Preposterous!

Later that afternoon, Stephen and Wong are on opposite sides of the library, each with his head bowed over a book. This is a typical day for them, relaxing in familiar companionship outside their active minds. Stephen is resting in the same chair that Everett sat in earlier; Wong is standing beside one of the many waist-high tables in the room, his hands resting on it and his legs shoulder-width apart. He looks relatively comfortable, relaxed but ready to move if the occasion calls for it.

Stephen has a small purple tome open in his hands; it is such a small volume that his fingers almost engulf it. Wong is perusing a huge, thick book that is open on the table in front of himself. The cream-colored pages are ruffling slowly as if a slight breeze is moving them. From somewhere inside the house, classical violin music is playing. Altogether, the friends and their reading materials are a calm picture of domesticity, a true rarity in the Sanctum Sanctorum.

“I don’t understand how the terra wolves had ever been able to range this far East…” Stephen raises his head, his attention suddenly taken from the book. “Did you hear that?” he asks Wong.

Wong stabs his index finger into his book to hold the page down. He cocks his head to the side slightly and agrees. “Yes, I did. Sounds like a bell,” he considers for a second, “Only, there is no doorbell here at the Sanctum Sanctorum.”

“Hmmm,” Stephen agrees, closing his book. A little puff of smoke lazily climbs up from the pages. He studies the room at large for a moment before standing and crossing to a door that has just appeared in the wall. He opens the door, steps through and closes in behind himself.

Wong, accustomed to these types of things and equally able to do them himself, turns back to his reading. He is just beginning to wonder when Stephen’s next guest is going to arrive when the doctor steps back out into the room.

“I knew there was a bit of a cosmic disturbance today. I found the man they’re searching for. I believe they are….” He pauses, eyes closed, one hand held up in the air. “Ah! Not far from here. Wong, should I bring them here or to the second floor?”

“No, here should be fine. There’s still a couple Eengawori slugs loose down there. They shouldn’t live much longer, though.” Wong stands up, stretches, and yawns. “I’ll go down and see if they’ve taken the bait yet.”

“You can stay, if you like, this might prove interesting.” Stephen snaps his fingers and his cloak soars across the room from the cabinet where it hangs out when he isn’t wearing it. He’s changed from his earlier jeans and shirt to his blue Sorcerer Supreme duds now that they are freshly cleaned and pressed, thanks to the ladies at the laundry on Braxis. It now seems that he thinks of it as a uniform, and considering the guests he’s going to greet, maybe this time it may help him to be more formal.

Standing on ceremony is a common thread throughout many planes and dimensions; it is true that some cultures put more emphasis on it than others. They all, however, recognize the rank of Sorcerer Supreme.

“I’ll see you later, Stephen. I called a hotel for your other guest, he should be comfortable there. Also, don’t forget I am visiting family in Hong Kong tonight.” He says, continuing their conversation from earlier, before they started reading.

Wong ties a red ribbon around the pages of the giant book and leaves it resting on the table. Now the tips of the ribbon sway gently back and forth as if the slight breeze is emanating from the book itself and not the room around it.

“I won’t forget,” Stephen allows.

Wong looks at him and raises an eyebrow.

Stephen laughs and winks at his good friend. “Alright, I’ll try not to forget. Enjoy your mom’s cooking.”

Wong raises a hand as he leaves the library. Stephen waves back, looks down at his clothing as he slips on his sling ring. He opens a portal right in front of himself and invites in his guests, one of which he finds so annoying he simply forgets to stop his flight from the city to the Sanctum. He closes the portal so that anyone entering the library would see only a wall.

Within a few moments, Stephen and one of his guests are sitting across from each other. The well-built blonde man has an openly happy expression and seems to be enjoying himself. Stephen thinks it’s because he’s getting a break from his sidekick for a little while.

The big man looks around the place, his eyes taking in books and artifacts. Stephen notes how he seems a but uncomfortable in the grey hoody and jeans he’s wearing, almost like if he moves too fast, something is going to rip. Though of course, there might be certain times that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. He shakes his head a little, reminds himself that he can’t waste too much energy on this problem and returns his attention to the man in front of him.

“Welcome to New York, Thor Odinson.” Stephen smiles as he rests his chin on his fingertips.

Without much preamble, Thor asks “So Earth has wizards now, huh?” Being related to one makes him a bit leery in general. He stares down at the low table between them, where a perfectly ordinary tea cup is resting on a perfectly ordinary saucer. The cup is empty. He doesn’t touch it.

Stephen doesn’t answer, instead conjures some tea into the empty cup. “Tea?”

Thor looks a little disappointed in the severe lack of beverage choices. “I don’t drink tea.” He tilts his head to the side as if wondering what weird place he’s wandered into now.

Thor is always uncomfortable whenever he is forced into using his brain over his brawn; this odd house filled with so many unseen mystical things and magic symbols is making him a bit nervous. Surely his brother would be more at home here. Of course, with his tendency to cause mischief, maybe it is better he’s not yet arrived.

“What do you drink?” the doctor asks, breaking Thor’s train of thought, a slight smirk on his face. He’s more than a bit fascinated, to say the least.

Thor frowns, seems a bit put out to have to explain; he certainly doesn’t want to seem rude to his host. “Not tea.” He shakes his head a little.

Strange changes the neat little porcelain cup to a massive Asgardian stein. Thor’s expression says he is certainly on board with this great choice. He takes a big swig of it, smiles, and watches it refill.

“So, I keep a watch list of individuals and beings from other realms that may be a threat to this world. Your half-brother*, Loki, is one of those beings.”

Thor is very much enjoying his massive intake of Earth ale. “Worthy inclusion,” he agrees. The brew doesn’t touch what’s made in his native world, but at least is has a decent taste.

Stephen watches the Asgardian closely, hoping for more information. When none is forthcoming, he says, “Yeah. So, why bring him here to New York?” As much as he could see earlier, he still can’t put his finger on why the brothers are on Earth, much less in New York.

After a few seconds of silence, Thor finally seems to feel like talking. “It’s a bit of a long story. Family drama, that kind of thing.”

Stephen nods in sympathy without saying anything, still hoping for more. After all the trouble, the least the Asgardian can do is give him an interesting story. He idly wonders if this is how people feel after wasting their time with reality television: the story sounds good but is so typical as to be cliché.

“But, we’re looking for my father.” Thor offers concisely, a man of action and few words to his core. This seemingly is enough of an explanation for him.

Finally!

Thor narrows his eyes at the sorcerer for a moment, tries to remember if he said Odin’s name, gives up and agrees. “Oh yes, promptly.”

Stephen smiles. “Great. Allow me to help you.”

Just as he stands to open the portal door he hid earlier; a man appears from the ceiling and hits the floor with a thud.

Angry, he gets to his feet and brushes invisible dust off his suit jacket. “I’ve been falling for thirty minutes!” he bellows.

Thor stares at Loki for a moment, then turns to Stephen, who is desperately trying to keep his cool demeanor. What he really wants to do is dance around and chant like a rotten schoolboy. Maybe even sing a few bars of that awful song by the Weather Girls from 1983.

He doesn’t allow himself to rise to the bait, however, merely asking them to follow him. Instead of gloating, he opens the portal and points inside. “Go now, but please let me know the next time you plan on arriving.” He offers both men a saucy wink that is completely wasted since they are looking directly into the portal; Loki seems completely disaffected while Thor still seems a bit untrusting.

First Thor, then Loki, step through the portal and vanish. Loki pauses long enough to narrow his eyes the sorcerer, but wisely chooses keeps his mouth shut. One mystical butt-kicking a day is enough for now.

Stephen closes it and turns away, satisfied with a job well done. Instead of returning to his studies, however, he heads down to the kitchen. Since Wong is gone for the night, he is going to cook up something otherworldly and he won’t have to worry about any complaints about his odd tastes.

“It’s only the odd tastes in food that Wong seems to have any issues with.” Stephen says to the room at large. Absently he considers the mind of the warrior and the mage and wonders which one will come back first.

As soon as he opens the door to the refrigerator, Stephen is interrupted from his culinary experiments by a knock on the front door. He can hear a man’s voice outside complaining loudly to anyone who will listen that it is preposterous that no door knob can be found. Stephen smiles to himself, closes the ice box, and prepares to meet the day’s last guest and the only one he purposely invited to the brownstone today.

*little note: I’m sticking with the original myth whereby Loki is a son of Odin and his mother was an Ice Giant.