understands women best? It's Jarvis!"

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