Stark opened the door, and outside was Strange with a dark face, and a black-haired boy beside him frowning and licking his fingers.
"What's going on here?" He asked a little puzzled. Strange was supposed to be on the parade ground waiting for the Quinjet to leave and light the candles for his ceremony, since the other Stark was already by his side anyway.
Stark looked at the dark-haired boy just in time to see him curl his lip at his fingers.
"It's really salt."
Stark: "..."
"Yes." Strange replied succinctly.
"Salt can be used as a medium to communicate the power of gods?" The black-haired boy looked disapproving, "Why didn't God descend when cooking?"
Strange: "?"
Stark didn't say that he was also curious about this, but quickly stopped Strange, whose face was darker than the night: "Forget it, Stephen, he has lost his memory."
Strange looked away with a cold face.
"So, how did you get here?" Stark changed the subject, trying to save the other Stark's life.
"I saw the Quinjet leave," said Strange curtly.
Stark waited for a while before realizing that was all he had to say, with no follow-up. He had no choice but to ask: "... So what? Shouldn't you just start your ceremony?"
"In the absence of you?" Strange said, "I remember someone was interested in this matter, and I just waited for more than five minutes at the training ground."
Stark: "..."
"I guess it's because of Rogers," said Strange, affirmatively.
Stark rubbed his hair irritably: "Damn, I don't want to talk about this now..."
"Then let's not talk about it." Strange interrupted him decisively, "It's just what I want."
Stark: "..."
He took a deep breath, trying not to explode: "So, what are you doing here?"
"I need to take Mr. Warden," said Strange.
Stark suppressed his emotions, a little irritable, and a little confused: "Then you should go to him directly—you know where his office is."
Strange glanced at him lightly: "Let's go together."
Stark was even more puzzled.
"I think it might be easier for you to convince him." Strange left behind a sentence, turned and walked out of the office of the scenic spot.
Stark stood with his arms crossed under the cheap broken light bulb for a while, his anger level slowly dropped a little, and Strange's words gradually came to mind.
What makes him more convincing Mr. Warden? Mr. Warden is just... a bit strange, and he is not particularly stubborn.
Of course, there are indeed many people who have failed at the step of connecting brain circuits.
—So what does Strange mean? Is his brain circuit weird
Stark felt a little offended.
At this time, Mr. Warden was sitting in his office in a daze - facing the corpse.
When Stark pushed the door and entered, Strange stood aside intentionally or unintentionally, facing the door sideways.
The scene in the room is a bit eerie.
Stark: "..."
He glanced back. Fortunately, Sam Wilson went to take a nap in the staff dormitory beside him, so he didn't see such a scene. After the captain arrived at Alcatraz, Wilson went back to the staff dormitory in order to prove that he had nothing to do with Chaoying.
I don't know how he will feel when he wakes up tomorrow morning to find out that Miss Rita is dead—Stark thought gloatingly.
But right now, Mr. Warden is sitting behind the somewhat worn-out desk in the office, feeling a little depressed.
Worst of all, since there is no mortuary table here, Mr. Warden put Miss Rita's body on the desk.
Although Alcatraz Prison has not yet been officially put into use—but there are still living people here, how would you feel if you saw the corpse on the desk tomorrow.
Stark cleared his throat, Mr. Warden raised his head from behind his desk, and saw Strange at the door froze for a moment.
"Sorry, I forgot... Mister Rogers left? Shall we begin?"
"The captain is gone," Stark said, and then glanced at Mr. Warden, "but there is a question... Should we find a place to store this body."
Zhang Dianyu immediately shook his head: "It must stay here."
"?" Stark: "But that's a corpse." The accent in his sentence fell on the word "corpse", hoping to wake up Mr. Warden's head.
Zhang Dianyu nodded: "Yes."
Stark: "..."
To be honest, those misunderstandings before are definitely not his fault—Mr. Warden's behavior can always arouse people's imagination.
"May I ask, is there any use for this corpse?" Stark tried to be patient. "Actually, it stands to reason that we generally don't store corpses by our side."
It was only then that Zhang Dianyu realized what Stark was trying to express by saying something meaningful here for a long time.
"But it was my own dead body."
"Mr. Warden," Stark paused, his voice suddenly became low and powerful, "Especially this sentence, please don't say it again."
Zhang Dianyu heaved a long sigh.
"Then put the corpse under the desk first, I'm still useful."
Stark gave up.
During their exchange, Strange had been standing at the door with his hands behind his back, looking away.
Stark: "..."
In the end, Zhang Dianyu hid Miss Rita's body under his desk. Before leaving, Stark checked the door lock repeatedly, and then stuffed the key into the warden's suit pocket.
Of course, Zhang Dianyu didn't want his reputation to be killed—but he couldn't let him give up Miss Rita's body now.
The training ground in the northern part of the prison is the most spacious area on the entire island. There are no tourists or patrolling security guards who will stray into it at night, and it happens not to be within the scope of the prison, but a scenic spot, which is very suitable for Strange to hold his ceremony.
It's just that with this kind of night, it looks more like a cult sacrifice.
The black-haired boy was lying in the center of the circle surrounded by candles, with a complicated magic circle drawn with chalk on the ground below him.
Strange put his head in his hands, and the boy blinked and asked, "Do I need to close my eyes?"
"Normally it's not necessary, but I suggest you close it," Strange replied.
"Why?"
"Because I don't want you staring at me."
Stark watched the two people in the field quarreling with each other with a blank face. Zhang Dianyu looked at the black-haired boy lying on the ground, and suddenly said: "I think I still owe you a thank you."
The black-haired boy was obviously taken aback for a moment before he remembered what Zhang Dianyu meant.
He shrugged. "If you're talking about that day—indeed, I'll take your 'thank you.'"
"And now." Zhang Dianyu said, "No matter what, my existence is related to you."
"Except maybe I don't know." The dark-haired boy grinned.
"Oh, that's right." Strange suddenly turned to Zhang Dianyu, "We can talk about the farewell later—Mr. Warden, do you want to go together to where the law is?"
A question mark slowly appeared on Zhang Dianyu's face: "Can you also bring me into that world?"
"Your soul has been there before, and it's not difficult to go again." Strange explained, "And I really don't want to hear your tired farewell."
Zhang Dianyu looked at Stark again, and the other party spread his hands: "Don't look at me, I don't plan to go again-trust me, it is definitely not a good experience."
Zhang Dianyu believed that, after all, the last time he went there, he was chased by countless naked prison guards for a long time.
"Press my shoulder." Strange ordered.
Zhang Dianyu complied. He was a little nervous. The last time he entered the "sandbox" connected to Stark's dream in another universe was in his sleep, and it was a nightmare.
To help him test his fears, Act took him into a place that he had no memory of—in fact, according to Act, he should have "operated" in the sandbox.
"Close your eyes."
Strange's voice came from next to his ear.
Zhang Dianyu closed his eyes, his eyes were pitch black, he didn't know if it was the thick night or he had already sunk into another world.
There was silence beside him, and Zhang Dianyu kept his hand on Strange's shoulder.
"Who are you?"
The shoulder under the palm turned slightly to one side, avoiding Zhang Dianyu's hand.
Zhang Dianyu opened his eyes in astonishment. The person in front of him was wearing a blue robe and a windless red cloak. His temples were white and he was floating cross-legged in the air—he breathed a sigh of relief: "Doctor, stop joking."
After disembarking from the Quinjet, Strange persistently changed into his mage's robes—after all, wearing a psychiatrist's white coat or a cafeteria apron would make the rest of his ceremony seem out of place.
But things don't seem right now either.
"You can talk? Are you... at his place?" Strange stared at him with a slight frown.
Zhang Dianyu felt a little bad.
"Of course I speak—wait, by 'he' you mean...?"
Strange looked solemn, staring at Zhang Dianyu without speaking.
"—Tony Stark?" Since he refused to say it, Zhang Dianyu had no choice but to say it himself.
Strange's expression did not relax: "You know this is his... place?"
Zhang Dianyu seemed to understand.
The meaning in Strange's words is - in Stark's spiritual world. He is what the Act said, the Strange who came to find Stark's consciousness in another world. But in fact, he may not know that this is not exactly the world in Stark's head.
Since Stark in another universe transformed his brain into a CPU and hard disk with the Extremis virus, he also gained the ability to share the network with the sandbox—anyway, this is Zhang Dianyu's understanding.
Being able to understand so much information from the bill's words, he felt that he was pretty good.
Seeing that Zhang Dianyu didn't reply immediately, Strange's eyes darkened slightly.
In the next second, Zhang Dianyu noticed that his throat tightened, and he slowly got up off the ground, as if he was being strangled by an empty hand.
"The Stark here is not someone I know either—who are you? What's your purpose?"
Zhang Dianyu wanted to answer, but in this virtual world, even being strangled by the neck, he couldn't speak.
In desperation, he subconsciously chose the recently used skill, "Prison Search".
Immediately afterwards, he fell heavily to the ground, and the face of His Excellency the Supreme Mage opposite was livid-but he was not wearing clothes.
Zhang Dianyu: "..."