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Chapter Text

It was a typical Monday, if you counted having to fight a cult of rogue sorcerers "typical".

The whole ordeal started out normal; Stephen and Wong went to confront a group of sorcerers that strayed from Kamar-Taj and broke their oaths. 

They found them in Australia- of all places- and quickly trapped them in the mirror dimension, where a battle ensued. 

The less-experienced fighters were easily subdued, until out of nowhere, a cultist wearing a white turban opened a portal behind Wong and held him at gunpoint. It should have been humorous, with a normal human barely trained in the mystic arts holding the Sorcerer Supreme at gunpoint (a rather uncivilized weapon, considering the company).

Initially, Stephen scoffed at the thought, quickly stopping when he realized that not only was Wong at gunpoint, but something was blocking magic from the entire area as well. 

Runes. 

They must have casted them during the heat of the battle. Stephen sighed. ‘ So much for thinking they were novices,’ he thought. 

Their arrogance had gotten them into an utterly defenseless situation. 

As always, Wong kept a stoic face- not showing his fear (if he even had any). Stephen schooled his expression as well, opening his arms in a “we surrender, what do you want?” type of manner. 

If the enemy could be bargained with, that was Stephen's go-to. 

The man who Stephen recognized, Garret Falcone, the leader of the group, spoke first from his position next to the man. “Sorcerer Supreme, we have your best friend in custody. Surrender and come with us, or he gets shot,” he said. 

Stephen raised his brow. They thought he was Sorcerer Supreme and Wong was his best friend? Well, at least the last part was correct. 

“Look, I'm not the Sorcerer Supreme,” Stephen explained. He wouldn't tell them who was the true Sorcerer Supreme until he found out what they wanted. 

Stephen would rather sacrifice his life than have even more blood on his hands. 

“Shut up! We know you are Sorcerer Supreme, Mister Stephen Vincent Strange,” the man spat. 

Doctor.

It took every ounce of willpower not to correct the honorific, but Stephen was not about to let his friend take a bullet for his pride. 

Stephen took a step forward, his hands out to show that he wasn't a threat. He approached them like an animal trainer would approach an unbroken horse. 

“Don't take another step!” The man shouted. The man with the gun clicked the safety off. 

“Okay. Okay, I won't,” Stephen said, immediately stopping his approach. He stood up straighter, displaying his confidence while also portraying a calm demeanor. 

“Come with us, and your friend will live.”

“Bloodshed isn't necessary. What do you want?” Stephen transferred the little amount of energy he could to his Cloak, trying to get it to spring to life. Whatever runes surrounded them made the Cloak fall dormant on Stephen's back. 

In addition to missing his magic, the sleeping Cloak made Stephen lonely, as if a hole was ripped out of his soul. It gave him an odd sort of fatigue that he didn't have before. 

The Cloak twitched weakly before lying motionless again. 

“We need your immediate surrender.” 

But why?

Somehow, Stephen would get out of this situation. He just hoped that nobody would have to get captured or killed to do so. 

As if he still had the time stone, Stephen mentally scanned through all the probable outcomes. He no longer held the time stone in his hands, but he did hold the situation, just as he did when he was a doctor: hundreds upon hundreds of scenarios, problems, and solutions thought of in a split second. 

“Come on Sorcerer Supreme Strange,” this time the man with the gun spoke, pushing the barrel deeper into Wong's skull. He winced but recovered quickly, putting up his facade of calmness. It was one of many reasons he was the Sorcerer Supreme instead of Stephen. If only the rogues knew. 

“5, 4, 3-” the man began counting. 

“Alright, Alright! I'm going!” Stephen held his hands up, completely surrendering to the idiots. 

Wong sighed, no doubt upset at Stephen’s decision. The man in the turbin pistol-whipped Wong, sending him collapsing unconscious on the ground. 

Stephen instinctively started towards his friend, but before he could reach him, two people: a gruff woman in green and a man in black approached Stephen, harshly grabbing his upper arms. One of them kicked the back of Stephen's knee, who collapsed with a grunt and a wince as his knees collided with the hard ground. 

Now in a kneeling position, Stephen realized the impact of what he had agreed to. He was being taken Vishanti-knows where, to do Vishanti-knows what. 

At least Wong, the real Sorcerer Supreme was safe. 

The two that manhandled Stephen to the ground were now holding him down by his shoulders. The pressure made his knees sink even deeper into the dirt, making each grain embed themselves into his skin, even through his pants. 

Although his hands were free, he couldn't do magic because of the runes, or even use brute force because of how damaged his hands were. 

Garret Falcone approached Stephen with a smirk. “See you later, Doc!” 

A gun from nowhere collided with the side of Stephen's head, knocking him out cold. 

Chapter Text

Stephen had seen countless patients waking up from anesthesia, eyes scanning the room to figure out where they were and where the time went. Come to think of it, Stephen had his own fair share of disorienting waking experiences. He had been in many situations where he woke up in bed after a vivid nightmare (if he was lucky), as well as situations where he would wake up in some form of jail cell (if he was unfortunate, which was more often than he'd care for). 

This time was no different. Stephen woke up with a white-hot headache spanning from his temple to the rest of his bloody face. He winced as his eyes opened, the bright fluorescent lights assaulting his retinas. 

He was confused- not in the sense that he didn't know what was going on, but in the sense that he didn't know where he was. He'd come to expect the typical 8x8 concrete box with a heavily bolted door, bucket in the corner, and a cot that barely sufficed as a bedding area. 

What he didn't expect was to wake up plastered to the wall with metal beams across his ankles, thighs, stomach, and shoulders. His hands were cuffed to the wall, each to his side. If he were to rotate his palms outward, he'd be in the proper anatomical position. 

The room was obviously a lab- computer monitors on the far wall and white desks lined up in the middle. Both side walls housed cabinets with various supplies and tools in their respective positions. 

“Ah, he awakens,” a man in the doorway said. It was Garret Falcone. “I know you know my name, but I'd like to tell you more about myself. After leaving Kamar-Taj, I became a self-proclaimed scientist with a focus on the Mystic Arts and its effect on the human brain.”

“For a ‘self-proclaimed’ scientist, you sure have a fancy lab,” Stephen quipped. He would've added theatrical air quotes had he not been restrained. It wasn't until a few weeks prior when Wong asked, ‘Why do you keep doing that’, that Stephen realized how often he used air quotes. He would never admit it, but Wong found the gesture rather humorous, even using them when he thought his friend couldn't see. 

The man chuckled. “I've acquired equipment over the years.” He began fiddling with a test tube. 

“Why do you want me?” Stephen asked. He knew the man wanted the Sorcerer Supreme, but Stephen didn't dare risk putting Wong into danger. 

“I'm studying the effect of powerful magic on a human being, seeing if there's a difference between cognitive functions within different people of various magical scopes. In custody, I have a non-magic civilian, a normal sorcerer, and the Sorcerer Supreme.”

“Normal sorcerer?” 

“If you are worried about your friend… he's not in custody. In fact, your friend is longer an issue at all,” Falcone smirked. 

“What did you do?” 

“You don't remember?”

Uh… no. 

Falcone laughed. “You were in a car accident and he passed. You're lucky we got you out of there before you got permanent nerve damage.”

What the hell? There was no accident. Why would a sorcerer drive when they could portal anywhere within seconds? It wasn't like Stephen could drive a car, and he doubted Wong had a license. And permanent nerve damage? Been there, done that. 

“I'm not as stupid as you think I am,” Stephen scoffed. He didn't believe one word that came out of the crazy man's mouth. 

“Oh, you're not stupid. You're just in denial. Grief is a heavy concept that the brain cannot comprehend quick enough to understand,” Falcone explained. “It's okay to let out your emotions after such a tremendous loss.” 

Stephen raised his brow, letting the gesture speak for itself. He wasn't buying it. 

And yet… something deep within his mind was telling him to believe the man. It crawled its way through the neurological pathways, telling his neurons to trust, trust, trust. 

He shook his head. It was like mind manipulation magic, but Garett Falcone didn't have enough training for that. The man definitely didn't exude magical energy to that caliber. Not even Stephen was able to manipulate people's minds; although, he'd never exactly tried. 

  Back to the present, Stephen. “My friend did not die.” 

“Oh poor thing. I know it's hard having someone's blood on your hands, especially if it wasn't intentional.” 

If there was one thing Stephen could agree with, it was the last statement. He knew its truthfulness all too well. Phantom ice particles floated into Stephen's skin making him shiver. 

Stephen remained silent, not giving the man the satisfaction of a response. Unfortunately, Falcone noticed the full-body shiver, making him smirk. 

“Let's get started then. Have you taken medicine in the last few days?”

“Um…no.” He couldn't with magic: just like he couldn't eat normal food. Magic really fucked with a body’s immune system. 

“Do you have any allergies?” 

“Amoxicillin,” Stephen begrudgingly replied. The doctor hated being treated as a patient. 

“I'm going to inject you with something that'll make you fall asleep,” Falcone explained as he walked to one of the cabinets. 

“For what purpose?” Stephen asked.  

“Just a simple procedure.”

Stephen steadied his breathing, not knowing what to expect except the worst. When had the future ever not involved pain or suffering? 

Garret Falcone returned with a syringe. Attached was a needle, unnecessarily long but fortunately thin. 

As the man placed his hand on Stephen's upper arm and swabbed the area with a disinfectant wipe, Stephen couldn't help but feel nervous. He was by no means afraid of needles or blood work, but the helpless position of his body (that was very much stuck to the wall) made his anxiety go up. 

He was too helpless to fight the needle as it sunk into his skin, expelling the foreign substance into his bloodstream. 

There was no going back now. 

“Oh I forgot to mention the side effects! It is not uncommon for patients to become emotional, have clouded thinking, or hallucinate once the medication kicks in.”

“I thought you said it'd put me to sleep.” 

“Did I? Oopsie!” 

Stephen's eyes got wider and his heart rate picked up. 

“It may give you a sense of helplessness, but I assure you that nothing that'll happen will be real.” Falcone moved across the room to retrieve a clump of wires and electrodes. 

Helplessly waiting for the medicine to kick in, Stephen recognized the collection as an EEG. 

Despite the circumstances, the previous neurosurgeon got excited upon seeing such a familiar device. After all, he'd spent most of his pre-sorcerer life studying data retrieved from such devices. 

Wordlessly, Falcone squeezed a dollop of adhesive glue, applying it to a small strip of gauze. Silently, Stephen judged him for his lack of application paste which normally prepared the skin for easy removal; however, he doubted the scientist would care if he caused a little extra pain. 

Next, Falcone placed an electrode in the middle of Stephen's forehead, applied the gauze with the adhesive, and pressed down to make it stick. 

Falcone repeated the process, this time placing the electrode on the side of Stephen’s scalp. He tried not to let his breath hitch when some adhesive got stuck in the area of his hair that he knew housed his white streak, pulling painfully at the follicles. 

The all-too-familiar process went on until electrodes were on Stephen's temples, chin, cheekbones, and various places on his scalp. The entire time, Stephen forced himself not to shudder: the touching a little too intimate and close for his liking. 

The cables came next, wrapping themselves around Stephen's bound shoulder and continuing up to each electrode, collecting at the chin. Like the electrodes, the cables were tapped to Stephen's skin. 

A clap from Falcone startled Stephen, nearly giving him a heart attack. 

“Woah, that made your brain activity go overtime!” Falcone observed from the monitor. 

Stephen didn't remember a monitor being set up. Maybe it was assembled while he was internally criticizing the man's poor skills. 

All of a sudden, Stephen's limbs felt as though they were filled with coal, weighing them down and making them impossible to move. The paralysis continued down to his hands, his feet, his face, and his neck…

He couldn't move! 

Stephen threw every ounce of his energy into trying to lift something, anything, but it was fruitless. 

“You're not actually paralyzed, it's a mental thing from the medicine.” 

A mental thing? How the hell was this a mental thing? 

Stephen wanted nothing more than to scream at the man, but he couldn't. He couldn't even open his mouth to breathe. 

“Only the strongest minds can resist the tricks it plays on your brain.” 

Strongest minds? Bullshit! Stephen's mind  was the strongest mind in the world. 

He relaxed his body as he would to meditate, clearing his mind and fortifying his mental shields. 

Still no luck. 

Unless Wong came fast, this was going to be a long captivity. Falcone was trying to manipulate him- Stephen knew this with every ounce of his soul, but something deep within his brain told him to trust the man. 

He didn't know which one to believe: his emotional soul, or his logical mind.

Chapter Text

It was just an illusion, an illusion like the Images of Ikkon. 

There was no way Wong was in front of Stephen. Maybe Falcone was right about the hallucinations. 

Not-Wong was heavily cuffed, two soldiers flanking each side of him. He looked just as (if not more) drugged than Stephen felt. Of course, a robot or illusion would look that way as well. 

“I need you to kill this man,” Garret Falcone explained. 

Kill? Hell no! Stephen swore an oath to do no harm, and he'd already broken that oath too many times than he would've liked. He wasn't about to do it again. 

“He's an imposter! He's Mephisto in disguise!” Falcone stated dramatically. 

“N-nooo…” Stephen slurred, the drugs still heavy in his system. “...’s Wong.” 

“Your real friend died, remember?” 

“In the crash?” Stephen tried to put the dots together. 

“Yes! So you do remember?”

“You lie!” Stephen's head fell back. Thinking was hard- all he wanted to do was sleep…

“No! Don't fall asleep, my lab rat,” Falcone sang. 

Lab rat? 

Stephen's head perked up instantly. 

Lab rat? 

Oh, the electrodes, the monitor, the lab. It all made sense! He was a lab rat! 

“Let me go,” Stephen cried, too weakly for his liking. 

“No, we're going to save the world with this research. Now, kill the imposter,” Falcone smiled. He held a clipboard and a remote. 

What was the remote for? 

“You leave us no choice,” Falcone clicked a button.  

Stephen felt his body rise, each step foreign. He made his way to Not-Wong, fighting his body to stop, anything to stop! 

He wasn't going to kill! He wasn't going to kill! 

He was NOT going to kill. 

He was… what was he doing? 

Oh! He was going to kill the imposter! 

Something felt horribly wrong, but it made sense in Stephen's mind. His mind was always correct, it was what made him a great doctor. 

His mind was correct in walking to the intruder. It was correct in raising a blade and lifting it against the intruder’s head. 

His heart pleaded for him to stop, but his mind told him to continue, and his mind was always correct. 

He lowered the blade and a scream rang out.

Only then did he realize what he had done. 

Chapter Text

Stephen shot out of bed, disoriented upon seeing the familiar designs of the gold and mahogany ceiling of his room. 

The last thing he remembered was that creepy scientist dude. Or, was that a dream? Was this a dream? That man had said it could induce hallucinations. 

Bedside the bed, somebody rushed to Stephen's side. 

“W-what happened t-to me?” He asked the mystery person. He hated how weak he sounded, but he could blame the injury. Did he have an injury, and was that why he was in his bed? 

“We rescued you from a mad scientist,” a voice said. It was familiar, but not Wong familiar. 

“Rintrah?” 

“The one and only,” his deep voice joked. 

“Where's Wong?” 

“He's recovering, same as you.”

“I-I didn't kill him?” Stephen welled up with emotions, confused and happy about the fact he didn't kill his best friend. “What happened?” 

“I've never seen you so confused, this is kind of funny,” Rintrah commented with a chuckle. 

Stephen glared at him. 

“Alright, fine,” Rintrah sighed. “You were taken by Garret Falcone who turned out to be a crazy scientist-”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Stephen quipped. 

“...Anyway, Garret Falcone wanted to test the effects of some mind-control serum on who he believed to be the most strong-willed person in the universe-”

“What do you mean ‘who he believed’?”

“He heard about your escapade with Dormammu, but that doesn't matter. He drugged you with his hallucination drug. We got to you after it made you pass out,” he explained. 

“Wait… so I didn't kill Wong?”

“You already asked that, and no, he's in the other room.” 

Stephen was still confused; he didn't remember anything. “Is his drug still in me?”

“No, it only has a half-life of 24 hours.” 

“I've been out for more than 24 hours!?”

“Yeah… I thought that was obvious.” 

Stephen just sighed at Rintrah’s joking manner. He was just drugged and out for 24 hours, he didn't need the extra sarcasm from his friend. 

“What happened to me?” Stephen asked again. He couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that someone had the audacity to use him as a lab rat for some meager drug. 

“I already told you-” Rintrah was interrupted by a door opening, revealing Wong. Rintrah quickly straightened up and bowed to the Sorcerer Supreme. 

“Wong!”

“Hi Stephen, how are you feeling?” His friend asked. 

“Good until Rintrah started giving me attitude,” Stephen joked. 

“That's pretty typical,” Wong said as he patted Rintrah on the back. 

“I'm just… confused.” 

“Well, the drug is meant to do that. Falcone thought he could make you do his bidding to make an army.”

“An army?” 

“Yes, to get rid of sorcerers,” Wong elaborated. 

“Like Mordo?”

“Yes, exactly like Mordo.”

Stephen thought on that for a moment, thinking of Mordo’s reach to the sorcerer world, making them believe that sorcerers were evil and that magic was against the laws of nature. In Kamar-Taj, magic was used for anything but. 

“Wait, so I didn't kill you?” 

“Why would you have killed me?” 

“He keeps asking that, Wong,” Rintrah chimed in, sounding concerned. 

The Sorcerer Supreme hummed. “Can you leave us, Rintrah?” 

Rintrah obliged, leaving with a bow of respect to Wong, who smirked at Stephen. Even though Stephen was willing to bow as a courtesy to his friend, it remained an inside joke. 

Wong sat on the side of the bed. “I was never captured, I got pistol-whipped shortly after you were taken hostage. I woke up a few hours later, portalled to Kamar-Taj, and got a group together to rescue you.” 

“So Falcone never captured anyone else?”

“No, Stephen. I don't know what he told you, but he was trying to manipulate you.” 

The backs of Stephen's eyes started to burn, whether from relief or embarrassment from believing his captor, he wasn't sure. “I believed him, Wong!” 

“That bastard!” Wong said in a barely audible whisper. “That wasn't your fault, it was the drug.” 

“I know but…” 

“No ‘buts’! Nobody was hurt, that drug is out of your system, and thanks to you, we were able to destroy the serum, the data. and all of the blueprints.”

“I guess…” 

“Hey, why don't we go for tuna melts?” 

Stephen groaned. “Do you at least have money now?” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“From that fight club?” 

Wong's lips turned upwards in his equivalent to a smile. “A sorcerer supreme never reveals their secrets.”