"Unfortunate" Resignation

When he went to sleep that night, Schiller realized he could actually stay in Marvel indefinitely. He could sleep, return to DC, keep sleeping there, and then come back to Marvel. After all, time did not pass on the DC side. He could just remain in Marvel and avoid breathing Gotham City's smog.

But the good times did not last. Before Schiller could take Peter and his family for their weekend checkup, S.H.I.E.L.D. came knocking.

It was another workday. Schiller had just finished his rounds and was using the doctors' internal system to book Peter's family's checkup when someone knocked on his office door. Schiller sat behind his desk without looking up. Then his Spider-Sense suddenly tingled. He looked up warily and saw an unfamiliar man standing in the doorway.

"Hey, Doctor, don't be nervous. I'm Coulson, a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent." The man noticed Schiller's tense posture. Schiller glanced at him over his glasses and said, "Let's talk outside. These are all my patients."

Coulson hurriedly nodded. They went downstairs together and sat in a café beside the hospital. Schiller frowned and said, "Does S.H.I.E.L.D. not have enough people? Or is it that hard to find a female agent who can put on a nurse's uniform?"

Coulson was somewhat confused by Schiller's attitude. Shouldn't ordinary people be afraid or resistant when an agent suddenly came to see them? It seemed his boss had been right. There was definitely something wrong with Schiller.

Schiller looked impatient. He said, "I've already been late for a day and skipped work for a day. The whole department knows I stay up all night, drink heavily, and take drugs. If you insist on causing me trouble, could you wait until this blows over? I'll get fired!"

"But according to our records, you're only a temporary psychological consultant hired by Presbyterian Hospital. You were only filling in because the head of the Psychiatry Department was absent..."

"Does that matter? I need this job right now. What if you make me lose it?"

Coulson said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Schiller. We didn't mean to disturb you. We merely heard that you were 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 sprayed coffee from his mouth. Wiping his lips, he said, "If you want to refuse, you don't need to make up an excuse like that..."

"If you can't afford it, stop coming to see a doctor." Schiller rolled his eyes, got up, and made to leave, acting exactly like a shameless quack.

Coulson did not even stop him. After Schiller left, he pressed his earpiece and said, "There must be something suspicious at that hospital. He was in a hurry to get me out of there, and he was in a hurry to go back... Yes, yes..."

Schiller returned to the department. He focused, pushed his telepathy to its limit, then sensed the emotions of the psychiatric patients and tried to put as many of those emotions into words as possible. The inner worlds of a group of psychiatric patients were truly chaotic and insane. Schiller scribbled more than a dozen pages and locked them in a drawer.

When he returned to his apartment that night, he found signs that agents had likely searched the place. Schiller scanned with his Spider-Sense, found no listening devices or cameras, and did not bother with it.

At S.H.I.E.L.D., Nick Fury stared at the glowing data screen displaying Schiller's detailed file. Coulson stood behind him and said, "He's very concerned about his job and doesn't seem to want to leave that hospital. We found a lot of liquor bottles and some medication in his home..."

"These are some papers we found in his office tonight. This was all there was. It seems he urgently disposed of more, because we found a large amount of shredded paper pulp flushed out by a shredder in the sewers. Unfortunately, it can't be restored."

Nick took the papers and said, "He has a mental illness? No, these don't look like one person's ramblings. He was collecting psychological records from psychiatric patients? How did he communicate with those patients?"

"This is clearly not information an ordinary doctor could obtain. These records even include patients' most private secrets..."

"He can hypnotize people?" Coulson said.

"Our psychologists can do that too. Can they make you tell them what color underwear you liked to wear in elementary school?" Nick said.

"Maybe he made it all up," Coulson said.

"He seems to know more than he should about Stark Industries' past and our old friend. And he can strike directly at Stark's weak points. Today, he even seemed to send Stark's intelligent butler into a logical shutdown," Nick said.

"You want him to work for us?"

"He has a way of dealing with Stark. We'll have more people like that to handle in the future." Nick set the stack of documents aside and said, "In any case, find out what exactly is in that hospital first. If possible, transfer him away from there."

"I hate these highly educated types most. They're always too calm, too cautious, and impossible to read. Opponents who know how to use their brains are hard to deal with," Nick said.

"Maybe he's just an ordinary psychologist, and collecting those patients' crazy talk is his hobby..." Coulson said.

"Coulson, sometimes you make me wonder whether your Level Eight clearance is inflated," Nick said.

"Someone who can make Stark completely lose control within thirty minutes, then stroll into Stark Industries the next day—you think he's an ordinary psychologist? Or do you think Tony Stark really is just a carefree playboy who only knows how to drown himself in models?"

"Understood. I'll get him out of that hospital first," Coulson said.

And so, the next day, Schiller received news of his dismissal in Stark's office. Spreading his hands, he said, "See? I really do need your sponsorship now, Mr. Stark. You wouldn't just stand by and watch your dedicated psychological consultant become unemployed and bankrupt, would you?"

Stark said, "Two million dollars isn't enough for you to open your own clinic?"

"Money isn't the problem. The problem is the qualifications needed for a clinic. I need to open a legal psychological treatment center, not some scam operation on the street no different from fortune-telling."

"With your résumé, you can't get approval? Jarvis told me yesterday that you have three doctorates and have worked at the best hospitals in six different states."

"Yes, but the location of the clinic I want to open is rather special." Schiller took a sip of iced wine.

Stark fiddled with a machine as he said, "Where?"

"Hell's Kitchen," Schiller said.

Stark's hand jerked. The poor Mark II erupted in a shower of sparks. He said, "I really couldn't tell you had the benevolent heart of the Virgin Mary, wanting to save the poor and drug-addled trash in that hellish neighborhood."

Schiller did not say much. He said, "I need a psychological clinic legally established in Hell's Kitchen. In return, I can grant you one request."

Schiller emphasized the word "legally."

Stark said, "What could I possibly need your help with? Ha, what a joke. I'm Stark."

"Don't you want to know whether Pepper really likes you?"

Stark's hand jerked again, and Mark II's right leg exploded outright. Schiller silently took a step back. Looking at Stark, whose face had been blackened by the blast, he saw him rub his face in slight panic and say, "What did you say? What about Pepper?"

Clearly, Stark had not yet realized how he felt about Pepper.

"I can tell you at an appropriate time whether Pepper truly loves you. I guarantee accuracy. You've seen what I can do."

"Pepper obviously loves me. Every woman in the world loves Stark," Stark said.

"Really? She's merely one woman among all the women in the world? Nothing special about her?" Schiller asked.

Stark fell silent.

"I can agree. Of course, starting tomorrow, you won't need to come give me any psychological consultations. If Pepper comes looking for you, turn her away."

"Can't you afford my consultation fee anymore?"

Like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, Stark shouted, "Even if you charged ten million dollars an hour, I could afford it! I just don't need any psychological consultation! I'm not crazy! I'm perfectly fine!"

Schiller shook his head and said slowly, "I'm afraid Mark II disagrees."

He and Stark lowered their heads at the same time to look at the armor missing one leg. Stark pointed at the door. "Get out immediately!!!"

Schiller returned home and messaged Peter: "The weekend checkup has already been booked. I'll speak with the hospital and have them provide you with attentive service. However, our meeting may have to be postponed, because I've resigned from that hospital."

Peter hurriedly expressed concern, but Schiller only said it was a change in his career plans and did not elaborate. Peter was somewhat moved. Even after resigning, Schiller still remembered the checkup they had arranged. Somewhat eagerly, he said, "Are you still in New York? If you are, maybe we can meet up for a meal or something. Or you could come to my house..."

Schiller politely declined Peter and sent Charles a message: "What do you think would happen if I opened a hospital in Hell?"

"I'm afraid the devils won't appreciate it."

"You sound like you speak from experience."

"I advise you not to do that. Perhaps you're merely a talented ordinary person, but ordinary people cannot resist devils."

"But only criminals can fight criminals, can't they?"

Charles, on the other side of the computer, fell silent as he looked at those words. He thought, Marx, did you think the same way?

Only by turning yourself into a criminal can you deal with the most vicious criminals?

Charles shook his head. No. Justice surely had a fair way of being carried out. If one had to throw oneself into Hell to fight devils, then there was no difference from joining them.

Outside the window, the students of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters were chasing and playing on the field. Storm was scolding them to return to class, while Jean watched from the side. Everything looked wonderful.

But Xavier knew that the shadow of the Dark Phoenix was still far from gone.