Chapter 1036: Shocking Mundanity (Thirteen) (Patreon)

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The next morning, as Schiller groggily sat up from his bed, he shouted, "Pikachu! Pikachu! Are you practicing that darn electric guitar again? Stop it!"

Pikachu, holding a half-eaten apple, bounced onto Schiller's bedside cabinet, looking at him and said, "What are you talking about? I haven't touched any instrument since the guitar string snapped and flew three meters last time."

"What's that deafening noise then? My rock dream?!" Schiller squinted, holding his head, "Heaven, I thought you were drilling into my brain, why else would my head hurt like this? Grey Mist! Grey Mist! What are you doing?"

Grey Mist responded with a mumble, indicating he had just woken up from a hangover, struggling to control himself. He had already made his best effort and couldn't deal with his owner's hangover aftermath anymore.

Schiller struggled to sit upright, hands on the soft sheets. Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he said, "I told you, drinking isn't a good habit..."

Pikachu took a bite of the apple with a 'crunch,' chewing vigorously, "Last night, when you came back, it was nearly three in the morning. You turned into a fog, hovering in the middle of the room. I asked why you didn't go to sleep, and you said you intended to sleep here..."

"Go ahead and sleep if you want. You floated halfway through, ended up on the ceiling. Grey Mist seeped up from the ceiling, causing smoke on the upper floor. The patients were almost scared to death..."

"The supervisor and the nurses came up to disinfect the floor. If I hadn't quickly pulled you back, you'd probably still be in the vacuum cleaner!"

"Enough," Schiller said, hands covering his face, "I'm never drinking again. It's all those damn Rotten people, how can they drink so much?"

He then turned his head to Pikachu, who put down the apple and wagged his Thunderbolt-shaped tail, hopping onto Schiller's bed and rubbing his cheeks with his tiny hands.

"Need a pick-me-up?" Pikachu asked, stretching his tail. With a 'crackle,' electricity surged.

After a few seconds, Schiller spat out a sigh of relief, adjusted his messy hair, and said, "Thanks, I feel much better."

He lifted the covers and got out of bed, coughing lightly a couple of times. Ultron was already waiting outside the door. The robotic butler wiped the table with a towel attached to its arm, then placed beef sukkah, garlic butter baguette, and a glass of orange juice on the table.

Schiller sat down at the table, picked up the utensils, spread the semi-cooked egg mixture on the baguette, about to take a bite when he heard a buzzing vibration coming from outside the window.

Schiller nearly bit his tongue. He put down his utensils and frowned, asking, "What's that sound? Why does it sound like construction? Is there a renovation plan for the Sanatorium recently?"

"No, sir," Ultron replied, its tone colder and more mechanical compared to JARVIS, but equally precise, "The sound you just heard is from 120 meters behind the Sanatorium."

"The construction of the aerial train station is currently underway, expected to be completed in a week. I've checked all noise-related regulations for construction in New York and conducted continuous noise monitoring throughout the day, finding no violations in this project."

Schiller sighed, "Aren't Stark Industries' products modular? Can't they just assemble them on-site? Why the need for construction?"

"According to the construction plan sent by JARVIS, the main components of the station have been assembled. However, they still need to be connected to the ground and withstand certain disasters. Therefore, traditional methods are still used for foundation and framework construction to ensure stability..."

Just as he said that, another rumbling vibration came. Schiller didn't even need to look; he knew they were probably excavating the foundation. He held his forehead with his hand, saying, "So it means I have another week before I can get rid of this awful noise trouble..."

"Yes, sir, but they will only work during weekdays for eight hours during the daytime. The entire process is handled by intelligent engineering machinery, which won't affect the operation of the Sanatorium..."

"Have any patients complained about the noise affecting their recovery?" Schiller asked.

"Not yet, sir, but this morning, a patient in one of the hospital rooms mentioned that the Sanatorium's air purification system wasn't working. Last night, they found heavy fog in their room and suggested installing a whole-house ventilation system..."

Schiller waved his hand, saying, "Ignore him. He probably missed his medication and had hallucinations..."

Then, Schiller turned to Grey Mist, "Can you help me block out the construction noise?"

Grey Mist, still groggy, conveyed some consciousness, suggesting he could but probably wouldn't be much help.

At first, Schiller didn't understand what Grey Mist meant. However, he later found out that Grey Mist indeed blocked his auditory senses, making him unable to hear the construction noise. But due to the construction site being too close to the Sanatorium and continuous excavation activities, the vibrations in the air couldn't be shielded.

Ears merely served as receivers of sound; blocking auditory senses didn't mean the body couldn't feel vibrations. Schiller wanted to turn into fog to directly shield against the vibrations, but he worried about the patients upstairs experiencing hallucinations again. So, he could only start considering moving out of there.

Schiller's bedroom was located behind the Sanatorium, relatively close to the construction site. If he moved to the front, where the construction site was further away, he would be closer to a road in town.

The Sanatorium was spacious, with several buildings in between. However, because it was quiet and had good scenery, many wealthy individuals from New York chose to book long-term rooms there, regularly checking their mental and psychological states. Those who could afford it would opt for the best hospital rooms.

Schiller could have breached contracts and evicted them. However, seeing the exorbitant medical fees these wealthy individuals were willing to pay for the room, he suddenly felt no more headaches, no more sore legs, and even the noise became bearable.

After some thought, Schiller decided that since he had a small clinic in Hell's Kitchen, he might as well move there temporarily.

Hell's Kitchen wasn't any quieter than where he was, but the clinic's location was better, not in the bustling district, and because the clinic's owner was well-known, hardly anyone dared to cause trouble there.

So, Schiller had Ultron pack up his luggage. He carried a suitcase in one hand and held Pikachu in the other, moving from the luxurious and spacious Sanatorium back to the small clinic in Hell's Kitchen.

On the first night back, Schiller thought he could finally get a good night's sleep. But just as he was about to pull down the clinic's rolling shutter, a hand stopped him. Turning his head, Schiller saw Matt.

Daredevil Matt wasn't wearing his uniform or the lawyer's typical suit. Instead, he was dressed in sportswear, holding a box with cherry blossom patterns in one hand and a dozen cold beers in the other.

"What's up, Matt?" Schiller asked, somewhat puzzled.

"Nothing much. Erica went to Japan and brought back some cherry blossom cakes and sashimi specialties. I bought some beer. We can have a chat," Matt said with a smile, lifting the box in his hand.

But Schiller noticed that Matt's smile seemed somewhat forced, and the wrinkles around his eyes showed that he hadn't been resting well these past few days. So, Schiller stopped closing the door, lifted the rolling shutter again, and said, "Come in."

Setting down the box and opening the beers, Schiller brought out two small plates, poured soy sauce for the sashimi, and placed wasabi in another plate.

After opening the box and removing the top layer of cherry blossom cakes, the remaining two layers were filled with assorted sashimi emitting a cold smoke. There were scallops, yellowfin tuna, bigeye tuna, and more, all types of sashimi favored by the Japanese, beautifully cut, with slices of ginger and radish underneath.

As Matt took out the sashimi, he said, "Erica went back this time to deal with her personal vendetta. You know, she was brainwashed by The Hand into becoming an assassin before, almost causing a huge mistake. After she woke up, she felt extremely angry and wanted revenge."

"While you two were exploring space, we weren't idle either. We found Stick. Stick believes that Erica is now firm and pure enough. So, over the past few years, we've been honing our skills and have made considerable progress individually."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. sees potential in Erica's abilities and hopes she can handle some trouble for them. Erica made a deal with them and received a lot of help, as well as some quite advanced equipment."

"So, a few months ago, Erica, all prepared, went back to Japan and took out those members of The Hand who had brainwashed her before. Although she didn't eradicate them completely, it did relieve her of a burden."

Schiller opened the beer bottle, and as he smelled the alcohol, he felt a bit dizzy. So, he put down the beer can, picked up a piece of sashimi with chopsticks, placed it on the plate, added wasabi to the center, folded the slice of raw fish, dipped it in soy sauce, and put it in his mouth.

The fresh and oily texture stimulated his taste buds greatly. And at a time like this, how could he not have a cold beer, rich with a hint of bitterness? Schiller took a sip of beer and let out a genuine sigh of appreciation.

Matt praised, "I didn't expect you to be quite adept, not only with chopsticks but also in seasoning. Some people like to mix wasabi and soy sauce together, making it overly salty..."

After saying that, he picked out two slices of ginger from the sashimi box, along with some radish, placed a scallop in his mouth, and also took a sip of beer. The two clinked their beer cans and continued their conversation.

"Well, this should be a good thing. Erica being able to bring back so many specialties indicates that things are progressing smoothly. You should be happy for her..."

"Who said I'm not?" Matt smiled and said, "The night Erica came back, we went to a high-end restaurant, indulged ourselves, and surprisingly, the next day, we could still get reimbursed by S.H.I.E.L.D. We were both happy..."

"But soon..." A worried expression crept onto Matt's face. He pursed his lips, hesitated, and said, "Schiller, I truly consider you a friend, that's why I'm telling you this. Please don't tell anyone else..."

"Don't worry, I'm a professional psychologist; I won't reveal any secrets. Go ahead, what's wrong?"

Matt sighed deeply, "Well, that night, the atmosphere was good, so we talked about the future. We plan to buy a house in New York first and then get married. Of course, that's all simple..."

"My salary is relatively high, and Erica has found a job at S.H.I.E.L.D. If we go for a mortgage, neither a car nor a house is a problem. Marriage is also expected. We've known each other since college, and it's been many years now. It's time to settle down."

"But the only disagreement we have is about children." Matt touched his eyes and said, "Erica thinks that after we get married, we should immediately have children, but I don't want to do that."

"Although The Hand and Kingpin have been relatively quiet lately, there are still many crises. If we have children, leaving aside whether we'll have the energy to properly educate them, we can't even guarantee their basic safety..."

"If something happens, we'll regret it for the rest of our lives."

[Read at www.patreon.com/shanefreak, and thanks for the invaluable support!]

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Chapter 1037: The Astonishing Commoners (Fourteen)