Chapter-60 | Early Winter Routine... (1)

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....

The weather in New York was much better than in Gotham. Despite it being winter, the sun was shining and from the third floor window of the clinic, you could clearly see the traffic on the highway at the other end of the skyline.

Schiller got up early, Pikachu with his short hand pushed the door open at once, then stretched and said: "Your damn old kettle is screaming too loud! Yawn, where did you get such an old fart?"

Schiller went down the stairs, Pikachu slid down from the top of the handrail to the second floor of the dining room. The kettle was steaming hot and would make a sharp chirp from time to time.

Schiller used magic to float the kettle and put it on the table. He then waved his hand, a pan flew over, he poured some olive oil on it and began to make breakfast.

Pikachu opened the refrigerator door with a bang, went inside to find something to eat, and said: "I should really throw away this damn blue cheese, it's so smelly! Oh, and these damn lettuce, this stuff tastes like you're chewing plastic, let me see...here! My cheddar cheese! Put it in my breakfast sandwich later, and this can of my favorite lunch meat, cut it up and sandwich it in the middle for me, and remember, make sure you cut it thick..."

At that moment, the door downstairs of the clinic slammed and Schiller heard Peter's voice accompanied by footsteps coming up the stairs, "Sir! I'm here! I asked my uncle to borrow a toolbox, and I'm sure I can fix that damn electric switch today..."

As Peter walked up to the kitchen, the open refrigerator door blocked his view. With a wave of his hand, he slammed it shut, but immediately heard a scream, "Oh! Shit! My waist!!!"

Peter quickly opened the refrigerator door again and found a furry Pikachu sitting on the refrigerator divider. His waist had hit the lid of a can placed on the refrigerator door.

Holding the Pikachu down, Peter asked, "You have a waist? Where is it?"

The Pikachu responded, "Hey, kid, don't force me to expose you. Yesterday, it was not my fault that the electric switch broke. It's obvious you're still not passing after losing all 30 lives..."

Peter covered Pikachu's mouth, looking around the kitchen and smelling something delicious. He said, "Dr. Schiller, what did you do? Why does it smell so good?"

"Just a regular fried sandwich. I'll make you a large one if you want," Schiller replied, as he fried some eggs.

"Okay, but it doesn't really have to be too big. I've been eating smaller portions lately," Peter said.

"That's great news," Schiller said with a smile. "At least your aunt won't have to cook for you until her wrists hurt every day."

As they chatted, Peter couldn't help but glance at the ring on his finger, and the subtle change in his expression was noticed by Pikachu, who looked around and then said, "We haven't unplugged the game cassette from yesterday. Do you want to play another one?"

Peter wasn't sure, but Pikachu's tail flicked, making a strong point downstairs. Understanding Pikachu's suggestion, Peter immediately followed him downstairs.

After a while, the two came back muttering and Pikachu jumped onto the stove and looked at Schiller.

Schiller was using a spatula to turn a golden omelette over, and Peter was squeezing his eyebrows at Pikachu, who wrinkled his nose and said, "Well, well, I think you're finding it quite hard to cook for us, or should we go out to eat?"

Schiller looked at Pikachu with surprise and said, "The sun is rising from the west today? Usually at this time, you would only be asking me to fry the eggs tenderly."

Pikachu waved his tail and said, "I mean... well, it's nothing, but I always think that humans shouldn't keep everything inside. It's not good for your health..."

"I'm a psychiatrist, I know that better than you do. Otherwise, whose money would I be making?" Schiller said with a chuckle.

Pikachu wanted to say something else, but was interrupted by Peter who laughed dryly and said, "Haha, doctor, let's go play the game for a while and come back to help you later."

Pikachu retaliated by flicking his tail at Peter's face, as Peter had just hit his waist. Peter wasn't willing to be outdone, so he grabbed Pikachu's ears and they playfully went downstairs.

Schiller felt a little puzzled, he always felt that Peter had something to hide from him.

After a while, Steve also came in after his morning run. He wiped his sweat with a towel and followed the scent upstairs. He said, "The structure of this old house is too unreasonable. The kitchen is still on the second floor."

"Thankfully, I still have the money to afford a good working hood," Schiller said.

"Then you have to thank Nick too. He didn't pay you much in bonuses, did he?" Steve asked.

"What? What did he give you a bonus for? How much did you get, 30 percent or 20 percent?" Schiller asked.

"Not counting taxes, only 18 percent," Steve said with a shrug. "He's really getting macro in his understanding of the economics of additional income distribution."

Steve put a towel on the railing and then very naturally opened the refrigerator. He said, "Let's see, where's the steak I put in here last time? Oh, here it is, there's a little half left. I think I can make a beef cheeseburger. Where's the cheese? I remember last time there was half a block left..."

"Stop looking. Did you forget that I have a rat here just like Jerry? What cheese survives past the second day except blue cheese?" Schiller said.

"Oh my God! That's almost two pounds of cheese, and he ate it all? Nothing left?" Steve exclaimed.

"That's not true. It's not just him. Peter made a margarita pizza last time and put at least a pound in it," Schiller replied.

Steve shook his head and closed the refrigerator door. He said, "Young people today really don't know how to save. Is there a good convenience store in Hell's Kitchen? I'll go get some sliced cheese too."

"Go out, turn right and go two blocks ahead to Mrs. Helena's. But of course, you'd better say you're there to buy cheese or she might take you for a job application," Schiller said.

"For a job? What kind of job is there to apply for in this hellhole?" Steve asked.

"Of course, there is. Mrs. Helena has three strip bars under her hands. Business is booming. She should like you the most," Schiller replied.

Steve bristled and said, "I'd better take a long detour and get out of Hell's Kitchen before I buy anything."

He then came over and patted Schiller's shoulder and said, "Hey, I know you're a doctor, but doctors are normal people, and psychiatrists aren't infallible. So, if you have something you want to talk about, you can always come see me. We're friends."

After that, he turned around and walked away, leaving Schiller feeling very puzzled. He had just gotten up in the morning to make breakfast, fried an egg, why was everyone's attitude so strange?

Just as Steve left, Stark, wearing battle armor and holding a large pile of information, flew in through the window.

Schiller turned his head to look and was startled by Stark's black eyes. He said, "What's wrong with you?"

"Oh, shouldn't...Miss Pepper be taking the day off?" Schiller asked.

"What are you talking about? I was engaged in research all night, on the information you brought yesterday," Stark exclaimed.

After saying that, he put the pile of documents on Schiller's desk and said, "There's little progress in neural external connection technology, Uncle Obadiah is still in a coma, and I can't ask him. But I figured out another way."

Iron Man was still wearing his battle armor and he took off his hand armor to point to one of the sections on the information. He said, "If aging nerves and nerve cells that have died can't be recovered, then we find a way to replace it with machinery, just like replacing a heart."

"I don't think you need to give me a clear explanation of the principle. I just want to know, how feasible is it?" Schiller asked.

Stark clasped his arms and stared at the infographics. He said, "You have to know that even if I were a genius, I couldn't conjure up technology out of thin air. And more importantly, even if I mastered the technology, it would have to go through extensive safety testing before it could be put into use."

Stark also glanced at the ring on Schiller's finger, he touched his lips, and then said, "If you are indeed very urgent, I can call a neuroscience consultation in the name of the Stark Group, that can invite the world's most famous neuroscience research experts."

"Of course, you'd better be able to bring in the patients, otherwise they won't be able to conjure up methods out of thin air," Stark added.

"I'm afraid that would be difficult," Schiller said. He spoke the truth. Not only would it be difficult to get the DC characters to Marvel, even if he could, the inconsistent flow of time between the two sides may lead to many problems, and may also generate a lot of risk.

Schiller was very clear that, unlike in Marvel, he had a most important task in the DC world, which was to get rid of the entanglement of his enemies.

His enemy is certainly not a simple person. For starters, he was able to hire Deathstroke to kill him. Deathstroke's words before leaving revealed enough information. When Schiller tried to pay him to kill the employer, Deathstroke's first reaction was, "You can't afford to pay this price." Even when Schiller further mentioned that the world's wealthiest man would pay for it, Deathstroke still didn't hesitate to leave. This means that he judged that even if there was enough money, it wasn't worth his complete reversal. The fact that the world's top mercenary, Deathstroke, would make this judgment, is already very telling. The person involved in this seems to not be a simple entanglement of interests and there must be a larger conspiracy behind it.

Because of this, Schiller hopes Victor will become his ally to make up for his shortcomings in engineering and mechanics. He is willing to help Victor's wife as much as possible to eliminate the possibility of Victor becoming a frozen man. But this doesn't mean he has to take huge risks to take people between the two worlds. Moreover, this doesn't solve the problem at its root. DC's expert scholars can't cure this disease and I'm afraid the ordinary experts of Marvel can't either.

Schiller kept silent while thinking and eventually Stark couldn't help himself and said, "You...I mean...she's okay, right? Right?" Schiller replied, "What?"

Stark winced as he touched the corner of his forehead and said, "I heard Coulson mention that your wife isn't doing well..."

Schiller was taken aback, where was this rumor coming from? Did he even have a wife?

He then realized that this must be why everyone's attitude towards him was strange today.

He then remembered the first person he had visited after returning to Marvel - the future Dr. Strange, now a neurologist.

Schiller thought to himself, that man is really cunning.

He said to the symbiote in his head, "Next time, remember to eat Strange's brain. He's not much use keeping it anyway."

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