PFC Chapter 4103 MU Superbody Major Event (18)
Chapter 4103 MU Superbody Major Event (18)
Chapter 4103 MU: The Superbody Incident (180)
Earlier, the two had learned from Mephisto how they had trapped Doctor Strange, who possessed the power of dreams. If you want to destroy someone's mind, it's best to use nightmares; but if you want to trap someone, you should use beautiful dreams, because no one wants to wake up from a beautiful dream.
Mephisto gave Nightmare this advice, gradually leading Doctor Strange into his beautiful dream with the power of dreams, and successfully making him forget that it was a dream, immersing him in his own wonderful fantasy, which is why he was trapped.
However, Doctor Strange's mastery of dream power wasn't so simple; he had already sensed something was amiss. But after obtaining most of the dream power, Nightmare had perfected the dreamscape, making escape far from easy even if he realized something was wrong. Greed and the agents were there to lend him a hand.
Greed understands Strange very well. Don't be fooled by the fact that most Stranges in the universe are very successful after becoming the Sorcerer Supreme, leading Kamar-Taj, joining the Illuminati, and having a lot of influence on Earth. In reality, the inability to continue their medical careers is their eternal pain.
The fact that Strange could write a month's worth of medical records on the last day, and even had Greed write them for him, yet he still brought his medical records to the Doctor Strange World Gathering without fail, just to enjoy those seemingly disdainful but actually very envious glances, shows how deep their obsession was.
A person's journey from success to even greater success may not leave a lasting impression, but the process of overcoming failure and achieving success will be etched in their memory for a lifetime. This was certainly true for Stephen Strange.
Becoming the Sorcerer Supreme from the "Hand of God" was merely icing on the cake; the most glorious and triumphant moment of his life was when he went from an unknown small-town boy to the world-renowned "Hand of God."
It makes sense. Becoming the Sorcerer Supreme wouldn't bring him much congratulations; instead, he'd have to clean up a mess. The job clearly prioritizes responsibility over honor. But the "Hand of God" is different. Those who once mocked and looked down on his background now look up to him; those from the upper class who once scorned him now beg him to perform surgeries. He can command whomever he wants, scold whomever he wants, and for the sake of those hands, no one can do anything to him. For someone who has tasted the bitterness of the lower classes, this feeling of ascending to heaven is unforgettable.
Furthermore, in the United States, the healthcare system is highly privatized. As long as you can set aside medical ethics, becoming a top surgeon isn't actually that difficult, because only those with access to the most advanced medical resources can afford to hire you. Neurosurgery, compared to other surgical procedures, isn't particularly dirty or strenuous; it's essentially a job without any drawbacks.
In the central universe, Strange performs so many surgeries every day, a different kind of "rich and conscientious," living a life of abundance with little to complain about, so naturally he doesn't see the problem in performing a few more surgeries. Besides, Schiller does the part he dislikes most—writing medical records. Especially since Schiller also dislikes writing medical records, he's willing to perform a few more surgeries just so Schiller can write a few more.
In conclusion, Doctor Strange's dream of the power of dreams most likely occurred when he was wielding immense power in the hospital. Only such a dream could captivate him, making him unwilling to wake up.
The two arrived at New York-Presbyterian Hospital, but after some inquiries, they discovered that the current era seemed to be quite early, and Doctor Strange had not yet entered the hospital.
"Where is he?" the agent asked. "Don't tell me he hasn't graduated from college yet."
Greed shook his head and said, "Columbia University Medical Research Center. Let's go."
"Why here?" the agent asked as he drove. "Isn't Presbyterian Hospital supposed to be the best hospital in New York?"
"But it was at Columbia University Medical Center that Strange rose to fame. He performed a neurosurgery there that was described as 'impossible to perform,' which made him famous overnight. He then went on to perform three more 'death cases,' earning him the title of 'Hand of God.'"
“I understand,” the agent said after thinking for a moment. “When he entered Presbyterian Hospital, he was already famous and everyone around him respected him; but when he was at Columbia Medical School, many people must have looked down on him, but he silenced them with his own abilities—that was really satisfying.”
The two arrived at Columbia University Medical Center. This hospital combines research and education, with students, interns, practicing physicians, and research physicians. Because of this, many complex cases are treated here, as it has the most comprehensive range of specialists, and even if one or two are occasionally missing, they can always find replacements.
Because many doctors come here to study and research, and there are many unfamiliar faces, people assume that any stranger in a white coat is a fellow professional there for exchange and learning. Furthermore, since Greed had also worked here before and knew the area well, he could walk freely in his white coat with a cup of coffee, encountering no obstacles along the way.
The situation is a bit more complicated for the agents. Agent credentials aren't very effective here, as this is a top-tier hospital. Those who come here are either patients with extremely rare cases or the world's wealthiest individuals, and they can completely disregard the police. The security guards are also quite arrogant; you can't get in without specifically asking who you're looking for.
But precisely because this is a top-tier hospital, there are many police officers patrolling the area. And because the hospital is so large, spanning two city blocks, the officers don't all come from the same police department, and some don't even know each other. The detective knocked one unconscious, then drove his car to the other side, asking if he was there to buy coffee and donuts.
Although the police here didn't recognize him, they could tell from his experienced demeanor that he must be from the other side. They not only kindly pointed out his most frequented shops, but also introduced him to the security guard on this side—after all, security guards also need to drink coffee and eat donuts.
What happened next was simple. The two of them had coffee and donuts together. After they finished, the detective said he needed to use the restroom. There were no public restrooms around, so he naturally had to go in. He was wearing a police uniform, so the security guard had no reason to stop him. Once inside, the doctors weren't surprised to see him. After all, the police here did only two things every day: drink coffee and eat donuts. It would be strange if they didn't frequently go to the restroom; they often saw uniformed officers rushing to the toilet.
After both of them infiltrated the building, the detective went to the third-floor restroom to wait, while Greed wandered around the building and found an upcoming comprehensive consultation meeting. He took the pen and notebook he had just found in the office and went in, sitting down in the last row, where no one paid any attention to him.
In reality, consultations aren't what many people imagine—gathering elite experts for heated debates. While some complex cases might require this, more often they're more like lectures: senior doctors and leading figures speak at the front, while ordinary doctors and interns listen below. The speaker certainly attracts attention, but if one or two more people are listening, no one notices, and no one suspects someone might sneak in. After all, why would someone who isn't a doctor want to listen?
Greed was lucky; not long after, the surgeons arrived, swaggering in. No matter where the consultation was, surgeons always acted like royalty, their faces contorted with a constant barrage of "I have another surgery in two minutes, let's get straight to the point." And today, among the surgeons who came was indeed Stephen Strange.
Just by looking at his position and expression, you could tell that he had practically become a "God's Hand," if not completely shut down. He looked down on everyone the whole time, not even the senior internist in front of him, let alone the people crowding around him to listen to the lecture.
Seeing his expression, Greed suddenly remembered that on his first day at Marvel, he had made this "Hand of God" wait for him for half a day during a consultation.
But he quickly came to terms with it: he had filled out so many medical records for Strange, couldn't that make up for being late that day?
The consultation ended quickly, and the surgeons didn't say anything. As they walked out, Greed deliberately pushed his way forward, ending up next to Doctor Strange. He whispered a few words to him and then headed in another direction.
Doctor Strange visibly froze for a moment, then immediately chased after him. Greed went downstairs and arrived at the door of the third-floor restroom.
"Wait! You bastard, how do you know about my sister..."
“Let’s go inside and talk,” Greed said.
Doctor Strange had no choice but to go inside with him, but they were immediately subdued by the agents inside. The agents and Greed threw him out the window and then dragged him into a police car.
"Hey, what are you doing! You..."
“You should have already sensed something is wrong,” Greed said directly. “This is not the real world; we have to take you away.”
"What nonsense are you spouting?! You..."
“You probably can’t see the details of the nerves, right?” Greed continued. “That’s because this is a dream woven from your memories. Nightmares can’t fabricate those forgotten details—especially those professional details. Once you’ve had surgery, you should notice something strange.”
Doctor Strange, who had been shouting just moments before, suddenly fell silent. Greed continued, "You might even have realized that this isn't the real world; you just want to linger here and reminisce about the past a little longer. Don't get me wrong, I have no problem with that. As long as you finish what you're supposed to do, you can stay here as long as you want. If you feel this dream isn't realistic enough, I can have Charles create a better one for you; if all else fails, you can do two days' work for Strange from my universe. But we have an agreement: you'll have to write your own medical records."
"...What's happening outside?"
"Someone blew up the dimensional portal, and the power of dreams flowed into the real dimension. Nightmare's Dream Shadow also escaped. The superheroes are besieging Nightmare, but they can't possibly kill him. Only you can take back control of the power of dreams from him. You can do it, right?"
As they spoke, the car had already driven out of the city. As the scenery gradually faded, Doctor Strange's white coat slowly transformed back into his full attire. He looked deeply ashamed, saying, "I've always warned myself not to become addicted to dreams..."
“It’s nothing,” Greed smiled and said. “Everyone has a dream they don’t want to wake up from. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be so attached to the world and want to protect it, right?”
Doctor Strange forced a smile, though it seemed somewhat strained. He was clearly still remorseful, but he didn't say it aloud.
The car drove along the highway, and in theory, we should have seen Jack and the truck soon, since they were parked not far from the road sign. However, we drove for a long time without seeing the road sign.
At the end of the road, another city appeared faintly. At the entrance of this city, there was also a road sign, but it wasn't written in English.
"What's that?" Doctor Strange, the Dream Force expert, leaned out of the window and said, "This is Chinese, isn't it? How come there are Chinese road signs?"
As they spoke, they had already entered the city. Looking at the all-too-familiar street scene, the agent narrowed his eyes and said, "It seems he has discovered us and probably won't let us leave here easily."
"Where is this?" Doctor Strange asked, puzzled. "The road sign we just saw seemed to say it was their capital..."
“That was your dream,” said Greed. “Now it’s my turn.”