2014-03-09 Supreme Visitor
2014-03-09
Players: Doctor Strange, Phantasm
GMed by Who GMed?
Title: Supreme Visitor

This studio apartment is quite simple. To the right of the entryway is the kitchen and bathroom, to the left a closet and a washer/dryer. Straight ahead, the Living/Dining Room combo. Walk to there and there's a sleeping alcove to the right. As far as furniture there are five notable pieces of furniture. Two futons in the alcove, two more futons in the living /dining room area, and a rather beaten, and likely salvaged from a street corner on trash day, coffee table. Resting on the table is an old TV and converter box.

It is unsure to what is sadder. The minimalism of the furniture, or that four guys pooled their money for this and this is all they did. But factoring the amount of sound proof paneling around the place along with the drumset, guitars, keyboard, recorder, and practice drum pads scattered about there's likely a good reason why the furniture count stopped where it did. With just two people sharing the apartment now, this quasi-two room, quasi-kitchen, one bathroom apartment seems quite spacious. Although, the occupants would prefer it much more if the other two former occupants were still there.

Well, considering the events of the last evening, this evening is doing MUCH better in comparison. Other than a long stop at the library looking through Norse mythology books, things have been rather uneventful today. Which he'll take.

It's rather quiet tonight. Wade's out doing, well… who knows what he's doing, it is Sunday evening. A lot of things are closed. But, he's likely having fun whatever it is. As for Mike, he is in the kitchen area, cutting up red potatoes.

Suddenly from the front door, there comes a rasping. The source happens to be the Sorcerer Supreme, here to talk business with one of the men that rents the room.

Knock knock? Mike turns his head to look towards the door. Wade would not knock. But, that doesn't bar one of the other neighbors. Setting the knife on the counter, the musician grabs a towel and moves towards the door. Wiping his hands with the towel, Mike eyes Stephen through the peephole. "The f-?" Slinging the towel over his shoulder, he opens the door to look at Stephen. "Yeah?"

Wearing a light grey sports coat and matching pants, and with a lighter pink button up shirt tucked in, Strange offers a hand to Mike, "Mike I presume." Steve asks, before he offers up his own name, "I am Doctor Stephen Strange. I feel we've met before, correct?" He asks, already knowing the question but trying to show Mike he's not a dangerous man.

Still dressed down in some of his Goodwill-esque attire but lacking the knit-cap that he gave Loki, he looks to the extended hand and back to the sorcerer. A brow lifting, as he reaches a hand over to shake the offered hand, "From the park…" He steps back, allowing for the man to step inside, partly to keep the impending conversation out of the hallway and the other part because he's got potatoes to prep. "Not to be rude but, what are you doing here? I don't recall giving you my address."

"Yes, from the park." Steve says with a subtle smirk as he steps in and takes a look around the apartment, studying the man's belongings. "Funny thing happened in the park. I heard some of your lyrics being sung by a younger man that day. And I must say, they are most intriguing words you've chosen to put into your songs."

Mike closes the door, latching it shut before moving back over to the kitchen area, leaving the simplistic setup of the apartment speak for itself. Two of the futons appear to be slept in, while the other two remain fixed in their sofa like positions. "Intriguing eh?" Mike considers, picking up the cutting knife as he grabs another potato, "Not the most common word I've heard used to describe any of my music." He slices a potato in half, "But being one I have heard was controversial, there's room for that word I guess." Twisting the potato, he proceeds to make the halves turn into quarters, "But different topics and stuff… which songs?"

"Oh, I say intriguing because of specific words you wrote. Do you pick all your lyrics out of the air, or is there some research put forth inside." Strange says with a smirk. Then he reaches into his jacket pocket to pull out a notepad with a series of scribbles on the front. One thing to ask a tone demure Raphael's flask give me a cure." Strange quotes, his grey eyes locking onto Mike's regardless of wether or not he's looking at he sorcerer.

As Strange quotes from a song, Mike gives a bit of a smile as he grabs the next potato, "Ah. 'Deprive'. That one was a bit therapuetic to write." Slicy slice. Slice. Slice. The free hand grabs the bits of potato to drop them into a bowl, causing for a bit more free space on the cutting board. "Even when things are at their worst, there's always room for a little bit of hope."

Moving around the room a bit, still exploring the abode, "Did you write those lyrics yourself?" Strange asks his first and most key question. Mike's answer will be deeper than the musician most likely intends. Strange then looks back to the man once more, waiting his answer.

"The lyrics to the song yes." Mike replies, "That chorus. No." He sets the knife down to move over to a cabinet, swinging the door open with a squeak. "That album, was a therapy album. I was undergoing a lot of difficulties and I wasn't in the best of places mentally or emotionally." He pulls out a bottle of olive oil and turns over to the bowl, already unscrewing the cap, "Coped the best way I could and well, that wasn't working as well. So, there was prayer."

"Mike, I think we both know where those lyrics really came from. And why you put them in your song." Steve says, moving closer towards Mike, his hands going up to frame a blank spot high on his chest where suddenly a blinding yellow light seems to emit from a slowly appearing yellow medallion. "The Agamotto eye reveals all lies." Stephen chants activating the eyes truth revealing light, to bathe Mike with to reveal his true form and nature to the sorcerer.

Mike tilts the bottle getting a little splash of the oil inside before setting the bottle aside, the other hand already reaching out to the mismatched spice rack to grab at some of the seasonings. He stops, looking over to Stephen curiously, "Wh-?" When the flashlight beam of truth hits Mike, Stephen is rewarded with the view of … Mike.

Oh how utterly disappointing this might be. Oh wait -

What Stephen now gets is indeed a tired, almost sleep deprieved Mike. Him running off to Jersey, visiting his old home, visiting locations of less than pleasant memories, the occasional trip to church, and the much more frequent trips to a bar. Conversation. A life changing question and answer, a handshake, and powers passed over. There is even the sight of a raven, and a hooded figure with claws, both of which helping people, albeit in two different styles of approach. Two sides of a coin with a common goal. To protect.

"Mike, the phantasm… A protector." Stephen says, lowering his hands and just as quickly as it appeared, the amulet vanishes. Strange gives an odd nod to the musician. "I'm glad to meet you, and I could even help you further if you wish to protect more. As the Sorcerer Supreme, we have the same goals." Steve sounds like he's offering to teach the young mystic some things the other phantasm's before have never known or long since forgotten.

The musician's head tilts, and in retrospect, in a bit of a nod to a raven's gesture as he looks at the sorcerer. "You mean, more easter eggs to fit into the albums?" His thumb hooks the lip of the spice container, popping it open to allow for him to shake some of the seasoning into the bowl before he clicks it aside. Figures. Sorceror Supreme stops by to talk and part of Mike still doesn't want to risk the potatoes setting for too long.

"I offer a means to do more active protecting." Steve says bluntly before he moves towards the door. "You can find me in Greenwich if you're interested." Strange gives Mike a lead to look before he opens the door and slips out back into the hall way.

Mike looks to the door, watching as the sorceror heads out. "Huh." He murmurs to himself before turning back to the counter to finish prepping the potatoes, "This, is probably one of my weirder weeks."

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