Chapter 23: Heroes Are Also Mortals (Part 1)

Although he said he would go get medicine in a while, Peter didn't go until the afternoon, because Ma Te's leg had been bleeding, and he had to change several ways of bandaging. After getting it done, it was already afternoon.

Peter didn't have time to eat and was hungry. After arriving at the clinic, he smelled a charming fragrance.

Schiller heard the doorbell and walked out to see a big boy in a hoodie standing at the door, sniffing hard, as if he wanted to suck the fragrance into his stomach.

Schiller wiped his hands and said: "Come in."

Peter scratched his head and said: "Good afternoon, sir. A friend of mine asked me to come here to get medicine. He said you would know."

"Oh, I know," Schiller said. "But I have to wait until I finish my meal. He shouldn't be in a hurry, right?"

Peter said: "It's okay. His blood has stopped, but he is in a lot of pain. He needs some painkillers."

"Have you eaten?" Schiller asked. Peter blushed. He felt that it might be because his eyes looking at the kitchen were too hot, and he was discovered by this doctor.

Schiller said: "If you haven't eaten, stay and eat something, and you can also bring a portion back for Ma Te."

As he spoke, a small yellow creature ran to the table with a big bowl, still sniffing the bowl in a very human way, and then licked its lips, as if it couldn't wait.

Schiller made Chinese food: rice, sweet and sour pork ribs, sour and spicy shredded potatoes, plus a bowl of tomato and egg soup.

Peter, who was hungry, stared at the dining table, really unable to say words of refusal.

Since gaining spider ability, Peter's appetite had also increased a lot, and he was particularly easy to get hungry. After eating a whole rice cooker of rice, Peter was really a bit embarrassed. He put down the bowl with red ears and said: "I'm really sorry, doctor. I seem to have eaten all your rice. That... I will pay..."

"No, no need," Schiller said. "I was going to cook another pot of rice anyway. After all, I have to bring it back to my old friend. There are still some ribs in the pot. You can scoop them out yourself and put them in the lunch box in the cupboard to bring back for Ma Te."

Little Spider ran to the kitchen, not only cooked another pot of rice, but also washed the pots and bowls clean.

Schiller felt that this version of Spider-Man was still very likable.

By contrast, Pikachu ate until its belly was round. After eating, it lay on the chair and started snoring. Schiller grabbed its lightning-shaped tail and shook it, saying: "Even if someone is responsible for washing the dishes today, it's not a reason for you to avoid working. Go throw out the trash."

"Oh, sir, I can take it out on the way," Peter said.

"Fine, trouble you. Oh, by the way, there is no garbage disposal fee in Hell's Kitchen. You go forward, there is a corner, there is a pile of waste, throw the garbage there."

Peter carried two big bags of kitchen waste in his hands and turned out from the back door of the clinic. He saw the place Schiller said at a glance. It was a bit far from the clinic, piled with a large pile of broken bricks, waste wooden boards, and some garbage thrown by others, piled very high, and emitted a heavy odor.

There were a few beggars beside these waste piles, all of them filling their stomachs with leftover kitchen waste that others had eaten or didn't want.

When little Spider walked over, these beggars were on the other side of the waste pile. He didn't see them. Perhaps he was full, or perhaps the Chinese food Schiller made really suited his taste. Peter's depressive mood was swept away. He happily carried two bags of garbage, a short-distance sprint, and then swung his arm forward hard, and the garbage was thrown to the very top of the waste pile.

"Bingo!" Peter shouted. He loved to do this when he went to throw out the trash with Uncle Ben. He was far away, and then threw the garbage bag hard, hoping they would land exactly in the trash can.

But he didn't have such great strength before, and it was usually Uncle Ben who cleaned up his mess. Peter thought, next time he went to throw out the trash, he must let his uncle see his current arm strength.

He threw the garbage bag up, and one of the garbage bags broke. Inside were bones left over from people eating, some scraps of meat left over from Schiller's cooking, a little shredded potatoes that weren't finished, and half a sprouted potato. Those beggars, however, looked at them like they had seen some peerless delicacy and wanted to grab them into their own hands.

The waste pile had already been piled into a small mountain. If the beggars wanted to climb up, they had to step on broken bricks and wooden boards, and the top of the waste pile was a triangle piled up by several large pieces of broken walls. The beggars climbed up with great effort. Only then did Peter see someone picking up garbage.

He felt a bit embarrassed, so he rushed to the mountainside of the waste pile in one step, wanting to climb to the very top and take the garbage down.

The beggars weren't Spider-Man with mutation ability. They themselves had been hungry for a long time and had no strength. One of the older women was originally closest to the top, but in a hurry, the piece of waste she grabbed was broken off by her. Losing the support of her hands, she fell straight backward.

Spider-Man had just stood on the very top of the waste pile when he saw a beggar on the opposite side fall down. He reached out to grab, but it was a step too late.

This waste pile was full of everything: broken wine bottle shards thrown from upstairs by drunks, steel bars, and pointed wooden boards. No matter which one he hit, he would probably lose half his life.

Fortunately, Peter had strange abilities. He bent down quickly and grabbed the beggar who fell. Before he could be proud, he heard a violent roar, followed by a sharp and ear-piercing braking sound, and a dull sound of an object being hit.

Blood splashed. Peter turned his head and looked at the nearest intersection incredibly. The figure that flew out was extremely familiar to him.

That was Daredevil.

A large amount of blood flowed out from the place where he landed. The heavy smell of blood made the world in front of Peter covered in a hazy red.

He rushed over like crazy. Ma Te lay there, his eyes, nose, and mouth all oozing countless blood, and his spine was twisted into a strange shape, which seemed to have broken.

But he wasn't dead yet, just lost the nerves connected to his brain, and he couldn't move at all.

Peter was trembling all over. He couldn't care about much, quickly picked up Ma Te, and rushed in from the back door of Schiller's clinic. He shouted: "Doctor! Doctor! Someone here needs treatment!!!"

Schiller saw Ma Te and knew that he might have been ambushed by the person who assassinated him again. He said: "The garage is next to it. Put him on the car and send him to the Presbyterian Hospital immediately."

With such a serious injury, I'm afraid only the best hospital had a few chances to rescue him.

Schiller drove wildly on the streets of Manhattan and sent Ma Te to the Presbyterian Hospital at the fastest speed. He had some face in this hospital, and Ma Te was quickly sent to the emergency room.

However, soon, the attending doctor said to them with a serious face: "The possibility of this gentleman being rescued is not high. It's a pity that he no longer has the ability to write a will or make an oral will. If you are his relatives, perhaps you can see him for the last time."

Peter was almost about to collapse. All things were connected together here. He really didn't expect that the person the gangs wanted to murder that night was actually the only good person in all of Hell's Kitchen—Daredevil Ma Te.

He couldn't accept even more that all this was caused by him. If he had killed those gangsters when he heard about this, no, or just told Ma Te about this, he would definitely be more careful.

If he hadn't stayed at the clinic for dinner, but left immediately after getting the medicine, Ma Te wouldn't have come out to find him.

If he hadn't been playful and hadn't thrown those two garbage bags so high, perhaps he would still have time to pounce on Ma Te the moment the car rushed out.

He had so many opportunities to save his friend, but he still didn't do anything.

Daredevil was about to die. Peter couldn't accept this fact at all.

Schiller was very calm. He asked the attending doctor: "What is the main problem with him? Heart and lung function? Neurosurgery? Or abdominal trauma?"

The doctor shook his head and said: "None of them. His spine has a problem, and the nerves are afraid they can't be connected back. Even if he barely saves a life, he won't be able to move for the rest of his life."

Schiller took a deep breath and said: "I just want to know what way there is to save him."

The doctor hesitated for a moment and said: "Perhaps Dr. Strange has a way. He is the best neurosurgeon here. Perhaps only he can connect so many nerves."

Schiller turned around immediately and said: "Peter, I'm going to find someone who can save Ma Te now, but you must guard here. You know, Ma Te was sent to the hospital, but those who want to kill him won't give up. After I leave, you must ensure that no one enters the operating room. I will return at the fastest speed."

After speaking, he left immediately.

Peter was trembling all over and kept muttering: "No one will enter the operating room, no one will enter the operating room, I won't let anyone enter..."

After Schiller left the hospital, he called Pepper immediately and said: "I hope to get the home address of a doctor named Strange."

Pepper didn't ask him why, and soon, a string of addresses appeared on his phone. It wasn't far from the Presbyterian Hospital and was one of the highest-end apartments nearby.

Schiller turned on flash directly and reached the apartment building at the fastest speed. He didn't take the elevator at all, nor did he intend to knock on the door. He directly used several continuous flashes that could pass through walls and appeared behind Strange, who was having afternoon tea.

Strange heard a little movement. When he turned his head, a crutch was pressed straight against his throat.

"Listen, I don't have time to talk nonsense with you. A friend of mine was seriously injured and is being rescued at the Presbyterian Hospital. You are the best neurosurgeon there. Now take your things and go to surgery immediately."

Strange showed an absurd expression. Schiller's hand holding the crutch let go, but the crutch was still floating in mid-air, pointing straight at Strange. Strange raised his hands and retreated. No one was holding the crutch, but it was still pressing against his neck. Strange made a gesture of pulling a zipper on his mouth, indicating that he would absolutely not speak again.

Another side, little Spider stood at the door of the operating room in huge guilt and self-blame. He didn't want to let even a fly in. ===== CHAPTER 24 =====