"In the S.H.I.E.L.D. office, Nick frowned as he asked Schiller, 'Are you saying you want to turn that Kree councilor into dicine?'
'Correct,' Schiller, dressed in a white lab coat, began pacing the room. 'I want to verify sothing. Do you rember what I told you about Resurrection before? I suspect that this Kree might be capable of producing dicine that can bring people back to life.'
After the reset of the single Space, Schiller's previous request for Connors to remind Nick about the Kree matter naturally didn't happen. GH dicine wasn't created, Coulson didn't die from retrieving the special item, and there was no resurrection through the injection of dicine.
Although Schiller had brought back the Obelisk after the reset, it had lost its original function. Initially, Schiller thought it was Death who had smashed the Telephone, but upon closer examination, there were many unanswered questions.
If the Obelisk was indeed the result of a transaction between Death and the Kree, would Death willingly give up such a significant client? The Kree were one of the major empires in Space, and what they could offer in terms of Death and carnage was substantial. Would Death really cancel the contract just because of Schiller's interference with the Telephone?
The last ti the balance was disrupted, besides frightening the Resurrection Soviet Union as Stark had ntioned, there were also reasons for the decline of the Egyptian Pantheon. But now, the Kree Empire was flourishing. Would Death really let it go?
Or perhaps, the Obelisk was just one Telephone, not essential at all, and the actual Resurrection device was still functioning within the Kree Empire?
Schiller couldn't help but wonder if Death had rely damaged a Telephone or if she had completely abandoned this business. He felt it was necessary to conduct an experint.
Before the reset of Space, Schiller witnessed Coulson's resurrection process. During that ti, he clearly sensed Death's presence, indicating that Death and the Kree Empire were still conducting transactions.
And as long as they used the Kree councilor as material to manufacture GH dicine for soone's resurrection, they could determine whether Death and the Kree Empire were still engaged in dealings.
Nick pondered for a mont before saying, 'First of all, the idea of making dicine using intelligent beings...'
'You're not suggesting you're facing a moral dilemma, are you?' Schiller looked at Nick in astonishnt.
Nick shook his head as he thought. 'Don't talk nonsense. What moral dilemma? He's not even human, and his attitude was extrely unpleasant when he was detained. Several of our agents have complained about it.'
'I'm thinking about who should be responsible for this experint, who should know, and who shouldn't. After all, S.H.I.E.L.D. is a complex organization, and important experints can't be initiated haphazardly.'
'I guess you'll choose to let Natasha and Coulson both know and keep it from others,' Schiller guessed, but it wasn't entirely a guess. After all, Nick had done it once before, only to be reset.
'No, I'm considering whether Sharon Carter should know about this. After all, she is the niece of Peggy Carter, one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s founders. She should be trustworthy.'
Nick stood up from behind his desk and said, 'Right now, there aren't enough trustworthy people. Let's not ntion Natasha and Coulson. Ward is your man, but he's more of a brute force type and lacks strategic thinking.'
'Hill is also acceptable, but she's been on assignnt lately, and Solar System construction needs soone to oversee it. She won't be back for a short ti, and there's a lot of paperwork that needs to be done.'
'If there were more of you, it wouldn't be a problem. But if there aren't, I'll have to consider who will handle the desk job.'
'What about that Marc I introduced to you?' Schiller asked.
He was referring to Moon Knight. After Marc left the CIA, Schiller introduced him to S.H.I.E.L.D., and he had been working there for so ti now.
Nick shook his head and sighed. 'Agents who co from the CIA are all like that. They can handle intelligence work when sent abroad, but do you expect them to sit in the office and write reports? And Marc cos from the CIA. He understands the agents over there. He's probably playing hide and seek with the CIA agents in California right now.'
Nick paused for a mont and then continued, 'However, the dicine that can bring people back to life is indeed essential. We'll let Natasha handle the initial experints since Coulson will undoubtedly have a moral dilemma. Once the experint is fully underway, I'll entrust it to him.'
'What about that Carter agent?' Schiller asked. He added, 'I've noticed that she's been getting close to Captain recently...'
Nick slapped his head and said, 'Oh my God, do we need a female version of Captain Arica on top of Coulson? Who am I supposed to send to do the dirty work then?'
Nick extended his hand and said, 'I never interfere in the love lives of my subordinates. If they want to date, they can. If they want to get married, they can. If they want to retire after starting a family, I won't stop them.'
'But the condition is that they can't use the high moral standards they've absorbed from their partners to judge their work. The majority of agents in this world do the dirty work, and an agent who does the dirty work wanting to date the world's most righteous Captain Arica...'
'Forget it,' Nick sighed. 'I'll have Natasha drop a hint. The future successor of S.H.I.E.L.D. can't be corrupted by Captain Arica.'
After discussing the matter of restarting the dicine experint, Schiller left the S.H.I.E.L.D. office. As he walked down the corridor, he bumped into Loki, who was carrying a stack of docunts and heading upstairs.
'What are you doing here?' Schiller asked Loki with so confusion. At the mont, Loki was still dressed in a suit with a tie, looking like he had just gotten off work on Wall Street.
'My visa expired, so I ca here to renew it,' Loki said, waving the docunts in his hand. 'It's S.H.I.E.L.D.'s new regulation that all non-human entities active in the Solar System, including robots and , need to get a visa.'
'Before, the All-Father helped us with it once, but that was temporary. Now, both Thor and I need to renew it.' Loki shrugged and added, 'They'll have to write "Asgardians" under the race category on my passport. I hope I won't have to change it again in the future.'
Schiller noticed that Loki didn't seem to care as much when he brought up the issue, or maybe he just didn't want to talk about it.
Soon, the two of them passed each other. After a few steps, Loki suddenly rembered sothing, hesitated for a mont, and turned back.
'Oh, by the way, do you rember our agreent from last ti? I promised to take you to the hot springs under the World Tree
once you closed that deal.'
'Which deal?' Schiller was montarily puzzled by Loki's wording, but then he rembered. Loki was referring to the contract with Death.
When they first attempted to collaborate with Death, Schiller had worked tirelessly to draft a plan and pitch it to her, with Loki's participation. Loki had indeed ntioned that once they completed that deal, he would treat him to a hot spring visit.
The problem was that they had never actually completed that deal.
Thinking of this, Schiller beca sowhat lancholic. Loki, seeing his expression, thought he might be overworked and patted his shoulder, saying, 'Next Saturday, Bifrost will pick us up. Stephen is coming too. It's ti for a gathering.'
Schiller nodded and then left S.H.I.E.L.D.
The thought of this deal falling through reminded him of the contract he had almost secured earlier, and with that thought ca the mory of a certain ungrateful planner who had denied him compensation.
While on his way back, Schiller took out his mobile phone and said to the person on the other end, "How's the progress? Weren't you supposed to leave an unforgettable mory for the other party?"
"What? You haven't found the location yet?" Schiller said with so irritation. "Aren't you supposed to be the most professional rcenary in the world? That's why I contacted you. If you can't find it, I'll look for soone else..."
"It's not that I'm in a hurry, but it's been several days, and you haven't made any progress. It's making worried..."
"Clues? This isn't so kind of puzzle ga. Alright, alright... let think. He should be a supre being, existing within Space, capable of incarnating countless forms and freely manipulating Space..."
"What! Am I going crazy?... Stop talking nonsense. I'm a psychologist myself, and I'm perfectly normal right now. Jargon? If you can't understand it that way, that's not my problem."
"Alright, keep searching. I hope it can be done quickly. My friend's anxiety disorder isn't getting any better, and if there's good news, it might help with his treatnt."
After hanging up the phone, Deadpool sighed and tapped the telephone on the bar counter. He muttered to himself, "No clues at all. It's not so easy to find a place, is it?"
"What's wrong? Is this mission difficult?" asked the bartender, who was familiar with him.
Deadpool took a sip of his drink and said, "Don't ntion it. The client asked to punish an unscrupulous gaming company, but I've scoured New York and even the entire East Coast, and I haven't heard of any gaming company having operational accidents."
He said with sadness, "My friend has been diagnosed with a terminal illness because of this, and only by making that unscrupulous company pay a price can he feel a bit of warmth in his final monts..."
"Well, stop crying. You'll dirty the bar again. This drink is on ." The bartender shook his head and walked away from the bar counter, saying, "Poor unemployed rcenary, this is the ninth one this month."
Seeing the bartender leaving while pretending to cry, Deadpool, in the corner of his eye, noticed the bartender's movents. He quickly picked up the glass and took a sip, and the fiery liquid passed through his throat, causing Deadpool to cough a couple of tis.
But then, he started to feel worried again. He placed the cup heavily on the counter and said, "What the... is that crazy psychologist talking about? What 'Supre Being of Space'? Manipulating Space? Where am I supposed to find a place like that?"
As Deadpool muttered the words that Schiller had told him, he slowly beca drunk and collapsed onto the bar counter.
Suddenly, he found himself in a strange space.
Deadpool opened his eyes in confusion, looked down at his faintly glowing belt, burped from the alcohol, and realized he was in a magnificent temple.
In the haze, Deadpool felt like he was dreaming because how else would he go from a bar to a temple in an instant?
With that thought in mind, Deadpool began to explore every corner of this place like a tourist, marveling at the towering Roman columns, the candlesticks burning with roaring flas, and the magnificent fountain in the center of the hall.
But as he turned his head to look out the window, he saw that it wasn't a lush grassy field or a forest outside, but a starry sky.
He walked over and pressed his face against the glass, letting the glass flatten his features. Suddenly, Deadpool widened his eyes. He noticed that the countless points of starlight outside weren't stars but individual Spaces containing everything.
Wasn't this the sa as what the psychologist had ntioned as the Supre Being of Space?
Suddenly, Deadpool snapped back to reality, but then he thought, "This is just a dream. Maybe it's because I'm too eager to complete the order, so I'm dreaming like this."
Since the real-world mission was still uncertain, Deadpool decided to enjoy himself in the dream. He reached into his pockets and found half a crab sandwich. Besides that, he discovered a few moldy peanuts in his pocket, a piece of seaweed stuck in his boot, and even a few dead mosquitoes in the crevices of his hood.
In the dream, there was no need to consider logic, so Deadpool thought to himself, "If I can't bring the surprise I prepared in the real world into the dream, I can produce sothing here."
He patted his pockets and found the other half of the crab sandwich. He started eating, even though he had no sense of taste or sll, and eating these things was no challenge for him.
Just as before, after he had consud everything, he soon started to feel a stomachache.
Realizing that his plan was effective, Deadpool's eyes imdiately lit up. He looked around the temple.
"Let see... the floor tiles won't work, they're too plain, and they're too smooth. They won't retain the sll for long."
"The Roman columns? Too tall, and the sll will dissipate quickly. Benches? Not a good posture. Steps? It would be great if I could make the other party step on them, but this trap is too obvious... Oh, my stomach hurts so much..."
"Huh? This fountain is not bad! The size and height are just right, it's practically tailor-made for Deadpool. Quick, quick, quick!"
"Splish, splish, splish, bang, bang, bang, splish, splish, splish... Bang, bang, bang... Haha, much better!"
"Ah! Wait! Why isn't it over yet? Could it be that the crab sandwich was too bad... Oh... Oh... It's too late, I'll just do it on the floor..."
"My stomach!! Why does it hurt so much?! Damn... damn it, is it because of that...? Damn... damn... Forget it, the Roman columns will have to do... Splish, splish, splish, bang, bang, bang..."
After the entire temple had turned into a pile of ss, Deadpool finally pulled up his pants, revealing a satisfied expression and said, "Finally done..."
"Wait a minute, if I'm still dreaming right now, won't I end up crapping in the bar??? No!!! That's the only place where I can drink for free!!! Wake up quickly! I have to deal with this rotten ss before the bartender cos back!!!"
With a "whoosh," the belt glowed, and Deadpool's figure disappeared from the temple.
And just as Eternity, who had just returned ho after work, discovered that his Space temple had turned into a pile of crap.
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