Chapter Text
“How much experience do you guys have with the Multiverse?”
“We have experience of the Multiverse. Most recently, there was an incident with Spider-Man-”
“Between What-Man?”
Stephen’s brain had been churning since that conversation with America. Even when all the dust with Wanda had settled and America was safely apprenticing in the Kamar-Taj, he found himself fixating on it.
“Gross. Does he look like a spider?”
“No, no, more like a man.”
It had slipped out with such confidence that if he had been America, he would’ve assumed that Stephen had seen what Spider-Man looked like under the mask, perhaps multiple times. But Stephen was so sure that he hadn’t. The man was well known for never showing his face. In fact, he had barely talked to the guy. The longest they had a conversation was when Stephen was at the Liberty Monument, creating some sort of spell to save the multiverse. The memories were blotchy and torn, making it hard to even properly understand what had happened or why.
Well. That was the problem of casting a spell that involved the entire multiverse and the fabric of reality itself, it seemed. There were disturbingly large gaps in his memory, especially when it came to the late Tony Stark and also, saving the world. It was starting to get distracting as the more he pushed the blank spaces, the more his head protested. At first, he had chalked it up to dissociation. After all, it certainly wouldn’t have been the first time his brain had gone on auto-pilot and made a soup out of important memories. But as he continued to poke and prod at the gaps, it was starting to become clear that it wasn’t normal or natural-it was objectively mystic amnesia. Even with his rare dissociative tendencies, he always had a general idea of what had happened. But these memories were completely gone.
It had ended up bothering him so much that, during an incident where a brown-haired kid visited the New York Sanctum asking for help with some mystic problem that involved his aunt and a teapot, he had eventually handed over the problem to someone else to take care of.
The great, intelligent, sometimes full-of-himself Doctor Strange, shirking off a little kid’s simple issue to someone “more capable” of handling it. Nobody had ever thought they would see the day. Stephen quickly became a bit of a laughingstock, the others pointing out his-”pardon the pun”, they would always add, he was getting sick of it-strange behavior over the past month. Even Wong, who was mostly nonchalant about many of the doctor’s behavioral patterns, had asked what was going on. It left a bitter taste in his mouth to be unable to answer him.
“Whoever the hell Spider-Man is behind that mask, he better have been worth losing a chunk of my memories for him.” Stephen growled to himself as he stared daggers at his Cloak. Levi, Tony had called it once before. Stephen grunted in pain as he recalled a blurry figure next to him, laughing heartily and teasing the Cloak-
“I’m going insane.” Stephen buried his face into the Cloak, and it patted him with its tassels reassuringly. Yes, it seemed like he had successfully saved the multiverse from collapsing in on itself. Yet the aftereffects were less than desired. Waking up everyday to feel like some of his life had been a part of some drunk incident and he was just shaking off a hangover was annoying and awful.
“Do you remember anything? At all?” Stephen asked the garment. It shrugged before using the ends of its cape to parody catching someone before flying up. He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, that doesn’t really help when I have absolutely zero context to what you’re trying to tell me.” The Cloak drooped a little and he comforted it with a slight pat before whisking it onto his shoulders. He then started to pace around the room.
“I need to find an outsider. Someone with enough mystic knowledge that’ll know what’s going on but not enough that we risk destabilizing the multiverse for…what, the third time? Maybe even someone close to Spider-Man, or at least knows of him. Smart, so they can help without being a nuisance...” Stephen glanced at one of the Sanctum’s large windows, catching the glow of the moon in the sky as it rose. “Shit. Fuck. May the Vishanti help me.” Stephen uttered, knowing exactly who to go to for help. Unfortunately for him, though, he was pretty sure he didn’t cross off on the list of “not being a nuisance.” Still, if he wanted to get anywhere, well…
It was going to be a long night.
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
Turns out looking for a bright white mummy hero in the dark night was harder than Strange had thought. One would think it easy, but it became annoyingly difficult.
After nearly thirty minutes of fruitless searching, he gave up and sat on the edge of one of New York’s tall buildings. The only reason he hadn’t found Moon Knight yet was likely because he didn’t want to be approached; instead he wanted to be the one approaching. A stubborn man, but Stephen couldn’t pretend like he wasn’t the same. So, he focused on being patient.
Eventually he was rewarded with a low thud from behind him. The noise diverted his attention from his thoughts and made him smirk. “Who are you and why have you been trying to track me?” A slightly gruff voice demanded. Stephen stood up and turned around, trying to stamp down the many sarcastic thoughts running through his head. He had to at least make the man aware that his assistance was wanted, although perhaps maybe not desperately needed.
“I’m Doctor Stephen Strange.” An odd choked noise left the man’s mouth, his outfit doing a bizarre shift-like it couldn’t decide what form it wanted to be in, which left Stephen wondering if it behaved like his Cloak-before it settled back to normal.
“I’ve…heard about you. Don’t you have better things to do than mess around talking to me? Like, wizard shit?” The man crossed his arms, his glowing eyes squinting out of mistrust.
Strange raised an eyebrow. “Well, if it helps, nearly everything I do can be considered ‘wizard shit’. But this ‘wizard shit’ is my own shit, and I was hoping that with your experience in the supernatural, your perspective would help clear up some things. Not to mention, your obsession with the night.”
“It’s in the name.” Moon Knight responded, waiting expectantly. Seems like he’s not that much of a talker. He could work with that.
“I know you’re not usually based in New York-and yes, I do know about your stunt with changing the sky, never do that again because people were in disarray for weeks and conspiracy theorists kept banging on our doors-but you’ve been here frequently these past couple of months.” Strange dove into the little talk he had prepared. Granted, he didn’t expect this conversation to have gone as smoothly as it had thus far. Between their lack of history together and vast philosophical differences when it came to death and life and justice, Stephen had thought they would be at each other’s throats two minutes in. (Okay, perhaps he had researched just a bit too much about the man, even without his wallet name. Google was an surprisingly invasive yet informative tool. It made him terrified to even search his own name up in fear of what he might find. He also wisely avoided bringing up the part where he apparently defeated an Egyptian god, causing even more people to revolt against their sorcerers.) “Have you met Spider-Man?”
“...Yes. Why do you ask?” Moon Knight said carefully. “You better not be planning to put spells on him.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that.” Stephen admitted, feeling a foreign sense of guilt creep up his spine. A sense of guilt that kept showing up ever since he had started to recognize gaps in his memory a month ago. “The problem is, I don’t remember why I would’ve done so. Actually, I barely remember anything when it comes to the subject of Spider-Man…or even who he was under the mask. I feel like I should, but I don’t, and I’m starting to wonder what sort of mess I’ve possibly created. Yes, I’m certain I did it to save the multiverse-”
“There’s a multiverse?!” Moon Knight sounded genuinely startled and a bit excited at the prospect, his voice on the verge of some sort of accent. Stephen elected to ignore it, filing it away as a quirk to ask about later. First, he needed to make sure there would be a later, period.
“Yes, not the point, and don’t leak that info to the general public or even the Avengers, we’re still trying to figure out a way to break the news safely. Most mystic users are still hiding from the world.”
“W-I’m not really a part of the Avengers, or even what’s left of it. More like a consultant, especially with how I…operate. They only talk to u-me every once in a blue moon.” Stephen just stared at him.
“Are you seriously making moon puns?”
“Not seriously, no. You’re losing me here.”
The doctor’s eye twitched before he continued. “I’m starting to wonder how much time you’re spending with Spider-Man, because I swear he would say that, despite my lack of memory.” He sighed and waved a hand. This was taking much longer than he had hoped and he was getting off track. “My point is that I would appreciate your help. I need an outside perspective, one that knows Spider-Man as he is now instead of whoever I knew him as. We must figure out what exactly I did and if it can be fixed without repercussions.”
“I don't trust doctors.” Moon Knight said he flatly.
“And I don’t trust Egyptian-God enhanced individuals who brutally assassinate their targets, but here we are.” That actually spurred a reaction from the Knight, causing him to flinch. I shouldn't have crossed that line.
“I only kill the lowest of the low.” His voice was sharp.
“Yes, vengeance, I know. Listen, Moony, if I finally remember everything and it turns out I hurt this Spider-Man? If I did something to him that he didn’t deserve? Then you’re free to have my head. But for now, I need you to at least be cooperative. We’re doing this my way, at least as long as we can.”
Moon Knight stilled, his fists clenching and unclenching. Even with the mask, Strange could tell he was thinking. Perhaps thinking harder than necessary. He even tilted his head a little like he was listening to someone. Finally, he walked next to the sorcerer, the tips of his toes right on the ledge of the building.
“Fine. We can meet at the Sanctum in the morning.” He seemed to hesitate before adding quietly, “And I would never kill you, not unless…if something happened…but-” He took a deep breath. “You’re not entirely lost to greed or ego or anything like the others I’ve killed. Maybe not completely off his radar, but I believe that you at least have some worth left in you.”
“Well, maybe saving the world helps with someone’s worthiness, who knows.” Stephen said dryly, not letting the man get under his skin. Moon Knight looked down and laughed.
“For some people, saving the entire world is the least that they could do to make up for what they’ve done.”
With that, he jumped off and let the wind fly him away, leaving Stephen to have a strange chill up his spine.
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
“Oh my days, just look at these photos! Seriously, they’re amazing!” Steven exclaimed excitedly as he crinkled the Daily Bugle newspaper in his hands.
“You’ll have to show me once I get back.” Layla's voice was full of amusement over the phone. Steven felt a little silly.
“Alright, maybe they're not world-changing…but they're really good compared to what the papers were showing when we first got here. They must've hired a professional photographer.” Steven snuck a peek at the credited name. Peter Parker. “Huh. Strange. I’ve never heard of him.”
“Maybe they just got lucky with a new hire. Some people can be surprisingly good at photography when given the chance.” Layla reasoned.
Steven stowed away the paper to admire later. “Yeah, maybe. Speaking of strange things, we have to get going, love! Marc’s meeting a famous magician-wizard!” He wiggled his fingers for emphasis, even though Layla couldn't see. The connection wasn't great, so audio-only was the best they could do.
“Well, don't get turned into a rabbit and go disappearing into a hat on me, alright?” Steven could hear Layla’s smile, but also knew if something happened to them she wouldn't hesitate to crash land into New York.
“I promise nothing like that will happen! You hear that, Marc?” Steven asked out loud, waiting for his voice to respond back. Silence. He sighed. “Think he's further away this time, which won't do because the wizard only knows of him so far…”
“And that's okay. Don't think you owe the wizard an explanation about your brain. If you're just working together for a bit, you might not even have to tell him.”
“He doesn't trust us.” Steven bit his lip in frustration. “Also, he's mad about the sky thing. Apparently it disrupted things in the magic department which was not really our fault, it was to save the world from Harrow! And I looked cool doing it! So I think he could back off a little bit.” As he spoke, his vision started getting fuzzy at the edges. He could hear Layla speaking, but could barely latch onto the meaning of her words. He managed to mumble, “Can you stop for a little bit, please, love?” as he felt his limbs get numb and his head get foggy.
Marc blinked a few times before looking down at the phone that was sitting on the table. “Layla? What am I doing?”
“You’re leaving right now because you need to see the wizard.” Layla helpfully answered. She had gotten used to their switches and tried her best to reorient them when needed. It helped the men a lot, especially as their communication between all three of them differed depending on their mood and situations.
“The wizard?” Marc felt his voice raise an octave in utter confusion. “Why the hell would I-oh! Oh, shit! The wizard!” He was already preparing to climb up to the roof of their temporary apartment. “I gotta go, I love you so much, okay? When do you think you’ll be back?”
“Should be in a day or two. Not a lot of Harrow cultists left to rehabilitate, fortunately. I love you more! Good luck!”
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
A subway ride and a couple minutes of searching later, Marc found the Sanctum. It was hidden pretty well-a couple spells had been placed to do the opposite of charming, making the building look completely ordinary and uninteresting to anyone who wasn’t explicitly looking for it. Due to Khonshu’s influence, though, the spell didn’t affect them at all.
Speaking of Khonshu, he made sure to perch on every brightly lit streetlight Marc walked by, his beak pointing directly at the ground as he judged. Marc stopped and sighed loudly after the fifth time. “I told you, I’m not summoning the suit. We need to be inconspicuous.”
“I understand your lack of concern about identity. After all, you already know his. But are you not worried about him learning about your…special condition?”
Marc fought the urge to roll his eyes. And failed. Khonshu scoffed at the disrespect despite both of them knowing he was used to it after all these years. “If it happens, it happens. I don’t want to tell him about us, but we may not have a choice. I don’t think this problem is going to be fixed in just a few days.” He ran his fingers through their hair, feeling the gel he had slapped on before he left smudge in their wake. “He’s not a bad person. I just don’t trust him.”
“You won’t trust him.” Khonshu amended, who had jumped from the streetlight in the middle of their conversation. It flickered as he left it. “It is not in your nature. Nor is it in his nature to trust you. Remember that. Just don’t stop. My senses…they say that this road is important.” And with that, he disappeared to who-knows-where.
"Do you think he practices what he says to us in a mirror beforehand?" Steven commented, sounding extremely ticked off.
“No, but if he did, it’d make me feel a lot better about us talking in mirrors.” Marc answered quietly before walking the last couple steps up to the giant doors of the Sanctum. “Now, quiet. Unfortunately, the big bird has a point…this time.”
When he went to knock on the giant double doors awkwardly, they automatically opened. Marc stared at the huge room that awaited them inside, hand still poised to knock.
Does that mean we go in? Or will we be immediately vaporized on the spot? Steven asked worriedly.
“Only one way to find out.” Marc murmured, stepping through the entrance. The doors shut with a resounding click but other than that, no vaporization occurred. “Starting to wonder if this is a wizard’s den or a haunted house.”
I mean, there’s not much difference, innit? They make a lot of spooky Harry Potter-esque attractions and rides nowadays. Or, oh wait, are they sorcerers? I really can’t remember… Marc let him ramble despite not focusing on a single word of it, instead lightly tracing his hands on the rails of the staircase as he walked up it.
“Hello?” He called out once he reached the top. There seemed to be nothing but relics in glass cases, objects frozen in time. Marc laid a hand on the glass, inspecting some sort of portable magic cage.
They really don’t have any Egyptian artifacts here, huh? Steven’s reflection appeared on one of the glass cases, a trick in their mind’s eye. Unless they’re kept somewhere else and these are the relics they’ve attained in just America…still, it’s fascinating…
“Eh. As long as they don’t try to kill me, I don’t really care where they’re from.” Marc shrugged before knocking on the glass once.
Immediately, loud alarms started going off seemingly from nowhere. Marc jumped and whirled around, trying to figure out where the alarm had triggered. Nothing on the walls, nothing on the floor-are the alarms seriously magical, too!?-and then a shoe was torpedoed at him, smacking him dead on in the face.
Mierda, what is going on, I blacked out for-are we in a wizard’s den!?
Oh, good morning, Jake! Steven chirped casually. He was a master at pretending everything was fine. Marc just wished he could be a bit more focused on the current situation where a small shoe had somehow knocked him flat into the floor.
“Who are you? How did you even get in here without setting off my alarms? And why are you stealing artifacts at four in the morning!?” A stout man, presumably the one that had thrown the deadly fast shoe, yelled at him.
“I arranged a meeting with Doctor Strange. Not with his…guard dog.” The man scoffed, stepping closer with another shoe. He was dressed in robes that looked more like sleep clothes than wizard ones.
“You? A meeting with Doctor Strange? When you don’t even recognize the Sorcerer Supreme in front of you?”
It was times like this that made Marc remember that he had been living under a self-sabotaging, Khonshu-serving rock for the past decade. It made him feel a little better that Steven or Jake weren’t popping in with the answer, though. Other than Steven’s little excited whisper of: Oh, so they are sorcerers!, they were radio silent. None of them knew who this guy was.
“...Sorcerer Supreme?” Marc asked dumbly and instantly felt like hitting himself in the face for it. The man had to take a couple of deep breaths after that.
“You’re not very involved in the mystical arts, are you?” Mystical arts = magic, right guys? Marc quickly asked. Both Steven and Jake’s reflections shrugged. Good talk.
“Not really, no.” It was technically true. He’d categorize the creatures he had encountered until the “supernatural” tab, and that was when he wasn’t using his ex-mercenary skills on regular, usually non-powered humans.
“You have no idea what these relics are or what they do, correct?”
“I mean, I could guess. Like, uh. That cauldron over there makes sleeping spells.”
The man’s face somehow soured even further. “That’s the Cauldron of the Cosmos. You’re not a thief or an ex-sorcerer.” He tilted his head. “But god essence reeks off of you. You’re like a glowing spotlight for any god that could come near you.” Marc sighed as he picked himself off the ground.
“Yeah, that’s probably Khonshu’s doing. He’s pretty possessive of his Avatars. I’m betting it’s like a giant “do not touch” sign.”
The man blinked before his entire being turned ragged. “If I’m going to keep talking to you, I need coffee. And maybe some Beyonce. Why did Strange ever agree to meet with you at this time?” He started to head down the stairs and Marc followed him. “He’s not even awake right now.”
“A couple of hours ago, I told him we would meet in the morning.” Marc shrugged. “Any time after twelve A.M. is morning.”
“Have you slept at all since then?”
Marc chose not to answer that, throwing the pressure back onto the man. “So what’s your name, huh? Or do I have to call you ‘Mr. Supreme’ till the end of time?”
“Wong.” The man said simply as he grabbed a coffee cup from a table to the side. It magically started filling up with dark, steaming coffee.
Oh, like Shakira! Steven realized. Marc chose not to relay that out loud.
“Marc.” He supplied, choosing to keep his last name to himself. “When is the doc gonna be awake?”
“When he realizes there’s a chittering animal in the New York Sanctum after a ridiculously loud spell alarm goes off, which isn’t supposed to happen because Wong would’ve sent any intruders to the Dark Dimension.” Doctor Strange himself answered as he stepped out of a glowing orange portal. Unlike Wong, he was dressed to the max despite the early hour: cool robes, cool cape, and a cool demeanor. He raised an eyebrow at Marc. “I would’ve thought you’d keep the classy outfit. After all, you’re currently next to the two most powerful sorcerers that haven’t ended up evil or dead.”
Maybe choosing to come here so early was a bad idea. Strange’s curt assholery seemed to have gone up by at least 20%. Not wanting to entertain him with a long-winded response, he lifted up his arm and let the bandages twirl around it in warning. “If I suddenly feel like throwing an impromptu costume party, I can adapt pretty fast.”
“Oh, great. You’re everything I have never wanted under this Sanctum’s roof.” Wong muttered as he made another orange shimmering portal. “Call me when you’re done or when Khonshu decides to ruin the world by sending him after our leaders.” With that, he fell back into a bed, and the portal snapped shut.
“Are all sorcerers this grumpy or is it just you two?” Marc crossed his arms.
“It’s four in the morning.” Strange answered curtly. “Now, tea or water? Most people don’t like tea these days, it’s made accommodating them difficult for conversations.”
“I know what time it is.” Marc gritted his teeth a little. “And water.” Steven would’ve picked tea, but Marc couldn’t stand the stuff. And it was still a little early for coffee. “I told you we’d meet in the morning.” He blinked and all of a sudden they were standing right next to a steaming teapot on a stove. Marc jumped a little, spinning around wildly. “What did I tell you about doing weird wizard shit!?”
“Yeah, and I thought you had meant a normal time in the morning, like eight A.M. Maybe I should’ve thought differently, Mr. Night.” Strange summoned two cups and his cloak filled them with their drinks, pointedly ignoring Marc’s protests. Marc almost snarked about him being lazy but watched his gloved hands shake as he took the cup. None of my business. "But you can't argue against the fact that most people aren't even awake at this time."
You’re not Mr. Knight! I’m Mr. Knight! Steven huffed. Jake was silently watching, his reflection stoic on the kettle. In another blink, they were in a library. Marc opened his mouth to complain about it again, but Strange simply sat down and raised an eyebrow at him. He followed suit, making sure his cup was settled on the coffee table.
“I’m not Mr. Knight. I’m Moon Knight. Mr. Knight is a different guy.” It was all he could think to say, anyway. He really hadn’t planned to get this far in their conversation.
“I don’t know much about the Ennead but I’m certain they can only have one Avatar at a time, yes?” Marc waved a hand.
“Mr. Knight is a different guy.” He really didn’t want to get into it. “The point is, what did you do to Spider-Man?” They had met up with the guy a few times on late night excursions. He was a nice kid, probably late into college. He also knew about their system after a couple of embarrassing slip-ups (In our defense, we were new to the city! Steven added to Marc’s train of thought) and had taken it well, making sure to remember which outfit belonged to which alter. He never lifted his mask, and they had never pressured him to. In return, he never pressured them to lift their mask or give him their real names. Marc never wanted to replace his younger brother, but Spider-Man had gotten as close to one as he could be. If something bad had happened to him…
Strange raised his hands, shrugging. “That’s the problem. If I don’t remember-if nobody remembers, maybe not even Spider-Man himself-then there’s no way for me to figure out what happened or what I did.”
“So, what do we do then? We just sit around waiting for something to happen?” Marc asked, annoyance rising as Jake got closer to the front. Strange shook his head.
“No. I need my memory back. Spider-Man has somehow been a large part of my recent life and without those missing pieces, I’m distracted.” Marc bit back about eight curses at that. Does he not care about the boy? Steven asked, concerned.
Seems like it’s complicated. Jake said slowly.
“So what I’m hearing is, you need me more than I need you. I could just leave you to complain all alone forever about your missing fragments of memory.”
“I would prefer it if you didn’t. Normally, I have a photographic memory. You can see why this would be jarring for me.”
“Yeah, but it’d be fine. You’d learn to live with it, like I have.”
“Have you also lost your memory to mystical reasons?” Strange furrowed his eyebrows. If he kept doing that he was going to get wrinkles that not even magic could fix.
“Just…normal reasons.” He didn’t elaborate. Marc tilted his head slightly, taking the doctor in. “I don’t have a great history of working with others. What can you do to prove that you just might be different?” He felt his voice lower, teetering on dangerous.
“Does your ‘history’ have something to do with your ‘normal reasons’ for memory loss?”
“Just answer the question. I’m starting to get tired of the musty book smell.” He pretended not to hear Steven’s indigent cry at that sentence. “Give me something to work with here.”
Strange sighed before leaning back in his chair, looking around the room. He chewed his lip in thought before he slowly lifted off his gloves. Marc couldn’t help but feel his eyes widen as he looked at the sorcerer’s hands. Jake let out a low whistle. Dios mío, I’ve seen a lotta shit out there, but those look rough.
“Car accident. My fault. It cost my entire career.”
“...Does it hurt?”
The man smiled sadly. “Pain’s an old friend. But they don’t hurt much with all the nerve damage. Any other major pain that was once there has dissipated from magic use or time. Some days are worse than others, though.” He sighed. “I try not to show them to the public eye. People think that with all my fancy hand gestures, my hands must be incredible. They’d probably doubt my skills if my…condition was well known. It wouldn’t be true, but it’d be a headache to deal with.” He said the last part dismissively. Defensively. Marc was familiar with the tone.
“Or your enemies could use it against you. So it’s better for nobody to know.” Marc finished quietly. A look of understanding passed between them. “I think…I think I get it.” He stood up quickly. “Right, well, you ready to use the subway system?”
“What?” Stephen said, looking a little caught off guard. It felt good. What? Steven and Jake asked, which did not feel as good.
Relax, guys. I think…I think this actually might work out somewhat for us. “I did a little research before I came over here. This whole thing went down at the Liberty America Whatever They Renamed It To statue, so let’s just go there. And we’re not portalling. Also, get out of your wizard robes. Nobody dresses like that on the subway.”
“Some people do. It’s called “cosplay.”” Stephen grumbled before getting out of his chair. He whirled his fingers, and suddenly their cups were gone. “Right. Well, I do seem to have a habit of picking the weird ones. Lead the way, Moon Man.”
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
The only way to get across the water to the Statue was to go on a boat. Both of them had forgotten that fact until they were standing in front of a shop that offered boats for rent at a reasonable price. Unfortunately, it had started raining and while Stephen had magicked up some raincoats, it still didn’t make the uneasy feeling rotting in Marc’s stomach go away. Nor did it make the memories vanish. It was so prominent that he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to ride a boat today.
Doctor Strange was in no hurry to step into the shop either. He clicked his tongue in thought before turning to Marc. “We can probably make a portal. We’re close enough, anyway, nobody should notice.”
Marc chewed his lip as he looked out into the ocean and agreed tentatively. They moved, finding a hiding spot behind a large dumpster that the shop used for their trash. It would work for a quick portal.
I think we’re being watched. Jake muttered as his reflection in one of the many puddles turned left and right suspiciously.
Personally, I’m more focused on the smell of a wet skip. Absolutely disgusting. I’m really not sure why we’re letting Marc be in charge here.
Because Jake is paranoid and you’re complaining about wet dumpsters when there’s twenty things that smell worse. Marc snapped, nearly saying it out loud. He knew they were just all on edge from the weather and being with a slightly creepy wizard, but his patience was wearing thin. However, he had to keep it under control lest the aforementioned slightly creepy wizard would start asking questions. Questions that would do them no good.
The portal opened easily and suddenly they were staring up at the remains of Lady Liberty-Captain Liberty? Marc really had no idea what it was called now. The point was that nobody had really bothered to rebuild it yet. “Guess we better start looking for…magic clues?” Marc suggested, shivering as the cold rain shifted over to light snow.
“Yes. I can look for traces of my own magic, to see if I can grasp what spell I cast. If I figure it out, I can reverse-engineer it and maybe get everything back to normal.” Stephen also shivered, but he tried to hide it. “As quick as possible, preferably.” He then summoned another portal and appeared on top of Miss Liberty’s arm.
“I’ll just be on lookout, then!” Marc called to his retreating figure.
Bit of a lone wolf, isn’t he? Maybe you two really will get along. Steven said cheekily.
We’re still being watched. Jake gritted out.
“I’ll search around, see if I can find anything.” Marc answered softly, walking around on the sands. There really wasn’t a lot on this little island, just a lot of pillars that nobody bothered to clean up and the giant shield that was halfway submerged into the ocean. He frowned a little as the rain picked up, wind blowing the sand all over the place.
“There’s not a lot of places someone could be hiding.” Marc grumbled as he stuffed his hands into the raincoat’s pockets. He felt himself drift a bit as Jake slotted into front with him.
“I’m not paranoid. I know I’m right. I just can’t figure out where.” Jake kept his voice low, making sure the sorcerer couldn’t hear. Quickly, he looked up to double check that Strange was still busy.
And that’s when he saw him. A head poking out from behind one of the tarps that had been placed to cover up the mess of the statue. Bug eyes stared back from afar at him, head tilted slightly to the side like he was listening. Spider-Man’s here?! And he’s been listening to us? When did he get here? Steven shouted mentally.
He must’ve snuck in through the portal, fuck. Marc swore as he took back full control of the body. Spider-Man seemed to notice that he’d caught on, so he moved closer to the sorcerer. Damn kid with super-hearing.
Do you think he went through the portal out of curiosity or because he knows Doctor Strange? Doesn’t that mean he might have some memories of what happened? Oh my goodness, is he going to take the wizard out? Steven kept rambling as Marc walked closer. He debated whether or not to summon his suit but decided against it, simply climbing up the sole remaining ladder.
The pequeña araña ain’t gonna attack the doctor, that’s not his style. Jake tried to reassure Steven as the three of them watched from below, seeing Spider-Man stealthily get closer to the other man. I think he’s just here for information. Smart kid.
“Marc?” Stephen asked as Marc ascended the ladder. The man was sitting on the floor, orange trails of magic shivering and bending around him. His two eyes were closed but a third one had opened on his forehead.
Oh, that’s gross. Cool, but gross. Do you think he accidentally pokes it whenever he goes to itch his forehead? Steven asked, a bit of glee in his voice.
I’d pay big money to see that. Jake snickered.
“Shut up.” Marc hissed quietly. Stephen’s third eye twitched a bit.
“Did you just tell me to shut up?”
“No-that wasn’t…er, it was more to myself.” Holy shit, he was off his game today. Normally he could shrug off his weirdness to other people, but between the rain turned snow and the wizard’s general even-weirder-ness, Marc had been struggling. “Ignore me. What’s your diagnosis, doc?” If Spider-Man wanted information, he’d give it to him. Stephen actually hesitated a bit before answering.
“It’s…big. Much bigger than I had thought. Well, I suppose a spell involving the multiverse is pretty big, but I had been hoping the memory loss was just a side effect. Magic always has a cost, and memory loss would make sense.”
“So what? You made a spell involving the multiverse to purposefully inflict memory loss on yourself?” Marc wasn’t following.
“No. There was some sort of…tear. A tear that caused many, many creatures, villains and regular people to start coming to our universe, which would’ve caused a giant Incursion. They came here because of someone.”
“Spider-Man.” Marc said gravely, sitting down next to the sorcerer. The other man shook his head.
“It’s a possibility. But it’s equally as likely that the person could’ve been me. In exchange to save the multiverse, I might’ve given up my memories of the person that helped save it with me. We can’t be sure until…we must question Spider-Man.”
“Well, geez. I wonder where he could be.” A sarcastic voice blurted out before the sound of a hand being slapped over a mouth could be heard. Stephen got to his feet in surprise, but Marc didn’t move a muscle.
“You knew he was here, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question. Marc shrugged just as Spider-Man crept out of his hiding place.
“Okay, listen, that was an accident. Comes with the whole quippy reputation I’ve built for myself, yeah? I was just curious! Now, how about you summon a portal back to that dumpster and we’ll just forget this whole thing ever happened.”
“I’m not about to forget anything else.” Stephen stood his ground, his hands behind his back. Jake swapped in and got up to stand near him. "Tell us what you know. Please.” He added once he caught how harsh his tone was.
“It wasn’t your fault.” Spider-Man said quietly. “It’s dangerous for you to be around me, sir. Just let me leave.”
“Kid.” Jake tried, holding a hand out. “It doesn’t have to be like this. Let us help you.” Spider-Man whipped his head to him, bug eyes narrowing a little.
“Do…do I know you? Your voice is familiar…” Jake opened his mouth to say more, but Strange stepped in front of him.
“He’s just my assistant for this. Who he is doesn’t matter. But he’s right. We can help you.” Spider-Man was quiet before he leaped, doing a flip as he used his webshooters to nab Strange’s ring. In one motion, he opened a portal. Jake gaped a little bit. So with that ring, just about anyone could open a portal…? Strange seemed a little surprised, too. Maybe not just anyone then.
“Sorry. Just trust me. Stay away from this case. For the sake of everyone.” He did a little peace sign before jumping into the portal, throwing the ring back at just the last second.
“Well, we tried. Now we know he remembers what happened. And it’s clear that he doesn’t want us to know what happened.” Strange grabbed the ring from the floor, acting like nothing of the ordinary had happened.
“The kid thinks he’s dangerous. Pobrecita, mierda…” Jake felt his heart break. That boy had managed to hit all of their soft spots, Jake’s especially. Strange raised an eyebrow.
“You can drop the New York accent now. I already know you’re Moon Knight.”
“Oh, right.” Jake casually shifted into faking Marc’s accent. He had done it with ease for years, it was almost second nature. “Just a side effect of living here and trying to keep my identity safe, I guess.” Strange was still looking at him a little weirdly but made a portal back to the Sanctum.
“Right, well. Until next time. Just keep an eye out for Spider-Man.” Strange said as soon as they landed in the Sanctum. He summoned his cloak from a chair and it handed a piece of paper to Jake. “Just use that number if you see anything.”
“Damn, would’ve thought that wizards had a cooler form of communication than the modern cell phone.” Jake grinned.
“Just get out of here.”
⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚
"Do you think he recognized us?" Marc whispered into the quiet darkness of their rented apartment. He missed Layla.
Honestly…I think he was more focused on Doctor Strange than us. Maybe we should wear more of a disguise next time, or something. Steven's reflection in their bedside mirror tapped a finger against his chin in thought. Before he could say anything else, though, a gust of wind blew through the room.
“What did I tell you? It went well.”
“I want to sleep.” Marc muttered before Steven butted in.
“Yeah, so can you not creepily watch us in our sleep, you oversized pigeon? Where were you even today?”
“Doctor Stephen Strange could’ve detected my presence easily.” The god shifted uncomfortably. “I’d rather not let them know you can reach me so smoothly, just in case something goes wrong.”
Steven huffed. “Coward bird.” He refused to say anything else, forcing the other two to get their much needed rest. And yes, it was only eight A.M. He didn't care.
They were going to need it for the coming days ahead.