OBS Chapter 4067 MU Superbody Major Event (147)
Chapter 4067 MU Superbody Major Event (147)
Chapter 4067 MU: The Superbody Incident (147)
After Qin left, Polaris awkwardly entered. Upon seeing Schiller, she rolled her eyes, slammed the medical report on the table, sat down, and said, "They insist I have mental problems, which is causing my arrhythmia. What mental problems do I have? I'm perfectly fine!"
"Don't rush, fill out the form first." Schiller handed him another form.
As dusk settled, a thick stack of reports piled up on the other side of the table. Schiller looked at the medical records in his hand and said to Gray Mist in his mind, "You've been working hard lately."
“It’s nothing, a piece of cake.” Gray Mist’s voice was still as lively as ever. He said, “But Professor X’s move was really ruthless. If Nick Fury were as unscrupulous as him, you wouldn’t need to keep urging those Avengers superheroes to submit their psychological evaluation reports every day.”
“One monkey, one way to tie it up,” Schiller said. “These mutants are incredibly strong. Even if you make their hearts irregular, they’re all still jumping around. If they were ordinary people, they would be in hospital beds by now.”
"That's true. But it's good this way; those who are reluctant to seek medical help are finally willing to come to the doctor and take medicine. What are you planning to do next? Cure all the mutants in the multiverse?"
“That won’t be necessary,” Schiller said. “As long as it’s not caused by people from the central universe, it’s not a big problem. Besides, the arrhythmia was something we deliberately created, but I did the assessment and diagnosis carefully. If I brought all those people over for treatment, I’d be exhausted.”
Schiller sighed; in truth, just these few people had exhausted him. If Charles hadn't repeatedly asked him, he wouldn't have done this despicable thing.
There aren't many things in this world that Schiller would find utterly immoral, and this plan was one of them. A few days before the war began, when everyone's responsibilities were being determined, Charles suddenly approached him.
"What's wrong, Professor?" Schiller asked without turning his head as he packed his things in the sanatorium.
Charles, dressed in a camel-colored turtleneck sweater and a casual autumn suit, leaned against the doorframe, looking every bit the wealthy young master of England. With one hand in his pocket, he smiled and said, "There's something I'd like to ask you."
Schiller turned around and saw that Charles's eyes appeared even bluer against his brown and orange outfit, like the sky behind a maple forest in September.
“You’ve really become younger,” Schiller couldn’t help but exclaim. “What? Planning to go watch the Wimbledon final?”
“I’m afraid we won’t make it this year,” Charles said with a smile. “But I plan to go with David next year to make up for his childhood regret.”
"Okay, what do you need me for?"
“I don’t want any problems to arise among the mutants in the central universe during this war, so I hope you can give them a psychological evaluation. If there are any problems, we can detect them and treat them promptly.”
“You know, Charles, I’d be happy to help you with this, but the first problem is getting them into my office. I can’t exactly kidnap them, can I?”
“Kidnapping is out of the question, that’s too impolite. Let’s try a gentler, more polite approach—you can use the gray fog to induce some physical symptoms in them, and they’ll come to you for treatment sooner or later.”
“What?” Schiller was a little surprised. He said, “You mean, you want me to make your group of students and colleagues sick, and then have them come to me for treatment? Charles Xavier, do you remember that you are a doctor and a teacher?”
“Of course,” Charles said casually, “but I am also a leader of mutants. This war is of paramount importance, and I will not allow any mutant in our universe to become a weak point.”
Schiller hesitated for a moment before asking, "What do you want to do?"
"There are many somatic manifestations of depression and anxiety. Treat whichever you feel is safest. Anyway, they're not ordinary people; they won't actually get sick because of this. As long as there are some symptoms, they'll come to you for a prescription sooner or later."
"What about short-term arrhythmias?" Schiller asked. "That's simple and easy to control for gray fog. It's completely within the heart muscle's tolerance range and there won't be any aftereffects."
"You can handle it as you see fit. Just make sure to focus on those who are prone to acting crazy. Oh, by the way, you haven't met Emma yet, have you? Her psychological problems are among the more serious of all mutants, but her mental strength is too strong, I can't do anything about her, you'll have to break through from the side."
“Emma? Emma Frost? The White Queen?” Schiller vaguely remembered her. “Weren’t those guys from the Hellfire Club always vying for seats in Parliament? What happened to her?”
“Her background and experiences are quite tragic. Although she feels that everything is over and she has become stronger, she is actually still not mentally stable and has a history of severe anxiety disorder. I am worried that she may relapse, so you would better have her examined.”
"Alright, Charles. But let's make this clear first: I will make diagnoses based on my professional expertise. If there's a problem, I'll treat it; if not, they can leave. I absolutely won't prescribe medication indiscriminately just to keep them quiet. Okay?"
“Of course, Doctor, I trust your medical ethics.” Before turning to leave, Charles deliberately peeked back and said, “Prescribe Emma more medication. People with psychic abilities tend to have stronger drug resistance, you know.”
"Did you prescribe Emma more medication?" Charles asked in his office in the Andromeda Galaxy.
"The psychiatric medications were prescribed according to the standard prescription, but I also prescribed her some magical drugs to regulate the body's energy and endocrine system, and many patients have reported that they are quite effective."
"Oh, that kind of mushroom, right? I heard they've launched quite a few health supplements with it."
“Yes, you can buy some anti-hair loss products.” Schiller said while sorting through the psychological evaluation reports. “How is Eric? I think he’s the one who needs psychological treatment the most. Those four little devils are driving him crazy.”
“It’s okay. We all told the outside world that he was injured, so we brought in Magneto from the other two universes to help him take care of the kids.”
"Other universes? You'd better be careful. They didn't eat the golden apple. If they really get sick from overwork, we'll have to suffer non-combat casualties."
"No, there are many counterparts in the multiverse. When they are about to die, we will replace them with a new batch. They definitely won't be exhausted."
"Are the Supermen alright?" Schiller asked. "Stephen has already led the sorcerers over to exchange Supermen for him. Batman won't kill them; they'll be able to bring back intelligence alive and tell us who that guy on the other side really is."
“That’s exactly what I was going to tell you,” Charles said. “They are trapped in the dream realm by Doctor Strange’s Dream Force, but their mental strength is too high and their thinking is too active. We have to constantly create illusions to hinder them, otherwise they can easily break through.”
"Have Doctor Strange strengthen the defenses with the Dream Force, don't let them escape. I heard Superman from the main universe is inside too?"
"Yes, he's the most persistent one, and he's caused us a lot of trouble. I was even thinking of sending him back to the Battle Realm."
"No way! You think he's Batman's weakness, but he's actually Batman's limiter. If the main universe's Batman really receives his message from the Battleworld, then he'll really be in overload mode."
"Okay, I'll leave them alone for now, but I don't think I can hold them off for long. Hopefully Batman will arrive soon... Wait, I think I've received a message. I received a telepathic communication from Martian Manhunter."
"Go and negotiate with them, I still have work to do." After hanging up the call, Schiller began to review the day's treatments, calling each doctor to repeat their orders, and then backing up the prescriptions, working until late at night.
Schiller was finally finished with his work and was about to go to sleep when he heard a knock at the door. When he opened it, it was Tony Stark.
"What's wrong, Tony?"
“Uh, it’s nothing. I’m not busy at the lab, so I came to see you,” Stark said, looking around.
"Why are you looking at me?" Before Schiller could finish speaking, Stark squeezed into the office through the crack in the door and frowned deeply when he saw the thick stack of psychological evaluation reports on the table.
"Don't be like that, Schiller. If you're really upset, we can go to a bar for a drink."
"What?" Schiller looked at him with some confusion.
“I know you were saddened after hearing the news of Stephen’s sacrifice, so you used work to numb yourself. But that’s not a good thing.”
"Wait a minute, Stephen is dead?"
"Uh, you don't know?"
“I know now.” Schiller almost burst out laughing. He was about to explain, but then asked, “How do you know he was killed?”
"The mages' energy signals have disappeared. The command center just reported that they were most likely eliminated by that big shot on the other side," Stark said, pursing his lips. "Although they didn't perform well, it's still a regrettable sacrifice."
"If he really sacrificed himself, why didn't he send us a message to the Battle Realm?"
“You know Stephen is a proud man. He already felt embarrassed by Doctor Strange’s poor performance, and now he’s been taken down in one fell swoop. He’s probably hiding in the operating room crying. How could he possibly send us a message?”
Schiller looked at him with a hint of helplessness, his expression seeming to say, "Are you talking about yourself?"
Then Stark walked over, put his arm around Schiller's shoulder, and said, "Alright, stop being so sentimental. Steve is already waiting for us, and Natasha is here too. She's been incredibly busy lately and finally has some time to relax. Let's not spoil our dear lady's fun, let's go."
“Wait a minute,” Schiller said, “I’m going to change my clothes. If I go in wearing my white coat, you’ll all be huddled around the bar filling out evaluation reports.”
Ten minutes later, they arrived at the base's bar. It was quite crowded; young superheroes were dancing energetically on the dance floor, while others sat around the bar drinking and chatting.
The most energetic dancer was Thor from the hypothetical universe party, swinging his hammer and shouting, occasionally spraying alcohol from a bottle. Stark and Schiller bypassed the dance floor and went to a booth nearby. Sure enough, Steve, Bucky, Natasha, and other members of the Avengers were already waiting there, along with Nick Fury and Coulson.
“…I was going to go see the president, but he hasn’t been answering the phone lately,” Natasha said.
"What, you two want to have sex on the battlefield?" Nick rolled his eyes and said, "This is wartime, going on a date with the enemy is treason! You better watch out... Oh, Doctor, you're here. We were just talking about you. Stephen left us first, but don't be too sad."
Schiller rolled his eyes, too lazy to explain anymore. Anyway, the mages would be switched back soon, and facts speak louder than words.
"What do you think that president Batman is up to?" Bucky brought up the topic with obvious ill intent. He glanced at Natasha and said, "He's been quiet for so long, he's probably causing trouble somewhere."
“I think so too,” Coulson chimed in. “That guy’s Batmobile is amazing, with incredible speed, and now he can use magic too. You guys better not let him catch you alone…”
"The main universe's Batman must have assigned him a very important mission, I think it might be..."
Before Stark could finish speaking, Nick's communicator rang. They knew it was a sensitive time, so they all kept quiet and waited for Nick to answer the phone.
After hanging up the phone, Nick jumped to his feet, his roar echoing through the bar: "What?! The brainwave amplifier is destroyed?!?"
Charles Xavier, the scoundrel but undeniably beautiful