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Stephen had always been a man of honor, Tony thought. He thought that the wizard fought for justice, and to keep the world safe. He had said as much when they had been standing in the Sanctum discussing ice cream flavors.
“Protecting your reality, douchebag” with all the smugness in the world and the slight downward tilt of his chin that made him seem like he thought of himself as bigger than he was. Maybe more important or better than everyone else. Tony almost fell for the lie. He found himself wanting to believe it. Wishing that the faith of the world rested on someone else’s shoulders than his own.
Then they had landed on Titan. They had met with the group that called themselves The Guardians of the Galaxy; each one weirder than the other. The one called Mantis had pointed to Stephen while he was… Well, Tony wasn’t sure what he had been doing. Until they had looked each other in the eye and Tony saw something he hadn’t seen before. Not in the wizard. Not in the Sanctum, not on the spaceship. Not until then.
And shortly after, Stephen was nowhere to be seen. Once the purple-skinned, eight-foot-tall individual with a golden gauntlet had beaten all of their asses, as Tony looked around, he was nowhere to be seen. He thought he was finished, his own nanotech turned against him and shoved into his abdomen. He thought it was over for all of them, but the mad Titan seemed just as confused as he was.
Instead of delivering the final blow to end him, Thanos disappeared through a smoky blue haze, leaving no trace that he had ever been present in the first place (the destruction of the site and half a moon scattered around the place aside). Tony didn’t know whether to take a breath of relief or scream in frustration. He bit his teeth through pain instead and begrudgingly patched himself up with the fix-it-all solution installed in his suit.
And then he cried. Not outwardly, but he cried. They all had put their lives on the line. They had made a plan and aimed to stick with it, but the damned sorcerer had fled the coop and abandoned them. So much for being a moral compass.
Whatever he had seen in the alternate futures… Tony didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to think. They had to pick themselves back up, regroup and make a new plan. Somehow, they would have to get back to Earth.
Tony had lost track of time. Recovering from the titan’s attempt at murdering him had been a long process, and even longer had it been to gather all of the Avengers. They were scattered - shocked after the attack on Earth. They had lost many, and even more were left wounded. After Stephen Strange’s disappearance…
His name alone made Tony Stark fume with anger. He hadn’t liked him from the start, and having him run from the battle like some other coward had been the tipping of a scale. His disdain had turned into hatred. He knew full well that if he ever saw that bastard again, he would punch him. Maybe even fire a few shots from his blasters.
After a briefing with the Avengers that was left and fit enough for a fight, Tony exhaled a breath. He slumped into an armchair, willing and able to fall asleep on the spot. It had been a long week, and his body craved a moment of rest.
That - of all the times in the past month - was the time when the infamous sorcerer decided to make his reappearance. Right then and there, in the middle of the compound, without prior warning, orange sparks flew as a magic portal opened to a dimension Tony had never dreamed of seeing.
He was on his feet in an eyewink, blasters ready, but stopped dead in his tracks as he saw him. The sorcerer; Stephen Strange. He looked different. No more navy blue robes with the flown brown belts around his waist. No fancy necklace. Instead, he was wearing a pitch-black, skintight suit with a silvery-white… Ankh?.. On his chest, and one golden glove on his left hand. Neatly matched with the golden soles of his equally black boots. The necklace was replaced with a golden amulet positioned at the base of his neck, but that cursed cloak was still attached to his shoulders. Although, that too looked different.
And then there was his face. He was pale, unnaturally so, and dark circles underlined his eyes. His cheeks were hollow, and his skin marred with scars. But the detail that truly made Tony’s skin crawl was the symbol etched into the sorcerer’s forehead, right between his eyebrows. It almost looked like it was glowing a faint blood red.
Eyes that had previously been brown (or were they green? Tony couldn’t recall) were now tinted purple, and seemed almost alive. They looked right at him. It made the blood curl in his veins, and his heart pumped faster.
The dimensional gateway closed, but the sorcerer kept hovering ominously in the air thanks to his magic cloak. Finally, he displayed an ounce of emotion. The corners of his lips twitched upward into a twisted sort of smirk. “Tony Stark” Stephen said, his voice an octave lower than what Tony remembered it to be. “We’ve been watching you”.
And then the smirk turned into a grin that made Tony’s spirit leave his body in complete and utter fear. His jaw clenched, his eyes widened, and he found himself frozen in place.
What the actual hell had happened to Stephen Strange?