Chapter 1050: Shocking the Ordinary People (Twenty-Seven)

After the security in New York was completely cleared, Schiller gave up completely.

He felt that he could no longer find anyone to treat, so he began to drink more and more.

Even though the skytrain station of the sanatorium was completed, he did not move back, but stayed in his small clinic to drink.

Schiller was now slumped on the sofa in the middle of the clinic's living room. His white coat, which had been buttoned up meticulously from head to toe, was now completely open. There were wine stains on one side, two holes burned by cigarette ash on the other side, and a little blood from nowhere.

Schiller seemed to have just woken up from a hangover. He subconsciously touched the bottle of wine next to him and found that the bottle was empty. He dropped his arms weakly, pursed his lips, leaned on the armrest of the sofa, and fell asleep again.

In the next few days, Schiller found that all the tobacco, alcohol and drugs in the entire Hell's Kitchen, and even in the Brooklyn area along the Hudson River, had disappeared.

It was a physical disappearance. No matter how much money he had or where he went to buy it, he could not buy it at all.

Schiller can use flash to freely travel in Hell's Kitchen, but his continuous flash has a distance limit.

Stark and Strange, who know Schiller very well, opened a large defense net and cleared all addictive things within the range where Schiller can move.

This is not a situation where Schiller can gain something by abandoning his moral bottom line. These things have disappeared on the physical level, and they can't be conjured up no matter if they cheat or sneak attack.

Just as Matt said, the world's most talented scientists and the world's most powerful magicians have joined forces. There is nothing they can't block. Even the sewers near Hell's Kitchen have been screened by them. All the empty wine bottles and empty medicine bottles that fell in have been fished out, without even a dregs left.

Now, Schiller is in a completely vacuum area, no cigarettes, no alcohol, no medicine.

Although he can buy it if he runs a little further, the feeling of emptiness and helplessness in Schiller's heart makes him unwilling to go too far away from the place he is familiar with. He just wants to get back to the clinic as soon as possible, which can give him a rare sense of security.

After returning to the clinic, Schiller felt bored again. Gradually, he no longer liked staying in the clinic, but began to wander the streets. He would rather squat in front of the window in the middle of the night than go home.

This picture gradually shrank. Stark, Strange and Steve looked at Schiller squatting and shivering in the corner of the street, and sighed together.

"He must be feeling very sad now." Steve covered his mouth with his hand, and then emphasized:

"I don't think he understands why we suddenly ignored him!"

Steve shook his head vigorously, put the shield aside, and said: "I feel like we are like those bad students who take the lead in isolating others in school... I really can't do this. If you can't give me a better treatment plan, I will go to him now!"

After that, he turned around and was about to go out. Stark stopped him and said: "Don't be like this, Steve, don't worry, we consulted the most famous psychologists in the world, including Schiller's teachers and professors."

"In addition to the authorities in psychology and psychiatry, there are also experts specializing in drug or psychogenic addiction."

"The unanimous conclusion they gave is that in the early stage of treatment, there must be a period of forced withdrawal. In this world, to quit any drug or addiction, you need to let the body and brain adapt to the state of low feedback first. This process is destined to be painful and long."

"And only after the body gradually adapts, can you start to solve psychological problems..."

Stark After explaining a lot of things very patiently, Steve held the shield, knocked the edge of the table and said, "I really can't accept it. I see my friend in so much pain, but I don't help him."

He took a deep breath and said, "Fortunately, you sent Peter out first, otherwise, we can't stop him anyway."

"All those sitting here are relatively rational adults." Strange said, "We all know that Schiller can't go on like this. Whether it's his symptoms of autism, the stress response caused by psychological trauma, or his psychological disorder of excessive pursuit of emotional stimulation, it will be solved sooner or later."

"Do you want us to work together and unite now, with the most resources and the best state, to treat steadily, or do you plan to wait until the day when Schiller is really in trouble, and then rush to save him?"

Steve was silent and lowered his head. Tony sighed softly and said, "I know we are all uncomfortable, but this day will always come..."

Steve paused, put down the shield, drew a cross on his chest, and a low prayer echoed in the room. At this time, snowflakes just fell outside the window.

"Lord, if our friend is destined to suffer this disaster, please do not reduce any of the sadness and pain in my heart, so that I will share his sins."

"Also, please make me feel no joy and happiness on the day of your birth, to comfort him for the coldness he feels... Amen."

Winter in New York is getting deeper and the temperature is getting lower. This year is destined to be a very lively Christmas. Christmas decorations have been placed on the streets in advance, and the goods in the windows are also brand new.

After the first heavy snow, the festive atmosphere is getting stronger and stronger, and Christmas songs are playing everywhere.

At the end of the street covered with thick snow, a man wearing a coat and a scarf squatted down next to the street lamp.

He didn't look very good. He was breathing hard all the time. Saliva and snot flowed out together. Before they were wiped off, they condensed into tiny ice crystals.

But no one would be interested in him. This kind of person is too common in this community. Of course, there can't be any good people living in a community near Hell's Kitchen. A drug addict who suddenly got sick on the roadside can't even be called a scenery here.

The man didn't wear gloves, so he could only put his hand into the other cuff, sniffing and shivering all over. It looked like both cold and severe withdrawal reaction.

He squatted next to the street lamp for a while, and seemed to feel better, so he turned his head to look at the window next to him, but at this moment, a hand reached out, with a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers.

The man squatting next to the street lamp took the cigarette butt with trembling hands and put it in his mouth as if he saw a savior.

When he reached out to take the cigarette, he turned his body sideways, so the man standing there could see his face clearly and exclaimed:

"Schiller???!"

Eddie hurried over and found that the one squatting next to the street lamp was actually Schiller.

Looking at Schiller who was trembling all over, Eddie hurriedly took off his coat and wanted to put it on Schiller, but he hesitated when he saw the dust on the coat.

Eddie stepped back two steps, looked up at the sky, and finally decided to reach out and put the coat on Schiller, but he didn't expect that Schiller didn't move and let him fiddle with it.

Schiller's attention was all on the half-smoked cigarette. Although his shaking hands prevented him from putting the cigarette into his mouth accurately, he still tried his best, completely ignoring the cigarette butt that was almost burned to the bottom, the flames, and the burns on his knuckles that were frozen white.

Eddie quickly reached out, grabbed Schiller's wrist, shook off the cigarette butt in his hand, and then said, "Doctor Schiller, what's wrong with you? Are you sick? Do you want me to call an ambulance for you?"

Schiller immediately shook his head, blinked with some effort, and then looked at the cigarette butt that Eddie threw away. Eddie followed his gaze, but at this time, Schiller had already stretched out his hand.

Eddie quickly stopped him, and then took out a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket in a panic, handed Schiller one, and then wanted to help him light the cigarette.

But Schiller's shaking hands couldn't hold the cigarette at all, and there was no way to protect the fire. Eddie had to smoke the cigarette himself, light the cigarette, and then handed the cigarette to Schiller with some hesitation.

He knew that the doctor had a very serious mysophobia. He was unwilling to take a cigarette from a cigarette box that someone else had smoked, let alone one that someone else had smoked. Moreover, he almost never used a lighter, only matches.

However, Schiller completely abandoned his past demeanor, like a real drug addict living on the street, hurriedly put the cigarette into his mouth, took a puff, held his breath for a while, and exhaled a puff of smoke.

Whether it was the hand holding the cigarette, or the movements of smoking and exhaling smoke, it was so light as if he was afraid of wasting any nicotine.

Eddie squatted down opposite him, frowned, squinted, put his head close to Schiller's face, then looked into his eyes and said, "Doctor, what's wrong with you?"

"...I'm not a doctor." Schiller's hoarse voice frightened Eddie. He no longer had the smooth and soothing tone during psychological treatment. It sounded like the cough of a homeless person who was eager to find a cardboard box to shelter from the wind in the middle of the night.

Suddenly, Eddie's body trembled, Venom spread out, and the big mouth with fangs came to Schiller's nose, and Venom's hoarse voice sounded:

"Look... Who is this? Doctor? No, no, no, a patient... A very sick patient... I can feel it..."

Venom's spider compound eyes blinked, and the low tone reminded Schiller of someone.

So, Schiller took the cigarette in his hand with his trembling hands, raised his head, exhaled the last puff of smoke, and then pressed the cigarette butt hard on Venom's eyes.

"Ah!!!!!!!"

Venom screamed, covered his eyes and retreated, and the next second, he retreated back into Eddie's body.

Eddie stood there, rubbed his eyes, shook his head, and Schiller, who was squatting on the ground, looked up and asked him: "...Do you have any cigarettes?"

"Yes, but you can't smoke here." Eddie bent down, helped Schiller up, and then said: "I'll take you back to the sanatorium, doctor, there's everything there..."

Schiller bent over and stood there panting. The cold air he exhaled made a layer of white fog on his glasses. He took off his glasses and said: "No, I won't go back, I won't go anywhere..."

Eddie looked Schiller up and down and knew that he must have been in trouble, so he said, "Okay, how about you go to my house? At least it's warmer there than here, and there are cigarettes to smoke..."

Schiller didn't object, so Eddie supported him and walked to a building in a residential area not far from this block.

Climbing to the third floor and opening the door of the room at the end of the corridor, Eddie opened the door with one hand and supported Schiller with the other hand and walked in.

As soon as Schiller walked in, he collapsed on the sofa in the living room, looking utterly unpresentable. Eddie lit a cigarette for him again, and then his eyes fell on his coat, which was soaked by the snow.

Eddie picked up his coat and put it in the laundry basket next to him, then said to Schiller: "Dr. Schiller, take off your coat and I'll wash it for you... By the way, your coat should be washable, right?"

Schiller was busy smoking and ignored him completely. Eddie could only sigh, walked forward, and took off Schiller's coat like a puppet, and threw it into the laundry basket.

Seeing that Schiller was still stable, Eddie took the laundry basket and came to the washing machine on the balcony.

He first picked up his jacket, rummaged through his pockets, and threw it into the washing machine, then picked up Schiller's coat and subconsciously put his hand into his pocket, and then realized that his action seemed a little impolite.

However, his hand did touch something, and he felt a strange touch on his hand. Eddie pinched the thing, took his hand back, and looked down.

It was a piece of golden and red candy paper that was folded very neatly, and even every wrinkle was smoothed.

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