Stark meets Strange
Chapter One: Stark meets Strange
“Hey there, whatcha doing?”
Tony was flying in stealth mode through the labyrinthine streets of upper New York and felt quite disappointed with the voice in his ear. “What do you mean Rhodey? I'm on my way home.”
He heard a huff. “Yeah, obviously, but what were you doing out there in the first place?” He asked. “All dressed up.”
“Just correcting a little shenanigan of the friendly spider in the neighbourhood. Nothing too serious.” He replied. “I'm almost back home. So stop-”
Stark stopped mid-sentence and terminated the call. He had caught a glimpse of something strange within his peripheral vision.
“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” He asked, “Could you replay that for me? The … red thingy back there at the corner?”
He hovered mid-air, searching for the fleeting shadow he had just seen.
“Yes, Sir, I guess this is what you are looking for.” His trusted AI replayed the sequence from mere seconds before. “That's it!” He exclaimed, “Reverse eight seconds and make that bigger.”
What he saw on his monitor was absolutely impossible. It was a piece of red cloth flying through the streets on its own. Somehow, it looked as if it were seeking something.
“Where is it now F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Help me find it!” It took them only minutes to catch up with the flying piece of fabric. He positioned himself in front of it, the repulsors ready to fire. He felt silly speaking to a piece of cloth, but he had experienced far stranger things than he'd ever guessed so far, so he decided to give it a try. “Hey there! Stop! Whatever you're up to, just… HEY!”
The thing reacted quickly, much more than he had anticipated. It wrapped itself around his arm and simply dragged him away faster than it should be possible for a piece of cloth. Heavens. What was he thinking? None of what this thing has done so far should be possible.
“Stop that.” He exclaimed and fired his thrusters at it. “I mean it.”
The cloth should have been ripped, but it just shook and wrapped itself around his arm again, tugging stronger now. Looking more closely, he could see it was not merely a piece of cloth, but more some kind of … cape? It had intricately stitched seams and patterns and some pretty clasps. It looked like a magician's costume.
It turned its lapels at him and kept tugging at his arm, now clearly urging him along. He had no idea how this was possible, but it had a pressing need to get him somewhere. He felt sillier by the minute, but he decided to go along. “Hey, you want me to come with you?”
The cape thingy stilled for a moment just to swirl around once in a quick flicker of dramatic gesture before it latched itself onto his arm again, tugging harder.
“OK, I don't know if I'm going crazy now, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. Lead the way, I'm coming.”
He shook his head and followed, stunned with disbelieve when the cape seemed to understand and hovered in front of him, literally quivering with anticipation. When it ‘saw’ (how could it see? It had no eyes!) he'd follow it speed away so fast he could barely keep up.
Soon the sensors registered an energy spike, right down a dingy alley. Some people had gathered in front of a blue energy shield, and the cape was steering right towards it! Before he could slow down, the cape turned quickly and secured itself on his shoulders, whisking him through the barrier. He could see stirred paper and rubbish rolling and bouncing back from the barrier, but the cape had brought him through.
Shit. He could only hope now this wasn't a trap.
The cape detached itself as soon as they hurried towards a figure frozen in an impossibly grotesque scenery.
There was a tall, man who looked like a fantasy-mystic. He was bent backward, about to fall onto some rubble that would spear him. His right hand was spread towards a horrible mass protruding from a rift in reality. The monster was ploughing towards the man with dripping tentacles. Stark could see that one tentacle was about to impale the wizard's shoulder. The blue energy barricading the street emanated from the strange man's hand, also surrounding him and the creature, freezing both of them in the middle of their fight. The stranger's left hand was stretched towards the other side, where the monster's tentacles, oozing highly corrosive goo, had impacted the structure of a building. More blue energy expanded from this hand as well, keeping the falling rubble from crushing some people beneath.
The man was struggling in his strenuous position and the strain to keep those energy fields in check. Sweat was dripping down his face, showing that keeping everything frozen was hard. While he watched the scene unfold, Stark realized that it was moving. The freeze was not absolute, the tentacles inched forwards, the rubble was falling, the people were trying to get away. Everything was extremely slow, almost unnoticeable.
The cape settled itself around the shoulders of the man and immediately pushed him away from the rubble, towards the monster. The man didn't turn around, but a look of relief appeared on his face.
“Wong!” He exclaimed without looking at Stark, “I got the Griparmur Skrímsli! Keep that wall in check and get those people away!”
He had definitely expected someone else to come. But Stark decided to do what was needed.
“Roger that! Just do what you do!” He replied and positioned himself above the people, ready to blast away the rubble and shield them with the suit. He'd rather fight the monster, but there were too many variables here to risk breaking the man's concentration and letting an acidic tentacle alien run rampage.
The man didn't react to the unknown voice, he dissipated both energy fields with little motions of his fingers. Within a second, hell broke loose.
The tentacled mass screeched as if a million lobsters were cooked alive, it whirled and stabbed in all directions, its slime dissolved anything it touched. The wall fell, but was immediately pulverized by Stark’s blasts. He shielded the people with his suit.
The tentacle speared the wizard before he could fend it off with an orange energy shield. Screaming, the man forced the being back into the rift with fiery whips and burning shields. Then he closed the rift.
The man moaned and pressed his hand onto his shoulder, sealing the wound with another blue energy field.
“It poisoned me! Wong, help me! It’ll devour me.”
Tentatively, Stark looked back to the people huddling behind him and to the walls around. The ooze had dissipated, everything looked safe now. Slowly he stepped forward, ready to grab the man who had slumped forward, his eyes closed and breathing heavily.
“What’s wrong with you?” The man forced out between moans of pain. “Forgot your ring?”
He hesitantly grabbed the man's shoulders, unsure what to do next, when the other's hand moved and opened another rift right in front of them. “Get me the sigil at least.” The man pressed through gritted teeth, shivering in pain.
Tony froze, the sparkling portal stirred unpleasant memories, but the wheezing man in his arms looked paler by the second. So he closed his eyes and stepped through the portal, dragging the bigger figure along.
The man was almost unconscious now, and without his marvellous garment and Tony's hold he would have sagged onto the floor of an antique furnished room that looked as if it was part of a museum. His hand stubbornly clamped over the ugly looking wound, freezing it with blue energy.
An alert on his visor showed him that he was disconnected.
Shit.
Another portal opened and a stoic-looking Asian walked through. Was he Wong? He stopped when his look fell onto Iron Man.
“What the…” to the man's honour, he stayed calm.
Stark decided to go with the flow. “He's poisoned, said something about a sigil?”
The Asian didn't flinch. With a flourish, he opened a mini-portal and grabbed something from the other side. He stepped towards them and pushed the man's head to the side.
“Can you rip the clothing when I tell you too?” he inquired towards Stark. “Everything between the sigil and the wound will be burned into him. As soon as the clothing is out of the way, I can seal the wound. We must be fast or he will die.”
Looking down, Stark saw little wisps of smoke escaping the blue glow. He guessed that wasn't a good sign. He nodded and grabbed the tunic right beneath the wound, ready to pull.
“Stephen!” the other man called out, while spreading energy over the wound, “Stephen I need you to let go, I got you, Stephen?”
The tall man groaned and let his hand sink away from the wound. In the remaining blue light emanating from the other wizard, he could finally see the injury clearly. The tentacle had left a small but deep wound that looked horrible. It had speared him mere inches beneath the cape, black streaks and burned blood clotted together while dirty looking goo slowly ate deeper into the already charred flesh. The man Stark assumed to be Wong murmured some incantation and then nodded. Stark ripped the scorched cloth from the man's shoulder the same moment Wong released the energy field and pressed the sigil onto the gaping wound.
A blood-curdling scream ripped from the man's throat when the red-hot sigil burned itself into his flesh. Then he fell unconscious. Stinking black smoke dissipated into the air, leaving a lingering, oily scent.
The other man sighed heavily.
“So now this is done, care to explain what you're doing here?” He said while looking at Iron Man's faceplate completely unimpressed as if nothing of importance had happened just now.
Tony straightened.
“I'll be damned if I know.” He deadpanned. “I'd hoped you could explain.”
The red cape nudged them both. Wong looked down at the figure cradled in the red folds.
“I guess we should discuss that later. The Cloak of Levitation is not known to be patient when it comes to its master's needs.” The man stated dryly.
Stark looked down at the cloth. “Well, this I had the chance to witness. It was very persistent when it took me to help him.”
Curiosity got the better of him and instead of demanding immediate clarification, he deemed it more useful to his cause to help first, ask later.
Together with the other and the Cloak of Levitation, he brought the sorcerer upstairs.
Talking about strange evenings.
He helped the stranger peel ripped clothing from another stranger with the help of a sentient cloak after that. When the other gently pulled the yellow gloves from the man's hands, Tony was taken aback by the scarred flesh beneath.
When they sat next to the still unconscious, what? Wizard? Magician? The other man checked the angry looking wound, sealed by the firmly attached metallic piece. He didn't look very approachable, but curiosity threatened to eat Stark alive. The watch in his visor was still working and showed him that the whole ordeal including the unusual first aid had lasted mere minutes.
Taking in the peaceful surroundings, Stark sighed and let the nanosuit retract so he could see eye to eye.
“So, I was on my way home when I noticed this thing floating around on its own, the minute I tried to inspect it, it dragged me into an epic wizard-battle with the tentacles from hell. As far as I can tell, it was supposed to get you but found me first.” Stark said.
Wong watched him with an unnerving lack of expression.
“Why did you help?” He asked.
“Dunno.” Tony shrugged. “Maybe I'm biased, but when the choice is between Gandalf and an oozing ball of tentacles, I'd say the choice is easy.” He looked thoughtful. “Even if the ‘monster’ really didn't mean any harm, it was sloshing acid poison around. Better having it contained.”
“Hmm,“ the other uttered. “Well, you were right. The ‘monster’ didn't come here with ill intention, it just explored a rift. Stephen had to react quickly, he sent me a message and went off to prevent it from rampaging through the city. Not much choice in this.”
He looked up to the inventor as if waging something.
“Who are you? And who is he?” Stark asked while gesturing towards the sleeping figure covered by a magic cloak, tipping away its master's sweat.
“I’m Wong. And he is the Master of the Sanctum Sanctorum and Sorcerer Supreme, Dr. Stephen Strange.”
Tony hesitated over the alliteration, then chuckled. “Honestly? Strange? That's his name?” Tony openly giggled now. “And I thought the day couldn't get any ‘stranger’.”
It was a cheap pun.
“I have to fetch a few more things.” Wong stated and turned to leave, in an afterthought he added a warning. “Venturing into the sanctum alone could prove perilous. The exit is that way, but if you choose to linger, send the cloak should Stephen get worse.”
“Aren't you concerned for your safety if you leave me here on my own?” Tony replied. Wong chuckled, dismissing the notion with a snort.
Tony didn't quite get the dismissive attitude, but he decided to let it go. He shuffled his chair closer and examined the red fabric of the Cloak. It hesitated for a moment in its caring for its master, but let him anyway.
Nothing had penetrated the artifact. While the other clothing had been completely ripped and the acid of the tentacles had even sighed some of his nanobots, the Cloak was completely unblemished. Not even the slightest fraying at the seams. Still, it felt completely common. Rich and heavy but nonetheless just soft fabric.
He looked at it and got the feeling it was looking back. Tony wished he'd dare to take a sample, but he had felt its strength. So he didn't dare to try while its master was unconscious. Carefully peeling back the edge of the Cloak to have a look at the wound, he felt relieved that it allowed it. Tony didn't believe in magic. He was absolutely convinced it was all just undiscovered science. But he had a hard time finding a scientific explanation for this.
The skin around the wound was sore and red. Blackish-green streaks of poison spread under the skin up the sorcerer's neck. The sigil had burned itself into the wound, sealing it effectively.
Stephen was sweating and even though he was unconscious, he wore an expression of intense pain. Tony gently touched one of his hands, which were so horribly scarred and twitching. His skin felt feverish.
Wong came back, carrying a tablet with a wash bowl full of ice and a cloth to cool his friend's shoulder, also a flask with some unidentifiable fluid.
“Don't you have places to be and things to do?” He asked Stark.
“Always,“ he answered, “but nothing as interesting as this here right now.”
Wong shrugged and went on to help his friend.
“Does he need any more magical attention?” Stark inquired. Wong shook his head.
“Then why don't you take him to a hospital? Let them care for him?”
Stark got up and went closer while asking further.
Wong just stared at him. “And how would I explain that?” He asked. “Besides, Stephen doesn't like hospitals any more, not after…” The man's eyes drifted to the scarred flesh. The destroyed nerves were twitching slightly even now.
“So, what’s happening now?” Stark inquired, and Wong looked at him ponderously. For a moment t seemed he wouldn’t answer.
“The sigil will work on the poison it is now attuned to, cleansing the body. As soon as the healing process is done, it will fall off. That will take some days and until then, the fever will be torturous.”
“Don’t you think that could be a bit much to tend to with home care?”
Wong snorted. “He had worse.”
This left the engineer stunned. It sounded so heartless. Still, despite the displayed indifference, the man had treated the other so gently before.
Seeing Tony’s disapproving expression, and realising he wouldn’t let it go, the man sighed and elaborated. “You assume that people in a hospital are more qualified to care for anybody. But this isn’t just anyone. He’s our Sorcerer Supreme. Don’t let him know that I said this, but Stephen is superiorly powerful, and no one can say what will happen when the fever delirium starts. I need to keep him under close watch by a master of the mystic arts at all time. We cannot risk people's lives in a hospital if he’s hallucinating and trying to fight what he’s seeing. I'll have someone come and care for him as soon as you leave.”
Wong uncorked the flask and carefully poured it into the sorcerer's mouth. Stark saw Strange swallow and grimace without waking up.
Tony got an inkling that this was big. Not just two old coots fooling around, but an organization that went unnoticed by any government.
“You know I have to report this?” He inquired carefully.
“Do what you have too. The Masters of the Mystic Arts have protected this world from threats for centuries. Never has any earthly force been able to penetrate our walls or reveal anything beyond what we allowed to be revealed. You might find that people don’t want to listen if you try to report on us.”
Tony stared at him. “Is that a threat?”
Wong just looked at him.
“Do you feel threatened?” Tony had to admit he didn’t really think anyone would try to hinder him doing anything. The man sighed.
“As I said, do as you must, but don’t expect people to listen. The secrets of the mystic arts guard themselves.”
Tony jumped up and towered over the man still tending to his friend.
“I just cannot accept this.” He said. “I need official answers to the questions people might have. I was dragged into a situation that could have affected innocent people. That did impact bystanders, for a fact. I need something before I can just go!”
Wong looked at him, contemplating, while Stephen started to moan in agony.
“As much as I can understand your position and as grateful as I am for your help, this is neither the time nor the place for this discussion. Moreover, I am not the person with the power to answer your questions. You are welcome to come back as soon as the Master of the New York Sanctum is awake again and able to talk. He's our chosen leader, and he's the only one who can make a final decision about this. Until then, I apologize, but I have a duty and right now, you are in my way.”
With that, he made a gesture with his hand and Tony fell through a portal appearing beneath his feet. Before he could react, the portal closed, and he found himself in his workshop, none the wiser about where he had been just minutes before.