I'm a hero in Marvel

The noise in the bar was particularly harsh at this moment, and the surrounding customers cast curious glances. Jack's face turned pale. He didn't expect Strange to be so excited. "I'm just concerned about you, Strange. You have talent, but if you continue like this, you will lose everything!"

"Lose everything?" Strange's voice rose several decibels, and the people around him began to whisper. A trace of uneasiness flashed across his face, but it was quickly covered by anger. "I have lost a lot, you have no idea what I have been through!"

"I know you've lost before, but you can't let this sink you!" Jack's tone was firm, his eyes flashing with concern. "You can still change, you still have a chance!"

"Opportunity?" Strange sneered, "I don't need anyone's opportunity! I just want to live happily."

"Happy? Do you think this is happy?" Jack retorted excitedly, "You drink every day and get involved with different women. Is this the life you want?"

Strange felt a sharp pain in his heart, and memories came flooding back. He remembered his past glory, the moments when he saved lives on the operating table, and the incomparable sense of accomplishment. But these beautiful memories are shrouded in layers of fog in his current life.

"You don't know what I want." Strange's voice lowered, with a hint of fatigue in his tone.

"Then tell me, Strange, what do you want?" Jack's tone was filled with anxiety and concern.

"I want freedom!" Strange finally burst out his inner voice, "I want to be free from constraints and expectations. I don't want to bear that pressure anymore!"

"Freedom? Do you think you can get freedom this way? You are just running away!" Jack's voice was full of unyielding spirit. "True freedom is to face your own heart, not to hide behind alcohol and women!"

Strange was hurt by Jack's words, and his heart was churning. He wanted to refute, but he was speechless. At this moment, his cell phone rang. It was an unfamiliar number. He picked up the phone and heard the voice from the other end, and his face instantly became gloomy.

"Strange, you must come to the hospital. There is an emergency surgery that requires you!" The voice on the other end of the phone was hurried and serious.

"I'll be there right away." Strange hung up the phone, feeling annoyed. He turned around and was about to leave, but was stopped by Jack.

"Where are you going?" Jack caught up with worry in his eyes.

"Operation." Strange answered coldly, but he was struggling in his heart. He knew that the life he was escaping from would not last long, but he was unwilling to face the reality.

"I'll go with you," Jack said without hesitation.

"You don't need to follow me," Strange said impatiently.

"I just want to follow you!" Jack looked at him firmly, with an unshakable belief in his eyes.

Strange felt a warm current in his heart. He did not refuse and nodded silently. The two walked out of the bar together and set foot on the road to the hospital. The night breeze blew away the fog of alcohol and brought a little sobriety.

In the hospital, the lights in the operating room were dazzling, and Strange quickly got into the state, as if he had returned to that familiar world. His scalpel flickered under the light, as if it was a symbol of the desire deep in his heart. He began to focus on the patient in front of him, and a long-lost enthusiasm surged in his heart.

Jack watched silently from the side, and was relieved to see Strange gradually find himself again. He knew that Strange's talent was not only in technology, but also in his love for life.

After the operation, Strange walked out of the operating room, soaking wet, but with a long-lost smile on his face. He turned to look at Jack, his eyes flashing with gratitude.

"Thank you, Jack." Strange's voice was low and sincere. "Today I feel the happiness I haven't felt for a long time."

"This is you, Strange." Jack smiled. "What you need is not to escape, but to face yourself."

He had just completed three operations, and although the average duration of each operation was less than five hours, for him, the fatigue of this day had exceeded his physical limits.

"Are you okay, Strange?" A familiar voice broke the silence in the corridor. It was his colleague, Emily, a nurse in the emergency department. She walked forward with a concerned look on her face.

"I'm fine." Strange looked up and pretended to be calm, but his voice sounded a little weak.

"You really look tired. You didn't get any rest last night." Emily sat next to him, her tone uneasiness clear.

"There are always things to deal with in the operating room. I can't stop." Strange put the Coke bottle on his knees, his eyes wandering.

"You can't always be like this, Strange." Emily's voice rose in pitch. "You know, if you don't take care of yourself, who will take care of these patients?"

"I know." Strange's tone turned cold, "But now is not the time to discuss me. You should go about your work."

Emily was obviously irritated by his attitude. She sighed hard, folded her arms across her chest, and looked straight at him: "Do you think you are a superman? Can you save everyone? You know, this kind of thinking will only make you more tired and even make you lose more."

Strange frowned, feeling unhappy: "I am not Superman, but I have responsibilities. Those patients need me, and I can't let them down."

"Responsibility is not just your burden." Emily's voice softened. "We are all part of this team. You need to learn to rely on others instead of putting all the pressure on yourself."

"Depend on others? Do you think I can hand over the responsibility of the operation to someone else?" Strange retorted, anger flashing in his eyes.

"I'm not saying that you should hand over the surgery to someone else, but I'm saying that you can seek help. We can share the pressure together." Emily's tone was firm but gentle.

Strange was silent, his heart was in turmoil. He recalled the scene in the operating room, the patient on the operating table, the rapid heartbeat, the bright red blood... He could not forget those moments.

"I know you're a good doctor, but you also need to rest." Emily's voice sounded again, with a warm concern.

"Rest?" Strange smiled bitterly. "Rest is a luxury here."

"Then can't you make yourself stronger?" Emily raised her eyebrows, with a hint of determination in her eyes, "You can try to do something different and give yourself some space."

Strange lowered his head and took a deep breath, as if thinking about her words. He realized that he had been demanding himself with an almost harsh standard, but ignored his true feelings.

"I just don't want to let anyone down," he said finally.

"You haven't let anyone down." Emily smiled slightly, with a hint of understanding in her eyes, "You are doing your best, but you also have to allow yourself to be vulnerable."

"You always understand me so well." Strange shook his head helplessly, a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.

"Because I've been there before." Emily's voice softened. "I know how it feels. The pressure is like a mountain pressing down on our hearts, but we can't let it bring us down."

Strange's eyes gradually softened, and the tension in his heart slowly relaxed. He raised his head and stared at Emily: "Thank you, Emily. You always let me see things from a different perspective."

"That's what friends mean." Emily smiled. "Remember, Strange, take care of yourself so you can take better care of others."

At this moment, the door to the emergency floor was suddenly pushed open, and the emergency doctor Mike hurried in, his face full of anxiety: "Strange! Come quickly, the patient is in critical condition!"

Strange's heart instantly rose to his throat. He immediately stood up and his expression became serious: "What's going on?"

"A patient who was in a car accident was just sent here. His injuries are very serious. We need you to perform surgery." Mike said hurriedly.

"I'll be right there," Strange responded without hesitation, turning and walking towards the operating room, feeling a surge of nervousness and sense of responsibility in his heart.

Emily followed behind, her tone firm: "I will be with you, Strange, we will go together."

"Are you going too?" Strange asked, feeling touched.

"Of course, I won't let you face it alone." Emily's voice was as firm as a rock.

The door of the operating room opened, and the dazzling light shone on the white operating table. Strange took a deep breath and quickly got into the state. His fingers wandered over the scalpel, his eyes focused and determined.

"Are you ready?" Mike asked.

"Ready." Strange's voice was low and powerful, as if all the pressure had been transformed into an invisible force.

The operation began, and Strange felt a strong sense of mission. He knew that this was not just an operation, but a respect for life. He was fully focused on the operating table, and with every incision and every suture, his heart was slowly released.

"The patient's heartbeat is unstable, speed up the blood transfusion!" Emily gave orders in a clear and firm voice.

"Understood!" Strange responded, the blade in his hand cutting through the patient's skin, but he was praying silently in his heart.

The operating room was filled with the smell of disinfectant, and the instruments made a low humming sound, as if they were playing a prelude to the upcoming battle for life. Strange was wearing a surgical gown, with a blank expression and a hint of coldness in his eyes. His assistant, the young surgeon Amy, nervously prepared the surgical instruments.

"Dr. Strange, the patient's family is getting impatient waiting outside. They... they are very worried." Amy said cautiously, with a hint of timidity in her voice.

"Worried? What do they have to worry about?" Strange responded coldly, tapping his fingers lightly on the operating table. "I will do the operation well. The result is not important. The process is the key."

Amy frowned, feeling dissatisfied. She had always believed that doctors were not only operators of technology, but also emotional supporters of patients. However, Strange did not understand this at all. She tried to persuade him: "But what patients need is care and understanding. They are experiencing a life-and-death moment..."

"Care?" Strange interrupted her, his mouth corners slightly raised, revealing a sarcastic smile, "I'm not a psychiatrist, I'm a surgeon. My job is to cut and sew, not to comfort and soothe."

The atmosphere in the operating room suddenly became tense. Amy couldn't help biting her lip, anger and helplessness intertwined in her heart. She thought of the patient she saw in the ward a few days ago, the haggard middle-aged man, whose eyes flashed with desire and anxiety for life. She couldn't understand why Strange turned a blind eye to these emotions.

"I know you're great, Strange, but you can't ignore human nature." Amy's voice rose slightly. "No matter how high your surgical success rate is, it can't cover up your indifference to your patients."

Strange's face darkened slightly, and his eyes were as sharp as a knife as he stared at Amy: "Are you questioning my ability? I have never failed. Patients are just data to me. Only results are what I pursue."

"You're just turning patients into numbers!" Amy almost yelled, unable to suppress her emotions any longer. Her voice echoed in the operating room, as if accusing Strange of his indifference.