Sick and Tired

[4]

Years Ago...

The view observing the city skyline was quite breathtaking. As most of the rich and pompous he has met, the view would make them all feel much bigger. Superior, in a way - compared to the lowly men and women below. The high view sickens him. The city made him feel so small. A reminder of his past, and the reality that all life was insignificant. He was tired. He preferred the old ocean view of his mansion.

The emptiness of only water and sky was calming to his overbearing nerves. The only noise being that if his AI Butler and the occasional assistant or Stark Industries' staff. He missed that.

However, there was no going back. Too much time had passed, and he was running out of options.

"Ah," a voice called, "I see you've already let yourself in."

Clad in a black suit, and a white dress shirt brightened in contrast to the man's deep teal tie, the newcomer graciously stood a good distance between himself and the billionaire.

Tony once more looked down to the traffic below, then looked over to the other man through the window's reflection.

"Strange," he greeted. Turning to face the great doctor by the heels of his feet, Stark smiled knowingly as he was studied up and down.

"a pleasure to finally meet a man of intelligence that is also a distinguished pupil of Kamar-Taj."

The once studious and seemingly strong figure of the doctor had fallen. With speed and bravery that held even Tony impressed, the doctor's own well-pressed clothes had disappeared and were replaced with what he believed to be the formal robes of students of the mystic arts. Blue, he noted, so has he completed his training?

The billionaire had also noted that the doctor conjured two magic circles. More likely as shields, as Tony had not outright done anything yet that displayed power or weakness.

"How did you find out about that?"

"Well," the billionaire grinned, "a renowned surgeon survives a car accident that results in severe traumatic injury to both of his hands followed by multiple compound fractures and secondary neuropathy. Utterly disabling him, and forcing him to resign and halt his career as a neurosurgeon."

He backed away from the doctor's window, slowly walking towards him as continued to speak. He had stopped at the coffee table, less than six feet away from the possible attack that could come shooting from Strange's hands.

"Yet, not even two years later after being off-grid, the surgeon Dr Strange returns! Back to work, harder than ever before. Turned over a new leaf too, from what I've seen on the news! A better social life, friends, oh- and a fiancé! With healed hands no less! A surgery that was deemed too high a risk or simply impossible by even the best of doctors. Of course I would find out the truth, Stephen. I always do."

He sat himself down on his couch, picking up the glass of scotch he had poured himself. The doctor was late, after all. Made him wait nearly an hour for the man.

Watching him for a second longer, the doctor found a moment of realization that reflected through his eyes. He lowered his shields, and sighed.

"I know why you're here, even I thought of ways to fix it," he frowned, "but I've read enough books and have casted enough spells to know that there is nothing I can do. Not without sentencing myself to death or exile. We can do nothing but wait for the inevitable."

The fire was set ablaze in his eyes, the sorcerer could tell. He knew what he wanted; what he desired. It was as clear as day, and any rational person would know why. A desperate man would always call for desperate measures. How he found the knowledge of Kamar-Taj would have to wait, the poor billionaire'a sanity was at stake.