Chapter 1056 Shocking Mundane World (Thirty-three) (Patreon)

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Bob seemed somewhat indignant, holding his breath as he said, "As far as I know, many unemployed public transport workers are protesting and demonstrating, and there are also many people causing explosions..."

"I believe that as long as a few more of those damn shuttles fall down, people will surely realize that buses are still the safest!"

"Tony Stark, that damn playboy, took away the money that should have belonged to me, and I must get it back!"

Eddie shook his head and said, "What we need to discuss now isn't how you can make Stark pay, but how you can save yourself. This doesn't include getting all worked up while holding a bomb. Aren't you afraid of accidentally hitting the switch?"

Bob felt like he had been doused in ice water. Suddenly feeling frightened, he dropped the leather bag in his arms and stammered, "I... I'm not... my goodness, how could I make a bomb? I..."

Bob sniffed and said, "My dad used to be an engineer, so I've seen him tinkering with these things. That's why I know, but that was a long time ago, and I don't know how I remembered it..."

"Passion kills." Schiller suddenly spoke up. "Emotional stimulation, excitement, increased blood pressure, faster breathing rate, causing blood to rush to the brain, leading to the recollection of forgotten knowledge. It's a typical case of ordinary people experiencing an increase in abilities and knowledge due to passionate killing..."

When Eddie and Bob looked over at Schiller at the same time, Schiller lowered his head again, as if he had fallen asleep. After a while, he startled awake again, saying, "What's wrong?"

Bob was startled by him, and Eddie hurriedly reassured, "Ignore him, my friend here isn't in the best mental state. I brought him out to relax... Oh, right, you mentioned your daughter has epilepsy. I happen to be going to my friend's Psychological Clinic to pick something up. Maybe they have the medication there."

Bob immediately widened his eyes and said, "Psychological Clinic? Your friend is a psychologist? Then how could he..."

"A healer cannot heal himself." Eddie shrugged, getting up first and pulling Bob up, then said, "I remember someone telling me that Schiller has stocked up on quite a few medications, but I'm not a doctor, and since his condition isn't good now, can you recognize the medication your daughter uses?"

"Of course!" Bob jumped up from the ground. "If that's the case, then that's great. After all, without a prescription, I have nowhere to buy the medicine, and those black clinics are unreliable..."

While leading Bob and Schiller towards the Psychological Clinic, Eddie said, "You need to make sure you know the correct dosage..."

"Don't worry, my daughter has had this illness for a long time. Being chronically ill has turned me into half a doctor."

Soon, the three of them arrived at Schiller's doorstep. Since Schiller was in a relatively decent mental state when he left, the door was locked. Unfortunately, as his mental condition deteriorated, he had lost the key. However, this didn't stop Eddie.

Just as Bob was about to step forward to say he could pick the lock, Eddie extended his arm backward, and Bob immediately covered his mouth, stepping back a few steps.

Venom appeared. Initially intending to use violence to directly lift the rolling shutter door, Venom thought better of it and instead let the symbiote enter the keyhole to pick the lock.

After entering the clinic, they found it in a mess. Eddie didn't have time to tidy up. He immediately asked Venom in his mind, "Did Peter tell you where Schiller keeps the drugs?"

"In the basement, there's a freezer. Some medications need to be refrigerated, but there are also some addictive drugs there, which are somewhat dangerous..."

Eddie didn't continue listening to Venom. He directly waved his hand towards Bob and said, "The medicine is in the basement. Go find it yourself."

With that said, he went upstairs to pack Schiller's luggage. Bob felt a bit overwhelmed. "Is it okay for me to just go in and rummage around? What if this doctor wakes up and gets angry?"

Schiller stood by the door, staring at his fingers, saying nothing. Bob hesitated for a moment, then finally went downstairs.

There were indeed a variety of medicines downstairs. Bob didn't recognize most of them, but he did find the medication for epilepsy. Without paying too much attention, he emptied the explosives from his leather bag and filled it with medicine bottles.

Eddie, with Schiller in tow, bid farewell to Bob at the clinic's entrance. Bob hurried home to deliver the medicine to his daughter, so Eddie took out a business card he had written last night and handed it to Bob, saying, "My telephone number and address are on here. If you need help, just call this number. Of course, if you're willing to chat with this former award-winning journalist about your story, I'd be happy to listen..."

Bob felt deeply moved and tucked the card into his pocket, embracing Eddie before turning away.

However, to Eddie's surprise, as soon as he and Schiller returned to Eddie's residence, his telephone rang. On the other end was Bob, sounding somewhat anxious. He said, "Um, Mr. Brock, sorry to bother you so soon, but one of my colleagues attempted suicide, and I managed to save him, but now he's not doing too well, and I don't know how to comfort him. Could you come over? Or perhaps, does your doctor friend know what to do?"

Eddie glanced back at Schiller with the telephone in hand, then checked his watch. After spending over a day together, he had figured out the timeframe for Schiller's return to normalcy, mainly during meal times. He could maintain consciousness for about an hour or so.

However, Eddie's own schedule wasn't exactly healthy. All his meal times were delayed by about two hours. For instance, breakfast was at 9:30, lunch around 2 in the afternoon, and then it was supper.

Eddie speculated that these timeframes might correspond to the periods when Schiller underwent treatment as a child. That is, classes would start around 9 in the morning, and afternoon naps would end around 2, followed by more classes until bedtime.

Considering the time, Eddie thought that rushing over now should coincide with Schiller's morning wakefulness. So, he set down his luggage, took Schiller, and hurried to the street Bob mentioned.

Upon arrival, Eddie was somewhat surprised to find that the house Bob rented was even closer to Hell's Kitchen than his own.

It was a narrow and dim alleyway with a row of low houses.

As Eddie walked in and knocked on the innermost door, as soon as he stepped in, he looked at Bob and said, "Mate, you're quite bold! Renting a house here, what gave you the courage?"

Bob sighed and said, "I was deceived... but luckily, my colleague, Lorde, is a native here. He's helped me a lot, but..."

Bob shook his head and pointed inside, saying, "My daughter lives in the room back there. When I just came back, I heard her crying. I asked her what was wrong, and she said she smelled a strange odor. When I walked into this room, Lorde was trying to carbon monoxide himself."

"Luckily, I came in quickly and quickly opened all the doors and windows for ventilation. By that time, he was already a bit unconscious, but he woke up soon after."

Bob pursed his lips and said, "But after waking up, his mood was very bad, and he even wanted to cut his wrists. I heard that your friend is a psychologist. Can you help him with some advice? He also has a son who's in college."

Eddie peered inside and saw a narrow room with a big-bearded man slumped in the corner, physically strong but mentally downcast, holding a bottle in his hand.

Facing this situation, Eddie, as a complete novice who hadn't even started self-study, was completely at a loss.

He knew he should start by asking the reason, then find the cause, and then guide step by step. But reading tutorials online was one thing; practical application was another.

How could he ensure not to stimulate the patient while asking for the reason? How could he ensure to find the key cause while searching for the cause? And if he happened to be wrong, wouldn't all subsequent deductions be wrong too?

Eddie turned his head to look at Schiller standing behind him. Unexpectedly, Schiller didn't step forward but began to shrink back.

Schiller walked out directly from the room's door of the flat, turned around as if not recognizing the way, and stopped at the corner, leaning against the wall and squatting down.

Eddie sighed. He thought he had never encountered such an absurd situation in his life. Wanting a psychologist to treat the sick, he had to first cure the psychologist. This life was much more stimulating than being an editor-in-chief, several times over.

Eddie had to squat down beside Schiller again. He was a very typical liberal arts student, so in certain matters, he was more sensitive than the science students who were accustomed to thinking logically about cause and effect relationships.

"From your importance, disappearing for so long and Stark's people haven't come looking for you, it suggests that there might be some conflicts between you. You don't want to deal with them, and they don't want to deal with you."

"And from your current mental state, it seems that you value your friends a lot. Maybe some of the arguments you had with them have upset you, or it's possible that the emotional pressure of a cold war situation has made you break down."

"But I don't understand why this would negate your identity as a doctor?" Eddie turned his head, frowning, and looked at Schiller. "I'm not trying to morally blackmail you, but under conditions, shouldn't a doctor treat each patient as equally as possible?"

"Why can you treat S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, superheroes, and super-rich people, but not ordinary people?"

Schiller gradually woke up, struggling to lift his eyelids, and then said, "I can't treat ordinary people. I don't like them. I don't like ordinary people..."

"Why don't you like ordinary people? Because they're not powerful enough? Because they're not wealthy enough?" Eddie asked, but quickly answered himself, "Doctor, I don't think you're like that. Clearly, you care about them, but you seem unwilling to get close to them..."

Schiller lowered his head, stuttering, "Among superheroes, I'm a normal person. But among ordinary people, I'm a lunatic..."

"In the superhero group, I play the role of a doctor." Schiller swallowed and said, "But among ordinary people, I'm a patient."

Schiller took a deep breath, turning his head to look at Eddie. Eddie saw a kind of pain in his eyes that he couldn't understand, and then he heard Schiller say:

"Throughout my life, I've been learning how to disguise myself as an ordinary person while being a patient."

"In the superhero group, if I act poorly, no one can tell because they're not ordinary people. They don't mind my occasional abnormal behavior or tolerate it because of my kindness."

"But if I'm among ordinary people, they'll think I'm a patient because of my occasional abnormal behavior." Schiller closed his eyes in pain and then said, "Through their feedback, I've been continuously reinforced, not being good enough and never being cured..."

"This means that many years of effort have been in vain." Schiller closed his eyes, extending his trembling hand to his neck.

Then, in the same trembling tone, he said, "Even scarier, this will prove that those doctors and nurses who have put in all the effort, suffered injuries, and shed blood trying to cure me, all their efforts have been in vain too."

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Next Chapter>>Chapter 1057: World-shaking Mundane (Thirty-four)