Season Two
Two; 177B Bleecker Street
Chapter One
Stephen whistled his way across the main foyer at 177A Bleecker, wearing jeans and a tee shirt, heading for the front door.
It was wonderful to feel...well...wonderful. He was actually looking forward to grocery shopping, which he usually dreaded.
Having effectively been a shut in the past two weeks, he was ready for any excuse to head outside for some fresh air, and a brisk walk.
Moving without pain was the best.
He was also anticipating lunch at his favorite local deli.
Cloak whisked to his shoulders, from wherever it had been, cuddling in tightly, and he chuckled,
'Yes, yes, we're going out.
'Wong has done a lot of cooking for me, which was really considerate. I thought I might surprise him with a nice meal, tomorrow, after we finish teaching at Kamar-Taj.
'Plus, the pantry is about empty. I need to shop.'
Stephen locked the Sanctum doors behind him, came briskly down the steps, looking down at the grocery list on his phone. Made his usual turn on to the sidewalk, and nearly took a header over the construction sawhorse blocking the way.
After the enforced abrupt halt, he surveyed the torn up sidewalk in irritation.
From the pools of water all along the street, he surmised there must be a ruptured water main.
Since the street was basically blocked off, he decided to slip between the sawhorses and the row of houses, rather than go round the entire block.
It was a narrow passage, between the sawhorses and some fencing, but doable.
As Stephen dodged the caution gates, it brought him closer to the building immediately adjacent to the Sanctum.
As he brushed against the fence, a slight tinkling sound caught his attention, as if something very thin had shattered, but he couldn't see any reason for it.
An odd sensation crawled along the back of his neck, and he stopped, looking at the house.
It was marked,
'177B Bleecker'.
The sign was scuffed, bedraggled, hung crookedly by one screw on front pillar of the ramshackle porch. A ratty, rusted stretch of bent chain link fence separated the house from the main sidewalk, denying access to the door. Heavy linked chain, secured with a ridiculously large padlock, wrapped the sagging gate closed.
Scowling, Stephen realized he'd never once wondered what might be at 177B Bleecker street.
Actually, he'd never even noticed this building. All the times in and out of the Sanctum, he'd not once glanced this direction.
He'd also never passed this close.
Something about it made the hair on his neck bristle.
'Have you ever noticed this house, before?' he asked Cloak, quietly, and Cloak shook its collar,
NO.
He surveyed the stone structure, which, unlike the Sanctum, was crusted with climbing ivy and moss.
The windows on the first floor were shuttered, but the ones on the two upper floors weren't exactly right. Their shapes seemed almost warped, the glass overly reflective, while still giving the feeling that they absorbed light.
He narrowed a keen eye at the eaves; they were discreetly lined with high end security cameras, which were way out place on such an apparently run down property.
'That's so weird,' he muttered, brow furrowed, as he pointed, and Cloak gave a ripple of agreement.
'It's probably just some recluse, guarding his privacy.'
He chewed his lip, as Cloak gave a bob of agreement with its collar.
Cautiously, he tugged at the padlock.
A brilliant red flare shot out, giving him a jolt like an electric shock, knocking him back a step, into the sawhorses.
After a brisk shake of his head, to clear away the buzzing, Stephen shook his numb arm, angrily, and decided,
'Alright, we're going in.'
Cloak gave a slight pull away, a gentle tap against his chest, a reminder of his very recent recovery.
Stephen shook is head, swirling on his Masters robes to replace the street attire, so he was properly prepared.
'That was a Ward Of Protection. There's a Master, of some type, in there, or been there,' he told Cloak, who immediately came to full alert.
'I definitely need to know who's at 177B Bleecker.'
Cloak lifted him up, over the fence, set him down gently on the uneven sidewalk.
Cautiously, Stephen climbed the creaky steps, onto a small porch.
Unlike the porch, the door was very solid, with the same thick, opaque leaded glass panels as the Sanctum.
No doorbell, no knocker.
Stephen reached hesitantly for the doorknob, the memory of the padlock shock clear in his memory, and he felt Cloak cringe over his shoulders.
He winced, realizing that Cloak would have gotten its share of that jolt.
His arm still tingled, and his hand ached, but he was determined, and laid his palm to the handle.
When he didn't get blasted, he gripped the handle, pushed it down, expecting to feel the resistance of a lock.
It clicked, unlatching easily, and Stephen pushed the door open, slowly.
It was pitch black inside. Stephen squinted, but couldn't see anything.
He considered a Light spell, but honestly didn't want to draw any more attention to their breaking and entering than he had to.
Tripping the Ward would certainly alert whoever had placed it, but Masters often set Wards to protect locations when they were away.
So, it was possible the house was empty, but not a good idea to assume so.
Hands held at the ready, he crossed the threshold.
He stepped into something which seemed like viscous material, but wasn't actually there. It was like walking thru a wall of half set up jello.
It made him dizzy, nauseous, but the sensation passed, quickly, when he took a second step.
The door swung shut behind them, and what little light there was disappeared.
It was dark.
Unnaturally dark, and silence lay like a blanket. He couldn't even hear himself breathe.
Cloak clung to Stephen, and he could tell it was on high alert, its collar stiff against the back of his neck.
Stephen was just about to call up that Light spell, when the scrape of steel rasped thru the blackness.
'Declare yourself, unknown Master!' a voice commanded, and a sword blazed alight, nearly blinding him. The blade crackled and swirled like a welders arc, silver blue.
Hand thrown up to protect his eyes, Stephen stood tall, squinted toward the unseen sword wielder.
'Doctor Stephen Strange, Master of the New York Sanctum Sanctorum,' he responded, fearlessly. Cloak held its edges up, in readiness, for whatever was to follow.
The steel blue-white arc of the blade faded to a more viewable wattage, and light from a grand chandelier flooded the large foyer.
A woman stepped toward Stephen, who was doing his best to blink away the spots the flashing blade had caused in his vision.
She swept the sword up before her face, swung it aside, a salute,
'Welcome, Master Strange. I am Glynn, Master of the New York Sanctum Alternatus.'
I thank all of you, yet again, for your patience, loyalty and reviews! I assure you, I have no intention of ending these adventures anytime soon. Cloak and Stephen have a lot to do between now and the next Avengers movie!
I read and treasure every review!
Be sure to keep up with my portraits and art work as I am dividing my time betweeen those and writing.