Chapter 1535: Schiller's Disappearance (Part 2)

New York's nights are never peaceful. This prosperous city on the East Coast stages a never-ending climax drama every night. The gentle moonlight fails to stop the pedestrians' hurried steps, and the cool night breeze fails to soothe their restless moods.

Schiller walked quickly into the laboratory. Connors frowned when he saw him. Schiller didn't show anything. He just asked, "Did Stephen come to see you?"

"Yes, about his brother." Connors said bluntly. He pushed his glasses and said, "Inherited genetic diseases are indeed a bit troublesome, but Nick helped him find a perfect liver source. I wanted to give him some healing potions, but he didn't want them. He is very proud of his surgical skills."

Hearing Connors say that Strange didn't take the healing potion from him, Schiller frowned slightly, and walked out of the ward after exchanging a few words with Connors.

The sound of leather shoes stepping on the empty floor continued to echo, the cold light from the hospital door reflected the moonlight outside the window, and a slender figure walked along the corridor of the Presbyterian Hospital and came to the meeting site of the last consultation.

When he walked in, everyone looked at him in surprise, because he was holding a notebook and a pen - usually only medical students who were auditing would bring these.

But he ignored those eyes, sat down in his seat calmly, looked up at the screen in front, and looked serious like a student who was attending a large consultation for the first time.

In the corridor of S.H.I.E.L.D., Schiller passed by Natasha sideways. The female agent glanced at his expression, raised her eyebrows, and showed an interested expression, and Schiller walked straight to Nick Fury's office.

"Nick, I want to confirm that there should be no problem with the liver source of Stephen's brother?" Schiller knocked on the door and said.

Nick raised his head, looked at Schiller with some doubt and said: "Of course there will be no problem with a perfectly suitable organ. Are you worried about the source and legality?"

Nick stood up from the table and said while tidying up the documents on the table: "Maybe it is not possible to find a very suitable liver source in the United States, but if you look at the world, you can always find it. As long as you have money and power, it is not a difficult task."

"Are the organs to be transplanted safe? Where are they stored now?"

"It's still on the way. It will probably arrive tomorrow morning. After it arrives, the operation will be performed immediately. This is the safest way. But why are you asking this?" Nick looked up at Schiller with some confusion.

Schiller restrained his expression and said, "Nothing, I just want to make sure that everything is perfect. You know, Stephen is very important to us, and the relatives of heroes should not bleed."

Nick walked to the door, patted Schiller on the shoulder and said, "Don't worry, nothing will go wrong. Stephen's brother will recover soon, and then he can get back to work."

The moonlight fell on the windowsill, and the well-maintained slender fingers turned over the cases of the past years. The figure sitting by the window seemed to have returned to his student days. He carefully studied all the organ transplant cases that had been performed in the Presbyterian Hospital, and from time to time he looked at the key points recorded in the consultation just now.

He marked the records with a fountain pen, and the rustling sound echoed in the room. The few old things in the apartment room were already very accustomed to this sound. The days and nights of hard study not only engraved the knowledge into his mind, but also made his back and the wall become a pair.

"You're going to have surgery tomorrow morning. Are you nervous?"

Schiller poured a glass of water and placed it in front of Victor. He glanced at the scarf Victor placed next to him and knew that he should have just returned from the Presbyterian Hospital.

"A little bit." Victor showed a simple smile and said, "I haven't had any surgery since I was a child."

"Don't worry, your brother is the best surgeon in the world. No matter what, he won't let you get hurt, and neither will I."

"Of course, Dr. Schiller." Victor seemed more relaxed. He tilted his head slightly to one side, looked at the moonlight outside the window and said, "I know doctors are good people. You always think about how to save people."

"The general practitioner in our town is busier than a tractor in the harvest season every day. It stands to reason that a person who is so busy would definitely not want to have other work to find him, but he always calls me and asks if I feel uncomfortable. If I do, I must tell him. Tell him."

"He is a good man who has helped many elderly farmers so that they can continue to work, including my father. He is a very serious man, but I still remember the surprise on his face when he heard that my brother was Stephen Strange."

Schiller lowered his eyes and smiled and said, "Indeed, Strange is a legend in the field of surgery. He is written into all the books about famous surgeons, and the operations he performed are also included in the textbooks. Which doctor doesn't want to see this hand of God?"

Victor laughed very hard, and like a common farmer, he made a "chuckle" sound in his throat, which seemed innocent and honest. Schiller could see that although he had an average relationship with his brother, he was still proud of it.

After the laughter stopped, Victor looked at Schiller with a sincere look and said, "You must be his good friend."

Schiller paused while helping him to tidy up the quilt, and he asked, "Why?"

"Did he ask you to come and persuade me?"

Schiller nodded.

But Victor shook his head gently and said, "You don't know how difficult it is for him to ask for help. It's hard to imagine how difficult it is to get from a remote town to New York and become such a well-known surgeon, but he has never asked for help from others - not once."

Victor looked up at the starry sky outside the window and said, "He always works hard alone and solves all problems by himself. On countless such nights, he once told me that the only thing he can't learn in this world is despair."

The night is getting darker and darker, and the thin clouds that drift from time to time make the moonlight dim. The lights in the room are still bright. The practice model that has not appeared in hand for many years was taken out of the box, and a hand was pressed on it. After the preparations were done, a series of suture movements that were so fast that they were almost invisible were like butterflies fluttering under the light.

For medical students, basic epidermal sutures are not difficult, and for surgeons, they are even more commonplace, but when these hands do it, people can see a lot of smooth beauty in the bloody association of suturing flesh and blood.

Over and over again, until the moon sets and the stars sink, and the red sun rises.

When the sutures were pulled out, there was no extra trace left on the surface of the model. After putting the model back into the box, he sat alone by the bed and watched the sunrise outside the window, just like the end of countless nights of hard training.

On a dark national highway, a special low-temperature transport vehicle was speeding towards New York. The driver, who was concentrating on driving the car, did not notice a thin layer of gray mist rising around the car body.

The sun rose from the horizon of the vast American land, and the back of the transport vehicle disappeared on the lined skyline of New York, and the morning mist slowly dissipated.

When Victor was pushed into the operating room, Strange was already dressed. Schiller could not see his expression through the hat and mask, but he could still feel that he was calmer than before.

The door of the operating room slowly closed. The transplant surgery was longer than anyone could imagine. Just standing outside the door, one could feel the suffocating pressure.

The operating room and outside were very quiet until the light outside the window turned from bright to dark. Then some noises came out of the operating room like boiling water. Someone was shouting something noisily, but it didn't sound like panic.

Soon the door of the operating room opened, and the nurses pushed the patient out together. Schiller vaguely heard words like "the operation was successful" and "another miracle". There was no surprise in the tone, as if it was natural.

Schiller suddenly showed a smug smile, shrugged his shoulders and prepared to go out, but unexpectedly, a nurse stopped him at this time and said, "Dr. Rodriguez, Dr. Strange, please come in."

Schiller was stunned for a moment, a little surprised, he said, "But I'm not wearing surgical gowns, I..."

"It doesn't matter, the operation is over, Dr. Strange may have something urgent, you should go in quickly."

Schiller had to walk into the operating room. After the last nurse left, Strange, wearing a hat and a mask, waved his finger, like commanding a nurse to close the door, while he packed up the surgical instruments on the side.

Schiller paused, but still walked over to close the door. He walked briskly and said as he walked, "The operation was successful, right? I think surgical medicine should also be classified as magic."

"Have you completed the deal with death?" Strange's voice came from under the mask, which seemed a little unreal.

Schiller took two steps forward, leaned against the side wall and said, "Of course, if Victor is still alive at the end of the operation, the deal is done."

"Your arm is dead?"

Schiller nodded, smiled and said, "I seem to hear someone tell me that I have to pay the price?"

At this time, Strange had packed up his utensils and took off his gloves, hat and mask. Schiller thought he was going to go out the door and even made way.

But Strange stood there and took out the Time Stone.

Schiller frowned in surprise. He didn't understand what Strange was going to do, but the next second, rich energy surrounded the Time Stone, and the Time Stone was activated instantly.

But they did not travel through time. The rich energy with the power of time condensed into substance and turned into a dagger-like blade, and Strange's left hand held the end of the weapon.

Schiller widened his eyes and almost stopped breathing. At this moment, he realized what Strange was going to do. The next second, the thick gray fog rushed towards Strange.

But it was too late.

With a "swish", the sharp blade passed through Strange's right hand ten centimeters below the elbow. There was no blood, no limbs, no crying or screaming. The hand of God, known as a miracle in the surgical medical field, completely disappeared.

At the moment when the gray fog gathered, Schiller grabbed Strange's neck tightly and pressed him against the wall with a very rough movement.

Schiller first tilted his head to look at the smooth cut on Strange's arm, and then looked at Strange's face with disbelief.

Strange raised his head slightly, and when his eyes turned to Schiller, his eyes were full of indifference.

"I destroyed all the timelines of this arm, and you will never, ever, ever... get it back."