Chapter 1: 177A Bleecker Street
GREENWICH VILLAGE – NEW YORK
On the corner of Bleecker Street and Fenno Place stood a three-storey townhouse. Believed to have been built in the late 19th century, it also rather curiously contained an odd architectural mix from the art deco, regency and neoclassical periods. Dominating the structure was a large ornate window in the zinc-panelled slopping roof. The size of the window had led to speculation that the original owner had been an artist who’d had it designed specifically for his studio on the third storey. Not a wholly unreasonable assumption given that Greenwich Village had become at that time the bohemian heart of New York.
But for others the circular window left them feeling uncomfortable, as it felt like a malevolent eye was watching them, tracking their every move as they made their way down the street. This reaction however may have more to do with the rumours surrounding the site where the Victorian brownstone now stood, rather than the window itself. For it was said to have had a dark past that included: where pagan sacrifices were performed, being used as a pauper’s graveyard, then cursed by a shaman, before becoming the headquarters for a satanic cult.
It was these very extraordinarily supernatural, if somewhat macabre events that made it the perfect location to build this particular house, where ley lines ran beneath its very foundations, making it a unique focal point for all manner of mystical energies
Upon crossing the threshold it becomes immediately clear that all is not as it would appear. For here, the laws of physics had been turned on their head. Time, space, size, and even shape have no meaning.
Steps led down from the entrance into the first floor’s massive circular foyer where a magnificent staircase dominated the centre of the room. The foyer was softly lit leaving the room largely in shadow, but shedding enough light to reveal a rich colour pallet of browns and greens that covered the walls and the sturdy columns that encircled the whole room. Into the curved walls were a series of specifically built alcoves containing cabinets, pictures and plush sofas. The beautifully tiled floor with its intricate patterns kept with the colour scheme of the rest of the room, but added a third in the form of a burnished orange which gave the room a warm glow.
Going up the sweeping staircase led to a mezzanine landing, where a distortion in time and space had allowed the creation of a series of labyrinthine corridors. Along each of these corridors were an infinite number of doors, both literal and figurative, that led to endless chambers linked to an unimaginable number of dimensions.
The first floor contained the accommodation areas. It was split into two wings. One was for the use of the current tenant and his staff, while the other was at the disposal of any guests that came to stay.
The second mezzanine landing contained another remarkable corridor. But unlike those found on the first landing, this one resembled the ground floor foyer. Beautifully carved alcoves that resembled works of art lined the endless hallway. Housed within each alcove were bookcases, figurines and chairs.
Called the Rotunda Corridor, its purpose was to lead you to a raised anteroom that possessed three glass doors known as the Rotunda of Gateways. These didn’t send you to different dimensions. Their purpose was closer to home. The glass doors were portals from which you could enter various locations here on Earth. With the twist of a dial positioned on the frame surrounding the portals it was possible to access locations such as: snowy mountaintops, rainforests, deserts, and even the ocean.
The Sanctum Sanctorum took up the whole of the top floor.
Three quarters of which was dedicated to the Chamber of Relics. Behind towering glass and wooden display cases were all kinds of mystical artefacts: lamps, quarterstaves, wands, blades and daggers. There was also one cabinet that was conspicuously empty…
The remaining quarter was taken up by the Room of Reflection that was continually bathed in light from the enormous window known as the Window of Worlds. Artefacts were displayed here too. On one side of the window was an axe and shield. While on the opposite side was a curious looking suit of armour. The Room of Reflection was primarily a meditation chamber, but it also contained an extensive library of mystical and occult texts. Off to the side in its own little anteroom was what looked like nothing more than a crystal ball, but the Orb of Agamotto was so much more.
This then was the New York Sanctum, a protective shield that masqueraded as a modest Victorian townhouse, where the notions of size were turned up-side-down, while rooms could be fixed in place or could choose to move at whim.
177A Bleecker Street is the residence of the Sorcerer Supreme, Doctor Stephen Strange…
THE NEW YORK SANCTORUM – PRIVATE QUARTERS - BEDROOM
The canopy of the king-sized four-poster bed that dominated the room was gold with intricate patterns embroidered in burgundy. The rest of the room reflected the same colour scheme, with the walls painted a warm burgundy, while gold highlighted the doorframes and skirting boards.
The room was currently bathed in a soft glow that came from a number of light fixtures strategically fixed around the room. The intention, to offer a sense of peace and tranquillity.
It was a sentiment Stephen Strange was feeling anything but as he stood before the full-length mirror, checking his appearance with a critical eye.
It had been awhile since he’d been on a date, a real date, a proper date. Not one that was tacked on as part of a speaking engagement that he’d been asked to attend.
He wanted to make a good impression.
The irony was not lost on him. Formally as one of New York’s, if not the world’s top neurosurgeons, his arrogance had ensured that his life had become one of excess, with his money spent the moment he earned it. As a result his personal life became more and more meaningless as he chased the next accolade, the next interview, the next as yet untried procedure.
Then he’d had the devastating car accident that had destroyed his hands, and therefore his ability to continue in the field that had made his name. But fate had stepped in, leading him in a completely unforeseen direction.
Now he was the Sorcerer Supreme defender of the Earth, a role he had become adept and confidant performing.
But as he gazed into the mirror, the man reflected there, in his expensive black Armani tuxedo and bowtie, that confidence was lacking.
The Cloak of Levitation sensing his anxiety did its best to assist him as he put the finishing touches to his ensemble, a white rose in a buttonhole. But then its help became a hindrance as it began to fiddle with his fringe.
“Enough!” Stephen snapped irritably, brushing it out of the way.
The cloak immediately moved back.
Picking up his sling-ring, Stephen opened a dimensional gateway that led straight to the outside of Molly’s flat. As he made to leap through, the Sorcerer Supreme gave one final order to the relic.
The cloak did as instructed, moving to sulk dejectedly in the corner.
No sooner had he knocked on the door than it was opened, to reveal a vision that took Stephen’s breath away.
As a pathologist, Molly’s attire was one of practicality: white lab coat, flat shoes, and her hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. When not at work she tended to favour baggy clothes that were either brightly coloured, or patterned with flowers or kittens. It was as though she was determined to hide or deny her femininity.
That was clearly not the case today, for which Stephen was truly grateful.
Today her petite figure was proudly on display, accentuated by the sleeveless, figure-hugging satin knee-length cocktail dress she wore. The love-heart neckline enhanced the gentle swell of her breast. Her hair was pulled back in a French plait, while her height had been given a subtle lift thanks to the aid of four-inch heels.
With a shy giggle Molly asked playfully. “Are you coming in, or do you intend to stand out there all day?”
It was only once Molly had closed the door that Stephen picked up on her mild anxiety over her appearance. Capturing her capable hands in his much larger ones, he noted reverently. “You are beautiful, Molly Hooper.”
Molly’s cheeks flushed a delightful shade of pink, as she bestowed him with a smile that could have lit up the room. “You don’t look too bad yourself,” she responded in kind, before asking curiously. “So, where are we going?”
Letting go of one of her hands, Stephen reached inside his jacket pocket to retrieve his sling-ring.
THE NEW YORK SANCTUM – PRIVATE QUARTERS - DINING ROOM
The room they emerged into was a very grand affair. Dominated by a long dining table that was nearly as long as the room itself. Two high-backed chairs had been placed at either end of the table, where places had been set for a three-course meal.
Hanging from the ceiling was an enormous chandelier. The light it gave off was enough to ensure that the room was brightly lit.
Even though the walls were painted a rich brown, the doorframes, skirting boards excreta like the bedroom were painted gold, which helped bring warmth to the room.
Hovering at the far end of the table was the Cloak of Levitation. As Molly approached, it graciously moved her chair back so that she could sit.
Glancing over at Stephen who had taken his place at the other end of the table, Molly chuckled at his annoyed expression.
“I told you,” Stephen addressed the cloak through gritted teeth. “This was to be a romantic dinner, not a banquet.” With a graceful wave of his hand the Sorcerer Supreme transformed the room from extravagant, to cosy.
Though the colour scheme remained, the mood had gone from impersonal to intimate. They were now sat at a small, circular table, with the only light coming from the three candles in an antique candelabrum in the centre of the table.
Satisfied, Stephen indicated to the cloak that the serving of the meal could now commence.
During the first course their conversation centred on their medical backgrounds. But though Stephen easily regaled Molly with stories concerning the numerous medical breakthroughs he had accomplished, Molly was more reticent about going into any great detail of her profession.
Stephen observed her with kind eyes, immediately understanding her reluctance. “Discussion of dead bodies, their causes or the means of those deaths doesn’t faze me in the slightest, Molly,” he assured her. “I am a Doctor after all...”
The second course was spent with Stephen telling Molly of his many adventures since becoming the Sorcerer Supreme.
In return Molly talked about some of the cases she’d been involved with helping New Scotland Yard, and the world’s only Consulting Detective, Sherlock Holmes.
By the time dessert arrived Molly was curious about the relics like the Cloak of Levitation.
“So,” she asked as she observed the cloak. “What is the Cloak of Levitation’s purpose? Besides making you look exceedingly dashing.”
The Cloak of Levitation stood a little straighter at the praise.
Stephen rolled his eyes at the now preening relic.
“Some magic is too powerful to sustain, so we imbue objects with it, allowing them to take the strain we cannot.”
Molly watched Stephen’s expression change, taking note of the frown that now marred his brow and the deep sadness in his eyes as he silently reflected on the all too recent past.
Stephen sat in silent contemplation. The word’s he’d just spoken triggering a painful memory. He had regarded Mordo as a mentor, and a friend. His betrayal of all that they believed in still left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“What’s that?” Stephen asked, indicating the object in Mordo’s hand.
Mordo used the object to point at Stephen as he responded. “That’s a question.”
There was a brief moment of levity as both men grinned at each other. But then Mordo was once again all business as he explained the purpose of relics. “Some magic is too powerful to sustain, so we imbue objects with it, allowing them to take the strain we cannot.”
THE NEW YORK SANCTUM – DINING ROOM
It was clear that whatever the events Stephen was reliving were painful, and although Molly was unwilling to press him, confident he would tell her in his own time, she nonetheless felt the need to distract him.
The sound of Molly’s voice was enough to bring him back to the present. Determined to erase such unwelcome memories, Stephen got to his feet, before offering Molly his hand.
“I think we should have our coffee in a more comfortable setting, don’t you?” he suggested.
“That would be lovely,” Molly replied.
From the dining room they made their way to the foyer of the living quarters. It was a wide, open area, painted a rich garden green that made the foyer lively and bright.
As they made their way up a flight of stairs, Molly paused every now and then to admire the paintings on the wall.
They passed through the two large glass doors at the top of the stairs to the living room. The dark blue of the room, softened with the aid of several lamps, whose glow made the room more warm and inviting.
The wooden floor was edged in dark green, while within it was embossed with large square tiles in a simple, yet intricate pattern. Within the pale outer border was another, smaller square in brown. It was intersected by another square at a ninety-degree angle in orange. Within the area where the two squares intersected were eight triangles, alternating brown and orange. The design resembled the blades of an electric fan spinning around. The only floor covering came in the form of the large burgundy-coloured rug before the ornate black fireplace.
As she made her way into the room, Molly saw that to the left there was an arch-shaped doorway with a curved ascending stairway. There were a number of portraits on the curved walls, that she assumed were of the previous tenants. The stairway was also in blue, though of a slightly lighter hue.
In the corner between the main doorway and the archway was a circular wooden table, with two padded chairs on either side. On the wall nearest the archway were four drawings of Karmar Taj, while the other wall had one painting of a country scene with rows of trees.
On the other side of the room there was yet another arched doorway, where she observed a descending curved staircase. The rich burnished orange colour scheme was the only detail she could make out as Stephen led her over to the chairs by the fireplace.
Molly slipped off her high-heels and curled herself up in the comfy chair. “So where does that lead?” she asked, indicating the ascending curved staircase behind her.
“To my bedroom,” Stephen responded.
“And that one?” this time indicating the descending curved staircase leading off from the other side of the room.
“That leads to the guest’s quarters, should you…”
Molly got up, walking in stockinged feet to where Stephen sat. Leaning forward, she placed her hands lightly on his shoulders and looked him directly in the eye. “And if I don’t feel so inclined?” she asked. “What then?”
Stephen closed his eyes, releasing the breath he’d been holding. When his eyes opened again, the relief he felt was plain to see.
“Oh, Molly,” he murmured as he pulled her down onto his lap. “You would make me a very happy man indeed.”
Molly raised her lips willingly to his. But just as their lips met, a loud gong, which reminded Molly of the chiming of Big Ben rang out.
Stephen ended the kiss with obvious reluctance. Resting his forehead against Molly’s, he let out a resigned sigh as he gazed into her luminous brown eyes. “Duty calls.”
They’d just arisen from the chair when a man of Asian appearance entered the room. “The London Sanctum is under attack.”
“What…again?” Stephen exclaimed in exasperation.
Wong shrugged his shoulders by way of response.
Suddenly remembering his manners, Stephen quickly made the necessary introductions. “Molly, Wong. Wong, Molly.”
“Hello,” Molly said with a smile as she offered her hand.
Wong took her hand in his, before giving a slight bow, “A pleasure.”
Then it was back to the situation at hand.
“So what’s happened now?”
“I don’t know the details,” Wong replied. “But it can’t be good.”
“It never is,” Stephen responded with a resigned sigh.
In the blink of an eye Stephen’s attire changed from that of Stephen Strange the man, to Doctor Strange the Sorcerer Supreme.
Stephen had noticed Molly’s rather endearing tendency to chew on her lower lip whenever she was worried about something, just as she was doing right now.
He raised an enquiring eyebrow.
Molly raised her head so that her concerned gaze met his enquiring one head-on. She brushed her fingers over the front of his tunic, before reaching out to stroke the cloak. She let out a resigned sigh. “I just can’t bare the idea of you and this magnificent cloak being hurt or damaged. Sometimes I wish you’d been given a suit of armour, or something.”
Strange chuckled softly, “I believe you have me mistaken with Tony Stark.”
Molly frowned in obvious confusion, “Who?”
Stephen gave a self-deprecating shake of the head as he replied, “Never mind.” Then, ever so gently he leant down, brushing his lips against hers. “We’ll be careful, I promise.”
Using his sling-ring he and Wong jumped through the gateway, which immediately closed after them.
No sooner have Stephen and Wong departed than there was the sound of knocking.
Molly stayed where she was for a moment, uncertain what to do. But when it became apparent that no-one else was going to attend to the situation, she made her way cautiously from the sitting room down to the ground level.
When Molly opened the front door to the New York Sanctum, she found a distinguished looking black man patiently waiting admittance.
Chapter 3: The Bill Comes Due
THE NEW YORK SANCTORUM – FRONT DOOR
Molly found herself entranced by the man standing before her; handsome, proud and serious were her initial thoughts as her gaze took in not only his good looks, but also the scars that further enhanced his features rather than detracting from them.
He was dressed similarly to Stephen, though his robes were dark green in colour. The tunic was belted and had a mandarin collar, while the trousers though close fitting allowed for ease of movement, while on his feet were a sturdy pair of boots.
Everything about the outfit spoke of fighting practicality, where one could go from being at peaceful rest one moment, to a readiness for combat the next.
It was only when the man began chuckling good-naturedly that Molly realised she had been staring.
“I’m so terribly sorry,” she apologised, her cheeks flushing a delightful shade of pink.
“That’s perfectly all right,” the man replied, his voice rich and pleasant. “I was hoping to have a word with Stephen, but I fear I’m interrupting,” he indicated Molly’s formal attire.
Molly looked down at herself. “Oh, right. No its fine. Stephen was just called away. Something he had to deal with urgently.”
“The responsibilities of the Sorcerer Supreme are never-ending,” the man agreed.
Molly now stepped back, satisfied that this was someone who knew Stephen well, a work colleague. “Why don’t you come in...” she paused, realising she didn’t know his name.
“Karl Mordo,” he supplied, offering her his hand.
“Molly Hooper,” Molly responded in kind as she shook his hand.
As soon as Mordo crossed the threshold, the Sanctum gave a massive shudder, alerting Molly that something was amiss.
But when she turned to Mordo in the hope he could give an explanation as to what was going on, she realised as she watched his friendly demeanour turn to one of vengeful hostility that she had been deceived.
It resembled a fantasy, with a number of medieval turrets and an ornate archway that dominated its entranceway. An impressive looking building that was built on the corner of two city streets. But for all its finery, the four storey building still managed to blend in with those that surrounded it.
Like its New York and Hong Kong counterparts, its upper level was dominated by a large ornate window.
When Stephen and Wong emerged from the gateway into the London Sanctum’s interior, they found everything calm, no calamity of any kind in progress.
“I don’t understand,” Stephen stated, turning to Wong, who looked equally confused.
It was then that Stephen felt a sharp pain in his chest, in the region of his heart, and his face drained of all colour.
And he realised that they had been deliberately misled.
When they returned, Stephen’s worst fears were realised.
Chapter 4: The Dark Dimension
Molly felt as though she had been sucked into an enormous, whirling kaleidoscope. Her senses were constantly under assault from the nauseating array of bright colours that flickered in and out of existence all around her.
Wherever she was, she sensed that it was very old, ancient, and not in a good way. There was a sickly sweet scent all around her that spoke of decay and disease. Combined with these was the unsettling feelings of unease and fear of an impending violence. She felt menace and dread all around her, it reached out to her, and if it hadn’t been for her abductor, Mordo holing her as securely as he did, Molly was certain that she would have been snatched up and dragged down into unknown, never-ending depths.
Just as she was beginning to wonder if this stomach-churning, chaos-inducing ride she had been unwillingly brought on was ever going to come to an end, a formidable, and gruesome to behold presence made itself known.
“There’s only one person who would dare do this,” Stephen noted grimly.
“The question is then, where would he take her?”
The Sanctum had been searched thoroughly, with no sign of Molly, and no clue as to where she had been taken.
Catching Wong’s worried expression the Master of the Mystic Arts quizzed his former teacher. “You know something.”
“There were rumours going around that not only was Mordo stealing the powers from other sorcerers, but that he was offering himself as an agent to the highest bidder. The word was that his aim was to gain the attention, and favour of Dormammu,” Wong responded.
The irony of this disclosure was not lost on Stephen. “Then I guess I know where to begin my search.”
The figure was tall, the upper body alone was head and shoulders taller than Mordo. For this particular encounter he had chosen to appear in humanoid form.
Humanoid but by no means human.
The being possessed a skull-like head, with dark eyes that were barely visible in the deeply sunken eye sockets, while the nose was large but flat, and the lipless mouth though small, was cruel. Instead of hair the head was adorned by a crown of fiery shards that resembled a volcanic eruption.
The torso and arms were muscular, but there was no disguising the skeleton that remained visible through the translucent skin. Fiery spikes, sharp and dangerous, protruded from the upper arms and shoulders. The figure’s skin tone reflected the cloyingly forbidding colour scheme that surrounded them. The head: black, red and yellow. The torso: primarily blue and black with flecks of red and yellow. The arms: primarily blue and red with a hint of yellow.
This was Dormammu, Lord and Supreme Ruler of the Dark Dimension.
