Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics

Hearing Stark's scream, Shiller, who was rummaging through the cabinet, revealed a smile.

Tony Stark, an individual who had baffled all hospitals in New York, including the Elders Council Hospital where Shiller and Strange worked.

Undoubtedly, Stark was rich, very rich. The funds Stark Group invested annually in medical expenses were astronomical, making him a major financier that no hospital could afford to antagonize.

However, as rich as he was, he was equally difficult to handle. Under Shiller's intervention, Stark's anxiety had improved significantly, but it didn't change who he was fundamentally.

One could even say that being without illness gave more stage to his personality. Stark was never a gentleman; the obnoxious playboy side of his character often surfaced, sometimes being irritable, sometimes being pretentious.

If Strange was the doctor that Shiller found most unbearable, then Stark was definitely the patient he couldn't stand the most. So far, the main reason no one had objected to the high fees Stark paid to Shiller was that any person who dealt with him, knowing he even had a psychiatrist, mostly sympathized with the doctor.

Stark had made too many unreasonable demands at the hospital, take the situation with Pepper's uterus tumor for example. The tumor was virtually invisible in the imaging data, yet he demanded a thorough Healing plan.

Theoretically, he indeed had the capital to be unreasonable, since he paid for medical visits out-of-pocket which was terrifying in America, but Stark didn't care about that.

But Shiller was firmly on the side of the doctors. Even if the doctor was Strange, he could help without any guilt over familial ties.

Strange's description of Vortex Disease was accurate. It was like diabetes, where many people die from diabetes and related complications globally, but most can live on if they receive treatment and maintain it well.

Among the various types of Vortex Disease, only one was as perilous as Strange described and that too without any intervention, letting the disease progress on its own, would it deteriorate rapidly.

For the vast majority of patients, the progression of limb curling could be slowed down by long-term medication, and under good treatment conditions, even normal finger mobility could be sustained, not affecting daily life at all.

From the whirlpool pattern on Stark's fingertips, it was clear he hadn't had the disease for long, probably just a few days. With injectable treatment, it could ensure no worsening for at least three months. And with medication, it could completely preserve his mobility.

But Strange's somewhat inaccurate description had genuinely frightened Stark.

"So how should it be treated?" asked Stark. "Don't tell me you need to cut off my fingers. I still need to write."

"Oh, you actually write?" Shiller asked with feigned curiosity. He was indeed curious about what role Stark was playing in this whole scenario.

"Of course, I'm the most famous detective from Westchester City. My assistant and I have solved many cases over the last three years that even the Westchester Police Station had no clue about..."

Good grief, thought Shiller. Detective Stark, right?

Then maybe your assistant is the famous Steve Rogers? The decent fellow, a war veteran, high combat power, yup, it all adds up.

Shiller really found it hard to imagine how they would solve cases, and he thought these two staging a play was bizarre in itself, which became even more abstract encountering him and Strange.

Stark boasted for a while, and when no one played along, he slightly awkwardly touched his nose.

"So, what are you guys planning to do? What are those... what materials again?"

"Raven blood," replied Shiller.

"Alright, where do we get raven blood?"

"You can either purchase it from Bear Caregiver, or... do you have a weapon?"

"Of course," said Stark, "I have a Revolver, currently loaded with three bullets."

"The raven that delivers the newspapers looks quite healthy. If we can get its blood, it should help treat you."

"The newspaper delivery raven? Okay, with my exquisite gun skills, I'm sure I can shoot it down, but are you sure this will work?"

"Otherwise, I can also give you a spinal tap," Strange flicked the iron spike in his hand, "This should also relieve some symptoms."

Looking at the long black spike nearly as long as an adult's forearm, Stark almost shook his head violently.

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"Do you have money?" Shiller asked. "Subscribing to newspapers costs money. We can't be expected to pay out of our own pockets. Our salaries aren't that high."

"Yes, yes, yes." Stark casually grabbed a handful of coins from his pocket. Among them, a flash of golden light nearly blinded Shiller.

Gold coins!! Shiller roared inwardly. This guy actually has several gold coins!!

What about my sulfur? Where's my sulfur??

As he was getting excited, a hand pressed on his shoulder. Strange gently shook his head at him, indicating that there was more to come.

Strange casually picked up a copper coin, tossed it into the metal chute, and called out to the other side, "One evening paper please, send it over as soon as possible."

Stark, propping up his upper body, looked back at the chute and said, "I just fell down from there didn't I?"

"Yes."

"That damn wooden man, he knocked me out while I turned around," Stark grumbled. "I thought I had run into a black shop."

"His temper is indeed rather volatile," Shiller continued along his line, "but we are the best doctors here; you came to the right place."

As they were speaking, a small window above the room opened. Shiller said solemnly, "Get ready!"

Stark waved his hand, and a beautiful gold revolver appeared in it. It was then that Shiller remembered that there was magic in this world.

The moment a black raven landed on the windowsill, the revolver fired with a "bang". The raven screamed, falling into the room along with the newspaper.

The shot raven didn't die that quickly, it flapped helplessly on the spot. Shiller picked up the pliers, walked over, stepped on the raven's body, and slammed its head twice with the pliers. The raven then lay stiff and motionless.

Shiller picked up the pitiful bird, looked it over, saw nothing unusual, and then, as if pretending, took it to the operating table to bleed.

When he opened the raven's chest, he found that where the heart should be, there was only a small crystal core emitting a strange purple light.

Shiller adjusted his body position, careful not to let Stark see anything unusual. He quietly dug out the small crystal core and threw it into his pocket.

Then he drained the raven's blood, plucked its feathers clean, disassembled its limbs, and stacked the bones and meat separately. Even the eyes and beak were not spared; they were stored in jars for possible future use.

He then mixed the raven's blood to create a medicine for treating vortex disease and drew it into a syringe. However, when he was about to inject Stark, he encountered great trouble.

As expected, Stark was not cooperative at all. He saw the brass syringe in Shiller's hand and frantically backed away, shouting, "Don't think about sticking that thing in me! Why don't you use a streetlight instead?!"

Shiller couldn't help but glance at Strange, the look meant "You two have a similar style in metaphors."

Strange was somewhat helpless. He picked up the fireplace poker next to the fireplace and said, "This patient, please cooperate and not hinder our work."

"What are you planning to do?" Stark said in alarm, "You are a doctor, not an assassin!"

The flames in the fireplace seemed to have something to say.

Stark jumped off the hospital bed and ran to the head of another bed, facing Strange across the bed. Shiller, meanwhile, came around from the other side with the pliers.

Stark, seeing no way out, drew his gun.

Just as the three were at a standoff, suddenly, footsteps came from the corridor. Shiller and Strange paused their actions and immediately put down what they were holding.

"What's... going on..." the nurse's hoarse voice came through.

In that moment, Shiller and Strange seemed to find their backbone. They hurried to the door.

"Lady! There is a patient not cooperating! I've prepared the medicine, but he won't let me inject him! He even tried to shoot us!"

"That's right, he just fired a shot, nearly shattered the ward's glass. What should we do about this?!"

The two went back and forth, leaving the nurse a bit stunned. Clearly, he hadn't expected such an uncooperative patient.

"What is Wood up to..." the nurse asked discontentedly. The next second, there was a "bang" as if something had hit the door. Yet the nurse's body hadn't moved.

The whole room shook. Stark staggered, almost dropping the revolver. He hurriedly supported himself by the bed head to stabilize. But Shiller took advantage of his momentary daze to throw the pliers he held at him forcefully.

"Bam!"

Stark was knocked to the ground.

"Thank you, madam, have a nice day," Strange gently tapped the door and said.

The two then picked up the knocked-out Stark and placed him on the operating table. Shiller gently pushed the liquid in the syringe, then said, "I remember you asking me to practice infusions. Here is the opportunity."

"Do it," Strange said. "Intravenous injections aren't difficult. Considering the stability of your hand, you should be able to practice well soon."

"To prevent him from waking from pain, I should give him a shot first," Shiller picked up a syringe filled with mandala anesthetic nearby, and then said, "Sorry, Tony, I didn't know you were coming. Otherwise, I would definitely have bought anesthetic."

Strange walked to the side, starting to read the newspaper that fell in with the raven.

Just as Shiller was about to operate, Strange suddenly said, "Wait, don't touch him yet, come look at this."

Shiller walked over, seeing Strange pointing to a news item on the newspaper. It read: "Great Detective Polo targeted by Westchester Police Department, suspected of involvement in the Bloodthirsty Demon Flower murder case, public witnesses can report to the police station and receive a reward of ten silver coins!"

The two men turned their heads simultaneously to look at Stark on the bed.