In The DC World With Marvel Chat Group

In the aftermath of the battle, Schiller and Stark stood together in front of a damaged Marc2 Mech armor.

Stark said, "Listen, the main issue here is that the braking system is completely shot. We need to fix it before any modifications."

With that, he picked up a wrench and approached the Mech armor, starting to tinker with it.

Schiller stood behind him, communicating with the symbiote in his mind, "No, you can't eat his brain."

"But his head looks so delicious, and it smells amazing," symbiote responded.

"But..." Schiller paused, trying to find the right words. "You can't just eat people's brains because..."

Schiller hesitated for a moment, realizing that despite their strange appearances, this species seemed to share a consistent taste.

"Eating his brain, we can do it ourselves," symbiote suggested.

"No!" Schiller exclaimed.

Stark, oblivious to their conversation, continued working on the Mech armor. He tapped on a nearby railing with the wrench, shifted to a different spot, and mused, "Magic armor? That sounds intriguing. I think it involves some sort of atomic manipulation. What do you think would be its best application? Vibration or extreme compression?"

Schiller inquired in his mind, "What would be its best application? Vibration or extreme compression?"

"It's about disassembly and reassembly," symbiote replied.

"It's about disassembly and reassembly," Schiller echoed.

With that, he placed his hand directly on the still-unrepaired joint, and a large section of the components blinked and then returned, looking brand new.

Stark stood up, wide-eyed, holding his arm and said, "This so-called magic seems much more powerful than your anti-gravity demonstration."

"I'm impressive, I'm impressive, I'm impressive," symbiote chanted in Schiller's mind.

"Alright, you're impressive," Schiller conceded.

He had to admit that symbiote was more useful than his basic magic abilities. When it came to real combat, he relied on symbiote.

"Shrinking the armor, it can be very small," symbiote suggested in Schiller's mind.

"Shrinking the armor," Schiller said.

"I've considered it. My Marc5, in later versions, was designed to fit into a briefcase. However, it's not fully developed yet, so I can't carry it around at the moment."

"I think the briefcase plan is too conservative."

"Even smaller?"

"Of course."

"How small do you think it can get?"

Schiller asked symbiote in his mind, "How small do you think it can get?"

"To the size of a fear toxin vial."

"You think it can be compressed to the size of a fear toxin vial?" Schiller asked.

"I want to drink it," symbiote said.

Schiller rolled his eyes in exasperation; symbiote was always bargaining.

After symbiote happily drank a bottle of wine, it said, "A cigarette, it can be compressed to the size of a cigarette."

Schiller relayed this to Stark, who became excited and paced around the room, saying, "This is truly atomic-level restructuring. If that's the case, it might be even smaller than a cigarette, possibly even nano-level..."

"Can it be smaller than a cigarette?" Schiller asked in his mind.

"It can, but expanding it would cause an explosion," symbiote warned.

So Schiller told Stark, "It can be smaller, but I can't guarantee the safety of the expansion process."

Stark said, "Anyway, let's get started. We'll create a groundbreaking technology, and then I'll hand over these old versions of suits to the military to dispose of. It'll save me on electronic waste disposal fees, and Pepper will be happy."

"The benefits of being armed at all times are truly remarkable!" Stark exclaimed, clenching one hand into a fist and thumping his other palm. "And I might even fit the entire JARVIS into a mobile phone. Can you believe that? A mobile phone with such a powerful intelligent butler!"

Schiller said, "May God bless JARVIS."

After a while, Stark lowered the somewhat worn Marc2 from the rack. Before he could get a good look, a grey mist enveloped it, and the Marc2 disappeared.

Then Schiller reappeared, holding a metallic-looking cigarette and handed it to Stark. Stark asked, "Is that it?"

"What else do you need?" Schiller replied.

"Aren't there any spells or rituals involved? Or a staff?"

"No need, that's too low-end," Schiller said.

Stark blinked and suddenly had high hopes for magic.

However, later on, this expectation drove Doctor Strange nearly insane. He was just a sorcerer, but Iron Man seemed to treat magic as an all-powerful solution. No matter the problem, Iron Man always had the attitude of, "Let's leave it to the all-powerful magic!"

When he heard that even Sorcerer Supreme needed preparation for spells, Stark would mockingly call Strange a "low-end sorcerer," infuriating Strange to the point where he almost snapped his staff in two.

Despite Schiller's current performance, which would undoubtedly drive future interactions with Iron Man to the brink of insanity, he was currently delighting Stark. Stark asked, "How do I turn it into Mech armor? How do I put it on?"

Schiller inquired in his mind, "How does he turn it into Mech armor? How does he put it on?"

Symbiote burped and said, "Think about it in your mind."

Schiller repeated, "Think about it in your mind."

Stark paused for a moment, then hesitated as he recalled Marc2's original method of arming himself.

In almost an instant, Marc2 was fully attired on his body, a transformation that seemed to occur at the atomic level.

Stark inquired, "What's the principle behind this?"

Schiller asked within his mind, "What's the principle behind this?"

The symbiote replied, "Thought disruption."

Schiller conveyed to Stark, "Thought disruption."

"You mean something like brainwaves or bioelectricity?" Stark pressed.

The symbiote within Schiller's mind seemed somewhat befuddled, apparently unable to provide further answers. Consequently, Schiller remarked, "Let's not use science to explain magic. It works, and that's what matters."

Stark felt a mixture of curiosity and frustration, itching to begin researching immediately. He turned to Schiller, his expression unrecognizable, and said, "Alright, alright, I get it. Your incredible magic. Just you wait, one day I'll use it even better than you."

With that, he saw Schiller off.

Schiller was practically ejected from Stark Tower, but he wasn't upset. Stark was always like this, completely absorbed in his experiments when the urge struck.

Upon returning to the clinic, Schiller found Steve waiting for him. Steve greeted him and said, "Nick asked me to run an errand. He wants to see you, and I think it's related to Stark."

Schiller called out to the empty air, "Ten million dollars per hour, how's that, Director Nick?"

"You're really pushing it," a voice suddenly emanated from a mobile phone hanging from Steve's waist.

Schiller shrugged, saying, "Well, originally, I was thinking of sending you a billion-dollar invoice."

There was a brief silence on the other end before the voice said, "Deal, with an additional fifty million in late fees."

"Deal," Schiller agreed.

Not long after, Schiller arrived at S.H.I.E.L.D.'s international reception center. Nick, wearing an eyepatch, shook hands with Schiller. They sat facing each other as Coulson poured them both coffee, with Schiller receiving an espresso.

Schiller downed his coffee, but Nick sipped his slowly. Schiller spoke first, "Shall we discuss business first or start with the invoices?"

"Let's start with the invoices," Nick replied.

After a moment, Nick asked, "I know Stark handed over military technology to the military, but that's not what we're after. We don't want those Mech armor."

"What you want is him."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. was founded by his father."

"If you bring this up to him now, he'll never join you in this lifetime."

"Furthermore, if you want him to join, talk to him yourselves. Don't come to me; it's pointless. I'm just a psychologist, not his dad."

"We're not asking you to persuade Stark. We know he doesn't listen to persuasion. What do you think of our idea? A team comprised of individuals with special abilities?"

"It's a good concept in itself, but it depends on whom they work for."

"Aren't they working for S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"In that case, who does S.H.I.E.L.D. work for?"

Nick furrowed his brow momentarily, decisively avoiding that topic. He said, "Alright, we'd like to invite you to join..."

"You've already said it's a team of individuals with special abilities. I'm just an ordinary person; I've never jumped more than three meters."

Nick opened his mouth but couldn't help feeling like Schiller was underestimating him.

"Listen, we don't care how you vanish and reappear hundreds of meters away, or where that yellow-haired rodent with the Canadian accent comes from. We can even overlook your unnervingly accurate psychological analyses. But a certain neurologist claimed that you threatened him with a levitating ballpoint pen..."

Schiller communicated with his symbiote in his mind, "You can't just eat other people's minds at will, except for Strange."

Schiller replied, "Do you believe in magic in this world?"

"Some scientific forces create these special abilities, so I believe there could be other forces creating other people. Are you one of them?"

"No, I'm just an ordinary person. But I think I can exchange some information for my freedom."

"About what? Magic?"

"Correct. I believe you have satellite access. Look into a certain missing network connection in New York, see where it leads."

Nick frowned, but Schiller didn't say more.

The wireless network at the New York Sanctum was likely based on modern technology rather than any magic network. They simply used magic to conceal the pathways into this network. If Nick were inclined to investigate, he would find traces resembling spider webs.

Schiller's reason for not firmly rejecting the request was that in the events to come, he would still rely on the Avengers to save the world. He had no intention of confronting those enemies on his own, such as the Lizard Man or the Red Hulk. At most, he'd offer some minor assistance, so he needed to maintain his connections with these superheroes for the sake of his own safety, becoming a helpful but unobtrusive figure in future events.