Himalayas. Cold. Windy. Very unwelcome.
Stephen Strange's shoes — wildly underprepared — crunched through the courtyard of Kamar-Taj. His coat was torn, his beard uneven, and his expression somewhere between "I am enlightened" and "I deeply regret everything."
Mark sipped tea with Wong in the corner.
They watched the new arrival like two cats watching a puppy trip over itself.
"Let me guess," Mark muttered.
"American. Arrogant. Sleeps on silk sheets."
Wong nodded. "Probably thinks yoga is a personality trait."
"Definitely asks for Wi-Fi passwords everywhere."
"He's going to touch something forbidden in three days, tops."
The Entrance (That Wasn't)
Strange approached the central steps and looked around, clearly expecting some kind of welcome.
None came.
Just more monks ignoring him.
Except one bald woman, serene and unreadable — the Ancient One.
Strange cleared his throat.
"I'm here to learn. I was told you… help people."
The Ancient One simply smiled. "Sometimes."
From behind her, Mark stepped forward.
"Hi. You must be the famous neurosurgeon."
Strange blinked. "Do I… know you?"
Mark smiled. "Not yet. But I know you."
Wong coughed from behind. "That's not creepy at all."
Tea, Trauma, and Sarcasm
They sat Strange down. Tea was served. Strange sniffed it suspiciously.
"Is this… ayahuasca?"
Mark laughed. "No, but it will open your third eye if you're not careful."
Strange drank it anyway. Mistake.
A miniature astral projection popped out of his forehead briefly, yelped in surprise, and zipped back into his body.
Strange nearly choked.
Wong deadpanned, "Side effects include nausea, humility, and mild existential crisis."
Mark patted his back. "You get used to it. Or you don't. Your call."
Breaking the Ego (Gently)
The Ancient One began her usual lesson — quiet, composed, unshakable.
But Strange kept interrupting.
"Magic? You can't be serious."
"Is this like chakra manipulation or quantum biochemistry?"
"I have seven PhDs—"
Mark finally sighed, then casually opened a portal next to him and tossed his tea cup into a trash can in New York City.
It clattered perfectly into place.
He closed the portal without blinking.
Strange stared.
"…Okay. That was cool."
Mark smiled. "Welcome to magic school, Doctor."
Wong the Gatekeeper
Wong handed Strange a stack of scrolls.
"These are your beginner studies."
Strange blinked. "These are in… Sanskrit?"
"Yes."
"Do you have a translation app?"
Wong's eyes narrowed. "I am the translation app."
Mark snorted so hard he almost spilled his tea.
The End of the Beginning
As the sun set behind the high temple walls, Stephen Strange sat alone in a stone corridor, staring at a book that made no sense and sipping tea he hated, wondering if he'd made the worst mistake of his life.
From across the courtyard, Mark and Wong watched.
"How long do you think until he tries to open a portal?" Mark asked.
"Midnight," Wong said.
"How long until he breaks something?"
"Also midnight."
They sipped in silence, like two older siblings watching the new kid trip through his first day of school.
Strange was here.
And things were about to get interesting.