In The DC World With Marvel Chat Group

When Schiller went to bed that evening, he realized that he could actually stay in Marvel indefinitely. He could sleep, return to DC, sleep again, and then come back to Marvel. After all, time seemed to stand still in DC, allowing him to avoid inhaling the smog of Gotham City.

However, his good fortune didn't last long. Before Schiller could take Peter and his family for a check-up on the weekend, S.H.I.E.L.D. came knocking on his door.

It was during his work hours when Schiller had just finished checking the rooms. He was using the internal system to schedule a check-up for Peter and his family when there was a knock on his office door. Schiller, still seated behind his desk, didn't look up immediately. Suddenly, his Spider-Sense tingled, and he glanced up to see a stranger standing at the door.

"Hey, doctor, don't be nervous. I'm Coulson, a SHIELD agent," the man said, noticing Schiller's nervous demeanor. Schiller glanced at him from above his glasses and said, "Let's talk outside. These are all my patients in here."

Coulson nodded hurriedly, and the two of them went downstairs, sitting at a coffee shop next to the hospital. Schiller frowned and said, "Is S.H.I.E.L.D. short-staffed, or is it just difficult to find a female agent who can put on a nurse's uniform?"

Coulson was puzzled by Schiller's attitude. Shouldn't most people react with fear or suspicion when an agent suddenly showed up at their door? It seemed like his boss was right; Schiller definitely had some issues.

Schiller seemed impatient as he said, "I've already been late for a day and missed a day of work. Everyone in the clinic knows I stayed up all night drinking and popping pills. If you're here to cause trouble for me, can't you wait until this blows over? I could lose my job!"

"But according to our records, you're just a temporary psychology consultant for Presbyterian Hospital. You only took over because the head of the psychiatric department was absent..."

"Does that really matter? I need this job right now. What if you get me fired?"

Coulson said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Schiller. We didn't intend to disturb you. We heard you are Mr. Stark's psychological counselor, and we wanted to understand more about his psychological state. Of course, we will pay for your consultation..."

"One million dollars per hour."

Coulson choked on his coffee, wiping his mouth. "If you refuse, you don't need to come up with excuses..."

"If you can't afford it, then don't come for treatment," Schiller retorted, looking every bit like an unscrupulous doctor.

Surprisingly, Coulson didn't stop him. After Schiller left, Coulson put on his headphones and said, "There must be something fishy in that hospital. He was in a hurry to get me out of there and was eager to return... Alright, I understand."

Schiller returned to his office, concentrated his attention, and expanded his telepathic senses to their maximum. He began to sense the emotions of the mentally ill patients and tried to express some of those emotions in writing. The inner worlds of these mentally ill patients were chaotic and insane. Schiller scribbled down a dozen pages of notes and locked them in his drawer.

That night, when Schiller returned to his apartment, he realized that someone from S.H.I.E.L.D. had already searched it. He used his Spider-Sense to scan for bugs and cameras but found none, so he paid it no mind.

Inside S.H.I.E.L.D., Nick Fury stared at the glowing Materials panel displaying Schiller's detailed information. Coulson stood behind him and said, "He's quite nervous about his job. It seems like he doesn't want to leave that hospital. We found a lot of empty bottles and some drugs at his home..."

"Is he mentally ill?" Nick asked. "No, these don't seem like the ramblings of a single person. Is he collecting psychological Materials from psychiatric patients? How is he communicating with them?"

"These are clearly not the kind of information a regular doctor can obtain. These records even contain extremely private details about the patients..."

"Can he use hypnosis?" Coulson suggested.

"Our psychologists can do that too. Can he make you reveal what color underwear you wore in elementary school?" Nick replied.

"Maybe he's just making it up," Coulson suggested.

Nick leaned back and said, "He seems to have an extraordinary understanding of Stark Industries' history and our old friend. He can hit Stark's weaknesses head-on. Today, it even caused Stark's AI butler to go into a logic loop."

"Do you want him to work for us?"

"He knows how to handle Stark. We may have more people like him to deal with in the future." Nick pushed the stack of documents aside. "Anyway, let's find out what's going on in that hospital and, if possible, get him reassigned."

"I've always disliked these highbrow intellectuals. They're always too calm, cautious, and hard to read," Nick said.

"Perhaps he's just an ordinary psychologist, and collecting the ramblings of these patients is his hobby," Coulson mused.

"Coulson, sometimes I wonder if your level 8 agent ranking is overinflated," Nick remarked.

"Someone who can make Stark completely lose his composure within thirty minutes and then casually enter Stark Industries the next day. Do you really think he's just an ordinary psychologist? Or do you still think Tony Stark is just a playboy who lounges around with models?" Coulson retorted.

"Alright, I'll have him reassigned from that hospital," Coulson said.

So, the next day, Schiller received the news of his dismissal in Stark's office. He spread his hands and said, "You see, Mr. Stark, I really need your support. You wouldn't want to see your dedicated psychological counselor lose his job and go bankrupt, would you?"

Stark replied, "Two million dollars isn't enough for you to start your own Psychological Clinic?"

"It's not about the money; it's about the qualifications the clinic needs. I need to open a legitimate psychological counseling room, not some roadside scam institution."

"With your credentials, can't you get the necessary permits? JARVIS told me yesterday that you have three Bachelor of Science degrees and have worked at the best hospitals in six different states."

"Yes, but the location I need for my Psychological Clinic is rather special," Schiller replied, taking a sip of ice wine.

Stark tinkered with his machines as he spoke, "Where exactly?"

"Hell's Kitchen," Schiller replied.

Stark's hand trembled, and the pitiful Marc2 erupted in a series of sparks. He said, "I can't believe you have the heart of a saint, wanting to save the destitute and rotten demons in that hellish district."

Schiller didn't say much; he simply stated, "I need to establish a legitimate Psychological Clinic in Hell's Kitchen. For that, I can agree to one request."

Schiller emphasized the word "legitimate."

Stark chuckled, "Do I have anything to ask for your help? Come on, I'm Stark."

"Don't you want to know if Pepper truly likes you?" Schiller asked.

Stark's hand trembled again, and the Marc2 directly exploded its right leg. Schiller took a step back silently, watching Stark, whose face was now blackened. He nervously rubbed his face and said, "What did you say? What's wrong with Pepper?"

Clearly, Stark hadn't realized his own feelings for Pepper yet.

"I can tell you at the right time whether Pepper truly loves you, with a guarantee of accuracy. You've witnessed my abilities."

"Of course, Pepper loves me. All the women in the world love Stark," Stark replied.

"Really? Is she just one of the many women in the world? Nothing special about her?" Schiller asked.

Stark fell silent.

"I can promise you this. Starting tomorrow, you won't need to come for any psychological consultations with me anymore. If Pepper contacts you, you can decline."

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

Stark exploded like a cat with its tail stepped on. He shouted, "Even if you charge ten million dollars per 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 calmly, "I'm afraid Marc2 doesn't agree."

Both of them looked down at the armored suit, missing a leg. Stark pointed at the door and yelled, "Leave immediately!!!"

Schiller returned to his home and messaged Peter, saying, "The weekend check-up has been scheduled. I'll talk to the hospital to ensure they provide you with the best service. However, our meeting may have to be postponed because I've resigned from that hospital."

Peter expressed concern, but Schiller only mentioned it as a change in his career plans. Peter felt touched that Schiller still thought about the previously arranged check-up even after resigning. He eagerly suggested, "Are you still in New York? If you are, maybe we can meet up, have a meal together, or you can come over to my place..."

Schiller politely declined Peter's invitation and messaged Charles, "What do you think if I open a hospital in Hell? "

"I'm afraid the devil won't appreciate your sentiment," Charles replied.

"You seem to have strong feelings about this."

"I advise against it. Perhaps you're just a talented ordinary person, but ordinary people can't resist the devil."

"But only criminals can combat criminals, right?"

Charles, on the other end of the computer, stared at this statement in silence. He wondered, Marc, is that what you believed too? That only by becoming a criminal could you fight the most vicious criminals? Charles shook his head. No, justice must have a fair way of being upheld. If turning oneself into a criminal is the only way to combat the devil, then it's no different from becoming corrupt.

Outside the window, students of the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters were playing and frolicking on the playground. Storm was reprimanding them to return to class, and Xavier watched nearby. Everything seemed idyllic.

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

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