The old bank, which had been renovated into Arkham Sanatorium, was located in the Southern Financial District of Lower Manhattan. However, it was not on Wall Street, but on an eastern corner of a cross-section on 14th Street.
It was built by a British businessman who had come to invest in the 1930s, so it somewhat resembled the Gringotts Bank from "Harry Potter" in appearance, with its white walls and intricate window decorations.
Just as Nick Fury had said, this building was exceptionally well maintained, both exteriors and interiors.
Most of the interior furniture was made of wood; the lobby was drenched in sunlight, thanks to large floor-to-ceiling windows.
A vintage revolving door from the bygone era was kept, and as you entered, you would be welcomed by the main counter. On both sides, there were monumental staircases, illuminated by a crystal chandelier overhead. The mature honey-coloured wooden floor bore slight traces of history, yet it didn't feel outdated.
The building as a whole wasn't symmetrical, the main body being on the east side, thus a significant number of care rooms were also on the eastern side. The west held clinics and function rooms.
This old bank wasn't on Wall Street, so the property was bought at a relatively low cost, providing ample space. The seven-storey building had nearly 60 available rooms on the east side, over 30 on the west, with an aerial garden on the third floor at the back of the second floor on the west side.
The person who constructed this bank invested heavily in it. The interior was extraordinarily luxurious, and the style was extravagant and comfortable. It was a building that catered very well to the aesthetics of the old-money folks of that era. Therefore, without much alteration, it satisfied both aesthetics and practicality required for a sanatorium.
As Strange walked down the third-floor corridor of the hospital, a nurse behind him was flipping through a notebook and saying: "Mr. Aisen on the second floor wants a special beverage, and Mrs. Harris on the third floor hopes we can prescribe her eye drops containing the 'eternal life factor'..."
"I have to attend a meeting with the dean now. We can deal with these matters after the meeting," Strange said.
Strange went up another level, took a left and arrived at the dean's office at the extreme east end of the fourth floor. Shiller was popping open a bottle of champagne as Strange walked in. Strange said irritably, "Are you planning to drink champagne this early? We have a pile of mess to clean up."
He slammed a stack of documents onto the table in front of Shiller, saying, "You've been busy accepting so many prospective patients that the hospital office system is incomplete. With fifty or sixty patients flooding in all at once, the doctors and nurses are about to go crazy."
"Don't rush." Shiller leisurely took out two wine glasses from the cupboard, gestured Strange to sit down and poured wine for both. He then said, "The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are already in training, I estimate a batch should be sent over by this afternoon."
"Agents? The medical staff you said you were urgently reallocating, are they agents?" Strange asked uncertainly.
"Of course, and they don't even require a salary from me. Nick is actually paying me," replied Shiller.
Strange was shocked. He wasn't a fool and knew exactly why the agents were here, and said, "You're selling the patients' private information to the special agents?"
"Steven, look around, do you see any patients here? They consume the most expensive health products in the world, and even if they scrape their skin a little, they have the best private doctors to treat them," Shiller said.
With one hand inside his pocket and the other holding a glass of wine, Shiller took a sip and said, "They didn't come here for treatment."
"I know, of course. They came here for your fabricated theory of the eternal life factor. They want to use it to achieve immortality," Strange retorted with a sneer.
Shiller shook his head, put down his glass, and asked, "You've heard of Noah's Ark, right?"
"God intended to cleanse the world with a flood and thus, prepared an Ark. The Ark had limited capacity, only a very small number of people could survive," continued Shiller.
"When it comes to this point, it doesn't matter what happens after they board the ship. The important thing is they are willing to pay a high price for the ticket to prove to all the people in the world that they are God's favourites."
"If the captain of Noah's Ark were you, no matter how well you sailed the ship, God wouldn't let a vampire like you through His gates." Strange also picked up his glass and took a sip.
"How much more medical staff will you need?" asked Shiller.
After thinking for a moment, Strange said, "At least around fifty more. The third and fourth floors are practically unattended. Every single one of them is clamoring for a private nurse."
"I'm not asking for the minimum, I need the maximum number."
"Maximum? How many people can you stuff into a seven-story sanatorium? I suppose even a thousand would be overkill?" Strange quipped.
"The money routed towards placing agents in the sanatorium doesn't concern you, that's my part of the deal. However, you can take 5% for overstaffing."
"There have to be at least 5,000 people." Strange insisted sternly, "The patients have paid a hefty sum, each of them will need at least a 200-person medical staff team to attend them round the clock."
"Is there room for more?" Shiller asked.
Strange rested his elbow on the table, propping his chin up with his hand and said, "That depends if you can acquire a permit for medical and or pharmaceutical research. These institutions don't have upper limit for staff, even if I say it's 20,000 it's fine."
"20,000? Two researchers and 19,998 assistants?"
"Internships." Strange emphasised, "How many students are there in Columbia University? New York University? We grant them internships, not just 20,000, if New York had a few more universities, 100,000 would be reasonable."
"Hold on." Suddenly, Strange realised he had been led by Shiller into a deeper pit, he said, "Even though you've been earning from multiple sources, aren't you going a bit overboard?"
"You've taken money from these clients, then given them health products of uncertain efficacy. Now, you even accept money from the Special Agent Organization to let them dispatch people to collect information? This is…" Strange was at a loss for words on how to describe Shiller. Calling him a vampire, would be an insult to other vampires. Had ordinary vampires been half as ruthless as Shiller, they wouldn't have ended up as health product ingredients.
Just as Strange was rummaging his thoughts, the dean's office door was knocked on, a person dressed in a trench coat and a hood walked in. Shiller took another glass from the cupboard and poured more champagne. The person took off his hood - it was none other than the Blade Warrior.
"What you said on the phone, I didn't quite get it." Blade Warrior said, showing a bit of confusion, "But are you sure this will actually work?"
"Of course, of course." Shiller moved a chair for him, motioning him to sit. After the Blade Warrior sat down, Shiller said: "What better evidence is there than a vampire himself stepping forward to prove the usefulness of the Eternal Life Factor in vampire's blood?"
"But I'm not a vampire, I've never even been bitten. It's just that my mother..."
"Exactly that point. When you tell the story, you must emphasize that you became a vampire after your mother was bitten. What does that suggest?"
Shiller looked at Strange, who was a bit confused, "What does it suggest? That vampires are vicious, biting even pregnant women?"
"No! This proves that some substance in vampire blood can be transmitted from mother to child. This will be welcomed by the high-end mother and baby market."
"Next question, Eric, how old are you this year?"
"Hmm, I've forgotten, but I should be over 30, right?"
"No, no, no. You're about 230 years old, about the same age as the founding of America. You were born with the Federation."
"But I'm not that old..."
"That's not old. In vampire terms, you're young. There must be no shortage of old fellows aged 3000, 4000 in your race, right?"
"As far as I know, except for Dracula, there seems to be none..."
"Exactly, Dracula. Is he the oldest? Do you have his contact information?"
"What do you want to do?" The Blade Warrior looked at Shiller, who said, "If he agrees to record a promotional video for us, he can name his price."
"Let vampires promote a potion made from themselves? What are you thinking? How could he possibly agree?"
"But didn't you come?"
"I'm a special case. I despise these rats, they're my enemies. I'm all for humans killing them all."
"Then how do you know you're the only one in a special situation?"
Shiller said very sincerely: "Eric, you need to know that your strength alone is not enough."
"I've heard that you have contact with your race. You can ask those from the Moderate Faction. What do they plan to do about the Radical Faction? If they don't mind, I can negotiate a deal with them."
"Negotiate a deal? What are you planning to negotiate?"
"Hand over their political enemies to me. I can give them 20% of the income from selling the potion made from them. That's very high. Even Nick can only take 30%."
The Blade Warrior opened his mouth and paused for a moment before saying: "This is absurd, but..." He looked rather puzzled as he continued: "It is rather curious. Humans are massively advertising a potion made from vampires. I expected a wave of protests from the Moderate Faction."
"Maybe you haven't thought that those vampires who can speak out, they don't care that their kind is made into medicine as long as it's not them."
"On this basis, if the ones being made into medicine are their enemies, so much the better."
"If the whole process does not even require them to lift a hand, simply providing humans with insignificant information and intelligence can fully combat their political enemies, forcing them to flee helter-skelter, even leading to their total annihilation, why not?"
"If, in this process, they don't need to pay, indeed, but can gain a lot of money and resources, why wouldn't they be tempted?"
"In the final analysis..." Shiller concluded: "The Moderate Faction vampires are indulgent, and to enjoy life in human society, they need status and money. If they want this, we will give it to them in exchange for the enemies of their race."
"When they've grown accustomed to this lavish lifestyle, and the Radical Faction has been completely wiped out, they will then voluntarily select a portion of their community to offer us in exchange for the capital required to maintain this indulgent lifestyle."
"Under the rule of pure-blood theory, their society will be gradually sacrificed to the human race from the bottom up."
"Perhaps..." Shiller sighed: "In this world, at the beginning and in the end, there will only be one vampire, the immortal Dracula."
Strange and the Blade Warrior fell silent. After a while, Strange said: "I don't care about these big issues. I'm just an ordinary doctor. I want to know, what benefits can this bring me?"
"You've already become the chief physician of this sanatorium. No matter how the pie is divided, you'll not be left out of the benefits that an entire race can bring."
"What you need to think about now is how comfortable it would be to lie in a villa of a certain size counting money."
Strange swallowed, unable to imagine such a life, but still maintained his reserve: "I'm not that greedy. I'm a man of ambition."
The Blade Warrior shook his head: "Money?... Money is a terrifying thing."
"But it's useful." Shiller raised his glass, the golden liquid reflecting in his glasses, obscuring his eyes.
"It's very useful, and always will be."