"What did you say your name was?"
On the rooftop the next morning, Rowan Mercer stared at the tall man in the tailored suit, genuine surprise flickering across his face.
The man adjusted his cuffs with thinly veiled irritation. "Stephen Strange. And I'm warning you, this is kidnapping. What you're doing is illegal. I will have my lawyers bury you."
Rowan glanced sideways at Leon. "Care to explain?"
Leon answered without hesitation. "Every other doctor agreed once we raised the price. He refused no matter how much we offered. Unfortunately, he's also considered the best neurosurgeon in New York."
Leon raised his pistol and pressed it lightly against Strange's forehead. "So we brought him anyway. You've got a girlfriend, right? Christine Palmer. Would be a shame if she had an accident."
Strange's jaw clenched, anger flashing across his face before fear swallowed it whole. "Don't touch her. I'll cooperate."
Rowan studied him more closely now. Same name. Same profession. Same woman. That settled it.
"So it really is you," Rowan murmured.
Six or seven years too early, but unmistakably the same man. For now, just a brilliant, painfully arrogant surgeon. No cloaks. No mysticism. No need for concern about cosmic watchdogs noticing.
"Put the gun down," Rowan said calmly. "Don't be rude to Dr. Strange."
Leon stepped back.
Rowan turned to Strange and the other doctors, his tone measured and reassuring. "If you do your jobs properly, you'll be paid more than promised. You and your families will remain completely safe. I guarantee it."
The doctors stared at the masked man in silence. Several swallowed hard. A few were already regretting every decision that led them here.
But they all nodded.
"Good," Rowan said. "Then let's move."
With a casual gesture, he lifted them all off the rooftop.
Invisible force caught their bodies, weight vanishing in an instant. Thin steel cables secured them together as they rose into open air. Gasps and half-choked cries followed as the city dropped away beneath their feet.
Their worldviews cracked in real time.
Before panic could fully take hold, the air around them shifted and the interior of an aircraft swallowed them whole.
The hatch sealed.
Stephen Strange stared at Rowan, tension coiled tight behind his eyes. "Who are you?"
"If all goes well," Rowan replied lightly, "you'll find out soon. Either way, no one here will be harmed."
The aircraft cut through the sky and soon descended toward its destination.
Minutes later, Rowan led them through the underground medical wing of the mutant academy. Two figures were already waiting.
"Professor Xavier," Rowan said, gesturing to the man in the wheelchair. "And Logan."
Metal claws slid out from Logan's knuckles with a sharp snikt.
Every doctor froze.
"I thought mutants were fiction," Strange said quietly.
He wasn't alone. Books, comics, rumors, conspiracies. None of it mattered until reality stood three feet away, breathing.
Rowan didn't lecture them. He simply laid out the facts.
He explained Xavier's neurological condition, Logan's declining health, and the experimental virus designed to suppress mutant genes. He placed the samples taken from the research facility on the table.
The doctors went to work.
They ran scans, tested blood, dissected data. Fear slowly gave way to obsession. Professional curiosity took over. This wasn't just survival anymore. This was unprecedented.
Rowan left them to it.
By evening, Stephen Strange returned with conclusions.
"Your equipment is good," he said, "but some of it's outdated. I've listed what needs replacing."
Rowan nodded.
"Logan's condition isn't caused by adamantium poisoning," Strange continued. "The suppressor virus is crippling his healing factor. Neutralize the virus, and his body will purge the toxins on its own."
"And Charles?" Rowan asked.
Strange hesitated. "The virus is affecting him too. It's exacerbating the neurological damage. Removing it will stabilize his powers, but it won't reverse everything. Years of strain on the brain can't be undone."
He met Rowan's gaze directly. "His epilepsy won't fully disappear. He'll need rest. And he should avoid using his abilities whenever possible. He's not Logan. His body can't absorb the backlash."
The room fell quiet.
Rowan absorbed every word.