Chapter 499: Who

In the Arkham Sanatorium's office, Schiller picked up the phone beside him and spoke rapidly: "Hello? This is the doctor."

"Yes, I know, but too many people have been attacked lately. The last incident caused security protocols to be temporarily disabled—I can't help it."

"It's not that I won't save you—did you see who attacked you? Captain America and Iron Man, flying through the sky and diving through the earth. If I could take them down alone, do you think I'd still be sitting here?"

Schiller angrily hung up the phone. Moments later, another phone on his desk rang. He picked it up and said: "Hello? This is the doctor."

"I already told you—there are no security measures left. Good luck… Important data? Wait a minute!"

Schiller hung up, picked up another phone, dialed a number, then lifted the receiver and said: "Hello? Nick, there's important data in the underground base beneath the western docks. Send people immediately—too late, and those kids might burn it all down."

"No one? What is S. H. I. E. L. D. even good for? Alright, alright—but what now? Are you asking me to go find Mephisto? … Wait, I've got an idea."

Schiller put down the phone, picked up another, dialed a number, and soon a burst of flame erupted from the receiver, soaring into the air. He spoke to the other end: "Mephisto! Send your man—the Ghost Rider—to the Hydra base beneath the western docks and retrieve the data…"

"What? What? What?" Mephisto sounded like he'd just woken up. Schiller rattled off the entire message at lightning speed—he understood nothing. Schiller sighed in frustration, slowed his pace, and repeated it. Mephisto replied: "Why should I help you? I don't work for free!"

"You took all the souls of S. H. I. E. L. D. and Hydra, leaving them with no one to fetch the data. Whose fault is that?"

"Didn't you sell them to me?"

"Didn't you want to buy them?"

"If you hadn't sold them, how would I have bought them?"

"If you hadn't bought them, how would we have sold them?"

Mephisto wanted to smash the phone. He was about to argue further, but heard Schiller's tone growing increasingly impatient, on the verge of explosion. He paused—if Schiller blew up, future business would vanish. It was just a small favor. He thought for a moment and said: "Fine. I'll send Johnny."

No sooner had he hung up than another phone rang. Schiller sat still, closed his eyes, took a deep breath. He lifted the receiver, ready to curse—then heard Nick say: "Think of something fast! Hydra's being wiped out—they're killing off all my future employees!"

"You're now the head of New York State. This mess is your responsibility—what does it have to do with me?" Schiller snapped: "They've called me dozens of times already. I've handled every single one. What more do you want?"

"Even if I'm now the top official in New York State, don't I still report unresolved problems to my superiors? Can't you report to yours? What's the German headquarters saying?"

"Nick Fury, how much have you had to drink?!" Schiller raised his voice. "German headquarters? In WWII they couldn't even beat one Captain America. Now you expect them to face an entire Avengers team?"

Nick was speechless. In WWII, Hydra never defeated Captain America. Now, with Iron Man fully equipped, Captain America brimming with fighting spirit, and multiple other superhumans with diverse powers, the German headquarters saw such opponents and fled overnight to the moon to cry to little beard.

"We really need to think of something, Schiller. Our personnel are being lost every second. Don't you feel the pain?"

"I feel it more than you!" Schiller frowned, unconsciously pressing his hand to his chest, feeling his heart bleed. "There are barely any viable personnel left in the entire Americas region. Most are concentrated in New York State—it's our heart."

"And now, those Avengers want to stab us right in the heart. How can we let them succeed?"

"So what are you planning to do?" Nick asked.

"We need to distract them," Schiller said, holding the phone in one hand and writing on a patient chart with the other. "What's the military up to lately? Any idle generals itching to run experiments, maybe create a big monster?"

"The military's been quiet since the Taltu officers were purged. Extremist voices have faded. Lately, they've become obsessed with bio-suit technology—they won't produce any monsters anytime soon."

"Useless trash!" Schiller cursed. He sighed. "Fine. I'll contact someone else. See if there's another way."

After hanging up, Schiller thought for a moment, then called Connors. He said: "Dr. Connors, have you had any security issues in your lab lately?"

"Security issues? What kind of security issues?" Connors asked, puzzled.

"You know—the kind that might cause something to leak… something that could turn into a big monster." Schiller described at length, but since he had no grasp of biological or chemical terminology, he could only give a vague idea.

Connors wasn't surprised. He said: "Don't worry. I take lab security extremely seriously. Every assistant entering my lab undergoes strict training. Anyone who violates safety protocols is barred—including you."

Connors heard Schiller sigh deeply on the other end, then the call ended.

Connors felt confused, but figured Schiller must have a reason. He picked up the phone again, called his assistant, and said: "Do another random safety check today—make sure it's fully enforced… No, I'll go inspect it myself."

Schiller put down the phone, thought again, then picked it up and dialed another number. This time, he called Daredevil Matt. He asked: "Any movement from Kingpin or the Hand lately?"

"Movement? They've been fighting each other nonstop. The Hand stopped searching for the Dragon Bone. Kingpin stopped expanding his criminal empire. They don't even chase each other anymore—just their thugs and ninjas slashing at each other every day. I've seen it multiple times."

"How can they have so little ambition?! Doesn't the Hand plan to summon anything?"

"Summon? Summon what? Did you hear something?" Matt asked, confused—but received no reply. The call was cut off.

Beside him, Elektra frowned and said: "I bet Schiller got some intel. He's always well-informed."

She stood up. "No. I need to confirm. If the Hand really has a grand scheme, we must crush it before it blooms."

"I'm coming too. While the Hydra takedown hasn't started yet, let's investigate the Hand first—snuff out any dangerous sparks."

Schiller hung up, thought, then called Loki. Loki's end was chaotic. He heard Loki say: "Hello? Schiller, what do you want? If it's nothing, I'm hanging up!"

"What are you doing?"

"I… wait! Thor! Explain this to me! I was killed, yes—but then I came back… No! It's not a trick! Put down your hammer! Crack! Boom! Crack! Crack! Crack!"

Schiller lowered the phone in disappointment. Immediately, he called Professor X. As soon as he picked up, Charles's calm voice came through: "What's wrong, Schiller?"

"It's… uh… have Magneto and his crew been up to anything lately?"

"Magneto? He's busy building on the floating island. The island's orbital path seems off—he and the Brotherhood are repairing it. It's quite troublesome."

Rice ball reading

"When will he be back?"

"At least a month. Why? What do you need him for? I can have Polaris relay the message."

"A month… Forget it." Schiller sighed and hung up. After Charles put down the phone, he frowned and linked via telepathy to Polaris: "How's your father lately?"

"Him? He's fine—better than fine. Every day he holds a model of the floating island and stacks of books, muttering to himself. No idea what he's researching." Polaris replied.

"I know he's unlikely to return to Earth and cause trouble, but I still want you to keep an eye on him. If anything happens now, it'll be a nightmare." Charles said.

"Don't worry—I don't want him back either. He'd force me to read every day."

After hanging up, Schiller dialed dozens of numbers in quick succession—none gave him the answer he wanted.

Schiller suddenly felt a bitter, absurd frustration. After all his efforts, Earth was now perfectly safe. Looking around, within tens of thousands of light-years, there were no enemies left.

Hydra, the enemy from Captain America's series, was now his subordinate—being beaten senseless by the Avengers.

Spider-Man's enemies were too weak to matter, most hadn't even appeared yet—probably still ordinary people. The only notable villain, Green Goblin, had plunged headfirst into the Immortality Factor pit and was now counting money until his hands cramped.

Iron Man's enemies: Obadiah and Green Goblin were both buried in the Immortality Factor pit, counting money until their eyes blurred. Whiplash had been deported with the last batch of Russian agents back to Russia, returning to Siberia to research. Ultron hadn't been born yet. J. A. R. V. I. S. had grown smarter—just received Schiller's call and instantly hung up.

Doctor Strange's enemy Dormammu had been digesting since his last meal and remained trapped in the Dark Dimension. Mephisto was immersed in running economic classes in Hell. The Eye of Agamotto was missing. Even the Vishanti were studying the Holy Spirit Body they'd created for Ancient One.

Thor's enemy Loki was currently being beaten by his brother. From the thunderous sounds, he wouldn't be getting up for a while.

Magneto, the X-Men's enemy, was busy building infrastructure on another planet—he wouldn't be back anytime soon.

The rest of Marvel's famous villains either lacked power or were unreachable. After this round of calls, Schiller reached one conclusion: his past efforts hadn't been in vain. Earth was far too safe.

Just as Schiller was about to look up Thanos's phone number, he suddenly heard hurried footsteps in the hallway—definitely not nurses or orderlies. They sounded like soldiers.

With a bang, the door burst open. A group of strangers stormed into Schiller's sanatorium office. The leader flashed a badge and said:

"Mark Spade, Central Intelligence Agency investigator."

"Schiller Rodriguez, you've been reported for espionage violating federal security laws in New York. Come with us."