Season Two
Chapter One
The Other Lane
Someone was pounding on the front door of the Sanctum Sanctorum. It thundered thru the building, resounding thru the walls.
Doctor Stephen Strange sat up in bed, shook his head, groggily, attempting to pull himself awake.
It made no sense, to beat on the door.
There was a rather obvious doorbell available.
Aside from the fact that it was the middle of the night.
Stephen decided to ignore it.
There were often pranksters on the streets, after dark, and he had no interest in satisfying their quest for amusement.
He was weary, so dreadfully weary.
He flopped back into the blankets, but whoever it was apparently wasn't going to give up so easily.
The pounding began, again, and finally, with an irritated moan, Stephen dragged out of bed. Pulling on a T shirt and jogging pants, he headed down to the foyer.
It seemed a lot darker than than usual in the Sanctum. He could barely see.
Rubbed his eyes, blinked, but it didn't help.
Odd.
Stephen jerked the door open, wearing an aggravated scowl.
Someone was standing there, swathed in shadows, their features concealed by a hooded sweatshirt.
'Are you Doctor Stephen Strange?' the figure queried, voice peculiarly distorted.
Stephen nodded, preparing to ask what the problem was, when he was hit square in the face by a fist wearing brass knuckles.
Then, hit again.
The third blow dropped him to the floor, barely conscious.
As a pair of fists roughly grabbed hold, his last thought before plummeting into blackness was,
'Where is Cloak?'
It was the foul odor that roused Stephen, an unrecognizable stench that made him gag.
He attempted to move, couldn't.
Forced his eyes open, jerking wrists and ankles against the zip ties which bound him to a chair.
They held tight.
He couldn't even move his hands enough to attempt a spell.
Blood from his smashed nose dripped slowly to his lap, spattered on the floor, his bare feet.
Fighting down a swell of panic, he scanned the barely lit room, empty, save for him, and his chair.
At least, he assumed it was a room; he couldn't see any walls, or a ceiling. Even the light source was as ambiguous as it was dim.
'Finally,' a voice observed, and the hooded figure solidified from the surrounding shadows, to stand in front of him.
Stephen squinted, attempting to discern any features of his captor, without success.
'Who...' Stephen began, his voice cracked, 'Who...are you?'
His captor chuckled, an unnerving sound that seemed to echo endlessly.
Then, in an absolutely emotionless tone, replied,
'I was the one in the other lane.'
Bewildered, Stephen shook his head, stammered,
'What?'
The dark figure turned away, began to pace, back and forth, in front of Stephen, head lowered, so no hint of an identity was revealed.
After a minute, began,
'Your accident.
'Did you ever think about the person you hit, that night? You, in your car that cost more than most people could make in a lifetime?'
Stephen closed his eyes, suddenly recalling everything, in chilling detail.
The distraction of a phone call.
Drifting across the center line, as he was passing, in a no passing zone.
On a ridiculously treacherous stretch of highway, in the rain, at night.
The clip of a fender, against another vehicle, skidding his Lamborghini out of control.
He'd seen pictures of what was left of his car.
He should have been killed.
Often, when looking at his hands, wished he had been.
He had never thought to wonder what had happened to the person he'd hit. They would have wrecked, too, wouldn't they?
'Oh, the news was all about you,' his captor went on, mockingly,
' 'Famed Doctor, injured in horrific crash...'
Paused, and Stephen looked up.
'Then, there was me. Barely a blip on the radar.'
Stephen blinked, struggling to meet the eyes of his abductor, without success. The features seemed smeared, like an unfinished painting, and, try as he might, he couldn't clear his vision. He couldn't even discern whether the figure was a man, or a woman.
The voice became accusatory,
'What did I loose? Do you know? Did you bother to find out?'
Stephen bowed his head, admitted,
'No,' a self-reproaching groan.
'And yet, you still dare call yourself Doctor,' voice now a sneer,
'When you care more about yourself than you ever did anyone else.'
As if from a great distance, he felt something gently, but insistently, shaking his shoulders, a velvet soft brush against his cheek.
Cloak.
Stephen jerked against the zip ties, holding him to the chair, realizing the entire room was swimming out of focus.
Suddenly, understood what was happening.
A dream, a nightmare.
Of course.
Still standing in front of him, his captor, drifting away into dust, snapped a final threat,
'We're not finished, Stephen.
'We'll talk again, one day.'
A chilling laugh,
'That's the nature of personal demons. We're never farther away than the other lane.'
Stephen sat straight up in bed, covered in sweat, and instantly regretted the abrupt, albeit reflexive, action.
It hurt.
A lot.
Then, he recalled the lethal confrontation with Sable.
Jade, the Eye, Wong, his beloved Cloak.
His bedroom was dark, save for the small island of light from the bedside lamp.
He was alone, except for Cloak, which hovered immediately at his side, tapping its hem edges together, swaying anxiously.
And Wong, snoring softly, asleep in a chair, pulled up close.
Stephen fell back against the pillows, with a heavy sigh.
Cloak drifted over, settled carefully across its Chosen, tucking its collar close to Stephens' neck.
Stephen wound his trembling hands into Cloaks comforting folds, pressed his cheek tight to its collar.
'Please, don't ever leave, again,' he breathed, an agonized whisper,
'I need you...to remind me...how to deal with my demons.
'Not abandon me to them.'
Quivering with sadness at Stephens plea, Cloak wrapped itself tightly around its Chosen.
Brushed his cheek, tenderly, an assurance.
Stephen smiled, and his eyes fell shut, as Cloak gently rocked him to sleep.
Welcome, all, to Season Two of Perspectives From A Cloak!
I'm excited to have welcomed many new readers in the past few weeks, I have added a new feature I hope you will enjoy. If you would care to see artwork related to these stories, simply look up 'ladystephaniestrange' on instagram.
on February 8, 2019, I put up cover art for this story!
I will label the story that each piece is associated with. I also put up 'works in progress' pictures, so you can see how the creative process works for me. Please, let me know what you think!
I want you to know I read and treasure all the feedback you share; it means so much to me!
A lot lies ahead for our inseparable duo: I hope you will all stay tuned!