Prologue
The National Art Gallery was a wonderful place to visit, and of the many places in the world Olive had seen, she’d probably place it in her top 10. She’d already visited the Gallery three times in the past week she’d been in London and had always found something new to learn about during her visit. The atmosphere was calm and mostly quiet except for the few group’s of school children that would explore on their field trips.
Unfortunately she wasn’t here to sightsee or learn about the exhibit’s. So today she found herself outside the Gallery as she watched people go about their daily activities, waiting anxiously to see if today would be the day she finally accomplished her first task in her mission.
Finding Marc Spector.
She’d heard the rumors, and she’d overheard her own teacher discussing it with Wong when he thought she wasn’t listening. Though it was hard not to listen to their conversation after she realized how exciting it all sounded. Egyptian Gods, Avatar’s carrying out the will’s of said God’s, Magical Suits and more!
As a student studying the Mystic Arts it was right up Olive’s alley and she was keen on joining in to solve this problem. However one certain man seemed to think the young girl incapable of dealing with said mystery.
Stephen Strange still treated her like she was a 15 year old kid he was training and not the 21 year old she currently was. Wong had often tried to get Olive to understand Stephen’s point of view, that on that dreadful morning in 2018 when Olive was handed her lunchbox and waved goodbye to Stephen and Wong before leaving for school, only Wong was left to watch Olive grow up when she walked back through the door that afternoon. Wong had been there for her graduation, had helped her apply to college, and had been the one to carry on her training.
For Stephen, he returned to a stranger. That same kid he’d joked with that morning knew more than he had taught her, received an Associate’s Degree when she was still supposed to be working towards a diploma, she was quiet and thought things through more than she had when she was still a rule-breaking teenager.
That wasn’t to say that there was any sort of strain on their relationship, Olive still looked up to Stephen like he was her own father, as for many years he’d acted like one for her. But she had noticed a sharp decline in her spell work since he’d returned, her nerves getting the best of her whenever she trained with the Doctor. The ever-looming threat of being a disappointment to someone as accomplished as Stephen Strange.
Which brought Olive back to this very day the breeze tousling her hair outside the National Art Gallery. She was going to prove once and for all that she was fully capable of handling Mystic mystery’s on her own without any problems.
Did she feel an inkling of guilt for just up and disappearing from the New York Sanctum last week? Maybe.
Was she worried about what Stephen and Wong thought of her disappearance? Just a little bit.
Was she constantly watching her back waiting to see the Sorcerer Supreme or her teacher lurking around the next corner to drag her back home and reprimand her for her foolishness? Yes- but she hoped her cloaking spell would keep her tracks covered until she could solve this problem on her own.
Olive was so caught up in her thoughts she nearly missed the curled haired head of Marc Spector dashing by her. Thankfully after studying the picture she found of him for the past week she couldn’t miss it even in the London crowds.
“Excuse me! Sir!” Olive jumped up from her seat.
Pushing through a small group of tourists she managed to grab the back of the man’s jacket.
“Marc? Marc Spector?” Olive smiled.
She couldn’t have been any more wrong as she locked eyes with the man before her. This man shared the same facial structure and same hair style, albeit a bit messier and unkept.
His innocent eyes blinked owlishly into her own. These weren’t the eyes of the cold and hardened mercenary she’d been expecting to meet.
“Uh- sorry, but I think you’ve got the wrong man.”
No- it wasn’t possible, Olive studied and she studied hard, she didn’t get things wrong and she was positive that this was the man she had been looking for. Although the museum didn’t have any employee’s by the name of Marc Spector she’d assumed ( Only after she found out that nobody by that name was employed there,) he’d be using an alias, she understood from her research that he’d used fake names before.
But you can’t change your entire being for an alias could you?
“My name is Steven? Steven Grant-“ The man in front of her tapped the name tag clipped to his pocket. Was that a British accent?
Wasn’t Marc American?
“Awfully sorry miss- but I’ve got to get to work.” Steven nervously shuffled once- twice, giving a small wave before darting towards the museum. “Hope you find who you're looking for.”
Olive Ryder was left, hand outstretched, at the base of the step’s watching him disappear inside and wondering how she could have messed this up so badly without even starting.
Stephen Strange was never going to let her live this down.