"We should call Miss Harss," Wong whispered-yelled into Stephen's close proximity the morning after The Magician's Show roared the entire New York City, with promises of expanding to the whole country and who knows, maybe the whole world. In his hand, today's newspaper crunched and its first page held the core of the two sorcerers' concerns:

Public Enemy No. 1 Webbed a Controversial Lover: Is Wendy Weber Spider-Man's Informant In Stark Industries?

Not far away from them, the people targeted apparently by this seemingly harmless magic show waited on conjured armchairs. Peter and Wendy sat, holding hands, still processing through the mess and the hypnosis they underwent, while across the fourier, behind the massive stairs decorating this entrance area, Stephen regretted with every fiber of his being not having attended the show.

How would he have stopped this mess if he did attend it? Some reasonable side of him asked, but the pending guilt was a burden which, unseen, ate at that fragile thing in Stephen's chest which anatomy made him call "heart", while his more mystically inclined friends insisted it was the "soul".

The heart couldn't break out of the blue, but the soul could, and because of the soul's breaking, heart problems could arise. That was the philosophy Danny and Sierra went by, along with many others, including his predecessors in the Sorcerer Supreme position.

Thinking of Sierra only reminded him of the Multiverse issue and the heart wrenching second in which he pulled Sierra aside and asked the question he was perhaps better off without. Him and his god damned curiosity, need for knowledge... He doomed himself in that moment to knowing it was a variant of himself who broke the Multiverse somewhere far, far away from them in the first place.

Despite knowing nothing else about the Strange who had caused that mess, Stephen couldn't help but feel a pressing duty, to prove he was better, that he was not a threat to the balance of whole reality. Failure after failure, too much had piled up and this situation with the Magician destroying public images of someone like Wendy and Peter was a drop too close to overflowing his imaginary glass of emotions.

"No," Stephen shook his head, leaving no room for negotiations whatsoever. He could have complained at that moment about how Wong had preferred Sierra over him from day one, when that damned ancient dragon vomited a sling ring in her hands, but he didn't. Stephen bit back any mean comments and straightened his back instead. The collar of his cloak stood tall, framed his face.

"She's on a vacation," he continued. And this is a problem the Sorcerer Supreme should be able to handle on his own, he added that only for his mind to hear and regulate itself by the high standards he was setting for himself. Medical school didn't get finished by him relying on others after all.

Wong's sigh was deep, but though he had all the rights to point out that Stephen was mistaken about the case of the cassettes and the invitation, Wong showed mercy to his ego. "We need to play our cards very well with this one."

"Stay here and watch the two," Stephen nodded, slowly building a plan in his mind. He had no reason to fear the Magician, so he was going to walk right up to the face behind this show, wreaking havoc in the NYC news. "I'll handle the friendly negotiations."

"Just don't be...," Wong's voice, rather tired, stopped Stephen from his decisive step he tried to make. He instead had to pause, look back at his colleague and see that funny stance where his hands rested on top of his waist. "Just don't be yourself."

If a stab through the "soul" could be audible, then Stephen Strange would have been the epicenter of enough decibels to shatter every single glass surface in the Sanctum Sanctorum.

The only reaction he spared on the outside was a shrug, making it seem like he totally dismissed the comment which hurt that sensitive spot which has been tickled constantly for too long.

Every ounce of insecurity, a sentiment which Stephen programmed himself to believe it did not belong to his agenda, got gathered in a centerpoint, to be reused, rationally, as a power supply, backing up the proud walk he took right into the theater, first thing after its opening. Reliable sources -the man selling hot dogs on the side of the street- told him The Magician and the show's crew never left the building.

Before this walk, he did manage to take a look at the posters and glare at his reflection in the mirror before raising an eyebrow and moving on. His left eyebrow remained crooked upwards, his narrowed gaze was imposing and overall, Stephen wore an expression closer to his past high status as a doctor, than the current humble position of a Sorcerer Supreme.

"Can I help you?" A blonde woman he recognized immediately stopped him from entering the theater room in which the show happened last night.

"Ms. Frost," Stephen stopped and bowed his head, as it would have been normal, because before him stood not only the influential woman behind the most successful air and nautic travel company, Frost International, but also before one indubitably strong mutant telepath. She was the last person he thought he'd find there.

"It's not my usual cup of tea," Emma agreed with his thoughts, eyes calmly studying him. She had her way with men, especially with their easy to break minds, but she never quite met a sorcerer with a mind as guarded as Stephen. Even if she wanted to, she'd have to break a sweat to get more than mundane, passing thoughts from him. "But I happen to love investing in a good project."

"You read the news then?"

With an innocent smile, Emma shrugged, "They are doing the publicity for us."

"Only your business is not mentioned in the papers and last I checked, this show gave away all its tickets freely, in a random selection," Stephen pointed out his observation with a certain knack for the thrill of investigating clinging to the lift of his grin, under part of goatee. Emma gave him none of the satisfaction of catching her off guard, but that small defeat did not successfully lower his puffed up chest. He continued, "What profit is this show exactly running for you?"

"Sometimes, Dr. Strange," Emma straightened up and lifted her chin, "pro-bono acts do not need to have a profit. Maybe I've just always liked magic tricks, which is exactly why my investments should not be your concern."

Past several layers of red curtains, Remy sat on the last row of chairs in the large theater room, not to watch the empty stage, but rather play in silence with his cards. Between his hands, they all caught nuances trapped on a clear spectrum of the shades from deep purple to electric pink. Like electricity itself, the more he shuffled, the more the cards glowed, flaming up light in his dark corner.

"Remy," Emma's voice rang in his mind, louder than the music playing through his headphones. He shrugged the headphones off to hear their telepath better. "Strange is here. Tell Marion to prepare. I can't hold him at the door forever."

"That was fast," Remy mumbled. Marion told them, last night after the show Wendy and Peter left in a hurry, that it should take Dr. Strange about a day to finally get back to them.

By the time Remy even thought about getting up from his cushioned seat, Illyana had already teleported right beside Marion's makeup desk, where the redhead was fixing her hair for the fifth time. It was unsure if she even slept after the thrill of last night's show being a success. Beside her, a pile of newspapers and magazines towered.

Marion smiled at Illyana through the mirror and immediately dropped the hairbrush to place her hand instead on the pile beside her, "Did you read the reviews?"

"Marion..."

Despite the clear concern in Illyana's voice, Marion hungrily opened the first magazine and took out a piece of paper on which, with cursive handwriting worthy of calligraphy awards, she had been noting down each and every single review. "I don't have words to describe how good it was," she quoted the first review her eyes landed upon. "The Magician's show was absolutely incredible," she quoted again, sneaking in an enthusiastic giggle. "And those are only the reviews from people who attended!"

"That is great, but-"

"Wait until you hear the reviews from people who only heard descriptions..." Marion turned around after having interrupted Illyana. "They are asking for tickets for the next show!" She let her knees bounce up in happiness and the soles of her feet click a jolly rhythm on the wood floors backstage.

"Sure," Marion exhaled to relax herself, "there are a couple who have sniffed a crump of the fact that I am planning something bigger, and others complained about not being able to film this masterpiece or about the magic being a bit scary... But, it has mostly been fantastic reviews and no bubbling around- Oh!" She had finally stopped boasting for long enough to notice the grim look on Illyana's face. "Why do you look like you got the morbs?" Her tone dropped.

"We have a new problem, in the props storage," Illyana sighed, already too used to Marion's slang to be startled by the odd use of certain words. Instead, she concentrated on her pink chewing gum, and delivering this message.

"Already?" Marion did ask to be announced when this inevitable issue would occur, but things moved far faster than she would have anticipated, something which made her look back in the mirror and close her eyes.

"Well," Illyana sighed after popping another bubble, "I told you about it, so now I will go take care of it-"

"No," Marion opened her eyes and immediately got out of her seat. She wore a costume, not as ringleader-ish as the one she wore during the show, but still rather fancy for so early in the morning. A light pink costume, pants ironed to a line, vest holding a pocket watch, jacket seamless all over and white shirt underneath it all, just slightly unbuttoned, enough for her to call herself a "tease" in the mirror.

"I'll handle this," Marion declared with a bright smile and a wink.

Illyana could accept many things from Marion: from her antics, to her perfectionism, even her need to have a say in what they should each wear during premiers -Illyana was perhaps most grateful about being back in her usual clothes, the comfortable style covered in chains, hoops and tears. But Marion doing the fighting? Now that was new and outrageous.

Ten years set an order in their group: Marion was the mastermind, Emma financed, Remy built their network and Illyana was their warrior. To change that hierarchy out of the blue...

"What do you mean you'll handle this?" Illyana asked, panicked enough to let some of her Russian accent slip into the conversation.

She was following after Marion, who walked confidently away, deeper into the backstage, past countless doors. There were far too many doors back there, but none of them stopped to question what Marion did not give a second glance to. There were about five storage rooms, but she knew exactly the one Illyana was talking about.

To make a statement the Russian woman took the chewing gum out of her mouth and placed it on a wall as they passed it. "Come on, Marion. Fighting demons is my thing."

"I need to handle this one myself, it's here too early."

"Too early? What is that supposed to-?!"

Marion stopped. They had reached the door. In a fraction of a second, she interrupted Illyana by turning around and in the second in which their eyes met, Illyana forgot that she even was outraged by something in the first place. Marion watched, with a smile, as the concern left her friend gradually.

"There," she patted Illyana on the shoulder, "just wait for me here."

Illyana forgot even how to blink, her eyes catching an odd sting when finally, Marion turned around and opened the door. Past her shoulder, inside that storage room, a red glow shone through her hair and into Illyana's blue eyes. Marion walked into that room, closed it behind herself, then audibly locked it.

Everything was silent on the hallway Illyana remained on.

Out of breath, Remy caught up with the girls, only to look startled at how numb Illyana looked at a door, while Marion was nowhere to be seen. "Where is she?"

Illyana slowly lifted her hand, finger pointing forward, at the closed door.

A chill ran down Remy's spine as he turned his gaze to the right side, at that damned door. Without any word exchange, he had a feeling this was the demon business. Which left him horrified... What was Marion doing in there, all alone?

As if to answer poor Remy, from inside the storage room, something or someone smashed loudly into the locked door. Remy flinched, but Illyana reassured him in an instant, "She can handle this."

"How are you okay with-?" Remy caught the time to ask half the question before more thuds bumped into the walls of that storage room. An inhuman roar came from inside it and then... Silence fell again.

"Fuck this," Remy cursed under his breath after catching it by the tail. He stepped forward and reached his hand out to try and open the door. Just then, from inside, the door unlocked and opened. Marion met him with wide us, stepping through a very small door opening, back into the hallway. It was a tight space, but she passed between Remy and the wall, also closing the door behind.

Marion had locked eyes with Remy and now all he could care about was that he still had a message to deliver. "He's here."

"Already?" Marion asked and a chilling deja vu shivered down her spine. She shook it off. "The world is going surprisingly fast, but no worries, we are prepared for this." If she was reassuring her friends or just herself at that moment, it was uncertain.

"You got a spot," Illyana pointed out right before Marion could make a step away from them. She made the Magician look down and see, right on the left collar of her pink jacket, a stain of black blood. She grabbed the collar with a sigh and a flush appeared on the tip of her ears. She straightened the collar's material out, then flicked the stain with her right hand.

Those two fingers smacked the stain and it jumped out of her collar into the real world, bouncing off a wall as a black beach ball. "Thank you, Illyana," Marion sighed, relaxed her shoulders and stepped past the rolling ball.

Emma was escorting Dr. Strange down the empty aisles of the theater room, towards the stage, when Marion stepped out of the backstage crimson curtains, skipped down the stairs with her ginger locks bouncing relaxed. Between the second to last and the last step, the curls jumped right into a ponytail, making Stephen blink twice before he faced the straightforward greeting of the exuberant woman. She was the very definition of an exclamation sign.

Marion's hand came forward between them and it was a stark distinction made just then by Emma that her friend had put on her Magician allure for the meeting. With a simple shake of her head and a nod towards the Magician, the CEO of this trio excused herself silently, passing by the two.

Her mind was anything but silent though. "I thought you said you could be yourself around him," Emma's voice echoed rather amused in Marions, but it had no visible effect on her features, still brightly meeting a new personality. And what a personality indeed.

"Dr. Stephen Strange," the Magician called, "what an honor to have a true sorcerer visit me. And to what do I owe the pleasure? I am sure your ticket didn't give you the wrong time to send you a day later at this location." She took the freedom to slip a joke and laugh, but though Stephen shook her hand out of courtesy, firmly short, he seemed passive to her attempts to lighten the grim atmosphere he brought along with himself.

"You seem to very familiar with my name-"

"Of course I am," the Magician interrupted the second their hands broke contact. Stephen immediately noted how absolutely confident the woman was with keeping eye contact. Though he had no idea who was behind this show until this very moment, to meet a woman as dazzling in assertiveness as her fit the exact image he had in mind of the chaotic person behind this mess.

Careless to have interrupted him, she continued, "Everyone knows of the great Sorcerer Supreme. Saved the world a couple of times, ran around keeping balance. Do you know how many YouTube videos there are with sightings of you flying through the sky, red cape fluttering and all?" She paused, wide eyed. "I didn't count, obviously, there were far too many."

"Right," Stephen said. His numbness was bordering boredom while talking with her. Or so he had trained himself to look in any conversation, to maintain superiority. "I don't think I caught your name, it was not on the posters..."

"It was," she smiled dismissively. "It's a very big heading, hard to miss." And to somehow prove her point, the Magician leant forward. She was a head shorter than Stephen, yet she did not mind tilting her head back and taking a look at his eyes from every angle until he was uncomfortable enough to glare down at her. Then she giggled and brought back the decent distance between them. "Your eyes seem perfectly splendid to me."

"The Magician, yeah, I read that, but-"

"Then you know my business name," the Magician shamelessly interrupted again, pleased to see his emotionless shell crack in order to express some anger on those pointy features of his. He did have a jawline for days. "If you want any other name, you'd have to dig deeper yourself, Dr. Strange. But I am sure you do not need other names, after all, you are clearly here for business."

"Clearly," Stephen repeated her accentuated word.

"Clearly," the Magician nodded. Her hands joined behind her back and she straightened up, "I know the tickets all had clear dates, especially yours. You chose not to see my show, but now that you've read the news, some trouble or insecurity drove you to meeting me."

"How exactly did you send out those tickets, by the way?" Stephen's sacadated speech made it clearer than even his narrowed gaze could that the Magician was an entertaining and annoying mystery for him. His posture did not curve to her pokes though, he remained pristine and in a bath of superiority in front of her.

"A Magician never tells their secrets," she immediately winked.

"Because yours are illegal?"

She leant back. She tried to act shocked, but Stephen knew better than the rest: she was not in the slightest surprised that he knew.

"Why ask me about my methods if you already know how half my tricks work?"

It was Stephen's turn to take a step forward and grin because of the illusion that he got the upper hand. It was a too comforting of an illusion to ever dismiss. "Because I cannot figure out what a second hand wannabe magician would gain from a free show which brings down the reputation of heroes."

"I must be a true fraud compared to the likes of you, the great Eldritch sorcerers...," Marion looked up at him and mumbled. For that single second, her eyes seemed to have glazed in deep thought, but right after that moment of weakness, she shook her head and her smile was back. "So you are here about Wendy and Peter then?" the Magician changed the subject around.

"How did you guess?" Dr. Strange's sarcasm was as sharp as a whip's lash on bare skin.

"You're just an open book like that," the Magician commented.

Stephen's smile flattened.

"Well, then," she straightened up once more, leaning her weight back on her heels, then bouncing to step away, "this has been a pleasure, Dr. Strange, but I am afraid next time you want to talk business with a silly little amateur me, you should call first. I may not be a sorceress, but I am a busy woman."

Her approach had changed in an instant that it almost took Stephen off guard. One second the Magician was playing this long game with him, the other she passed by his side, ready to head for the exit. He was contemplating, all of a sudden: should he cause a scene and accuse her of what he had a hunch about? What even happened there? She was certainly no sorceress, he wore a spell which would have flared in her presence if that was the case... and if she was just a human, she might just be a toy of someone trying to ruin Wendy and Peter, in which case, the Spider-Boy got a new enemy and that was not his business anymore.

"Unless," the Magician stopped, just a couple of steps away from him, making Stephen react on command and turn around. Marion looked back over her shoulder at the man, "Unless you'd like to come with me while I do my errands? You can ask your questions, I am sure there are plenty you can think of, oh, great Sorcerer Supreme."

Mockery? Stephen was perplexed. Wasn't she the same Magician who admitted being no sorceress?

"All I want to know is why Wendy and Peter? Then how did you know?"

Marion already turned her head to face the exit, it gave her the freedom of grinning. "Got ya," she mumbled, right before her left hand raised and she motioned for Stephen to follow. Just a quick flick of her hand from her wrist. 

"You've got yourself with a deal."

Hearing her pitched voice roll over those words which to him sounded as close to her admitting defeat as ever. It was almost worth chasing her shadow out into the world, now that he was so sure it came with a guarantee that he'd solve this problem sooner than ever. Stephen imagined there could be a happy and easy ending to the ruckus of the tabloids if only the Magician admitted to what she had done and stopped her show.

He was desperate for a win, enough to let himself be seen walking with her -though not in his sorcerer attire, because stepping outside, he enchanted it to look more like a costume, black and white, to match her pink formality he'd walk besides.

Only the Magician's errand took some odd turns and before he could ask about it, she led him in a neighborhood he remembered from what felt like ages ago, being described from the mouth of Daisy Vince. It was a mutant run neighborhood, just two blocks, quite in the heart of NYC.

Confidence never left Marion. She led him happily into this mined territory and stopped only for a brief moment, to make sure he was following her. Stephen looked up and read the shining sign above a bar in the midst of the mutant community Daisy's revolution managed to settle peacefully in this strong city: Hellfire Club.

How much do you want to solve this on your own? Stephen had to ask himself before stepping in that bar, into that door which shadowed pure darkness compared to the morning lit street. The answer brought a stern hue back on his features and he followed the Magician inside.

Dr. Stephen Strange went to a mutant club, Marion almost laughed out loud. Now that would be quite a headline.

author's note:    Frost International joins the TOW elite of businesses nowww yayyy !!
there's just so soo much happening in this book already, stuff which will affect the whole series 😭💖 can you tell i am hyped?

AND YES, let's go, Stephen unknowingly breaking his shell becaudr he wants to prove himself.. ego is actually saving him rn lmao

ALSO, Hellfire Club 👀👀👀👀👀