Chapter 97

"Dr. Isen, hello. This is Dr. Connors; you two will have plenty to talk about." Schiller introduced Isen.

"Hello." Isen and Connors shook hands. Schiller continued, "I recall you both have taught at the University of California?"

"Oh, yes, that's right," Isen said. "I taught physics at UC for half a year, years ago."

"Same here, though I was a visiting professor, and my tenure was shorter. You know, back then, biology wasn't taken seriously..."

"Remember that huge mess those kids made at the graduation party?"

"Oh! You mean the Onion Club crew? Of course I remember—those sheep ran wild around campus for three or four days. Old Professor Frank even got kicked in the ass, hahaha..."

After chatting for a while, Schiller subtly steered the conversation, and soon Isen remarked with emotion, "That was truly a near-death experience, wasn't it?"

"They didn't have advanced methods for disposing of bodies. When I went into shock, they just tossed me into the corpse pit. Luckily, a kind body collector noticed I was still alive—he dragged me out. Then Stark's people came looking for my corpse to bury me, and found I was still alive..."

"I owe my life to him. That place had no medicine or supplies. If Stark hadn't sent someone back to find me, I wouldn't have made it two more days."

Dr. Connors shook his head. "Why would a decent professor like you go to a place like that? Afghanistan is a graveyard—even regular armies can't win there."

Isen sighed. "There were confidentiality rules, but now there's nothing left to hide. It's tied to a military project."

Connors tightened his fingers. He glanced at Schiller, who met his gaze, then cleared his throat. "Funny enough, we've recently uncovered a military human experimentation program too..."

"That doesn't matter anymore," Isen said. "I did everything I could to stop the inhumane acts there. That's why I was left behind in that hellhole."

The three continued talking, and Schiller gradually learned the full story of how Isen had narrowly escaped death.

Isen was a physicist who had been escorted to Afghanistan by the military for a secret experiment. Midway through, Isen apparently sabotaged certain components, causing some experiments to fail. When the military evacuated, he was abandoned in Afghanistan—and immediately captured by the group that had taken Iron Man.

Hearing Isen was a physics Ph.D., they wanted him to build weapons for them. What followed was the plot of Iron Man 1—but unlike the movie, Isen didn't die. He barely escaped.

This answered one of Schiller’s lingering questions: Stark’s desire to shut down weapons production should have been strong. But the Stark he met had only mildly objected before changing his mind. Schiller knew he was just a psychologist, not God—why had Stark changed so easily?

The reason was simple: Stark’s awakening lacked the crucial trigger—Isen’s death. So while Stark reflected on how his weapons might harm more people, he wasn’t as obsessive as in the original story. That’s why Schiller only needed to nudge him slightly for him to change course. Otherwise, no amount of pleading would have made Stark turn back.

Schiller briefly told Isen about recent events involving Stark. Isen felt a pang of sorrow, but finally said, "Regardless, his uncle who raised him since childhood didn’t die. He’s not alone—he still has family. That’s good. People need something to hold onto, or they’ll sink into despair and never find their way back."

The three continued chatting in the clinic. They had many shared topics, similar education levels, and overlapping life experiences.

In fact, if you counted, all three were alumni. Dr. Connors held three doctorates; Isen and Schiller each held two. They had all taught at numerous different schools, and there was always at least one or two institutions they’d both attended. Talking about those experiences always sparked lively conversation.

After a while, the clinic door clicked softly. Peter walked in, backpack on his shoulders. He froze, overwhelmed by the aura of academic brilliance in the room. "Uh... did I come at a bad time? I’ll come back later..."

Before he could slip away, Dr. Connors stood up, grabbed him, and pulled him over. "Look, look at our genius kid! Isen, this is Peter—he’s still in high school, but during his internship in my lab, he outperformed even my graduate students."

"Peter, this is Dr. Isen..."

"Hello, Dr. Isen."

As Peter greeted him, Steve entered, holding a hot dog. He hadn’t met Connors yet, so Schiller introduced him: "This is Dr. Connors—Ph.D. in medicine, pharmacology, and biology. Dr. Isen—Ph.D. in mathematics and physics. As for me, you already know—I’m a Ph.D. in psychology and philosophy."

Steve opened his mouth, then nudged Peter’s arm with his elbow. "So... there are seven doctors in this room, right?"

"We’re only five people total."

"Divide it evenly—we each have more than one," Steve winked at Peter. Peter laughed and whispered, "I’m going to get two—no, three doctorates. Then our five of us will have ten. That’s two each."

"Then I’m a double doctor too—thanks a lot."

The two burst into laughter together.

They sat down. As usual in casual conversation, the topic soon turned to the youngest person. Isen asked Peter, "Have you decided on your future major? Which university are you aiming for?"

"I haven’t thought much about it yet," Peter said shyly. "My grades are decent, but I don’t feel confident applying to top schools—there are just too many high-achievers..."

"Don’t worry—we can write you recommendation letters. But of course, you still need to work hard. Even if you get in, graduating won’t be easy."

"You’re underestimating him," Dr. Connors said. "During his internship, his talent was among the best I’ve ever seen. Not just university—he could handle graduate studies right now."

"Oh, don’t say that, Doctor! I’m nowhere near that level."

Connors noticed Peter’s lack of confidence—it wasn’t modesty. He genuinely doubted himself.

loubiqu.

He gave Schiller a look. They went up to the roof to smoke. Schiller said, "Peter’s family background was poor. He was bullied at school. Even with decent grades, he worried daily about tuition. His uncle is a kind man, but ordinary..."

"I know. I’ve seen many students like this—they lack confidence."

"Peter’s case is worse. You know—he’s Spider-Man. He’s placed all his hopes for self-worth on his superhero identity. We’re trying to correct that, encouraging him to embrace Peter Parker. But you know, suddenly gaining such power—and using it to help others—it’s natural he’d cling to it."

Schiller said, "You can’t lecture someone his age with grand theories or professional knowledge about balancing identities. Their self-control isn’t strong enough. Whichever identity gives them more fulfillment, they’ll rely on it."

"It’s a shame. I don’t want him to become just a guy swinging around and fighting street thugs. His talent is exceptional—his mind is sharp. He could achieve far more."

As he spoke, Schiller noticed a wisp of smoke rising on the horizon. Then a towering figure appeared. Schiller squinted—there was something monstrous about it.

Schiller crushed his cigarette underfoot. "Let’s go back. Something’s happened."

As soon as he reached the ground floor, Stark called: "A monster has appeared in the East District. Ask Dr. Connors if he has any ideas."

"Dr. Connors? Why ask him?"

"Because the monster looks exactly like an iguana. I figure it’s in the same family as lizards, right?"

At that moment, Dr. Connors also raised his binoculars and saw the distant scene: a creature with fiery red skin, leaping wildly through the city. Unlike ordinary lizards, it resembled an iguana—spikes on its arms and head, rougher skin, and layered throat pouches beneath its neck.

Dr. Connors cursed, lowered the binoculars, grabbed his coat, and moved to leave. Peter grabbed his arm. "Doctor! Where are you going?"

"To Stark Tower’s lab. Oh, and Schiller—give me access. This is likely the result of that military program. I need to stop this mess."

"No. The route to Stark Tower may pass through the affected zone. You’re just a civilian. I’ll drive you."

"You plan to drive me? Like you swing through the air? That stupid monster will chase us and bite us."

Connors pulled on his coat and strode out the clinic door. Peter followed. Connors reached his car. "Get in."

Peter immediately climbed into the passenger seat.

But he quickly regretted it—he’d forgotten: Dr. Connors, like Steve, was a veteran.

By the time they reached Stark Tower’s entrance, Peter was crouched on the floor, gripping the bumper, nearly vomiting.

The monster’s destruction hadn’t even reached their tail lights.

Dr. Connors said, "When I had both hands, I drove ten kilometers under six bomber strikes. He’s nowhere near that."

As he spoke, a giant thumb slowly extended from the front of the car’s engine.