Chapter 2648

The next morning, light had just streamed through the hotel's floor-to-ceiling windows when Shiler was brushing his teeth with a tooth cup, and his phone suddenly rang. He picked it up and mumbled into the receiver, "Hello?"

"Open the door, Shiler. We have a morning interview and want to film your daily routine."

"But I'm brushing my teeth..."

"This is the perfect daily routine!"

Shiler shook his head helplessly, but eventually finished brushing and rinsing, put his toothbrush back on the table, and while wiping his hands with a towel, opened the door.

Outside stood Eddie carrying a camera, with an assistant wearing a baseball cap following behind. The camera lens was initially pointed downward. Eddie stepped back first, then said, "Are you ready? If you are, I'll knock again."

Shiler had no choice but to close the door. When it was knocked on again, he opened it and feigned surprise, saying, "How did you get here? Why so early?"

"Good morning, Doctor. How are you?" The assistant now carried the camera as Eddie stepped forward and shook Shiler's hand.

"I'm doing fine." Shiler stepped aside to let them in. The assistant filmed the hotel's interior furnishings, and Eddie pointed to the canvas bag hanging nearby, asking, "Are you also a Yankees fan?"

"Of course. I'm a New Yorker, though this bag was a gift from a friend."

"After all, you don't look like the type who'd choose a canvas bag."

"Can you imagine? I even have canvas shoes."

"Oh, God."

The two chatted as they walked into the suite's living room. Shiler brewed coffee with the machine, handed cups to Eddie and his cameraman assistant, and said, "It's hard to imagine you waking up this early. I remember you're a night owl—did Tony pay you enough to adjust your biological clock?"

"Rather than say I'm a night owl, I'd say you sleep too early." Eddie yawned and said, "Apart from you, everyone else's interviews are in two hours."

"Those couples should be even later. Believe me." Shiler said, "Unfamiliar environments always bring more stimulation. Even two hours later, you'll only see them as dazed as bath flowers."

Eddie clearly understood, smirked, took a sip of scalding coffee, and said, "There's still a big showdown today—I need to stay sharp. Alright, Doctor, tell us about your usual routine."

"I thought you'd be more interested in superheroes, but if I had to say, at this time I usually call my patients to check on their conditions."

"All of your patients?"

"Of course not. You know I run a sanatorium. The previous day's rounds note which patients need my inquiry, and I call them first in their wards.

If they truly need attention, I go for rounds; if not, I don't. After all, patients need rest. In the absence of serious issues, frequent doctor visits give them a bad impression and only add pressure.

Afterwards, I go to consultations, mainly for patients not residing in the sanatorium, providing them psychological counseling.

"In fact, we're quite curious about this part..."

"Don't pretend you've never seen this before."

"Is it like how we were back then?" Eddie asked doubtfully, "Just like now—just sitting here like this?"

"Yes, exactly like this. Otherwise, what else do you want? Should I install a special seat for you on the ceiling?... Wipe that look off your face. I'll say it again: psychologists aren't medieval wizards. We have no potion cauldrons or spellcasting platforms. We are entirely scientific and safe...

"... and evidence-based." Eddie added, "Hearing this is making my ears feel like they're growing calluses."

"But you're still full of misunderstandings—everyone is." Shiler sighed deeply and said, "They prepare for all the worst before entering the therapy room, yet never imagine it's just a simple inquiry. But I can understand them."

"I've suffered from anxiety too, you know." Eddie said, "To us, death is death, but the unknown is more terrifying than death."

"You make sense, so I often wonder whether I should assign an armed guard at my therapy room's entrance. That way, patients undergoing psychological struggle would be more inclined to walk straight in."

Both laughed. Eddie shook his head and said, "No, you can't do that. Otherwise, at least your success rate in treating anxiety would be astonishingly high—you'd steal all the New York psychologists' livelihoods."

"I'm nearly there myself. Otherwise, why would S. H. I. E. L. D. have hired me as your psychological consultant?"

"So, this isn't a good job for you?"

"You've followed them for a while—do you think this is a good job?" Shiler countered.

"They're too unstable." Eddie said, "Although I'm one of them, my ability is external, so I can judge him objectively. That's why I know how unstable he is."

"You're the unstable one! You coward!!" Venom poked its head out from his shoulder again, but Eddie, quick-eyed and quick-handed, pressed it back.

"See? Perhaps the materialization of certain emotions in superheroes' hearts is just like this—always popping up suddenly, controlling their actions, a nuisance to anyone."

"Where do you think this emotion comes from?"

"You're the psychologist—what do you think?"

"Almost all superheroes have some degree of anxiety, which is completely normal. They may have wealth and status, but they still face pressure in life. Unlike ordinary people, they also bear extra pressure from their superhuman sense of responsibility."

"Undoubtedly, being a hero requires immense inner drive, but this sense of mission and responsibility can also become their pressure, driving them to lose inner control."

"Do you think this poses a danger to the public?"

"I'm only talking about the emotions they might experience, not their behavior. If this emotion truly made them lose control and cause danger, they wouldn't be superheroes—they'd be supervillains."

"Put simply, all superheroes are those who have successfully overcome these emotions. Even if they aren't called superheroes—just people with great power who don't use it for evil—they also possess self-control far beyond ordinary people."

"These people are never a threat to ordinary citizens, because if they can overcome it once, they can overcome it ten million times. As long as they don't fail, they remain a solid barrier before ordinary people."

"Your view is very optimistic, Doctor."

"Otherwise, I wouldn't be here." Shiler said, "Regular psychological evaluations for superheroes are my job, but getting involved in this mess of demons and monsters during my vacation is not my responsibility."

"So you're not at ease?"

"I'm not worried about them—they're victors who have overcome losing control. But this world can't be all victors."

As Shiler's words faded, several figures in black suits walked into the pure-white building against the wind. Around them stretched vast expanses of green, above which rose a purplish-blue sky and towering black mountains, with snow as light as duckweed drifting on the peaks.

Stark's estate in Beverly Hills is the best-positioned building in the entire manor, backed by mountains and facing the sea, concentrating the essence of the West Coast's heavenly timing and geographical advantage. Its design is naturally outstanding, breathtaking.

The wind in the coastal city never ceases year-round, and today is equally windy. But the sea breeze blew away all the clouds in the sky, letting sunlight expose everything on the ground without concealment.

Time is still early. In the distance, the sky from low up shows a faint warm hue. The wind blows the backyard grass into a shimmering river. The tender green has just passed, and golden ripples leap into dance. The hazy city in the distance grows increasingly indistinct in the gentle spring light.

Several people sat under the lawn's umbrella. Sunlight made every crease between their features crystal clear. Besides Stark wearing sunglasses, everyone else squinted toward the bright distance.

Behind them is a huge floor-to-ceiling window, but the furniture beyond it is not the lifeless, purely compositional modern style. Instead, it is elegant and warm Italian charm. The vase on the checkered table holding small daisies sways slightly with the wind blowing through the window.

Ladies upstairs played with Wanda's two children, exchanging experiences on pregnancy, childbirth, and child-rearing. Men downstairs chatted about everything, always talking about Hollywood films, yet never quite agreeing.

Steve, Tony, and Peter are completely from different eras. Steve grew up when films were rare, and there weren't many watchable ones. Tony lived during Hollywood's golden age, with countless classic films accompanying his childhood and youth.

Peter lived in the post-Hollywood era. Although Hollywood after 2000 experienced several waves of boom, the film industry is no longer as dominant as before. The films Peter now likes are no longer American blockbusters from Hollywood.

They finally found the Godfather series, which all three had seen and somewhat liked, but their views were diametrically opposed. Steve valued the Corleone family's family concept, believing that although it's a mafia family, some of their views on treating family members have merit.

Stark always said, the Corleone family's decline has nothing to do with the first or second Godfather, nor with any family concept. They simply missed the point. The true cause of this vast mafia family's downfall is the era—their failure to keep up with the times.

Moreover, no matter what business the triads engage in, they are always just middlemen without technology or patents, so they have no barrier to withstand the tides of the times; without holding the core in their hands, no matter how many people and guns they have, they will ultimately be eliminated.

Peter, meanwhile, reflected on the difference between the first and second generations of godfathers—the second-generation godfather was clearly more ruthless than the first, yet the ending fell far short; perhaps it was the mansion tilting, willing but powerless, causing actions to grow increasingly extreme.

Who would have thought that Iron Man and Captain America, gathered together, would actually be discussing triad films? Strange, standing nearby, couldn't help but sneer: "I thought you two would constantly condemn triads."

"It's just a movie." Stark said unhappily: "We're discussing a topic everyone enjoys; only you are out of place."

Strange glanced at Shiler, sitting beside him and leisurely sipping coffee at the same table, and said: "You're not interested in movies either?"

Shiler shook his head and said: "I watch movies just for the excitement; I never analyze the social issues behind them. I'm already exhausted from analyzing this and that at work, so I have no interest in analyzing films."