Although he still felt it was a bit absurd, Peter ultimately agreed to Harry's request.
That afternoon, Peter met Strange in the VIP room of his own business—Parker Tech—a place he hadn't stepped foot in for a long time.
Peter's first impression of Strange could be summed up in two words: down-and-out!
His beard was unkempt, his cheeks were sunken, his coat emitted a faint, unpleasant sour smell, and his torn trousers were covered in dust.
What stood out the most were his hands.
The surgical scars crawled from the back of his hands to his knuckles, looking like twisted, hideous centipedes.
They were not only frightening to look at, but they were also trembling incessantly.
With this reaction paired with his appearance, this once-genius surgeon looked exactly like one of the Enhancer addicts in Hell's Kitchen.
Noticing Peter walk in, Strange stood up as if by reflex.
Because the movement was too abrupt, his knee slammed heavily into the coffee table, causing the exquisite table to tip over, sending the coffee on the table to the floor, splashing everywhere.
Seeing this, Strange's pupils constricted.
He subconsciously crouched down, kneeling on the floor, and tremblingly used his clothes to wipe up the spilled coffee.
He was afraid—afraid that his recklessness would displease The Arbiter, the man he had seen on television casually executing alien emperors.
He was even more afraid that the other party wouldn't even bother to meet him and would just kick him out of Parker Tech.
Just as he was bowing his head, humbly and bitterly cleaning up the mess, a strong, powerful hand helped him up.
At the same time, a hazy white light acted upon the floor.
Wherever the white light passed, the coffee spilled on the floor returned to the paper cup as if time were reversing, and the tipped coffee table righted itself automatically.
This miraculous scene left Strange stunned.
He had seen such miraculous sights countless times on television.
Before the car accident, he had scoffed at such "miracles," believing them to be nothing more than television special effects or some kind of trickery.
Even if magic elements truly existed, they would only restore the surface of an object, while the interior would surely still be a mess.
But now, this "miracle" was the only spiritual pillar supporting his will to live.
Now, watching the scene he had fantasized about countless times actually happening right before his eyes,
Strange's body trembled, and hot tears rolled down his cheeks.
Without any hesitation, having just been helped up, he fell to his knees in front of Peter with a thud. Completely losing control, he shouted like a manic patient:
"Mr. Arbiter, I beg you, you are the only hope that can cure me!"
"As long as you cure my hands, I am willing to pay any price!"
Harry, standing to the side, couldn't help but feel embarrassed by his appearance and couldn't help but scold him:
"Dr. Stephen Strange, mind your behavior."
Strange, however, was already caught in a Strange frenzy. He roared as if venting, recounting the experiences he had gone through during this time.
It was just like what happened at the beginning of the movie.
He had been in a serious car accident because he was on the phone with his assistant discussing the condition of a patient about to undergo surgery.
When he opened his eyes again, those hands, which he valued more than his own life, were covered in scars.
Shattered car glass had shredded the nerves in his hands as the vehicle rolled violently. Now, no matter how he tried to recover, he could never fully regain finger function, let alone continue working as a surgeon.
For a genius Doctor, such a turn of events was undoubtedly unacceptable.
Thus, he had obsessively spent all his wealth, desperate to find a way to restore his hands.
Those luxury cars, expensive watches, and mansions had all left him as a result.
The shadow of execution loomed over him like a nightmare.
Even though it had been less than half a year since that nightmarish car accident, Strange had already gone from being a multi-millionaire to a penniless pauper.
Peter was his only hope right now.
Watching Doctor Strange, who had once been so high-spirited in the movies, now kneeling so humbly at his feet, Peter felt a Strange discomfort in his heart.
Especially when he thought about how the other party had been reduced to this state because of his own butterfly effect, he felt even more guilty.
If he didn't give him a hand, then in the situation where this Strange couldn't reach Kamar-Taj and couldn't be taken as a disciple by the Ancient One, his outcome was almost predictable.
His future would most likely be spent struggling on the edge of the execution line, until one cold, rainy night, he would be completely reduced to unnoticed scrap.
Peter did not want this Superhero, whom he had quite liked in his past life, to end up in such a miserable state because of him.
Therefore, he had made up his mind to help him defy his fate.
He had even thought of a compensation plan.
He would give the Ope-Ope no Mi to him.
Strange was already a genius surgeon; paired with the Ope-Ope no Mi, this would absolutely be a perfect 1+1 > 2 synergy.
But... the problem lay right there.
Given Strange's current mental state, as well as his past personality of being arrogant and having an unbearably terrible temper.
If Peter were to hand the Ope-Ope no Mi to him right now... would he be helping him, or harming him?
A poor person who had almost nothing, suddenly obtaining a conceptual-level, heaven-defying ability...
Peter didn't want to personally cultivate him, only to have to personally execute him one day.
Thinking of this, after a brief moment of hesitation, Peter finally spoke:
"Dr. Stephen Strange, do you want to become a Superhero?"
The moment the words fell, Strange was stunned.
Not just him, even Harry standing to the side was stunned.
"What?"
Peter repeated it.
"I asked you, do you want to become a Superhero?"
Strange stared at Peter for a few seconds, then answered without hesitation.
"As long as you can cure my hands, let alone becoming a Superhero, even if you ask me to be a gigolo at a nightclub, I'll do it."
Good grief.
That's the vibe.
If this guy ever gets together at a table with Tony and Harry in the future, he'll definitely steer the conversation towards R-rated topics within three sentences.
Easily suppressing the corner of his mouth that almost curled up, Peter said with a hint of helplessness:
"I am not joking with you."
"Neither am I."
Strange crawled on his knees to in front of Peter, his face wearing a kind of near-devotional fanaticism:
"I can sign a contract, a non-disclosure agreement, a deed of servitude; I can be your family's private Doctor, or I can work as a field agent for the Avengers..."
"Stop."
Peter interrupted him.
"In my opinion, once your hands are healed, you will only do one thing, and that is to return to the life you lived before."
"Perhaps, you might even get worse!"
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