Phase Three: MARVEL's Doctor Strange

by Alex Irvine

  Thor drained the ale. All of it.

  “A worthy inclusion,” he said. Then, as he watched, the tankard refilled itself.

  “Yeah. So, why bring him here to New York?”

  “That’s a long story. A family drama, that kind of thing, but… we’re looking for my father.”

  “Oh, okay. So, if you’ve found Odin, you all will return to Asgard promptly?”

  “Oh yes.” Thor was grinning again. “Promptly.”

  “All right.” Strange stood. “Let me help you.”

  In another part of the city, Jonathan Pangborn was working at his lathe, machining a piece of steel to a smooth, circular edge. He heard someone come into his workshop and called over his shoulder. “Can I help you?”

  The stranger wore a hood. “They carried you into Kamar-Taj on a stretcher,” he said softly. “Look at you now, Pangborn.”

  “Mordo,” Pangborn said with a grin. This was an unexpected visit. “So, what can I do for you, man?!”

  “I’ve been away many months now and I had a revelation,” Mordo said. The expression on his face started to make Pangborn nervous. “The true purpose of a sorcerer is to twist things out of their proper shape. Stealing power, perverting nature… like you.”

  This was serious. “I’ve stolen nothing,” Pangborn said. “This is my power. Mine.” He’d put everything he’d learned into making himself walk again. He didn’t hurt anyone, he didn’t tell anyone. He just wanted to get on with his life… but something told him Mordo wasn’t going to let that happen. Mordo always had been a bomb waiting to go off, Pangborn thought. He was a black-and-white kind of guy. Either your best friend or your worst enemy. And it looked like he’d decided Pangborn was on the wrong side.

  Mordo saw Pangborn reaching for the crowbar resting on his work shelf. He dodged Pangborn’s swing with no trouble and thrust an open hand into Pangborn’s belly. Pangborn cried out as Mordo drew the glowing essence of Pangborn’s power out.

  Pangborn fell to the ground, unable to move his legs again. “Power has a purpose,” Mordo said. He closed his fist and Pangborn’s power disappeared.

  “Why are you doing this?” Pangborn groaned.

  Mordo knelt in front of him, pleased with what he had done. “Because I see at long last what is wrong with the world,” he said.

  “Too many sorcerers.”

  It was an argument he planned to have with Stephen Strange.…

  Soon.

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  Inside the throne room, Asgardians had gathered to bid farewell to their current king and welcome their new one. Ceremonial banners fluttered from the high ceilings while attendants handed out golden goblets full of sweet drinks to the beautifully dressed guests. There was a festive air to the room as people chatted softly to each other and waited with eager anticipation for the arrival of the royal family.

  At the front of the room, Thor’s best friends and fellow warriors, Volstagg, Fandral, Hogun, and Lady Sif, stood at attention while members of the palace guard lined up in formation. Then Frigga entered the room and walked down the long aisle, Loki by her side. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back in ringlets that matched her golden gown. When they had made their way to the front of the room, another horn sounded, and the guards stepped aside. There was an audible gasp.

  Odin sat atop his golden throne. On his head he wore a large helmet, and in his hand he gripped the mighty spear Gungnir.

  Looking out over the room, Odin sighed deeply. Even after ruling for tens of thousands of years, he felt as if it were only a day ago that his father had crowned him in a ceremony similar to this one. He wondered now if his father had had the same doubts about him that he was having about Thor. Did he regret having to step aside for the younger generation to take over? Odin thought. Was I as impulsive then as Thor is now? Does that mean that he, too, will grow into a wise king in time?

  Odin’s thoughts were interrupted by another gasp from the crowd. Then the room erupted in applause. The mighty Thor had arrived. Thor raised Mjolnir, the hammer that only the worthy could lift, high over his head and soaked in the adoration. His body was covered in battle armor with large metal disks on the front chest plate. His winged helmet sat on his head, and his long red cape flowed behind him. While moments ago, everyone had believed Odin to be the most powerful ruler they would ever have, the appearance of Thor made them believe otherwise. Standing there, he looked every inch a king.

  When the cheering faded, Thor finally strode up the long aisle, a smug smile on his face. Clearly the concerns of his father did not trouble Thor. He felt more than ready to rule Asgard. He had watched his father do it for years, and he thought it was time for a fresh start. He had proven himself to be one of the finest warriors the realm had ever seen. Now he would prove himself to be one of its finest kings.

  As Odin watched his son walk toward him, the gravity of the situation hit the All-Father hard. Though sometimes brash and irresponsible, Thor had grown into a fine young man. And now he was about to take the throne as the new ruler of Asgard. Odin could still vividly remember when Thor was just a boy, learning how to hold a sword for the first time. Or when he was first able to wield Mjolnir. How the hammer, which now looked small in his large hands, had nearly toppled Thor!

  Odin smiled now, thinking back on that day. Learning to be king would be like learning to ride a horse. Thor wouldn’t like having to go slowly, and he would fall a few times, but his difficulties would serve to teach him some valuable lessons. Or so Odin hoped. He could be only grateful that the realm was at peace and had been for a long time. There was no doubt Thor was a good warrior—but a warrior king? That was another story. That was something he had yet to learn.

  Finally, Thor arrived in front of his father. He nodded at his mother and brother and friends and then knelt, bowed his head, and waited. A hush fell over the crowd as they, too, waited.

  “A new day has come for a new king to wield his own weapon,” Odin began, his deep voice echoing through the room. “Today, I entrust you with the sacred throne of Asgard. Responsibility, duty, honor. They are essential to every soldier and every king.” As the All-Father spoke, Thor raised his eyes to look at him. Odin willed the words to impact his son, to get through to him. For after this day, he would be on his own.

  Odin continued, repeating the declaration that had been spoken to him so many years before. He was at the very end of his speech when he felt it—a chill that cut through the room and caused people to shiver uncertainly. Odin’s heart began to race. He had felt this chill before—on Jotunheim. Asgard had waged a long and fierce war with the ice realm. But a truce had been made years ago. There was no reason for Odin to think Jotuns would be in Asgard. Still…

  Shaking off the feeling of dread, Odin continued. He was just about to say the final words that would make Thor king when the banners hanging from the ceiling suddenly iced over.

  There was no denying it. “Frost Giants,” Odin whispered.

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