chapter iii of the death season :
" WE WILL STOP HIM . "
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" There ' s no stopping it . There is only the war . "
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january 10, 2018
" SERIOUSLY ? YOU DON ' T HAVE ANY MONEY ? "
"Attachment to the material is a detachment from the spiritual." Wong casually informs the Master of the Mystic Arts and friend, Stephen Strange.
"I'll be sure to tell that to the guys at the deli." Stephen shoots back, jogging down the steps of the Sanctum Sanctorum, "Maybe they'll make you a metaphysical ham and rye."
It's a rather gray day in New York, New York. No one can see the sun behind the thickly blanketed sky; it looks like a silver shell behind a murky and bitterly cold river. The city seems the same as it always does: loud, busy, and never sleeping. The world goes about its business: adults take runs in parks, teens and school kids go on field trips, a couple of friends go to lunch. But there's something brewing in the distance, something stirring up in the pale gray sky and threatening the peace that lies below it.
A calm before the storm.
A reprieve before the end.
The adults, the teens, the school kids, the friends... Oh God, they all have no idea what's coming.
"Oh, wait, wait!" Wong suddenly pauses on the staircase, stuffing a hand into his pocket to see what he might have stashed away, "I think I got a two hundred."
"Dollars?" Stephen raises his eyebrows at him, pausing a few steps lower.
"Rupees."
"Which is?"
"A buck and a half." The man replies rather sheepishly and he can't hide the bit of hope in his voice.
Stephen heaves a big sigh, "What do you want?"
In victory, Wong claps and rubs his hands together, "I wouldn't say no to a tuna melt."
The large wooden door to the Sanctum Sanctorum suddenly flies open, startling the two men who are still walking down the staircase. They both look ready to put up a defense before a brunette in a long pinstripe trench coat sprints into the lobby of the Sanctum.
"Stephen!" The brunette yells, slamming the door shut and sliding across the floor, "We got incoming!"
The man with hair graying at his ears pulls a face at the sight of the young woman he hasn't seen in two years. Even with the diplomatic status that grants her immunity in the wake of the Accords, Stephen is honestly very surprised to see her in New York. But, along with that surprise comes a large wave of concern at the panic and urgency in her voice that both the doctor and librarian can hear so very clearly.
Something's wrong.
The storm.
The end.
"Miss Stark?" Strange questions in slow and careful confusion, "What are you-,"
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THE DEATH SEASON ▹ final avengers ✓
FanfictionEvery demon must have their pound of flesh. The Avengers have fallen. The unity that once protected the Earth no longer remains. Fathers and daughters have been torn apart, families are no longer aligned, and darkness looms upon the horizon. For...
