Chapter Text
Doctor Strange
A bird's eye view of a city. A brief clip of someone shaving, then straightening a bowtie. The camera panned over a display case filled with awards, and a drawer opened revealing a large collection of expensive watches.
Of course, it was the watches that gave it away. Stephen had been quite proud of his collection of them before his accident and subsequent lifestyle change; and, he supposed, it was oddly fitting that he’d been the guardian over those timekeeping devices given his current involvement with the time stone.
Shaking off that reflection, Stephen couldn’t help but feel surprised that his past was going to be shown, and felt both proud that he was important enough to be featured among so many remarkable heroes, but also uncharacteristically nervous about what was about to be shown. Having already seen his display case of watches, he knew that this was when he was at the peak of his short-lived surgeon career, and he decidedly did not want anybody to see his accident, or the aftermath before Kamartaj. Additionally, he was worried that the magical community might be put at risk. Prior to this whole abduction-turned-movie-marathon, he was sure that not many people, save Christine and the sorcerers themselves, were really aware of the existence of this magic, but it seemed that would not be the case much longer. He glanced towards the Ancient One. In his timeline or whatever, she was already dead. It had been bizarre to see her, alive, breathing, and with that infuriatingly serene smile fixed on her face, but despite the strangeness of it (pun intended), and his experience and mastery of the mystic arts, he still found himself defaulting to her for guidance. Now, he gauged her reaction to his appearance on the magical screen, wondering if she was concerned for the magical community. Finding nothing but calm curiosity on her face, he figured that whatever was shown would only be a threat to his dignity.
Strange’s face was finally shown, staring at the watch, before the camera panned over his apartment, revealing his luxurious tastes.
“Ooh, we finally get to learn more about the mysterious Harry Potter character here,” Tony remarked teasingly. Stephen simply raised an eyebrow in response, doing a remarkably good job of masking his panic. He really wished that he could make a portal to escape, but his sling ring had mysteriously vanished, and unlike MJ’s crisis sketchbook and the random other notebooks that had shown up over the course of the viewing, it had not reappeared.
Many of the viewers leaned forward in anticipation, hoping to understand - or at least see how - the sorcerer’s magic worked.
An expensive car sped onto the road, racing down the city streets.
This earned looks of disapproval from many.
Stephen, realizing where he was going and what happened on the way, felt dread growing in his stomach. So much for nobody seeing the accident. The screen seemed intent on showcasing everyone’s moments of angst and tragedy. Perhaps whoever was behind this was a sadist (okay, Stephen, that was uncalled for, now I’m going to make you reflect).
Stephen reflected, although he couldn’t help but feel that somebody was making him do so: In a twisted way, he was thankful that he had had the accident. While he enjoyed the reputation, riches, and acclaim that came with being a renowned surgeon, he had not enjoyed his profession the way he enjoyed his role as a master of the mystic arts. Still, it was hard to remember the accident that had set him on his path; not due to the pain or the trauma or fear, but from the shame, the humiliation, and the hopelessness that followed the surgery that ruined his hands. His fingers twitched towards Christine’s hand, but he did not reach for her.
“You look like James Bond,” Peter observed as he watched Stephen speed along the roads behind the wheel of the expensive car in his tuxedo.
“Wrong detective,” Ned disagreed. “More like Sherlock Holmes.”
“James Bond is a spy, you idiot.” MJ rolled her eyes. “But yeah, he looks more like Sherlock Holmes.”
“Really? I think Mr. Stark looks more like Sherlock Holmes,” Peter argued.
“Why? Because he’s a high functioning sociopath?” Rhodey teased.
Tony smirked. “I take that as a compliment, by the way.”
Stephen continued to race along the winding curves of a mountain road. His phone rang, and he answered a call from Billy.
From the moment she saw the car speeding through the city, Christine had correctly assumed that this was the evening of the accident. She bit the inside of her cheek as she kept her gaze steady on the screen, determined not to look at Stephen because she knew her eyes would be filled with sympathy, something Stephen hated when it was directed at him. The gnawing guilt that made its presence known whenever she thought about the accident spiked, and not for the first time she wondered if she could’ve prevented everything if she had just agreed to go to the talk with him (not according to What If though...). She certainly wouldn’t have allowed him to drive so recklessly, especially on such a dangerous road at night. But then again, she supposed, if she had gone with him, he wouldn’t have joined that cult and saved the world or whatever it was that he did nowadays. Immediately disobeying her decision to not look at Stephen, she glanced his way. His face was a careful mask of concealed emotions; she could only tell that he was concerned by the way his lips pressed together in a firm line, like they did before a particularly stressful operation.
“Billy, what’ve you got for me?” Stephen demanded.
Many people stared at him like he was crazy.
“You’re speeding along a dangerous road and talking on the phone?” Hope asked in disbelief.
“That’s like, the first thing they teach you not to do in Driver’s Ed,” Jason stated incredulously. “That and many videos of cars running into trains.” *
“Plus it’s just common sense,” added Betty. “The ‘no talking on a phone while driving’ part, not the train part.”
“Honestly, I’m surprised there’s no PSA about texting and driving,” Abe smirked, earning a round of giggles from her classmates, a groan from Steve, and a grin from Bucky.
“I’ve got a thirty-five year old Air Force colonel, crushed his lower spine in some kind of experimental armor,” Billy began.
Tony raised his eyebrows at this statement, but no comment was made. Rhodey shifted a bit in his seat, reminded of his own injury.
“Yeah well, I could help, but so could fifty other people,” Stephen said carelessly. “Find me something worth my time.”
“Wow,” Cindy said, looking shocked at the conversation between the surgeon and his colleague. She was interested in potentially pursuing a career as a surgeon and Doctor Strange was one of her idols. It was awful to see how he looked at patients, not as people, but as numbers to increase his reputation.
“I know,” was all the doctor said, trying to brush off the looks of disgust and disappointment he was receiving.
“Wait, so you were actually a doctor before you became a wizard?” Peter questioned.
“A sorcerer, and yes,” Stephen replied.
“So Doctor Strange is your real name?” Ned continued. When the sorcerer nodded, he stared in awe. “That is so cool. I wish my name was cool like that. I should definitely come up with a badass wizard or super hero name.”
“Sorcerer,” Stephen corrected halfheartedly. Next to him, the Ancient One chuckled lightly.
Billy continued to list patients as Stephen dangerously passed cars on the road, quickly turning patients down so that he wouldn’t tarnish his perfect record.
It was raining by now. Billy finally proposed one patient that caught the surgeon’s interest. “Could you send me the ph – got it,” Stephen said, looking down at the x-rays he’d just received.
“Okay, as cool as that tech is,” Scott said, “didn’t anyone ever tell you not to text and drive?”
“I’m not texting,” Stephen argued.
“You know what I mean.”
“It was bad enough when you were just on the phone,” May began a scolding, but looked over at Stephen and saw his face before stopping, realizing that the sorcerer had realized the errors of his past ways and had become better.
“So, you wanna text and drive,” began Jason, eliciting another groan from Steve. He paused, as if unsure if he should continue, but when he realized that his audience was gazing at him in expectation, a grin split his face and he went on, deepening his voice, adjusting his posture, and overall trying to capture the essence of the Star Spangled Man With a Plan who at that moment was very much looking like he wished he was still under the ice.
“So, you wanna text and drive,” Jason reiterated, “but take it from a guy who crashed a plane, accidents are no fun. You might think you need to see that message from your sweetheart, but as someone who missed out on the last seventy years, believe me, it can wait the five minute drive home.”
His impression earned him a round of laughs from the Midtown students and several adults, pats on the back from those sitting nearest, and amused expressions from others who only vaguely had an idea of these PSAs. MJ was frantically sketching, as always, her new favorite crisis subject, one Steven Grant Rogers.
“I need a time machine,” Cap decided. “I am going to go back in time and ask myself why the hell I thought these PSAs would be a good idea.”
“LANGUAGE!”
In the moments when he was looking at the images, Stephen’s car hit another vehicle, sending both tumbling with a screech of wheels.
This turn of events took many off guard, if the shouts of surprise were anything to go by. Stephen was kind of surprised by this reaction. Everything about the way he was driving was a textbook case of why distracted driving was a big no-no.
Stephen’s car spun off the road into the nearby woods, the action playing in slow motion as an airbag deployed and he fell unconscious to the sound of shattering glass. The car continued tumbling through the trees, crashing brutally through a gate before landing, vertically, in water, steaming.
There was a horrified silence as people processed what they had just witnessed. Everybody ignored Ronan’s laughter in the background. One of Christine’s hands was over her mouth. Seeing the accident first hand, it looked so much worse than she ever could’ve imagined, and when she closed her eyes she could vividly see Stephen when they brought him in on the gurney. She realized at some point that she had grabbed his hand, which was shaking, but neither of them let go.
Watching his car make a rough landing in the water, Stephen felt strangely (haha, because he’s Doctor Strange, get it? I will keep doing this) detached from the incident. The shattering of glass had left a ringing in his ear, he could vaguely remember Billy yelling at him but once the airbag had deployed he was pretty sure he had lost consciousness. Either way, the screen’s depiction of the accident seemed much more violent than he’d remembered it being. Thank god for the safety features in that car.
“How…how could you have survived that?” Peter asked in a small voice, a question on many people’s minds. Even Tony couldn’t find the words to make a sarcastic remark. Jason’s impression of a Captain America PSA felt a little less funny after witnessing such a horrific crash.
“Maybe it’s time to consider stopping,” a new voice filled the theater as the scene faded away from the car wreck.
Christine wasn’t surprised to hear her voice on screen, but she stiffened when she saw herself in Stephen’s darkened apartment, and realized all these strangers were going to see them argue.
“Wait, what happened to Doctor Strange?” Cindy demanded.
“Well, obviously he’s alive,” MJ remarked, crisis sketchbook in hand. “He’s sitting right over there.”
“We got him to the hospital,” Christine explained. “His hands were badly damaged. He couldn’t hold them steady.”
“So that’s why you stopped being a surgeon,” Cindy realized, Stephen nodding in affirmation.
And what led him to us, Mordo thought bitterly, glaring as the Ancient One smiled, as if hearing his thoughts. He was already unhappy to be here, surrounded by so many faces and with nobody to trust, but to see the woman who had lied and manipulated the people around her for her own gain, who had fed him half-truths all while using the very magic she was supposed to protect the world from, was salt to the wound. These people claimed to be heroes, but their belief in their goodness blinded them to the laws that they needed to follow. How could nobody see this?
Meanwhile...
“No, no,” Stephen said, holding up his shaking hands. “Now is not the time to stop, because, you see, I’M NOT. GETTING. ANY. BETTER!” He rose from his seat, angry and distressed.
“Some things just can’t be fixed,” Christine protested, her eyes filled with concern. “This isn’t the end. There are other things that could give your life meaning.”
“Uh oh,” Sam muttered, sensing an impending fight about to break between the two.
“What, like you?” Stephen asked, a hint of disdain in his voice.
One of the Midtown students muttered “burn” under their breaths, but nobody knew who it was.
“Not the right thing to say, man,” Scott said, shaking his head. Hope nodded in agreement.
“She is trying to help you,” Mantis offered.
Stephen winced, feeling a strange (I warned you I would keep doing this) mixture of shame but also of self-righteousness as he watched from an outside perspective, his emotions at a more reasonable level. He could identify with the man on the screen, who had had everything ripped from him in the blink of an eye, but knew that it wasn’t fair for him to take his frustrations out on Christine.
Christine was silent, remaining calm despite his words. “This is the part where you apologize,” she said firmly after a moment.
“I’m sorry,” came the whispered apology, so quiet only Christine heard it, but it was enough to make her smile in understanding.
“This is the part where you leave,” Stephen replied.
“This is awkward,” Sam commented.
Another moment of silence, before a new resolve fixed itself onto Christine’s face. “Fine,” she said, turning away from him. “I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore.”
“Too difficult for you, is it?” asked Stephen mockingly.
“Dude, I can be insensitive sometimes, but even I know that was out of line,” Quill said, shaking his head.
“Is he one of the people with a stick up his ass?” Gamora asked half-jokingly, earning a small laugh from Star Lord and looks of concern and confusion from everyone else.
“Yes, it is,” Christine replied, walking back towards him. “It breaks my heart to see you this way.”
“No, don’t pity me,” Stephen shot back.
“I’m not pitying you,” Christine snapped.
“Oh yeah? Then what are you doing here, bringing cheese and wine like we’re old friends going for a picnic?” he was walking towards her now, agitated. “We’re not friends, Christine, we were barely lovers. You just love a sob story, don’t you. Is that what I am to you now? Poor Stephen Strange, charity case. He finally needs me, another dreg of humanity for you to work on. Patch him up and send him back into the world, heart’s just humming. You care SO MUCH, don’t you?”
The theater was almost completely silent, nobody daring to say anything. Witnessing this fight between the two felt too personal, like they were intruding on something they shouldn’t have witnessed. Shuri was itching to say, “It was in this moment that he knew he fucked up” to someone, but knew it wasn’t the appropriate time. She would have to save it for later.
Christine felt tears in her eyes, but she was determined not to cry. This fight was in the past. She had forgiven Stephen long ago, having seen how much he cared for her through the stream of emails he sent her after he disappeared from New York, and the way he interacted with her after his return. She felt him smooth his thumb over the back of her hand, and he met her gaze with a silent question. She smiled, squeezing his fingers in reassurance before turning back to the screen.
Christine shook her head in sad disbelief. “Goodbye, Stephen,” she said, finality in her voice. She turned, throwing keys on the table as she grabbed her bag. As she left, Stephen walked towards the windows, stepping on a sheet of paper. The screen revealed that he had been trying to write his name, over and over again.
“Please let it be over,” Stephen whispered under his breath. His prayer was answered as the next scene began.
The scene changed, revealing Kaecilius as he slowly walked towards something in the darkened room.
“Whoa, what happened to that dude’s face?” asked Scott.
“That is the appearance of one of Dormammu’s zealots,” the Ancient One said simply.
“Dor-who-now?” echoed Quill.
“Bad guy,” came from Wong.
“I should’ve known,” Quill said, nodding. “He has a very bad guy-esque name.”
“And you would be the expert at that, obviously,” Gamora smirked teasingly.
“I mean, the bad guys we fought? Ronan just sounds like someone you want to punch, and Ego…I mean, in retrospect, I guess we should’ve been able to tell. All he cared about was himself, he literally wanted to be everything.”
“Wow, it’s almost like he has a huge ego or something,” Rocket snarked.
“I hate to agree with Quill, but I can see where he’s coming from,” Drax added. “Still, their names were not worthy of a true warrior’s like mine.”
“I am Groot,” said Groot.
Ronan and Ego both looked about ready to murder the Guardians – well, I suppose they always looked that way, but they looked a bit more murderous than usual – but something in the room was preventing them from acting on their wishes.
“How long have you been at Kamar-Taj, Mister…” Kaecilius began, trailing off.
“Doctor,” Stephen corrected from his position at the top of the stairs.
Kaecilius repeated in confusion, “Mister Doctor?”
“It’s Strange.”
“Maybe,” Kaecilius said, “but who am I to judge?”
Stephen groaned. The Midtown students seemed to think this was the most hilarious thing to ever happen. Christine turned to him with a smile, still a little teary eyed but looking happy. “See, this is why nobody wanted to call it that ‘Strange Technique.’”
“Hey, kudos to the creepy dude for not being judgemental,” said Shuri. T’Challa opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but she cut across quickly. “Don’t give me that look, brother, I know he’s a bad guy, I was just saying.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t notice this earlier,” Tony spoke up, a grin on his face, “but we are totally awesome facial hair bros, Mister Doctor.”
Pepper and Rhodey eyed the billionaire strangely as Peter excitedly agreed, “Yes! I totally see that!”
Stephen just put his head in his hands with a groan. “I can’t decide what’s worse, the fact you just addressed me by that alias or the idea of being your...whatever you just said.”
Suddenly, Kaecillius stabbed his magic blade through the old Master’s chest. He let out a cry, collapsing to the ground.
“Why must there be so much violence?” Maggie sighed, reaching out to Cassie who was still happily engrossed in her superhero list. Nate had joined in, and they were coming up with more and more criteria for a superhero’s job description.
Stephen reacted immediately to this turn of events, summoning a string of orange magic in his hands.
“So…I take it this is after you found your inner Harry Potter,” Tony stated. Around him, people were getting excited at the prospect of witnessing a duel between sorcerers.
“Is this how you healed your hands?” asked Christine jokingly. “You joined a cult?”
“You’ve asked this already,” Stephen said with a hint of exasperation. “And for the last time, it’s not a cult.”
“Sure it’s not, Stephen. I’m not gonna let it go.”
Next to Vision, Wanda tilted her head in curiosity at the sight of Stephen’s magic, wondering if it was similar to the powers she held. Loki too was preparing to take mental notes of Midgardian magic in comparison to the capabilities of sorcerers such as his mother and himself.
Kaecilius ran up the walls of the room to reach the top of the stairs, where Stephen was.
"Whoa, did that dude just run up the walls?” Scott, easily amazed, asked.
“Just like Spider-Man,” Ned laughed.
Stephen met the blows of his attackers, and for a few seconds the scene dissolved into chaos as the fighting began. He finally broke away and leaped over a railing, using his magic to grab an artifact and throw it at his assailants. He deflected one of Kaecilius’ blades, which hit a clear barrier and shattered.
“What are those blade thingies?” Peter asked curiously. There were so many questions he wanted to ask about the whole magic thing. Could anybody learn magic? Could he learn magic? Then he wouldn’t just be Spider-Man. He’d be...Spider-Wizard. Okay, that didn’t have quite the same ring to it, but still, combining magic with his powers would be pretty cool and useful.
“Again, powers that come with working for Dormammu,” this time the response to Peter’s question came from Wong.
“Bro, if I was a superhero I would simply pass away,” a Midtown student commented, trying and failing to keep up with the speed of the fight they were witnessing. “Like I would get into one battle and instantly die. The enemy wouldn’t even kill me, I’d just accidentally stab myself or something equally stupid and that would be the end.”
“Mood,” another kid said agreeably.
At Kaecilius’ approach, Stephen turned and fled from his place, running down a long hallway. Behind him, Kaecilius emerged, spreading his arms as he manipulated the surroundings. Stephen turned his head as he ran, only to see that the floor was moving under him and he was going nowhere.
“Well, that hardly seems fair,” Monica frowned.
“Honestly, that’s what the mile run in gym class feels like,” Betty commented with a dramatic sigh, and many of the other students agreed with laughter. Coach Wilson frowned but did not comment. He wasn’t truly surprised by the sentiment. Nobody wanted to be in a high school gym class, including himself.
Realizing the futility of running, Stephen whirled around and summoned two golden shields. Something that would’ve been super cool and badass, except one of the shields flickered and disappeared.
“Whoa,” most people went in surprise. A few people facepalmed. The Ancient One had an amused look on her face. Mordo glared. At everyone. But mostly Stephen.
Meanwhile Kaecilius and the other zealots approached, leaping onto the ceiling and the walls as they ran at Stephen.
“Okay, definitely not fair,” Monica decided.
“How do they do that?” Jason wondered aloud.
“Witchcraft,” Mr. Dell declared.
“Actually, it’s not - ” began Mr. Harrington, teacher mode engaged, before immediately amending his initial statement to, “you know, it actually is. Never mind.”
Fighting resumed, and Stephen was thrown into a wall. He attempted to deflect another blow but was thrown backwards, down the hall. He summoned a rope and hit one of the zealots as she charged him, sending her to the ground. Suddenly everything was shifting again, knocking Stephen into a glass case, which shattered on the impact.
“Ouch,” Stephen said plainly.
“This is super trippy,” Luis commented. “This reminds of the time I went to an optical illusion museum with my second cousin and there was a room with mirrors everywhere, and - ”
Hank groaned, interrupting Luis before he could continue his story. “Not another one of these tales.”
“Let the man speak!” Shuri demanded.
The movie continued, not allowing the man to speak.
Recovering, he tried to flee back up the hallway, but again the world was shifting as Kaecilius manipulated the matter around him. The books littering the hallway began sliding backwards as the direction of gravity changed. Stephen found himself falling, grabbing onto the handle of a nearby door to stop his descent.
“How does that even work?” asked Bruce in genuine curiosity, musing about physics and the center of gravity and other science-y stuff, something the author definitely knows a lot about. Ms. Warren was already thinking about all the new material she would have to cover in physics class if more research was done in the field, and while that would be great for the development of humanity, she already had a hard enough time explaining momentum and gravity to high school students.
“This is like Inception but in real life,” Peter muttered in awe.
The door broke, and Stephen fell a little further before regaining his grip on a lamp. He looked down at the zealots, who seemed unaffected by this sudden change in gravity.
Bruce, acquiring a notebook from the same place Cassie got hers, wherever that was, began to furiously jot down notes. Peter, Shuri, and Tony, who were both intrigued by the science (and magic!) of what they were witnessing, soon joined him.
Stephen let go of the lamp, falling down the hallway with a yell – “What are you doing?” many people cried in alarm – before knocking into one of the zealots, sending her flying through a glass door into the desert.
“Oh.”
“How’d she end up in the desert?”
“Witchcraft! It’s all witchcraft!”
Stephen managed to catch the doorframe, and as the zealot began running back towards the door, he pulled himself back into the sanctum. A second zealot charged him, pushing his hand aside before Stephen could hit the magic knob and change the scene, and the two fought as the first zealot sprinted towards them.
“Heck,” Peter swore, looking up from the brainstorming session with the others.
“Heck?” MJ echoed in disbelief.
“Mr. Stark says I’m not allowed to use bad language words,” Peter said with a pout.
“People have been swearing left and right,” Ned pointed out.
“In case you couldn’t tell by the constant chorus of ‘Language’ we had going on there for a while,” MJ snickered, opening her crisis sketchbook, looking for Steve’s reaction.
He delivered. “For the last time, I said that once!”
“It’s for your own good, kid,” Tony smirked, ignoring the other. “Not only are you like, five years old – “
“Hey!” Peter protested, pouting harder as his puppy eyes intensified.
“ – but also, if you say one bad word, Captain America will come and eat you,” Tony finished firmly.
“What,” Steve exclaimed in offense (MJ’s pencil was flying over the paper). “Tony, I know we have our differences – “ Tony rolled his eyes – “but I assure you I have never eaten anybody.”
“This took a weird turn,” Natasha decided. “Let’s keep watching.”
The Midtown students were watching the exchange between the Avengers, as well as the interaction between Tony and Peter, and were growing more and more confused. Needless to say, Flash was starting to believe that maybe the so-called Stark Internship was real…
The first zealot was almost to the door when Stephen managed to break away from the door long enough to twist the knob, changing the door’s location. In the desert, the door vanished, leaving the unfortunate zealot stranded.
“Rip,” MJ said, earning a few strange looks.
In the sanctum, Stephen pushed the second zealot through the door’s newest location, a jungle, and twisted the knob again.
“Rip number two.”
These doors sent Shuri, Peter, Tony, and Bruce into another brainstorming session of how they worked.
“Wow, imagine how easy going on a vacation would be if everyone had those doors,” Betty sighed. “No more hassle of waiting in line forever at the airport, or being cooped up for hours on a tiny metal cylinder in the sky.”
Stephen turned and was immediately faced with Kaecilius, blade in hand. Dodging the latter’s attacks, Stephen sprinted up the hallway, where gravity was now working properly, knocking over a bookshelf in the hope of slowing Kaecilius down. Running up a staircase, Stephen summoned another rope of magic, turning around just in time to deflect another stab. He grabbed a nearby cauldron that was emitting light. “Ha!” he said, holding it up in triumph.
“Uh, what are you going to do with that?” Mr. Harrington asked unnecessarily.
“You don’t know how that works, do you.” Loki didn’t even have to facepalm to convey his exasperated sentiment.
Wong and Mordo were giving Stephen odd looks, and the Ancient One shook her head in with amusement.
“Maybe he’s threatening to cook Kaecilius up for Captain America to eat,” Abe snickered, earning a laugh from a few Midtown kids and a look of exasperation from Steve.
“You don’t know how to use that, do you,” Kaecilius deadpanned.
“Uh…” Stephen hesitated.
“You should really be careful with that,” Frigga warned, having recognized the magical artifact as something dangerous if used incorrectly.
“Oops,” Stephen shrugged. Now he knew what he was holding, of course, but at the time…
He threw the cauldron at Kaecilius, who deflected it, and the fight resumed.
“Wow, he really yeeted that,” said Abe.
“What does that mean,” Steve, still shocked that Tony had accused him of eating people, whispered to Sam, who just shook his head. Steve didn’t know if it was because the other didn’t know what yeet meant, or was simply refusing to acknowledge his question.
Thor had overheard. “Friend Steve, since your friend – ” he gestured to Bucky “ – explained to me the space that belongs to me, I will attempt to explain the yeet, a term that Loki so kindly taught me.” Loki looked over, a smirk already in place as Thor cleared his throat to explain, procuring a soda can from who knows where. “Dis bitch empty, yeet!” he exclaimed, lobbing the empty can to the other side of the room where it hit Darren Cross on the face.
“I am more confused than I was before,” Steve sighed. Next to him Bucky had a wide grin on his face and Loki was cackling. Darren Cross looked murderous, especially when he saw that Scott, Hope, and Hank were also laughing.
Kaecilius swung around the pole, kicking Stephen in the side and sending him flying into a glass case.
“Oof,” said Peter.
Loki and Thor were reminded of one of their battles in which Loki pulled off a similar move, but neither made any comment. (*Insert photo of pole dancing Loki here lol*)
Stephen hurried to his feet, but once again, Kaecilius kicked him into a glass case, which also shattered. Scrambling away from the zealot’s blade, Stephen broke one last case – the case with the Cloak of Levitation. Knowing his enemy was cornered, Kaecilius approached, swinging his blade to land a killing blow.
“NO!” many cried, fearing for the Doctor’s life.
Nobody expected the cape to suddenly fly out and stop Kaecilius. Both men looked confused by the turn of events, but Stephen attempted to crawl away, only to be pulled back by Kaecilius, who tried again to stab him. Again, the cloak stopped the blade.
“Wow, that’s a pretty badass piece of clothing right there,” Ned whistled in appreciation.
“Language!” Steve called automatically, before immediately groaning when Bucky elbowed him good-naturedly. “I guess it’s a reflex now.”
Tony gave Peter a pointed look, as if to say, see, he will eat you.
“How much for the cloak?” asked Rocket. Stephen didn’t reply. “Oh, I’ll get that cloak. And that arm,” the not-raccoon added under his breath, nodding in Bucky’s direction.
Kaecilius kneed his opponent in the stomach and pushed him across the glass-littered floor. Stephen scrambled to his feet, managing to stop Kaecilius’ blade, and the two grappled for a brief moment before the zealot punched Stephen in the face, sending him over the railing and down the staircase.
There were many winces at this. Christine had covered her mouth, having treated a number of trauma cases where the patient had fallen headfirst down the stairs or from some other raised surface. It was hard not to wonder how Stephen had survived the fall considering it looked like he was going to land on his head. But as the Cloak of Levitation quickly followed him, she smiled, knowing he would be okay. Kaecilius peered over the railing, at first seeing nothing.
And then, like a giant bat, Doctor Strange rose in all his glory, summoning another rope of magic.
“I need to get me a cape like that,” Clint commented.
“Oh, were the capes I provided not good enough?” Loki asked with a teasing tone in his voice. Surprisingly, Clint didn’t glare at the god, just offered a small smile as Lila exclaimed, “I love your capes, Mr. Loki!”
“Ooh, that’s so cool!” Cindy gushed, staring at the screen, her respect for the doctor restored. “Can you teach me to do magic?” Other kids chimed in with the same request.
“Magic? That’s not real magic,” Cassie protested. “My daddy can do real magic.”
“Really?” Nate asked with wide eyes, and Cassie puffed her chest up proudly as she nodded. Scott grinned at her.
“Real magic, huh?” Hope asked Scott, smirking.
“Doctor Strange is the best magician I have ever seen,” Peter declared passionately, unprepared for Scott to reach behind his ear.
“Is this your card?” he asked, producing an ace of hearts from behind the teen’s ear.
“Whoa…” Peter gaped, eyes wide in awe.** MJ looked extremely disappointed in her friend. The other Midtown students were amused at Peter’s look of amazement.
“I told you my daddy’s the best magician out there,” Cassie grinned widely. Loki rolled his eyes, but was amused by the scene regardless. Wanda had a huge smile on her face as she watched Cassie excitedly hug her father as he returned to his seat, her heart melting a little.
“Did your cult teach you how to do that?” Christine smirked. Stephen had a hard-to-read look on his face, but it was close enough to a crisis for MJ to add his expression to her notebook.
Stephen threw the rope, latching onto Kaecilius’ blade, the two pulling in opposite directions. For a moment, the fight was at a standstill, before Kaecilius yanked Stephen towards him. They flew into each other, both knocked to the ground. As Kaecilius stabbed at him, Stephen found himself being pulled back by the Cloak of Levitation.
“Man, without that cloak you would’ve been dead,” said Monica.
“I never thought I’d be grateful for an article of clothing,” Christine smiled in agreement.
The cloak continued pulling Stephen back until he hit a wall. The sorcerer spotted an axe hanging on the opposite side of the room, and made a dash to reach the weapon. But the cloak pulled him away, and Stephen ran in a fruitless effort to retrieve the weapon.
This caused laughter among the viewers. “You look ridiculous.”
Kaecilius approached slowly, as Stephen continued to struggle with the cloak.
“Trust the cloak, dude, he’s saved you before,” Quill said. “He clearly knows what he’s doing.”
Wong nodded in appreciation of the other man’s words. Mordo’s frown deepened. The Ancient One was still smiling.
“Don’t encourage him, he’s bossy enough as it is,” Stephen snarked. His cloak gave him a light slap in retaliation for the comment.
“Does the Cloak of Levitation have a gender?” Peter asked, not really expecting an answer. He did not receive one (I wasn’t expecting any but Google had no answers).
Finally giving in to the cape’s demand, Stephen reached for one of the relics of the wall before tossing it at the approaching Kaecilius.
This action earned a chorus of “YEET!” from the Midtown students. Another soda can hit Darren Cross in the face. No one saw who threw it, but Hope looked suspiciously smug.
The contraption closed around Kaecilius, rapidly immobilizing him before forcing him to kneel awkwardly on the ground.
“Are we sure this is a movie about Mister Doctor here? The cape seems to be the real MVP,” Tony joked, grinning at his awesome facial hair bro.
The scene suddenly cut to Stephen turning around in confusion, only to immediately be impaled by one of the fancy clear sword things.
The abruptness of this change caused a few people to yell in alarm. “What happened? I thought the evil zealot dude was defeated,” Sally said, frowning.
“It’s never that easy,” Abe replied, shaking his head knowingly. “But what happened in between?”He looked at Stephen expectantly, as did many others.
The sorcerer in question sighed, seeing no purpose in ignoring the question. “He stalled for time by talking to me about Dormammu, and instilled doubt in me about the Ancient One’s...abilities.” He hesitated, remembering how he in turn had called the late Sorcerer Supreme out for her hypocrisy and involvement with dark magic, which had caused Mordo to abandon his role as a master of the mystic arts. Clearly Mordo still held residual anger about that, as his glare, which had been in place since they first appeared in this mysterious room, only intensified.
"Ah yes, the classic villain talk," Clint nodded. Cassie and Nate hastily added 'don't let the bad guy turn you evil' to their list of superhero job requirements.
One of the zealots, the buff-looking dude from earlier, evidently had not been properly defeated, and he now ran up the stairs before tossing Stephen away from the chained Kaecilius.
“Oof.”
As Stephen struggled to climb back to his feet, the zealot appeared behind him, ready to land a killing blow. Before he could though, the cloak zipped over to him, covering his head and blocking his vision.
“Okay, this is like the billionth time that cloak saved your life, man,” Scott said, having definitely kept count this whole time.
“Iron Man who? I only know Cloaky,” Peter declared, earning a mock offended look from Tony. Both had returned to their seats following their nerd-out session with Bruce and Shuri.
“You are not calling the Cloak of Levitation Cloaky,” Stephen said. “He deserves more creativity.”
“We have found a new mission,” Shuri announced. “We must find a suitable name for the fourth honorary member in my Holy Trinity of Badass Queens. However, I would like to state that the title has now been changed to the Holy Trinity of Badass Royalty because I do not wish to assume the cloak’s gender.” With solemn nods from the others, she, Peter, MJ, Ned, Cassie, and several others banded together to begin this mighty quest.
The zealot fell to the ground, struggling against the cloak. Meanwhile, the injured Stephen made a portal with some difficulty, stumbling through it into what appeared to be a supply closet, as he fell right onto a cart of cleaning supplies.
“Real smooth,” Sam joked.
“Hey, he just got stabbed, cut him some slack,” Laura defended before realizing he was joking.
“It’s one of the repercussions of joining a cult,” Christine snarked, knowing exactly how the scene played out.
“For the last time - ” Stephen began in exasperation, but realized arguing was futile.
"Getting stabbed, what a mood,” Peter muttered under his breath. Steve heard the teen and frowned. What kind of danger was this kid in if he could joke about being stabbed?
As Stephen limped out of the supply closet, it was clear he had entered the hospital he had once worked at. He questioned a passing nurse, demanding to see Doctor Palmer. Christine cried his name out in alarm at seeing his situation, dropping whatever she was holding as she ran to lend a hand.
“Get me to an operating table now, just you,” instructed Stephen, brushing off her words of concern.
“How romantic,” Tony commented. “A classic date, if you ask me. Pepper and I have been on a few of those as well.”
“Tony, we’ve talked about this,” Pepper scolded fondly.
“About what, exactly?”
“Not joking about near death experiences.”
“Why not? It’s how I cope!” Midtown’s teachers and several adults were looking increasingly concerned at how the teenagers seemed to be wholeheartedly agreeing with Tony’s sentiment.
A few seconds later, Stephen was laying on the aforementioned table as Christine hastily undid his dress - er, tunic. Mid-conversation, Stephen went still. uttering a litany of nos, she began preparing the necessary equipment for whatever she was about to do (can you tell I’m an expert at medical things). Stephen shifted to the astral plane.
“Whoa, what the heck, are you dead?” asked Scott in alarm. This new development raised a lot of questions.
“It’s astral projection,” Stephen explained. “Your astral form is separated from your material form. It is, quite literally, an out of body experience.”
“So like, it’s your soul leaving your body?” asked Cindy. “Because honestly, same.”
“But you’re not dead, right?” Peter wanted to confirm.
“No, not yet,” Stephen replied.
Christine demanded, “What do you mean by yet?” but got no answer.
After taking a moment to gain his bearings, Stephen’s astral form floated next to his body laying on the bed. He watched as Christine prepared to insert the fancy needle tool into his chest. Right before she could, Stephen’s astral form appeared to her with the all-knowing words of, “Just a little higher”, causing her to let out a scream and back away.
“Was it really that alarming?” Stephen questioned, while around him the room’s occupants burst into laughter.
“Are you really asking me that?” Christine shook her head in exasperation. “Seeing the ghostly form of the person you’re trying to prevent from dying is not exactly not alarming.”
“Honestly, doing that seemed kind of dangerous,” May commented, thinking of her own job as a nurse, and how focused she always was when working, especially with patients. “She could have accidentally caused more harm.”
“Please be careful with the needle,” Stephen’s ghostly form warned, as if in response to May’s comment.
“Yeah, thanks for the advice,” came Christine’s sarcastic reply.
“Stephen?” Christine questioned. “What am...what am I seeing?”
“My astral body,” was the response, as though this should have been obvious.
“Are you dead?”
“That’s what we’re all asking,” said Scott in agreement.
“No, Christine, but I am dying.”
“Always a comforting response,” Pepper said.
“I mean, we’re all always dying,” MJ pointed out. “From the moment we are born, we are dying.”
“Nothing really matters in the end,” Peter agreed with a shrug and a smile.
“I feel this on a spiritual level,” Shuri nodded, as did the students from Midtown, except for Brad who, while agreeing with MJ’s words because she was MJ, rolled his eyes at the dramatic antics of Peter.
“Are you...are you guys okay?” Rhodey asked, a note of alarm in his voice. He was used to this type of attitude from Tony, but seeing this from a whole group of teenagers was slightly concerning to him.
“Just dandy,” Peter replied.
“Welcome to Gen Z mentality, folks,” Ned said in an announcer’s voice. “Tonight we’ll be contemplating the few pleasures in life that are keeping me from yeeting off of this mortal coil.”
“Right, right.” Christine recovered from her shock of seeing not-dead Stephen, and resumed her stance over him. Using Stephen as a guide, she was able to correctly insert the needle.
"I’ve never seen a wound like this,” she began. “What were you stabbed with?”
“Magic.”
“Evil magic.”
“i don’t know,” Stephen admitted.
This confession drew a mocking gasp from several people. “The great Stephen Strange, Headmaster of Hogwarts, doesn’t know something?” Tony exclaimed. “Hate to break it to you, but I guess I truly am the superior awesome facial hair bro.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Stark,” came Stephen’s reply.
Meanwhile, back in the corridor in the sanctum, the zealot was still fighting the cloak.
“Ha, this blanket of death is a worthy comrade!” Drax declared.
Then the zealot’s astral form appeared and made for the still-open portal to the hospital that Stephen had created.
“Uh, why didn’t you close that portal to stop him from finding you?” questioned Sam.
Stephen tilted his head. “I was kind of busy trying not to die.”
“Touche.”
Stephen, seeing the zealot’s astral form appear in the operating room, informed Christine that he needed to vanish now, much to her confusion. “Keep me alive, will you,” were his last words before he disappeared. Looking around, still slightly freaked out by the astral projection, Christine muttered to herself for assurance.
“Not your typical day at the office,” May said understandingly. “I’ve seen some weird stuff, but I think this beats everything in terms of explainability.”
Christine nodded. “They failed to mention the possibility of magic fights in an operating room to me in medical school. If I’d known what I was signing up for…” she trailed off, sending a grin at Stephen who simply raised an eyebrow in response.
The screen darkened as it was revealed that Stephen and the zealot were facing off right over the operation table. Our noble hero landed the first blow to his opponent, sending him flying backwards and through the floor. Catching himself, the zealot retaliated, pushing Strange into the wall behind him before grabbing our hero by his neck and throwing him through the wall. This action caused movement of several devices in the room outside the astral plane, and Christine looked over her shoulder in confused alarm.
This turn of events was met with a chorus of “YEET!” from Midtown, as well as winces from Stephen, Laura, May, Christine, and several others.
“So when you do something in the ghost world or whatever,” Tony began, “you also can affect objects in the real world as well?”
“The astral dimension, and yes, to a certain extent,” Stephen replied.
The fight continued in the operation room, with each sorcerer landing blows to their ghostly foe.
“Does it hurt?” asked Clint. “Like, do you get bruises or scrapes when you’re fighting in the astral dimension?”
“No, not that I’ve noticed,” came Stephen’s careful reply.
“The astral dimension is accessible to souls, which are composed of energy,” the Ancient One elaborated. “Because it is not the physical form that is fighting, there will be no physical evidence of a fight once the person returns to their material body.” ***
“Maybe we should host all our battles in the astral world,” Rhodey quipped. “Minimize damage and death.”
“That’s the Mirror Dimension you want to go to,” Wong corrected. “And you can still die in both.”
“Another dimension?” Tony asked in mock protest, feeling a mixture of intrigue and terror. Mostly intrigue though, because while contemplating the prospect of other dimensions and universes was like staring into a bottomless abyss of an existential crisis, Tony also had zero sense of self preservation. He would stop at nothing to learn more about the world of sorcery he was only now discovering, even if it drove him to that point of insanity (arguably, he was already there). Oh well, he thought, better late than never.
“There are many dimensions,” the Ancient One said, smiling serenely.
Like the Dark one, where you draw power from, Mordo thought darkly. Oh man, the author thought while writing this. Wait until everyone learns about the Multiverse. Having broken the fourth wall without anybody knowing, let us continue on this adventure.
The battling pair rolled onto the operation table where Stephen lay unmoving, the zealot landing several punches to the doctor’s face, causing a container (?) of blood to rattle on the stand near Christine.
“Ooh, cherry Kool Aid,” said Peter, nodding as if his statement made perfect sense.
“That’s blood,” Shuri deadpanned.
“My blood,” Stephen elaborated as if that would somehow change Peter’s opinion. Spoiler alert: it did not.
“Yeah, but it looks like Kool Aid,” Peter defended. Ned, Shuri, and MJ were used to dealing with our beloved neighborhood Spider-Man’s antics, and usually even joining in, but these comments had them edging away.
“Please tell me you aren’t a vampire,” Ned said. “As cool as that would be, I don’t know how I would be able to deal with you being a blood-sucking, garlic-hating creature and Sp - ”
“NOPE!” Peter yelped, cutting his friend off and honestly wondering how he and Ned had not managed to spill his secret identity to everyone in the room yet. “Nope, not a vampire, I love garlic far too much to be one.”
“Ooookay, back at it,” Natasha, like usual, found herself to be the one drawing everyone’s attention away from the random outbursts of conversation back to the screen. The sooner they could finish these videos of the past or whatever, the sooner she could get out and track down whatever force had brought them here and demand answers.
Back to the ghostly wrestling match on the operation table featuring Stephen and the zealot. After some more aggressive canoodling (I cannot come up with more synonyms for wrestling, so just roll with it - ya see what I did there?), the pair fell off, pushing Christine back. She uttered a curse under her breath as she struggled to keep her grip on the needle.
“LANGUAGE!” Naturally, it had to be said.
The fighting duo passed through several floors of the hospital. Suddenly, the camera cut to a vending machine as Dr. Nicodemus West (what a name, am I right guys???) inserted a dollar bill and selected a bag of chips.
“Ugh, hate that guy,” Stephen said, just to be annoying. “What kind of parents look at their child and think, ah yes, I want to name him Nicodemus.”
Some people snickered at this. Christine gave him a look of amused exasperation as she replied with, “Bold words coming from someone whose last name is Strange, Stephen.”
“Touche.”
“Okay, but what about the parents of the guy who named their child Benedict Cumberbatch?” it was Wanda who asked this question of her fellow magic wielder. She had seen several of the actor’s movies and shows in her time in hiding with Vision, and was shocked at the uncanny resemblance between the sorcerer before and the actor.
“Never heard of him, sounds like an idiot,” Stephen decided.
“Is he like Kevin Bacon?” Mantis wondered.
Dr. Nicodemus retrieved his chips with a happy little toss and made to leave, when, unbeknownst to him, Stephen and the zealot rolled through the vending machine, causing all of the bags of chips to fall. Apparently not questioning what had happened, Dr. Nicodemus turned around and helped himself to the now free chips.
“Honestly, I would do the exact same thing,” Sam voiced, nodding in approval along with several others.
“Me too,” Christine admitted. “Those chips were overpriced.”
“Capitalism,” MJ said gravely.
Stephen and the zealot kept fighting in the astral dimension, pushing, shoving, and hitting each other until finally, the latter gained the upper hand, landing a hard blow to Stephen’s face that seemed to stun our hero. Without a moment of hesitation, the zealot spun around and kicked Stephen right in the head, causing him to flip over several times backwards, clearly unconscious.
There were a lot of winces at this. Typical complaints of excess violence from the usual crowd. Several people - Natasha, Gamora, Nebula, Hope, mainly - assessed the fight between the pair and analyzed points of weakness. They couldn’t help but admit that the zealot’s final blow had been fairly impressive, even if they were positive they could’ve successfully beaten him themselves.
Back in the operating room where Christine was desperately trying to save Stephen, the heart monitor let out a high pitched wail that indicated he was flat lining. As the zealot lifted Stephen’s unconscious astral form into the air, Christine, her face lined with worry, frantically readied the defibrillators to bring Stephen back. With enough energy, the machine let out a beep and she pressed the device into Stephen’s chest. Meanwhile, in the astral dimension, golden energy burst out of his astral form; the zealot flew backwards, and the cart behind Chrstine clattered backwards.
Brushing off her confusion, she turned back to the heart monitor. “Stephen, come on.”
“Aw, glad to see you care,” Stephen smirked.
“You know, if you weren’t so insufferable it wouldn’t be so hard to show you that I do care,” Christine snarked right back.
“Hit me again!” Seconds after his heartbeat returned, Stephen appeared near Christine causing her to scream in shock.
“You really love doing that, don’t you,” Pepper said, feeling a lot of empathy for the ER nurse on the screen and in the room with her.
“Stop doing that,” Christine demanded.
“Up the voltage, and hit me again,” the ex-surgeon ordered, completely ignoring her request.
“No, but the heart’s beating!”
“Just do it!” And Stephen disappeared once more, ignoring her protests that another usage of the defibrillators wasn’t safe. Christine groaned in defeat, complying with Stephen’s demand and upping the voltage to 360 joules.
“Not big on listening, are you?” Tony grinned.
“Seeing as usually I’m right, no,” Stephen replied, an eyebrow raised at his fellow Awesome Facial Hair Bro.
“I can respect that, happens to me all the time.”
“You’re both impossible,” Pepper said, shaking her head. Rhodey patted her on the shoulder in understanding.
The defibrillator whirred as it charged, adding extra drama to the drama that was already going down. When the device was ready, Christine pressed it once more against Stephen’s chest. In the astral dimension, Stephen had pinned his opponent to the wall. The energy from the second hit caused his physical form to convulse on the operation table, while his astral form began glowing as he shouted in pain. The zealot’s body, laying on the floor of the destroyed sanctum, shuddered several times before going still, the mark on his forehead fading. His astral form exploded into golden dust.
Several people cheered seeing Stephen defeat his opponent, but the uncertainty over whether the zealot had died or not dulled the feeling of triumph.
“Is he...dead?” Mantis asked in a small voice.
The sorcerer let out a slow breath. “I didn’t know it would kill him.” Christine squeezed his hand, an unspoken reassurance. Perhaps he had not had the best of intentions - truly helping people, as opposed to inflating his own ego - when he’d chosen a career as a surgeon, but he had still sworn an oath to protect and help others to the best of his ability, and he held those words close to his heart. Killing another man, even a foe, still did not sit well with him.
Nebula broke him out of his thoughts. “He was aiming to kill.” She inclined her head towards him. Though she sounded emotionless, she felt an odd curiosity at the remorse that the onscreen Terran, as well as many others, seemed to be feeling at the apparent death of an enemy. “Had you not ended his life, he would not have hesitated to end yours.”
“That doesn’t make his death justified,” Gamora argued. “Disputes can end in something other than blood.”
“I wouldn’t know, sister,” came Nebula’s acidic reply. “Every time we fought, I seem to remember a lot of my blood spilling as Thanos replaced my humanity with cybernetics.”
Gamora gave a long suffering sigh, clearly used to this conversation, while many others simply stared at each other awkwardly, unsure of what the proper response was.
“I am Groot.”
“Yeah, you’re right, kid, this did escalate quickly,” Rocket said in agreement.
“I have so many questions,” Scott said, and with that, everyone turned back to the screen.
In the eerie silence of the operation room, Christine anxiously stared at Stephen, unsure whether he was still alive. His dramatic gasp for air and her subsequent shriek of surprise assured her that he was not.
“Oh my God! Are you okay?” she breathed, and he managed to gasp out a reassurance.
“Forget him, are you okay?” May asked her fellow nurse.
“In the moment, no,” Christine smiled. “After a few glasses of wine and some sleep, still no.”
“Was it really that bad?” Stephen asked, slightly miffed.
Christine rolled her eyes. “Yes, Stephen, and the fact you were wearing a dress, talking about joining a cult, and randomly materializing from thin air certainly did not calm me down.”
“For the last time - ”
“It’s not a cult, right, and it’s not a dress, right,” she cut him off, smirking, and he shook his head in annoyance but did not argue back.
The scene changed, revealing Stephen, still looking a little worse for wear, right as he created a time loop. The environment around him was unfamiliar, swirling with purples, blues, reds, and other eerie hues.
Ronan, Ego, Odin, Red Skull, and several others leaned forward with guarded curiosity, unable to deny their interest in the infinity stone the sorcerer wielded, recognizing the green glow as the time stone’s signature energy. As if suddenly sensing the interest in the stone, Stephen shifted slightly, remembering his oath to protect it at all costs.
“Really accessorizing over there, Merlin,” Tony commented in reference to the green band that now adorned Strange’s arm. “Now you’ve got a bracelet to go with that necklace of yours.”
Just as the loop was completed, what appeared to be a ring of violet flames erupted into life being Strange. As the ex-surgeon turned around, the camera panned outward and music swelled to dramatically reveal that the halo of purple was actually the iris of a giant being with an endlessly rippling face.
“That’s the door dude, right?” Monica asked in confirmation.
“Yes, that is Dormammu.” the Ancient One nodded at the young girl, tipping her head towards the screen in apparent interest and ignoring the glare Mordo was leveling at her. The ex-sorcerer felt the anger inside him threatening to explode outward into a fury-laced rant. The fact that the Ancient One could sit there so calmly and smile, as if she were better than the giant creature on the screen! He breathed deeply, reminding himself that she was already dead, her price already paid. He shifted his glare towards Stephen. Of course, everyone else was oblivious to his quiet fuming, instead voicing there awe and terror at seeing Dormammu.
“Wow, that’s a big bad guy if I’ve ever seen one,” Scott commented.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, we fought an entire planet,” Quill yawned, but did not elaborate despite the looks of confusion and interest he was receiving.
Ego, the planet in question, looked very much like he wanted to either argue or appeal to his son, but was cut off by Drax saying, “Still, the giant face we are watching is a formidable opponent.”
Sam whistled at the rippling visage (how many ways can I say face) of Dormammu on the screen. “Yeah, that’s definitely one of the Big Three.”
“The ‘Big Three’?” Bucky repeated in disbelief, staring at the Falcon.
“Yeah, man, everybody knows about the Big Three,” Sam replied with exaggerated patience.
He looked at Steve for back up. “I have no idea what he’s talking about either, Buck,” Steve shrugged.
“Oh come on, everybody knows about it!” Sam protested, looking shocked when everyone in the room shook their heads in denial of the statement.
Coulson raised his hand sheepishly. “I know about the Big Three. Actually, everyone at SHIELD does.”
“Thank you!” Sam exclaimed triumphantly. “See, it’s a thing!”
“And what exactly are the Big Three,” Bucky asked, deciding to humor the other for a bit.
“Androids, aliens, and wizards,” Sam listed without missing a beat. This comment caused several superheroes to lapse into a thoughtful silence as they thought about the battles they had fought and the enemies they had faced, trying to see if their foes fell into one of the three categories. “Every time we fight,” Sam continued, “we fight one of the Big Three!”
“There are no wizards,” Bucky interjected. Sam gestured emphatically at the screen.
“Hate to break it to you, Buck, but we have literally been watching this guy use magic for the past half an hour. Doctor Strange - ”
“Is a sorcerer,” Buck interrupted.
“No, no, no,” Sam laughed. “A sorcerer is a wizard without a hat! Think about it.” This statement earned him several bizarre looks, ranging from the amused (in the case of Steve) and Done™ (in the case of the wizard himself, Doctor Strange). Bucky looked torn between exasperation and actual thoughtfulness, as if he were genuinely considering whether Sam’s words held water.
With his enemy revealed, Stephen leapt down onto the alien terrain in front of Dormammu, a quick glance at his wrist reassuring himself that his time loop was still in place before he declared, “Dormammu, I’ve come to bargain.”
“No offense, but what are you exactly bargaining with?” Darcy piped up. She was holding a large bowl of popcorn. Nobody knew where it came from.
“Perhaps the infinity stone the Doctor of Magic wields,” Thor mused.
Rhodey scoffed, “What the hell is an infinity stone?” Many others in the room were also looking confused at this term. Those who were familiar with the stones and the power they held seemed to shift nervously in their seats, debating a response. Conveniently, the scene continued to play out. Is it because the author is lazy? *laughs nervously* No way! Is it because the infinity stones will be explained in a later viewing? Definitely.
“You’ve come to die,” Dormammu gloated.
“Sounds about right,” Peter nodded.
“This would be a cool way to die,” Natasha muttered under her breath, a small smile on her face.
“Your world is now my world, like all worlds,” Dormammu continued, his voice deep and scratchy.
“Whoa, this guy needs to lay off on the cigarettes,” Sam joked.
“Ha, ha, Sam, you’re so funny,” Bucky retorted sarcastically, even as others around him laughed in appreciation at the Falcon’s comment. "You should lay off on the superhero work and become a full time comedian."
"I know you mean that as an insult, but I take it as a compliment," Sam said. "And for the record, I know you're just mad because I'm right about the Big Three."
With his brief speech finished, Dormammu watched as Stephen defended himself from falling dark dimension projectiles - rocks? Who knows! - before unleashing a stream of purple light from his mouth. Stephen raised a shield of golden energy to protect himself, but within a few seconds his magic failed and he was vaporized.
There was confused silence in the theater at this turn of events, before the spectators erupted into questions.
“That’s not supposed to happen!” Cassie protested, gesturing emphatically to her list of hero job qualifications. “Heros can’t die!”
“Did you actually die, or is this some magic trick of yours?” Christine demanded, brow furrowed in distress.“Please tell me this is some intricate ploy to defeat the door dude!”
“Are we really calling him the door dude?” Stephen protested.
“That’s what you’re focused on?”
“Perhaps the noble sorcerer is not truly dead,” Thor offered in an attempt at reassurance. “Magic users are very good at imitating death. Why, my own brother has faked his demise on numerous occasions, and he is still breathing, as you can see!” He gestured jovially at Loki, who simply shook his head in exasperation.
“Killed by the bad breath from all those cigarettes, I see,” Sam nodded seriously. Bucky groaned.
“That’s why you don’t smoke cigarettes, kids,” Steve said, looking in the direction of the Midtown students.
“Make a PSA!” Sally demanded.
“There already is a PSA for that, Sal,” Liz said, amused.
"Well, I demand an encore!"
Over in the corner, Mordo was still brooding, because this is the only personality trait I gave him in this fanfiction. Upon seeing Strange’s demise, he felt an unidentifiable emotion rise within him. Relief, perhaps, at seeing the sorcerer understand that his actions had consequences. Confusion at knowing that his ex-friend had returned, relatively unscathed, from the dark dimension, assuring everyone that their world would be rid of Dormammu and his zealots. And finally, the cold feeling of realization as he remembered Strange’s use of the time stone. So this was how he had done it. Earth should’ve been lost to the dark dimension. It was only by breaking the natural law and bending time that Dormammu had been defeated. Their victory hadn’t even been honorable.
The screen lingered on the place of Stephen’s vaporization for a moment longer, before everything rewound, and suddenly, the sorcerer was once again casting the spell to create a time loop and leaping down to face Dormammu.
There were a few bewildered noises at this, a few questions of “wait, isn’t he dead?” but many of the viewers seemed to understand what was happening.
“Cool! You made a time loop!” Luis exclaimed excitedly. “Well, not cool I guess because you’re like, trapped with the door dude and just died and everything, but still, that’s awesome!”
“Dormammu, I’ve come to bargain,” Stephen announced once again.
Smug look fixed into his rippling face, Dormammu started, “You’ve come to die! Your world is now my - what is this! An illusion?”
“No, this is real,” Stephen replied calmly.
“Good,” Dormammu said, but in the way villains do when you know they’re about to do something despicable. There was nothing dramatic or showy about Stephen’s second death - no fiery meteors, magic shields, or purple breath. Just a spike straight through his heart.
This second death elicited a louder, more horrified response than the first had. “Why?” Maggie asked in exasperation, trying to cover Cassie’s eyes.
“Oh my god!” Christine had shrieked initially, and now she was just staring at the screen, willing the scene to end sooner rather than later.
The time loop immediately reset. “Dormammu, I’ve come to bargain.”
As the sorcerer checked his time loop for a third time, Tony said, “Don’t worry, your jewelry is as fashionable as ever. Can’t even tell you’ve died twice.”
Stephen sighed, recognizing Tony’s joke as an attempt to ease some of the tension brought by the trauma of watching himself die (and remembering how it felt) over and over.
“You’ve - what is happening?” the dark being seemed to reel back in angry confusion.
“Is it just me, or does the door dude kind of look like a really, really giant version of Groot?” asked Quill. This comment earned looks of pure offense from both Rocket and the walking tree in question.
“I am Groot!”
“Yeah, Groot’s not a villain! Plus, he doesn’t have purple eyes like that!” Rocket added.
Quill protested, “I never said Groot was a villain!”
“‘Cuz he’s not!” Rocket retorted. “If anyone’s villainous around here, it’s you Quill. Your dad tried to kill us!”
“Jeez, I was just making an observation! No need to get so defensive!”
“Just as you gave Kaecilius powers from your dimension,” Stephen explained, “I brought a little power from mine. This - “ he gestured to his trendy green bracelet - “is time. Endless, looped time.”
Dormammu was clearly unsatisfied with this explanation, if his outraged response of “YOU DARE!” was anything to go by. With little time to do anything but mutter an “oh no” under his breath, Stephen was crushed by Dormammu’s fist.
The reaction to this third death was much more subdued, but many viewers felt no less horrified as they watched Stephen die again. The man on screen was taking slow, measured breaths, choosing to focus on a spot slightly above the television. He’d thought he’d moved on from this. When he went to face Dormammu, he had braced himself for death, for eternal pain. He’d even found it amusing how childishly Dormammu reacted. The idea that a single human could successfully bargain against a powerful dark being used to getting his way had been - and still was - amusing to him. Even then, dying a countless number of times was not a fun thing to remember, and his body especially seemed to be remembering each death as it played out on the screen.
Everything reset for a fourth time. “Dormammu, I’ve come to bargain.”
“You cannot do this forever,” Dormammu threatened, his face rippling...threateningly?
“Actually, I can,” Stephen corrected. “This is how things are now. You and me, trapped in this moment, endlessly.”
“Then you will spend eternity dying!”
“Yes, but everyone on earth will live.”
“But you will suffer.”
“Pain’s an old friend.” With these words, Stephen looked up, seeming to accept his next death - obliterated by the purple light Dormammu unleashed from his mouth.
Cindy, who had earlier been crushed realizing that her idol had been an arrogant egotist, now looked back at the ex-surgeon with newfound respect and gratitude. She was not the only one, as many found themselves unable to deny that they were surprised that Strange was willing to pay such a high price for the rest of humanity. Even the Ancient One, who knew what a powerful sorcerer Stephen was, couldn’t deny that she was impressed.
Mordo, on the other hand, continued to scowl.
“You are a noble warrior,” said Thor in approval. “I would be honored to fight by your side.”
“Damn, killed by bad breath again,” Sam muttered, shaking his head.
What followed this exchange was a brief montage of Stephen repeating his demand and his subsequent death - be it spikes, green or purple tentacles, blasts of energy, or planets crashing into him.
At this point, Christine looked on the verge of tears and had a death grip on Stephen’s hand. Laura and Maggie had both covered their eyes - trying to shield their children was a lost cause, because neither Cassie nor Nathaniel were paying attention at that point, and Cooper and Lila were trying to fend of Clint who was only half-joking as he tried to block their view of the screen. Bucky found himself wincing with each death he watched, reminded of his time under HYDRA and silently thanking whatever god(s) was out there that Zola had not been able to find a way to kill him and bring him back to life.
“The door dude is really creative at coming up with different ways for the wizard to die,” Rocket thought aloud. Gamora gave him a pointed look, and then slapped his arm when he ignored her. “What? Oh, I mean, I’m sorry, this is horrible.”
“You’re an ass, Rocket,” Gamora snapped, shaking her head.
“What else is new,” came the reply. He turned to face Stephen. “How much for that cape, by the way?”
“You will never win,” Dormammu triumphed, his face still rippling threateningly as groaning, Stephen struggled to get back on his feet.
“No,” Stephen assented. “But I can lose. Again and again and again forever.”
“How many times did you lose?” Mantis asked in a hesitant voice. She didn’t need to make physical contact with the magical man to know what he was feeling.
He sighed, seeming to decide how to answer. “I lost count around the thousandth.” ****
A few people looked nauseous at the number. Ronan wished that he could have seen every single death, certain they would be amusing to view. Across the room, Wanda, sensing his thoughts, glared at him.
Christine swallowed down her horror, squeezing Stephen's hand. “I really wish you were kidding.”
“Yeah, me too.” He gave her a smile, letting her know that he was okay.
“That makes you my prisoner,” declared Stephen.
Dormammu’s reaction to that statement was instant as he reeled back in anger, immediately impaling Strange with a rainfall of spikes. “NO! Stop! Make this stop! Set me free!”
“No.” Stephen shook his head, a small smile on his face. “I’ve come to bargain.”
“What do you want?” Raising his hands in preparation to break the loop, Stephen laid out his demands. “Take your zealots from the earth. End your assault on my world. Never come back. Do it, and I’ll break the loop.”
“Yes! Practice that assertiveness!” Cindy cheered, already clapping.
“I see you’ve been reading those self-help books again,” Jason said dryly. “I can respect that.”
“I can't believe you were insufferable enough that even an evil entity from a different dimension would do anything to get rid of you,” joked Christine. "Wait, actually I can."
“Hmm, I can think of someone else just like that,” Pepper added, making an exaggerated thoughtful expression.
“Sometimes the best way to defeat the enemy is to talk them to death,” Tony said with a shrug.
“An excellent point,” Quill agreed.
“Or kill them with paperwork,” Pepper shrugged, smiling when Tony groaned.
Attention returned to the screen, but it seemed that for the first time in a while there was nothing more to show.
“Wait, that’s it?” Cindy demanded, eager to see more of her hero.
“What do you mean, that’s it?” Flash demanded. “We’ve been watching the guy for like, an hour at this point! I wanna see Spider-Man!”
The room erupted into chatter, as was customary at this point after a person’s scenes ended. Stephen squeezed Christine’s hand a final time, before releasing it. She gave him a smile, before turning to talk to Wong, Wanda, and Vision, who were seated nearest her. Allowing his gaze to wander, Stephen settled back in his chair, not quite allowing his rigid posture to relax. He was terrible at naming emotions, so of course he had no idea what he was feeling at the moment. Relief, of course, that he was done being in the spotlight - as much as he enjoyed, even relished, attention, he knew he had his flaws, which the mysterious, omniscient entity forcing them to watch the past had made sure to emphasize. But even his accomplishments, his sacrifice to save earth, had left him feeling uncomfortable rather than smug. His wandering gaze caught Mordo. Mordo, who still sat in the corner stiffly and who had been glaring at Strange for the past five minutes. Mordo, whose inner conflict had, if anything, grown even worse.
“The Earth owes you its gratitude,” the Ancient One spoke at last. “The darkness that Dormammu would have released upon its people would have led to suffering and death.” Stephen nodded in acknowledgement, but couldn’t bring himself to answer.
“There is much that still remains in darkness,” the sorceress continued. “For every mountain climbed, there is still another summit to be reached.”
“Makes you feel kind of hopeless, doesn’t it,” Stephen said.
She inclined her head at him. “Not if you have something you believe in.”
A million sarcastic retorts jumped into his mind, but Stephen bit his tongue and simply nodded. It was exactly the kind of thing she would say to his pessimism, but as her words landed, a small part of him agreed.
“Well, what’s next then?” he asked the room at large.
As if they had been waiting for the question, words appeared on the screen: I’m glad you asked that, Doctor. This next viewing is quite highly anticipated by many. Do not worry. Any private information disclosed here cannot be discussed outside of this room. Everyone’s secrets are safe. So, without further ado, you will be watching…
* I don’t know about you guys but when I took Driver’s Ed there was an entire day dedicated to watching cars get hit by trains. Not sure why because we definitely got the point after the first video…
**Interaction based off that one Tumblr post courtesy of officialheroesofolympus.
*** I have absolutely no idea if this is correct or not, I couldn’t find an obvious answer on Wiki so I went with what I had. If anybody knows more about how things in the astral dimension work, please let me know!
****I just looked up “how many times did dr strange die” and apparently in an earlier draft of the movie, there is a line that states he died over 1,000 times - and was also stuck in the dimension for a decade or something like that, yikes