Chapter 1870: The Madman's Journey (Forty-Eight)

Chapter 1844 The Journey of a Madman (Forty-Eight)

After the stitches were completed, Schiller rebandaged Stark's wounds. He found a relatively clean jacket and put it on Stark, and let him sleep on the bed.

After waking up, Stark drank a sip of water and said the first sentence: "I know you think this is childish. I know that even if I don't sell it, there will always be someone who will sell it. I just want them to pay the price, even though it will also cost me."

"I just want them to understand that I will resist all this at all costs. Don't want the benefits that are within your reach, don't want further hope, and no one can make me an executioner with blood on my hands."

Schiller sat by Stark's bed and looked at him quietly. After meeting Schiller's eyes, Stark said a little irritably: "Why don't you say anything? Don't you have an opinion? What do you think in your heart? Aren't psychiatrists the best at commenting on anyone's decision? "

"I'm not a psychiatrist." Schiller shook his head and said, "I haven't cured any patients. I spend most of my time on military research. I don't think you want to hear the opinions of an accomplice."

"You..." Stark was choked again. He was silent for a few seconds and then said, "Have you only killed the mastermind?"

"Probably, too many, I can't remember."

Schiller walked away. After a while, he brought a metal military water bottle and wiped the skin around Stark's wound with warm water.

"What are you going to do next?" Stark asked.

"I will continue to observe the condition of your wound. When they come to deliver food later, I will ask them when they can get enough medicine, but you'd better not hold too much hope. They can't even tell the difference between ibuprofen and fentanyl."

"I mean for a long time to come." Stark gestured a length with his hand and said, "You have to leave here, right?"

"Why should I leave here?"

Stark didn't know how to answer this question, and then he thought of what Schiller had told him about his life. He lowered his hands and placed them on both sides of the metal pole and said, "You have to leave here and enjoy the life you haven't enjoyed before, and enjoy the prosperity of civilized society."

"And then you are chased by the FBI?"

"You can stand up and testify against their illegal human experiments and illegal imprisonment. You are a victim."

"You know I'm not. The subjects in the experiments I participated in were indeed victims, but I'm not."

Schiller sighed and said, "If I had morals, I wouldn't feel comfortable helping them do those illegal experiments, but I don't, so this is also a kind of life for me."

"But you didn't have to live like this." Stark moved his body, but was held down by Schiller again. He raised his voice and emphasized, "If you hadn't been experimented on by them when you were a child, you could go to school like a normal child, and you would have a happy life like an ordinary person!"

"Then I would have the opportunity to become a test subject who was powerless to resist in illegal human experiments, instead of the one who could escape."

Stark hammered the metal rod next to him with his hand, and he sighed and said, "Okay, this country and this society have too many problems, but I will find a way to change it. Can you not be so pessimistic?"

"I believe you." Schiller put away the kettle, took a worn down jacket from the side, and covered Stark with it.

Then, he picked up the burnt charcoal from the fire and put it in a worn stainless steel basin, and placed it under Stark's bed. The charcoal was almost burned out, and it was not very hot, but it could continue to transmit stable heat, which made Stark feel warm.

His sleepy eyelids were fighting, but he was forced to win the verbal battle. He muttered, "You don't just have to believe it, you have to watch all this, watch me successfully change all this, and sincerely believe that life will get better. You have to do this."

"Yes, I will, you should sleep for a while."

Stark fell asleep, but his spirit couldn't sleep, and he couldn't stand anyone's perfunctory.

So, Stark had a long-lost dream of saving the world. In the dream, he used his powerful scientific and technological means to make everyone live happily on the earth.

He dreamed that Schiller walked out of the cave, returned to civilized society, and re-passed the psychiatrist's license. He became the psychological consultant of the Stark Group and became famous all over the world for curing Tony Stark's anxiety.

The sudden noise made Stark wrinkle his eye muscles and tried to cover his eyes with his hands. Some local dialects that he couldn't understand were repeated repeatedly, and Schiller's voice was mixed in. Although it was the same language, the tone was much gentler.

After an unknown period of time, Stark smelled a fragrance, and the emptiness in his stomach forced him to open his eyes. He saw Schiller baking bread on the grill of the campfire.

Seeing that Stark woke up, Schiller came over, helped Stark turn over and sit up, and then asked him: "Can you walk?"

"My back is injured, not my legs. Let me go, I will walk by myself."

But Schiller still helped him sit down by the campfire, and Stark could see clearly that what was placed on the grill was not bread, but a thick and bulging cake.

"A kind of local bran cake, made of gluten and coarse grains, doesn't taste very good, but it's good to eat in soup."

Schiller turned around and took out two cans from behind, pried them open with a dagger, and also placed them on the grill.

Stark recognized that it seemed to be a can of American soldiers, and looking at the bubbling broth inside, he couldn't help swallowing his saliva.

"Were you talking to someone just now?" Stark asked.

"Yes, the people who delivered the food came. I negotiated with them, and the cans were the result of the negotiation." Schiller stirred the meat in the can with the tip of a knife, and then said, "I told them that if there is not enough medicine, then there must be better food to ensure your nutrition, otherwise I can't guarantee that you can survive."

Schiller looked up at Stark and said, "They want you to start research immediately and make new weapons for them, but I told them that the wound on your back will take some time to heal, and you can probably rest for another three days."

"You are an important person. Three days should be enough for your relatives to find out that you are missing. As for how to let them locate you, it depends on your own ability. There are some abandoned radio equipment over there."

Stark followed Schiller's gaze and found a lot of scrapped machines. The categories of these damaged mechanical parts were very indicative, so Stark looked at Schiller's eyes again.

"I told them that you needed parts to develop weapons, and pointed out the location of an abandoned military base. It was not a laboratory, but a communication signal transceiver room. They had difficulty distinguishing the types of parts, so they moved them all back."

Stark's Adam's apple moved. Just as he was about to say something, Schiller pushed the can to his side and said, "Eat it quickly. You should have few opportunities in your life to experience the taste of such simple food."

Stark took the slightly bent fork Schiller handed him and looked at the can with some embarrassment.

Then he saw Schiller break off a small piece of bran cake and soak it in canned soup. Stark followed suit, but he first put the crumbs of a bran cake into his mouth.

Then he "poohed" a few times and spit out the things in his mouth. He believed that this thing was a piece of soil just dug out of the ground. The taste was not very bad, but the taste was really too scum.

Stark had no choice but to soak the cake in the canned soup. After a mouthful of hot soup, he finally recovered a little. He took a bite of the beef in the can and found that Schiller was right. It was the first time in his life that he had eaten such poor quality beef.

The bran cake added was even more of a disaster. Stark felt that it simply ruined the can. He wanted to use a fork to get out what he had just thrown in, but Schiller put a bigger piece in.

"You need to replenish carbohydrates and sugars. Now is not the time to be picky about taste." Schiller turned his head and glanced at the hole and said, "The person who came to rescue you may not be able to lay the carpet in front of your feet. You have to run a distance by yourself. Without sufficient strength, you will die."

Soon, Stark frowned and stuffed the can into his mouth. Although the taste and texture were very bad, his body still responded honestly to the energy he took in. Stark gradually felt less weak.

After eating, Stark lay on the bed to rest for a while. When he woke up, he found Schiller cooking again.

"Are you really going to live here for the rest of your life?" Stark asked puzzledly, "Never going back to the United States?"

"Probably." Schiller poured the mixed batter onto the steel plate. He was using pancake mix to make pancakes, so he raised his hands precisely, and the right amount of batter fell onto the steel plate, forming a perfect circle.

Stark looked at Schiller's hands, which were obviously those of a doctor. He sighed and said, "Your medical skills are very good. You can go back to be a doctor. I will help you."

"Why do you want to help me?" Schiller asked back.

"Because you helped me."

"I'm just helping myself." Schiller poured the last bit of batter, deftly turned the first pancake with a fork, and said, "This is my job here, to treat the kidnapped people so that they can play their value."

"Yes, suturing my wounds is indeed a condition of the deal between you and them, but these are not." Stark walked over to sit down opposite Schiller.

"Do you mean I cook for you? But I have to cook too, and cyborgs have to eat too."

"That's it?" Stark looked down at the perfectly shaped muffins and said, "You like to eat desserts late at night?"

"This is to ensure your mental health." Schiller kept turning the pancakes with a fork and said, "The experience during the day may have caused you a certain degree of mental trauma, but it has not yet erupted."

"The emotional value provided by sweets is a kind of emotional therapy, which can soothe your emotions and make your mind clearer."

"So you still want to save me and let me leave here."

"Because I'm worried that if you really make them very powerful weapons and they have no casualties, I will be out of work."

Stark stared at Schiller helplessly. He knocked on the bricks of the bonfire and said, "Does saving me and helping me embarrass you? What's there to be ashamed of?"

"I'm telling the truth." Schiller turned the handle of the fork with his hand.

And Stark retorted, "If you don't want me to research more powerful weapons, you can just kill me and say that I died of infection. They can't do anything to you."

Schiller was silent.

Stark said smugly: "Admit it, you just want to save me. You say you have no morals, but that's not necessarily true."

"Maybe I just hope you can repay me, such as helping me restore my identity and then giving me a large sum of money or something."

Stark laughed, leaned forward and said: "I can see that you haven't been in contact with society for a long time. Do you think Stark's repayment will be so simple? A large sum of money? Don't insult me!"

"You recover quickly and leave quickly, which is the biggest reward for me." Schiller looked into Stark's eyes and said: "I have no interest in going back to be a doctor, don't bother me."

After that, he stood up and left only the baked muffins to Stark. Looking at Schiller's figure walking towards the cave entrance, Stark couldn't help but feel a rebellious emotion.

This comes from a peculiar guilt transfer psychology-Stark Group sold arms and killed so many people, he must prove that he can also save people, he must prove that Stark can do good things, any method is fine.

"Stark can save anyone!"

Stark raised his voice towards the cave entrance and said, "The FBI, terrorists, and the military are not important. I will save anyone I want to save. I will prove it to you!"

If Schiller took the script of the traditional American comic time traveler and saved Tony Stark from the cave,