Chapter 91: Bad Story (3)

Chapter 91: Bad Story (3)

All coincidences in this world actually contain inevitability behind them. The thing that can stimulate an extraterrestrial race that no one has ever understood before is, of course, the result of countless experiments conducted by another host of this extraterrestrial race.

The syringe that drove Venom crazy is, of course, not just a coincidence. Only criminals can defeat criminals, and only symbiotes can defeat symbiotes.

After using the fear toxin, Schiller confirmed that highly concentrated fear toxin can greatly stimulate the emotion-eating race of symbiotes. According to Gray Mist himself, because his physique is quite special and is a special species among symbiotes, he has a higher immunity to fear gas. However, other symbiotes cannot resist this kind of stimulation.

Symbiotes feed on emotions, which is a hunting instinct that is engraved in their genes and cannot be changed. The fear gas can instantly make this instinct skyrocket to its peak. Even Gray Mist, who is under system control, has a tendency to be addicted to this highly stimulating gas.

For other symbiotes, this is not just about alcohol, but more like a junkie who is about to go crazy, encountering a small pill that can make him swallow it. No symbiote can resist this kind of stimulation.

Although symbiotes are not completely evil races, they cannot hide the barbaric habits inherent in them as a first-generation primitive race. Or to put it another way, when Knull created them, he himself had a chaotic will.

Schiller knows that Venom may have already turned around Deadpool by now. With Deadpool's character, does he know what the rules are?

Therefore, once Venom is stimulated to go crazy, none of the officers who invited Stark over should expect to survive.

So when he heard from Coulson's call that only Robert had died, Schiller was still surprised. It seems that Stark's will is stronger than he imagined, and he actually controlled Venom in an instant, not allowing him to go on a killing spree. It's really a pity.

Soon, Coulson himself hurried over and said, "That black monster went to the streets of Brooklyn, and Captain has gone to stop him. What the hell is going on? Why did Stark suddenly go crazy? Why did he eat human heads? What is that black thing? Did he develop a new Mech armor?"

"I don't know," Schiller said, shrugging.

At this time, Nick Fury's voice came from Coulson's walkie-talkie, "Why did Stark suddenly go crazy?"

"I don't know."

"Aren't you a psychologist?"

"I'm a doctor, not God."

"Was there no sign of it before?"

Schiller pretended to think for a moment and said, "Now that you mention it, there was. The last time I gave him a psychological therapy session, he claimed to have developed a second personality. That personality said it was an alien symbiote, and I thought it was just due to his high level of stress. I gave him relaxation therapy, but it didn't seem to be effective."

"Symbiote? What's that? What else did he tell you?"

"He said it was some sort of extraterrestrial race, black and gooey in appearance. He said this race has a strong learning ability and can even access the host's memories. Stark said he taught the symbiote a bit about Mech armor, and it immediately understood everything..."

"Are you saying that this symbiote has Stark's memories and abilities??? And can create Mech armor like Stark??"

Then Schiller heard a chaotic noise from Nick's end of the line and heard Nick shout, "Stop all plans that involve heavy weapons!!! Don't stimulate Stark!!! What? The military is preparing to launch a missile? Damn it! That's SHIELD's property! Go tell those idiots!!! The alien symbiote on Stark was lost by SHIELD!!!"

"I don't care if he has a file or not! Go create one for him now! All unidentified beings in New York are SHIELD's responsibility! Any questions?"

"What's the big deal if a Lieutenant General died? This is an alien invasion! Only one Lieutenant General died, and I consider him a martyr for his country! I'll pay for his funeral expenses! Quickly make them stop! If Stark is harmed, I'll swallow their entire military budget!!!" (XD)

After hanging up the phone and walking away, Schiller said to Peter, "So that General Robert is dead? How did he die? What happened exactly? And what's wrong with Mr. Stark?"

"It's nothing, but I think you have work to do now."

After saying that, Schiller picked up the phone and called Steve. Steve's end was also chaotic, with Captain America shouting, "What's going on? Why is Tony Stark Jr. going crazy? He's running around in Brooklyn in that black Mech armor. Oh my god, father and son have never given anyone peace of mind..."

"Captain, I remember you said you've always wanted to beat up Tony Stark Jr. but never had the chance. Well, the opportunity has come."

"What do you mean?"

"In simple terms, the current Stark is not Stark. Stark is now being parasitized by an alien creature that escaped from SHIELD. This alien creature constantly stimulates negative emotions in humans. You know, a few days ago Stark was pushed to a dead end by the military, and this alien creature bit off the head of a General. Stark must be feeling great now, after all, he had a grudge against those people for a long time..."

"This emotion is being manipulated by the symbiote, so now Stark is extremely inflated..."

"... I'm not dead yet? That's good news..."

"No, there's even better news. You're not dead, but General Robert is."

"...?"

On the other side, Peter brought Stark to the rooftop of Stark Tower. Stark was still a bit confused. After all, Venom was knocked out all of a sudden, and Stark didn't know what had happened.

There was a light sound behind him, and Stark saw Schiller appear behind him, holding a glass jar with a black sticky substance inside.

"So, this is what he looks like."

"Indeed, a lump of mud, just like you when you're drunk."

Stark lit a cigarette and asked, "So, what is that syringe? Why did it make him go crazy immediately?"

"You noticed?"

"Of course, if you use your brain, there's no coincidence in this world that the military just happened to develop a medicine that can stimulate an alien creature from who knows which galaxy..."

"That general didn't lie to you. This thing can indeed stimulate the human brain."

"Then..."

Before he could finish, Schiller shook his head and said, "It's unlikely. Odadiah's situation is too complicated, and this thing has strong side effects. Your uncle is too old to withstand this kind of stimulation."

Stark looked disappointed.

"But it's not necessarily impossible," another voice spoke up. Dr. Connors walked out from the door of the rooftop and said, "I can extract the beneficial part of this peculiar medicine for humans, perhaps turning it into a treatment for neurological diseases..."

"What's going on?" Stark asked.

Dr. Connors stood in front of him and said, "I have to admit, the media's reports about you were wrong. Although you're a jerk, you at least have a sense of justice. I apologize for the damage I caused at Stark Tower."

Stark was taken aback, about to ask something, but Schiller said, "Stop wasting time here, come to my place to talk. You'll find out how fascinating this story is."

After the sun gradually set, the lights on the streets of Hell's Kitchen also faded. In the Psychological Clinic, Dr. Connors and Peter went upstairs to rest, while Stark, who had listened to the story, felt drowsy.

"So now you know, it was the symbiote that killed, and the victims deserved it."

"Are you worried that I'll feel guilty and conflicted about it? No, I won't. I only regret not letting the mud chew a few more times."

"How does it feel to be rid of the mud?"

Stark fell silent, he slowly closed his eyes.

Perhaps geniuses are always lonely, but he didn't want to admit that he had become so pitiful that he longed for the feeling of being understood and accompanied by a creature that he knew was not trustworthy.

"A fascinating story?" Stark muttered softly, "No... no, a terrible story, terrible to the core."

He thought that there wasn't even a flawless hero in this non-traditional story, a trouble caused by a pile of mud, involving a group of flawed people.

But it was this terrible story that gave him a good night's sleep, something he hadn't had for many days, or even many years.

A few days later, in the early morning light, Schiller, who had just woken up, opened the cap of the glass jar and threw in a chocolate ball.

The pile of black mud immediately enveloped the chocolate ball, then suddenly froze. Afterwards, the black mud twisted its liquid body and emitted a series of pleasurable brainwaves.

On the bedside table, a gold and red candy wrapper shimmered in the glow of the setting sun.