Alice's internal complaints instantly vanished.
"Today is also your lucky day, buddy."
Strange nodded gently to the rhythm in his headphones while saying to the wounded man.
"Although this damn piece of plane skin is embedded deeply, it miraculously avoided the femoral artery and major nerve bundles, only severing a few veins and muscle fibers. If it had been two millimeters off, hmph, then you would have already gone to see Marx."
Having said that, his seemingly weak hands suddenly erupted with a burst of skillful force.
"Puchi!"
That piece of steel embedded deep in the thigh muscle was pulled out by him as if he were pulling a radish—fast, accurate, and ruthless.
Alice had thought that at the moment the shard was pulled out, the young man named Barton would be in such agonizing pain that he would pass out, or let out a heart-wrenching, shrill scream.
After all, this was being pulled out raw without anesthesia.
However.
Nothing happened.
That man, that man with a pale face, at the moment the shard left his body, apart from his whole body's muscles trembling violently, and the large hand gripping the sandy ground instantly showing bulging veins with nails digging deep into the gravel, he didn't move much at all.
Even a muffled groan was bitten tightly between his teeth.
If not for noticing that he was instantly covered in sweat and his brows were tightly furrowed, Alice would have thought he was a dead man without pain nerves.
Strange's movements didn't pause in the slightest.
His suturing speed was astonishingly fast; as his fingers flew, the needle and thread wove through the flesh and skin, as if he were embroidering, not suturing a mangled wound.
In less than a minute.
The wound was sutured.
Strange tied a beautiful butterfly knot to finish it off, then cut the thread.
"Done, perfect."
He let out a sigh of relief, and a layer of fine sweat beads seeped out on his forehead.
Patting the young man's shoulder, he gave a thumbs up and praised sincerely: "Buddy, I've performed surgery on countless people, even tough guys from the Navy SEALs would cry like a girl after the anesthesia wore off. You, without anesthesia, without painkillers, and not even a stick to bite on, were able to stay silent and motionless the whole time. Perhaps I should call you Steel Comrade."
He said the title'Steel Comrade' in Russian with a heavy accent.
Although Alice's body was that of an American girl, her soul from her past life possessed a multi-language pack, and Russian was a required course.
So she understood it and subconsciously raised an eyebrow.
"Hmm?"
Strange keenly captured her micro-expression and turned his head to look at her with great interest: "Looking at your reaction, it seems you know what I'm saying?"
Alice answered ambiguously: "My former neighbor was of Russian descent, and I learned a few swear words. And, yes, sir, he is very strong, as strong as a rock."
She looked at the man named Barton and secretly admired him.
She couldn't imagine, if it were her current self in this delicate body, having her flesh cut and sutured like that, even if her soul were tough, the physiological reaction would 100% be to tilt her head and pass out cleanly.
"Call me Strange, Dr. Stephen Strange, girl."
The long-faced Doctor seemed to accept this explanation; he put back on the headphone he had taken off and extended the hand that had just created a miracle toward Alice.
"No problem, Long-face, oh no, Dr. Strange, my name is Alice." Alice shook his fingertips; the touch was cold and firm.
"You are very calm, very good, Alice." Strange praised her for a rare moment, then pointed to his headphones, "Do you want to listen? This song'Shining Star' is very healing."
"No thanks, Mr. Strange, I only want to hear the sound of a rescue helicopter right now; apart from that, no music can heal me."
Alice waved her hand, rejecting his recommendation.
Having said that, she turned and squatted down, looking at the young man who was still struggling with the lingering aftermath of the severe pain.
His lips were chapped and peeling, even oozing blood, clearly in a state of extreme dehydration.
"Sir, the surgery was successful, but you need to drink some water to replenish your body fluids."
The man slowly opened his eyes, his gaze much clearer than before.
He first glanced at the row of neat sutures on his leg, then raised his head to look at these three life-saving benefactors with distinct personalities in front of him.
"Call me Barton, Clint Barton." His voice was still hoarse, but it carried a sense of strength, "Thank you, thank you for your help."
Barton squeezed out his signature smile again; although because of the pain, the smile caused the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes to bunch up, looking a bit fierce, it was full of sincerity.
"I'll go find you some water." Alice stood up and brushed the sand off her dress.
"Water?"
The curly-haired uncle Banner, who had been standing on the side without getting a word in, spoke up somewhat worriedly.
"There is plenty of water in the sea, inexhaustible, but not a drop can be drunk; drinking it will only make you die faster."
"I still don't know your name, uncle?" Alice looked at this curly-haired man who had been helping silently and seemed to have an excessively good temper.
"Bruce Banner." The curly-haired uncle rubbed his hands somewhat awkwardly and answered honestly.
"Banner, Bruce Banner?"
Alice's pupils contracted slightly.
Strange, Barton, and now another Bruce Banner.
If the first two names could be dismissed as a coincidence, seeing these three together meant that if she still couldn't figure out what kind of World this was, then all those Marvel movies she watched in her previous life were for nothing.
Doctor Strange, Hawkeye, Hulk.
Good heavens, what kind of divine flight was this crashed plane?
Was it a specialized train to the Avengers' starter village?
But looking at the mild-mannered middle-aged man in front of her, Alice really couldn't connect him to that green monster who would smash up an entire street at the slightest provocation.
Right now, he was clearly just that unlucky physicist.
"Mr. Banner, your name gives me a Strange sense of familiarity." Alice said tentatively.
"Is that so?" Banner gave a wry smile. "This name might be quite common, or perhaps you've seen it on some wanted posters or academic journals?"
He seemed to recall some unpleasant memories, and his eyes flickered.
"Maybe so, it's a common name." Alice wisely dropped the subject.
"Do you know where we can find drinkable fresh water?" Strange, who was bobbing his head while listening to music, suddenly interjected, interrupting Alice's train of thought.
"Of course." Alice nodded confidently.
Seeing Alice so certain, Strange's Doctor's occupational disease flared up again, and he began to ramble: "Listen, girl, even if you find fresh water on a tropical island like this, you absolutely cannot drink it without boiling it. Because you don't know what kind of demons are lurking in the fresh water here—amoebas, schistosomes, Giardia. Even a sip of seemingly clear mountain spring water could have you shitting out your intestines within a week."
"Mr. Strange, you are a highly skilled Doctor, your immune system must be stronger than ours. Even if it's dirty water, it certainly won't kill you, you Strange Doctor." Alice couldn't help but tease, utilizing the pun on his name, Strange.
Strange shrugged, noncommittal about the nickname: "Human life is fragile, extremely fragile. In this godforsaken place lacking medicine and supplies, even the most brilliant medical skills cannot save someone who has contracted severe bacillary dysentery. Once you're dehydrated, even God himself could only offer you a last rite."