THE INBETWEEN ~ STEVE ROGERS [5]

177A Bleecker Street

As a general rule, I had never believed in wizards. Unbreakable metals, superhumans and aliens, now those things were not only believable, but I'd seen them with my own eyes. Wizards, however, were simply a work of fairy tale. Nothing more, nothing less.

Until I was snatched away by one, of course.

The incident in question took place on a warm Friday afternoon when Steve and I were treating ourselves to a casual gang fight. We'd spotted activity in the underbelly of Chicago; large shipments of cocaine and other such pleasurable goods. Earlier in the week we had been jumped by a group of low level members looking for quick cash and a way to establish dominance over us newcomers to Chicago's criminal streets. Needless to say, it did not go as planned for them. Steve never could let something like this slide and as risky as it was, I agreed to help him weed out whoever was bringing the shipments in.

Skipping over the boring infiltration details, we broke into a warehouse to take a crack at these guys and well, they had a little more firepower than we expected. I was in the middle of breaking some poor boy's nose when all of a sudden, there was the sound of burning metal. Sparks flew in the corners of my vision and it felt like the ground beneath me has vanished, and I dropped like a dead fish through, well, nothing.

It was over in a flash, the dropping sensation, and I was suddenly standing in what at first glance was an enormous library with high vaulted ceilings and tapestries that looked as old as Steve, or older.

Instinct kicked in, as it normally does, and my hands were raised in a matter of seconds and ears pricked for any sound of noise. It had been so quick I didn't have time to comprehend that someone, or something, had teleported me away, so all I could do brace myself for the inevitable fight.

Because, you know, no one teleports me around just for a cup of tea.

"Put your hands down, princess."

The voice that greeted me was arrogant and undermining, using my title as a pet name and it made me snarl. I spun to see who was speaking. I found myself face to face with a man that looked exactly as he voice sounded; egotistic and full of himself. He had a high boned, haughty kind of face with stripes of gray hair running behind his ears, standing out against the rest of his dark brown head. His eyes were like a cats, narrow and piercing, as if seeing more than just the outside perception at all times. His hands, I noted, where covered in painful looking medical scars, and something about them seemed familiar to me. His clothes looked more like a Comicon cosplay, all braided leather and a red cape that seemed to move as if on its own.

"Who are you?" I said harshly, hands still outstretched and glowing in the warm library light. The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. It seemed as if he had this conversation with all his visitors.

"My name is Doctor Strange," he said.

My hands dropped but only out of surprise. The name was ringing a bell.

"The surgeon?" I exclaimed, taking a step back to get a proper look at him.

"Well, I don't do surgery anymore, obviously," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"I though you went crazy or something."

He frowned at me, like a disapproving father.

"Don't believe everything the internet tells you,"he grumbled.

"So, what, you're a Merlin cosplayer now? Is that what the get up is for?" I knew I was being a smartass but it just came so naturally to me, and I liked seeing the Doctor's brow furrow in frustration.