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✘ doctor stephen strange

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Who| The Doctor and YOU
What| Testing out teleportation--in which you see a random arm or hand materialize behind you, or SUDDENLY DOCTOR in the seat next to you.
Where| EVERYWHERE. Literally, everywhere, on Legion World.
When| Now
Warnings/Notes| N/A

Stephen had spent the time right after his arrival exploring and attempting to learn everything he could about this place. It wasn't difficult to get a bead on things, it was just...weird. Weird being that he was surrounded by other 'superheroes' and oh, facing down a catyclismic apocalyptic threat.

Since he had little else to do at the moment and didn't want to delve into the dark recesses of cosmic horror, he decided to test out the powers he'd apparently been gifted with in an empty room not too far from his quarters. The shields were simple enough, and functioned much in the same way they did back home, though he didn't have to do any hand movements. They just turned on. The teleportation was a different matter. He'd had a difficult time controlling the sling ring back home at first, and he'd assumed it would be similar to how it worked here, except the ability was within instead of inside an object.

Focus on a place. On what you want to see.

It took several tries, but eventually with a wave of his arm a whirling, sparking golden circle appeared. A portal, just like he was used to. A grin.

[FUN TIME: If you want to be visited by a randomly bouncing around Stephen, feel free to put in your post that the golden circle appeared wherever you like!]

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Rocket had been minding his own damn business in the training room, trying to instruct his small horde of flowers in the ways of swarming whatever he shot at. For their size, they were being as fierce as they could be. It was an admirable, if ridiculous-looking, attempt.

At least until the circle appeared out of nowhere. Rocket whipped around in surprise, automatically aiming his gun in the direction of the circles. (It was a reflex. In Rocket's experience, anything randomly popping up behind you was generally planning to ruin your whole day.) "What the hell?!" he yelped, bristling and baring his teeth.

Meanwhile, the flowers were in something of a panic, scurrying around in circles and waving their tendrils madly in the air. This was a first, and they did not like it.

An arm popped out of the circle first, then a leg and about half his cape. . It just stayed there like that as Stephen struggled on the other side to open up the circle bigger.

So for the moment, there was a random arm, half his body and leg hanging out of midair awkwardly.

"Come on!" Stephen's voice would sound far away as he pushed against the borders of the circle, widening it with every passing second. He heard someone yell on the other side but he didn't think he was in any danger, after all it was just the training room, right?

Rocket slowly lowered his gun, staring at the...limbs. And the half a body.

And the cape.

Just hanging out of midair in the training room.

...Okay, then.

While the flowers kept running around in circles (at least until one tripped over its own roots and went down, resulting in a six-flower pileup) Rocket stepped towards the arm, as it was closest, and gave it a prod with the end of his gun.

"Come on and do what?" he yelled back.

This wasn't comfortable at all.

Stephen felt something prod his arm and he flailed slightly, not being able to see what it was. He'd assumed the training room was empty, but apparently not.

"I was talking to myself!" Stephen yelled back, as he tried to push the circle larger. Slowly the rest of him squeezed through, and he fell to a heap on the floor of the training room, panting.

Oh no. Wait.

He was missing an arm. Not really, as the golden circle was still whirring around where his arm was supposed to be, he just needed to widen it again and pull his arm the rest of the way through.

"Sorry. This doesn't work or feel exactly like my sling ring back home."

He realized that the person he'd been addressing all this time he was a raccoon.

Okay then.

Rocket stepped back at the flailing-and the circle widening to reveal...some guy. With a cape.

...and only one arm, at least for a few seconds. This was nothing if not educational, because by watching this whole fiasco, Rocket was very swiftly getting the general idea of 'portal-type things: more of a pain in the ass than they're worth.'

He looked at the newcomer with a skeptical eye. "'Sling ring'? What are we, rhyming now? And I thought the oath thing was bad."

That guy with a cape was now staring and blinking at the talking raccoon.

You know what? He wasn't even phased anymore. He really should stop being surprised by life in general.

"It wasn't me who named it, I think the person who did thought they were being fun and whimsical."

Stephen sat up, stretching the arm that had gotten stuck to make sure it was okay. Seemed to be. The golden teleportation circle had disappeared once he'd wrenched his arm through.

"This is the training room, right?"

And it had flowers...?

The explaination earned a quirk of a brow. "Yeah, that's less 'fun and whimsical' and more 'sounding like an ass'." The question got a nod in response, though. "Yeah. Course, most people figured out the whole 'doorways' idea and don't try to do...whatever the hell that was. Might wanna try that next time."

The flowers, meanwhile, had untangled themselves and tottered over closer to Stephen, wiggling their petals and tendrils in a way that looked more curious than threatening. One particularly brave flower crept forward and gave the edge of the cape a poke, then looked to Rocket.

"Hey, don't look at me, I wear practical stuff. ...And I ain't making any of you little capes, so don't get any ideas."

Yep. Flowers and a talking raccoon, discussing the wearing of capes. It seemed like the training room had taken a sharp turn into Disney acid trip territory.

"Teleportation. Or at least an attempt to. Doorways are so last year."

Stephen laughed more out of sheer relief than anything, he'd been mildly worried he was about to slice himself in half with that ridiculous farce of a teleportation circle. Good thing though, that would have been an unfortunate corpse to clean up.

"To be fair, I wore an identical cloak back home, except it was alive. Saved my life a bunch of times."

Curiously he reached out with a yellow-gloved hand towards the nearest flower.

"Who are these guys? Are they yours?"

Stephen was resigned to his fate that his life was now permanently a Disney acid trip. Moving, talking flowers should have terrified most people, normally. Instead he thought it was pretty cool.

"How does-a you know what? I'm not gonna ask, because I bet it's gonna be stupid." Like Quill's music player: incredibly stupid, and yet, handy in the nick of time, which somehow just made it even stupider.

The nearest flower came towards the outstretched hand, reaching out with a tendril to poke it gingerly for a moment before skittering back quickly, then starting to creep forward again. The rest of them huddled, watching the brave one, and occasionally looking towards Rocket.

...well, their petals moved towards Rocket, anyway. Without actual eyes it was a bit hard to tell if they were really looking anywhere.

"They're flowers," Rocket said, with a long-suffering sigh. "They ain't too bright, but I keep seeing what I can teach 'em, anyway. They're never gonna do damage like something really big could, but they might be useful anyway." ...Also, he just plain liked them. They were a bit like small, very dumb, colorful Groots.

"Plant control's my special...power...thing. Start making cracks about treehugging and I'll kick your ass with a houseplant."

Honestly, Stephen would have thought the idea of anything that was part of his life for the better part of a year was indeed, stupid. But he was different now, and knew better. Saying it out loud made it sound supremely silly though.

Those flower things were really amazing. Stephen kept his hand steady like he would if approaching a strange dog.

"They're alive, and they think. That's incredible," he said. "Anything else you can do, green thumb?"

Yeah, he was gonna make cracks.

The steady hand encouraged the flowers, and more of them started the shuffle forward, wiggling their petals in a way that looked like something akin to curiosity.

The comment drew a snort and splayed ears from Rocket. "You wanna swap code names? It's 'Underbrush', not 'green thumb'. ...Not that anybody here actually calls me that, it's Rocket."

He looked to the flowers and shrugged. "Same kinda thing with bigger plants-I can make smarter, I can make 'em meaner, but it takes more effort, and the smarter they are, harder it is to keep going. ...I can make 'em grow, too, that's handy." A houseplant only looked harmless until it was a bunch of angry, giant vines aimed for someone's face.

That was really cool. Stephen's face lit up as he kept still and kept his hand out. Upon closer inspection though, his hand wasn't actually naturally steady, he was anchoring his elbow against his side and straining considerably. The damage from the car accident and surgeries had given him a permanent tremor, weakness and pain in his hands, and they would always tremble, sometimes worse on bad days. He kept his hand as steady as it would keep, at least, despite the tremors.

"Rocket, and you're...a racoon? I guess it's not like your name would be Bob or something..."

"Still, that's fairly useful," he added. "I'd be interested in seeing that in action sometime."

The flowers kept moving closer, finally getting closer enough to curiously poke at Stephen's hand with petals and tendrils. Occasionally they glanced back and forth between each other, wiggling their petals, but none of them were aggressive. The bravest one finally decided to climb up onto his hand, looking about as pleased as a flower could be, going by the body language.

The 'raccoon' comment got a very weary eyeroll from Rocket. "That's what people keep tellin' me. And trust me, you'll see 'em eventually. Seems like we keep getting dragged out on some crazy mission every other week. It's always something."

Rocket gave Stephen a skeptical eyeballing. "What did you get stuck with, anyway? Cape Guy? Falls-Outta-Portals Man?"

The scientist in him was dying of curiosity. How did these little guys work? He doubted he'd be able to study one so he had to be content with watching them do their thing for now.

And one climbed onto his hand! How cool. Stephen was worried though, his hand was trembling--as both hands always did. The tremors never stopped.

"Well, at least you can say it's not boring here."

"Doctor Strange," he said with the exasperated tone of someone who had to correct people about it often.

One of the nicer things about this place, honestly, are the individual environments. York's found a lot of peace just sitting back in this simple ranch style home, a stretch of road not all that different from east Texas, and a sky as blue as he could remember. Quiet. Peaceful.

No surprises.

Of course that's when a golden ring pops up in his goddamn ceiling and a hand pops through which-

"Well that's unusual." Good eye flicking from point to point while Delta flares to life over his left shoulder for threat assessment, York doesn't actively stop noodling on his guitar, but he does tug the stungun he keeps under the coffee table close with his foot.

The hand flailed and a bit of red cape slipped out, as well as several choice curse words and a yell.

Another moment and a man in blue and red fell right through, slipping from the golden circle as it widened to let him out. The circle disappeared a moment later, leaving the stunned Stephen Strange on the floor, trying to regain his wind.

If this is some kind of assassination attempt it is the least dignified one he's ever seen. On the other hand nothing in particular pings as a threat. After a thoughtful strummed chord he leans forward enough to peer at the guy. Caped guy. Must be a newbie.

"You need a hand up?"

"I'm fine," he said after a moment and a cough, waving a hand. It wasn't just his pride--okay, it was mostly his pride, and he had that in spades--but his hands were quite sensitive to pretty much anything. A normal person wouldn't probably hurt them with a proper grip, but he had no way of knowing if this was a normal person.

The doctor rolled over and tried to regain what was left of his dignity as he got up and dusted off his cape.

"Sorry about that. I mean, this." He waved a hand at the celing. "Still getting the hang of this." He sounds fairly tired, actually, if not outright exhausted.

"Uh-huh." He sure looks fine. "Not the worst landing I've seen. Four outta ten."

At least no one was bleeding and nothing was broken. By the UNSC's standards that's a passing grade. "Figuring out powers here is kind of a bitch. Why don't you grab a seat while I grab you a beer or something."

Guy looks like he's about to fall over and honestly fireman carrying someone out of his place isn't exactly York's idea of a good time.

"Guess that's better than three out of ten," he looks over with a wry grin. But even now, one could see that he's about ready to fall over.

"Thanks. Need a...breather, I don't know." He's sweating and breathing heavily, like he's ran a few miles. Felt like it. Maybe it had something to do with his powers. Overuse? Or possibly could be a distance thing. He'd never had to deal with such limitations before, so this was all completely new. And annoying.

"...Yeah you need to lie down before you hurt yourself while I call a medic or something. Looks like you've run a marathon." Worn himself out six ways to Sunday more like, still. York slips to the kitchen and grabs a few protein bars and a glass of water, setting them down on the end table at his guest's elbow.

"Well, I am a doctor," Stephen got a chuckle out of that like it was his own inside joke. His jokes weren't that funny, okay? But he liked them.

A grateful look as he takes one of the bars and the water. He moves like he's either in pain or incredibly tired.

"Thanks."

"Pretty sure you're not in much shape to treat yourself, Doctor Weird." Teleporting into people's homes is. Well. Weird. "A different medic. Someone that can probably hold a whatever they got here. Tricorder or whatsit."

Keeping up with the proper terms for shit is difficult. "Until they get here you can rest up, ok?"

A shrug. Eh. That was true.

"Honestly, I think it's cause of the teleportation," he said after taking another swing of the water, and wiping his brow with his sleeve. "Either that or a heart-attack, but we'll find out in a few minutes."

Despite his exhaustion, he chuckled at his own joke. He thought he was funnier than he really was.

"Thanks. Barring sudden death, that seems like the best choice right now."

Gwen was actually in her room playing her drum set. As fast and as loud as she could, practicing songs from the band she somehow still hadn't been kicked out of. It was just a way for her to unwind, really, to forget and to just let herself go. She was good at it, too. Really good, and she kept going, and going.

Until she looked up and saw that somehow, someone else was in the room with her.

"Augh, what the hell?!"

Stephen slipped right out of the golden circle as it disappeared in a flash, and startled back from the yell.

"Ahh!? What!? No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--" he raised yellow-gloved hands. "I just made a wrong turn!"

"You are so lucky you caught me in the middle of a jam session right now." As in, fully clothed and not in any sort of compromised position. Like, stepping out of a shower. Means a lot less fists being thrown.

Sudden intrusion aside, Gwen set down her sticks and just sort of looked at him.

"So how did you uh, do that?"

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