Hell's Kitchen, New York City.
On the bed in Schiller's psychological clinic, Daredevil Matt let out a scream. Schiller removed the alcohol-soaked cotton ball with tweezers and said, "Although not many people come down this street, if you keep your muscles tensed like this, I definitely won't be able to remove the bullet."
He threw the cotton ball into the trash, wiped the tweezers with an alcohol wipe, and gently pulled open the wound on Nightcrawler's shoulder. He said, "I'll have to cut the wound open a bit with a knife."
Matt said, "You have to give me some anesthetic, or I'll definitely go into shock."
"A Super Hero afraid of pain? I don't know whether to mock you or admire you," Schiller said.
"Not many people can injure me. Kingpin found a formidable opponent this time," Matt said.
Schiller looked at Matt's pale face; his lips were almost bloodless. Everyone has a different tolerance for pain, and Daredevil Matt was clearly among the more sensitive type.
Just as Schiller said, for such a person to become a Super Hero, it was hard to tell whether it was worth mocking or admiring.
Schiller thought, Super Heroes also get injured and bleed. Even the most potent medicine cannot completely prevent pain. Perhaps Batman, too, in countless unbearable pains, abandoned his shallow thoughts of revenge and found a greater goal for himself.
Only a grand ideal like "justice" could support these Super Heroes as they licked their wounds alone night after night.
Schiller put down the tweezers and said, "You're very lucky, Matt. I have some good medicine here."
He took out a small White bottle and handed it to Matt. Matt touched the packaging and smelled it, then said, "Damn it, how do you have this kind of painkiller too? You addict!"
Schiller said, "Don't be ignorant. This is different from the junk on the market; the concentration is the highest you can find. If you don't take it, give it back to me. This stuff is expensive."
What Schiller took out was the painkiller he had snagged when he stole Fear Toxin from Jonathan. Jonathan needed painkillers for his experiments on test subjects, and these were all refined by him, much better than what could be bought.
Matt still took a pill and said, "God bless me to get better quickly, and then I'll turn around and punch you."
"Don't talk about returning kindness with enmity as if it's a given. In this hellhole of Hell's Kitchen, carrying a few small pills is perfectly normal. That hardly counts as a crime."
Matt felt the pain gradually receding. He had to admit that Schiller had a point. In Hell's Kitchen, drug use was practically the most harmless habit.
And Schiller thought, if this were Gotham, a person with only a drug habit would be as kind as an Angel.
Schiller watched Matt's complexion gradually recover, then performed a simple surgery on him while asking, "How did you get into trouble?"
Matt pursed his lips and said, "The person Kingpin found is not simple. I was prepared, but those guys who call themselves 'ninjas' can lower their heart rate. I couldn't hear them... Oh! Damn it..."
Schiller held the newly extracted bullet with tweezers. He rotated the bullet left and right and said, "These ninjas you mentioned must be bored and full of themselves; they even carved cherry blossom patterns on the bullets."
Matt looked exhausted. Schiller called out, "Pikachu! Get me the bandages from the cabinet!"
Matt heard a small creature jump onto the table. It said with a look of disdain, "I told you not to treat him in the bedroom. Do you think the smell of blood is pleasant? Hey, unlucky guy, your bandages..."
Schiller caught the bandages Pikachu threw over and wrapped them around Matt. Matt said, "You'd better hurry; I have to leave here soon."
"And die on the street outside the door?" Schiller asked.
"They're after me. Those ninjas have unique tracking skills. If they come here, we'll both be trapped," Matt said.
He was still a good person after all and didn't want to implicate Schiller. Although Schiller wasn't a good person in his eyes, he had saved him. Matt talked tough, but he didn't actually want to return kindness with enmity.
Schiller, while cleaning the blood-stained tools, said, "They don't need any special tracking skills. You ran all the way here from the next street, reeking of blood. If they still haven't found you..."
Matt suddenly heard a violent whooshing sound. He shouted, "It's a dart!! Get down!!"
His heart was anxious because he could tell from Schiller's footsteps that he was just an untrained ordinary person, with almost no chance of survival against those ninja assassins.
However, very quickly, he heard a "thump." The hidden weapon seemed to have hit something. Schiller held up an umbrella. He thought, an umbrella truly is a defensive weapon, especially against small things like darts, as it can greatly reduce their impact.
There was only one person on the other side, because Schiller's telepathy worked within a range, and besides Matt, he could only sense one person's thoughts.
"Madam, if you hesitated for three minutes before acting, why don't we sit down and have a cup of coffee together?" Schiller said.
Before the other side could reply, Schiller continued speaking to the air, "You certainly went easy on your old flame. I've never seen anyone manage to shoot a bullet precisely into the least fatal scapular gap. Since you're here, why not come out and say hello?"
A cold snort came from the air opposite, and then the assassin left.
Matt looked bewildered and said, "What? What old flame?"
Schiller shook his head and said, "Didn't you notice? This assassin you encountered, if she had the ability to shoot you without you noticing, why didn't she aim for the heart or head?"
"Wasn't that bullet aimed at the heart?"
"It was way off."
Matt's brain short-circuited a bit; he clearly hadn't realized that the assassin on the other side was actually his former classmate and ex-girlfriend, Elektra.
Schiller, who knew the plot, was well aware that Elektra was probably in a dilemma right now, still having feelings for Matt but hesitating whether to complete her mission, wanting to appear but not wanting to see her ex-boyfriend. That's why as soon as Schiller pointed out her identity, she ran off, clearly not wanting Matt to know who she was.
This truly was, 'a woman's heart, don't try to guess.'
Soon, Daredevil Matt fell into a comatose sleep from pain and worry. Schiller pulled down and locked the rolling shutter door of the clinic, and closed and locked all the windows. He stood by the bed, looking at the night sky of New York City.
A bright shooting star streaked across the sky, and countless couples made wishes to the sky, but that was actually Stark's armor.
The people of Hell's Kitchen didn't have the leisure to make wishes to shooting stars, but Schiller took out his phone and called Stark. As soon as the call connected, Schiller said, "Does Miss Pepper know that you'd rather fly around in your armor than go back and be with her?"
Then, under the gaze of countless couples, that shooting star plunged downward.
After a while, on the roof of Schiller's psychological clinic, Stark, wearing a slightly smoking Mark 5 prototype, complained to Schiller, "I really should add you to my contact's blacklist..."
Schiller lit a cigarette for him and said, "A middle-aged man, driving around late at night instead of sleeping, and drawing such a resentful curve, it would be strange if he wasn't arguing with his wife."
Stark also walked to the eaves and sat down, taking the cigarette Schiller offered. He said, "...She's putting a bit of pressure on me, honestly, I haven't thought it through..."
"Haven't thought what through? Whether to marry Pepper?"
Stark choked and coughed twice, saying, "Marry? Did you skip some important steps?"
"Oh, right, in the eyes of a stallion like you, there is indeed an important step missing."
"Don't say that. Pepper is different from those other women."
"It's just that I don't know if you're different from other men in her eyes," Schiller said.
Before Stark could reply, Schiller continued, "But I think it should be about the same. You spend less time with her than her security guard."
"...Then I'll fire that security guard when I get back," Stark said angrily.
Clearly, he was avoiding some issues.
After a while, Stark touched his cheek and said with some hesitation, "...Do you really read minds?"
"If I say I do, will you believe me? Don't keep asking about something you don't believe in yourself," Schiller said.
"I'd like to find a way to make me believe that mind-reading exists in this World, and then you can tell me what Pepper is really thinking," Stark said.
Iron Man is not a traditional "justice invincible" type of hero. He has a sensitive and emotional heart, with a sentimental brain that doesn't match his tech genius persona, and thus always gets his thoughts tangled into a mess.
Facing Pepper, Stark always couldn't move forward bravely. He was completely unaware that this attitude actually said a lot.
Schiller changed the subject. He said, "How's that red and blue spandex kid in New York City lately? I heard you complain about him."
"Oh, yes, a kid in the ugliest spandex imaginable, jumping and swinging through the City air like a flea," Stark said. He continued, "Jarvis says the kid is probably underage. I plan to catch him and throw him back home."
Schiller said, "I do have a few leads here. Would you like to hear them?"
"I've seen him a few times on the edge of Hell's Kitchen. He didn't dare come in. I saw what looked like a high school emblem on his blue pants that day, from Queens..."
"You call that a lead?" Stark scoffed. Schiller continued, "It's clear he doesn't have money for good gear, so his family situation probably isn't great. Therefore, he's definitely not from one of those outrageously expensive private schools. Most likely a student from Midtown High or Forest Hills High..."
"Forest Hills High is a boarding school. If a student were wandering around like that, they'd probably get their legs broken. Midtown High is much more relaxed. Looking at his build, he's probably a freshman or sophomore."
"A little brat," Stark concluded. He said, "He probably tinkered together a toy to show off and couldn't wait to go out and wander around."
"So, are you planning to teach him about the harsh realities of adulthood?" Schiller asked.
"Of course. More importantly, New York City isn't his playground," Stark said.
Although he had just recovered, he was an adult who had experienced major events and knew that Little Spider's reckless wandering would eventually lead to trouble. In fact, some media outlets had already noticed him.
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