A while ago, the two had already learned from Mephisto's mouth how they trapped Dream Power Doctor Strange. If you want to destroy a person's spirit, it's best to use a nightmare; but if you want to trap someone, of course, you should use a beautiful dream because no one wants to wake up from a beautiful dream.
Mephisto gave this suggestion to Incubus, leading Dream Power Doctor Strange into his beautiful dream step by step and successfully making him forget that it was a dream, immersing him in his wonderful fantasy, thus trapping him.
However, Dream Power Doctor Strange wasn't that simple; he actually had some awareness. But after acquiring most of the Power of Dreams, Incubus made the dream so perfect that even if he sensed something was wrong, it wasn't easy to escape. Greed and the agent were here to help him out.
Greed understands Strange very well. Don't be fooled by the fact that in most universes, Strange is very prestigious after becoming the Supreme Magician, leading Kamar-Taj and joining the Illuminati, influential on Earth, but in reality, being unable to continue his career as a doctor is their eternal pain.
Strange, who would procrastinate on his medical records until the last day and ask Greed to write them for him, could still religiously fill out records at the Doctor Strange Battleworld gatherings, just to enjoy those seemingly disdainful but actually very envious glances, showing how deep their obsession was.
Becoming more successful from success won't leave an impression on him; but the process of going from failure to success will indeed be unforgettable for a lifetime. For Stephen Strange, it's just like that.
Going from the "Hand of God" to the Supreme Magician is just gilding the lily; but going from an obscure small-town boy to the world-renowned "Hand of God" is the most glorious and proud moment of his life.
Think about it, becoming the Supreme Magician wouldn't earn him any congratulations; instead, he'd have to clean up a bunch of messes. This job obviously has more responsibility than honor. But the "Hand of God" is different; those who once mocked him for his background now look up to him; the high society who once despised him now beg him for surgery. He can order anyone around, scold whoever he wants, and no one can do anything about it because of those hands. For someone who has tasted the bitterness of the lower class, this sensation of ascending to Heaven is unforgettable.
Moreover, in America, where medical privatization is at such a high degree, if you can forgo medical ethics, being a top surgeon isn't that hard, because only those who enjoy the top-tier medical resources can hire you. Neurosurgery, compared to other surgeries, isn't very dirty or tiring—it's basically a job without drawbacks.
Central Universe's Strange does so many surgeries every day, belonging to another version of "rich with a conscience," living a prosperous life without any complaints, naturally feeling that doing a few more surgeries is no problem. Besides, his least favorite part, writing medical records, was handled by Shiller. Especially since Shiller didn't like writing medical records either, he was willing to perform a few more surgeries even just to write more records for Shiller.
Based on the above, Dream Power Doctor Strange's beautiful dream is highly likely to be when he commands the winds and rain in the hospital. Only such a dream can make him indulge in it, unwilling to wake up.
The two made their way to New York Elderly Association Hospital, but after some inquiries, they found that the current era seemed earlier, and Doctor Strange hadn't joined the Elder Council Hospital yet.
"Then where is he?" the agent asked, "Don't tell me he hasn't graduated from college yet."
Greed shook his head and said, "Columbia University Medical Research Center. Let's go."
"Why there?" The agent asked while driving, "Isn't the Elder Council Hospital supposed to be the best hospital in New York?"
"But Strange rose to fame precisely from Columbia University Medical Research Center. He completed a neurosurgery procedure here deemed 'impossible to achieve,' becoming famous overnight, and then consecutively handled three 'death cases,' earning the title of 'Hand of God.'"
"I understand now," the agent thought for a moment and said, "When he joined the Elder Council Hospital, he was already famous, and everyone around him respected him; but back at Columbia University Medical School, surely many people looked down on him, yet he shut them up with his skills—indeed, that's quite satisfying."
The two arrived at Columbia University Medical Research Center. This is a hospital that combines research and study, with students, interns, practicing doctors, and research doctors. For this reason, many complex cases come here for consultation because the experts here are comprehensive, even if occasionally one or two are missing, they can call others over.
Also, because many doctors come here for research and study, there are many new faces, and seeing strangers in lab coats, they usually assume they're fellow visitors for exchange and study. Besides, Greed had worked here before and was familiar with every place, so dressed in a lab coat and holding a cup of coffee, he moved around unimpeded.
The agent, on the other hand, faced more trouble. An agent's credentials don't work well here since it's the top hospital, and those who come here are either rare cases or top worldwide billionaires, who totally don't need to give face to the police. The doormen are also quite arrogant, and without naming someone to visit, one simply can't get in.
But because this is a top-tier hospital, there are many police patrols around, and because the hospital spans two blocks, the police aren't from the same precinct and may not know each other. The agent knocked one out, then drove his car to the other side, claiming to buy coffee and donuts.
Although the police on this side didn't know him, seeing his experienced demeanor, they assumed he must be from the other side, not only kindly pointing him to the most frequented shops but also introducing him to the doormen here—after all, doormen also need coffee and donuts.
After that, it became simple. The two drank coffee and ate donuts together, and after finishing, the agent said he needed a restroom. Without any public toilets nearby, naturally, he had to enter to use one. Wearing a police uniform, the doorman had no reason not to let him in. Once inside, the doctors weren't surprised to see him; after all, the police here do two things every day: drink coffee and eat donuts. It would be strange if they didn't frequently run to the restroom, and it's common to see uniformed policemen rushing to the restroom.
Once both were inside, the agent waited in the third-floor bathroom while Greed wandered around the building. After finding a comprehensive consultation conference about to start, he entered with a pen and notebook he found in the office, sitting in the back row without anyone noticing him.
Consultation isn't really what many people imagine, where various elite experts gather, debate intensely, though some challenging cases may require that, but more often, it's like a lecture: senior doctors and bigwigs talk in the front, while regular doctors and interns listen in the back. The speakers are indeed compelling, but adding one or two listeners goes unnoticed, and no one thinks anyone would sneak in to listen—after all, if you're not a doctor, why listen to this?
Greed was in luck. Not long after, the surgery team came in with great enthusiasm. No matter the consultation, the surgeons always acted superior, declaring with a serious face, "I've got another surgery in two minutes, make it quick." Among today's surgical team was none other than Stephen Strange.
Just by looking at his demeanor and expression, you could tell that he was practically considered the "Hand of God." He looked down his nose at everyone, not even giving the big shots of internal medicine much attention, let alone those squeezed in to listen to the lecture.
Seeing him like this, Greed suddenly remembered that on his first day at Marvel, he somehow made this "Hand of God" wait for him half a day during a consultation.
But soon he felt relieved: after all, he helped Strange with so many medical records, shouldn't that make up for that one day of being late?
Soon, the consultation ended and the surgical team didn't say much. And as they walked out, Greed purposely squeezed forward, ending up next to Doctor Strange, and whispered a few words to him before heading in another direction.
Doctor Strange noticeably stiffened, and immediately pursued him. Greed made his way down the stairs, arriving at the third floor restroom entrance.
"Wait! You bastard, how do you know about my sister…"
"Let's talk inside," Greed said.
Doctor Strange had no choice but to follow him in, only to be pinned down by agents inside. The agents and Greed promptly tossed him out the window and then dragged him into a police car.
"Hey, what are you doing! You…"
"You should have noticed something's off by now," Greed said directly, "This isn't the real world, we need to get you out."
"What nonsense are you talking?! You…"
"Can you not see the details of the nerves?" Greed continued, "That's because this is a dreamscape woven from your memories, and the details you've forgotten—especially those pertaining to your specialty—can't be fabricated by the Incubus. As long as you've performed surgery, you should notice something strange."
Doctor Strange, who had been shouting moments ago, suddenly fell silent. Greed continued, "You might have already realized that this isn't the real world, you just wanted to reminisce about the past a bit longer. Don't get me wrong, I have no objections; as long as you finish what needs to be done, you can stay here as long as you like. If you find this dreamscape not real enough, I can have Charles weave a better one for you; if that doesn't work, you can take on a few days of work for the Strange of my universe. But we agreed, you'll have to write those medical records yourself."
"...What happened outside?"
"Someone blew up the dimensional entrance, letting the Power of Dreams spill into the reality dimension, and the Nightmare Phantom has also escaped. Superheroes are besieging the Incubus, but there's no way they can kill him, only you can take back control of the Power of Dreams from his hands. You can do it, right?"
As they talked, the car had already left the city. As the scenery gradually faded, the white coat on Dream Power Doctor Strange slowly transformed back into Doctor Strange's attire. He appeared very ashamed and said, "I had long warned myself, don't get lost in dreamscapes…"
"It's no big deal," Greed smiled, "everyone has a dream they are reluctant to wake from; if not, it wouldn't make them so attached to the world and want to protect it, would it?"
Dream Power Doctor Strange forced a smile, looking a bit strained. He was evidently still feeling very guilty, though he didn't voice it.
The car continued driving along the highway. By logic, they should be able to see Jack and the truck soon since they were just parked not far from the road sign, but they drove on for a long time without seeing that road sign.
Instead, at the road's end, another city slowly emerged. At the city's entrance was also a road sign, but it wasn't in English.
"What's that?" Dream Power Doctor Strange stuck his head out of the window, then said, "Is this Chinese? How could there be a Chinese road sign?"
While speaking, they had already driven into the city. Seeing the very familiar street scene, the agent squinted and said, "Looks like he's already noticed, afraid he won't let us leave here easily."
"Where is this?" Dream Power Doctor Strange asked in confusion, "The road sign earlier seemed to say it's their capital…"
"That was your good dream," Greed said, "now, it's my turn."