Steve also walked along the shoreline, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Stark, watching the receding tide. The incoming waves of white foam left behind intricate patterns. Both men stood in silence, each seeming to understand the other's thoughts.
Just then, Strange flew over and asked, "What on earth are you doing? Stark, all I did was sneak onto a spaceship and conduct a couple of experiments. Did you have to blow this place up?"
"And you, Steve, you knew how dangerous the man with the dagger was. Why didn't you knock him out immediately? What's the deal with you two?"
"And, what's the deal with the man emanating yellow light? I was having a good fight with him and was just about to subdue him when he just ran off?"
"Peter? Why are you lying here? Why are you covered in blood? Oh, my God…"
At that moment, hearing the noise, Stark and Steve turned their heads at the same time, both looking towards Strange.
Caught by their stares, Strange halted and asked, "What are you looking at? Is there something on my face? … hey, wait a second, why are you aiming your cannon?"
A circular shield flew towards Strange with a "whoosh", followed by the constant sound of gunfire and continuous explosions. Strange had to leap and dodge as he shouted, "Why are you taking out your argument on me? You're a bunch of nutcases! Stop! I'm the Supreme Magician!!"
After the others had run off, Peter lying on the ground slowly turned his head, then gently pushed Stark's medical robot away. He said to Red Bee in his head, "Even if you've blocked my feeling of pain, that was still quite a blow, wasn't it?"
"You humans certainly have a knack for courting death. You knew how sharp his dagger was, but you still dared to approach him?" Red Bee said exasperatedly, "As a symbiont, I have the obligation to stop the host from doing dangerously reckless things. Cooperating with your action today, I violated at least 400 parasitic norms. If Blue Spirit finds out, the repercussions will be severe…"
"But the plan went well, didn't it? Wait, let me see… they don't seem to be aware of me. Where did you put that earpiece?"
As soon as Peter asked this, a small red appendage like a suction cup reached into the pocket of his Spider-Man suit, took out a tiny earpiece, and put it in Peter's ear.
In the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Shiller put down the communicator. Nick turned to him and asked, "Who called you? It didn't seem to be Grant?"
"Indeed it wasn't. It was another informant."
As they carried on their chat, they walked into an office. There, they didn't find an agent from S.H.I.E.L.D. Instead, it was a man dressed in a strange fashion; he wore a tuxedo, had long hair, and had two sharp goat horns protruding from his forehead.
Upon seeing Nick and Shiller walk in, he produced a misty sphere of light from somewhere and handed it to Shiller, "This is the final payment. Our transaction is complete now."
"So, how are the souls of Hydra? I assume all is well?" Shiller asked while glancing at him.
"Indeed, quite satisfactory. In terms of vitality and the power that can be extracted from them, they are far superior to ordinary humans. After this deal, I won't have to waste time duping weak and foolish humans for at least 20 years…"
"But have you considered giving more discounts next time? If there's another deal like this, I'll be your biggest client…"
"Mephisto, your greed is beyond compare," Nick crossed his arms and stared at the man, "Because of your stinginess, we revised our contract 16 times in total. We didn't even charge you a finder's fee."
"Alright, I will personally guarantee to you that, if there's a situation like this again, you'd be our first choice." Shiller held the orb of light and said to Mephisto.
The content of Shiller's trade with Nick and Mephisto was simple: it was the souls of certain Hydra members.
Ever since Shiller turned Arkham Sanatorium into a shelter for important Hydra agents, these agents have become free labor. He has also earned a lot of money from these eternal life factor clients.
Next, owing to Shiller taking over all Hydra operations in New York State, most of the Hydra leaders have paid him protection money to keep their direct descendent forces secure in the safehouse. Shiller has taken this money diligently, transporting agents into the sanatorium. Albeit the losses during the transit were high, at least one-fifth of the agents made it to the sanatorium.
The sanatorium was of limited size and the old bank building on Wall Street was not as spacious as one would imagine; after about few hundred people were stuffed inside there was no space left.
So, where to send the agents once the sanatorium is full?
Of course, Shiller's answer was to sell them to S.H.I.E.L.D.
But even the S.H.I.E.L.D. facilities are limited, and Hydra agents continued to pour in. Once the S.H.I.E.L.D. facilities were full, where to send these agents next?
The answer from Shiller and Nick was, naturally, to sell them to Mephisto.
One fish, three uses; one sheep, three shear. That's a good deal.
The dimensional realm that Mephisto rules over has special properties. To sustain the existence of this realm, Mephisto needs to draw strength from souls. In the cosmos, the energy carried by human souls is exceptionally abundant and precious. Therefore, he spares no effort in tricking humans into signing contracts.
Some might question why he doesn't just create a disaster and reap a multitude of human souls?
Not to mention the powers of Odin and The Ancient One, even though their combined strength is inferior to Mephisto, the more critical issue is, when humans die, they don't return to Hell, nor Heaven, but to "Death" - the primordial "Death," one of the five founding gods.
No one can defy this principle. Even if Mephisto could create a disaster, the deceased would go to "Death." It has nothing to do with him.
The only way to divert souls from Death is to make humans voluntarily sign contracts and sell their souls to him. That's why he doesn't hesitate to spend a lot of time and energy on duping and ambushing individuals.
But now, Shiller and Nick propose a new style of negotiation. As the busy Master of Hell, why bother doing the sneaky human-deceiving on Earth? Leave the deception to us. You just have to sit in Hell and wait for dinner.
Of course, a little service charge needs to be taken in this process. After all, it takes some effort to pry out information from the inflexible Hydra members and then force them to sign demon contracts at S.H.I.E.L.D.
And Mephisto's criterion for assessing the richness of soul energy is "sin" and "pain," which coincidentally aligns with Nick and Shiller's objective in selecting important Hydra members.
After making contact with Mephisto, Shiller took him for a tour in Arkham Sanatorium. Whomever Mephisto deemed delicious, Nick took them away instantly. If a person's soul energy is rich enough to be deemed so by a demon, how sinfully horrendous must they be? Surely, their heads would be full of valuable information.
Using this method, Nick identified two snakes hidden among ordinary agents. These two were playing a cunning trick, claiming to seek refuge for their underlings, but in reality, they were hiding among the ordinary agents, using Shiller's safe haven as a hideout from the cleanse.
S.H.I.E.L.D got plenty of useful information from them, including the location of the hideout where the Winter Soldier was stored.
The deposit Mephisto paid went to S.H.I.E.L.D, and Shiller received the balance. After obtaining the pure soul energy Mephisto had extracted, Shiller happily returned to his office, then… took out his umbrella.
He looked at the umbrella's handle left and right and the more he looked, the more he was pleased. He placed the energy ball on the tip of the umbrella and said to his new umbrella, "I have no idea what you like to eat, but I think this is good. You can try it."
After saying that, he glanced at the list of security personnel on his table and continued, "If it tastes good, there's plenty more to come."
Before the Spirit of Curse, the symbiont in his umbrella, could respond, Gray Mist in his mind sent a series of discontent. Shiller consoled him, saying, "Do you want some too?... What? You eat this too? Don't you only feed on emotions?"
"You want to try too? OK, you two split it in half, don't say I'm biased..."
As he spoke, a little tentacle formed from the gray mist stretched out from his arm. After taking a small bite, the Gray Mist spat something out with a "bleh" sound. Shiller laughed, "Seems like the symbiont can't eat this. Be careful, you might upset your stomach. I'll find something else for you to eat tomorrow."
Gray Mist made some disgruntled noises in Shiller's mind. All Shiller could say was, "Fine, you can drink a bit of alcohol but not too much."
Gray Mist let out a cheer before gleefully heading off to drink, seeming completely nonchalant about the soul energy in Shiller's hand.
Shiller shook his head in resignation, then noticed that a thread of black energy appeared at the tip of the umbrella and gradually seeped into the soul energy sphere in his hand. After a while, the sphere slightly shrank.
"Seems like you quite enjoy eating this. It relieves me. If you're as picky as Gray Mist and steal alcohol every day, it would be a headache for me."
The Spirit of Curse seemed not to have a fully conscious mind yet, so it didn't respond to Shiller. It only followed its instinct to keep absorbing the energy at the moment.
Just then, a knock echoed in Shiller's office. Peter walked in with his backpack. There seemed to be a lingering stench of blood on him, but his face was beaming. He put his backpack on the couch and then said to Shiller,
"The plan went smoothly, Professor."
"Have they made up?" Shiller asked.
"More or less, but they're both attacking Mr. Strange together. Is this really okay?"
"No worry, he is the Supreme Magician."