Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rachel walked slowly down the New York streets as she followed him from a distance. Her task was simple, wait until he’s isolated, apprehend him, and take him back to the Sanctum. The lights from the buildings lit up the asphalt. Traffic packed the streets, but the sidewalks were oddly clear though. The cold breeze blew through her black coat, making her shiver.

She focused back on her target. He didn’t seem dangerous. Then again, many of them didn’t. However, this one did feel off. She hadn’t had a good look at his face yet, but the way he walked and his overcoat made him unmistakeable.

A few blocks down the street, the man broke off into an alleyway. Rachel didn’t like this. She needed him isolated, but something felt wrong. Going against her better judgement, she continued to follow him. She turned the corner to see him nowhere in sight. He was gone! At least that’s how it seemed. The dagger to her neck proved otherwise.

“I’m insulted.” The man said. His voice was calm, confident, and almost menacing. “Does Stephen really think I’d be overpowered so easily?”

The cold steel rested gently against her skin. She quickly grabbed the man’s wrist and slipped under his arm. She quickly moved back, summoning two circular orange shields from her fists. The man only chuckled. “How adorable! You’re still using default.”

Without another word, the man scaled the wall in several strides. Rachel’s eyes widened at his confidence. She began to climb the wall as fast as she could. How did he just run up the wall so fast?
As she got to the top, the man was already leaping to the next rooftop. She took off after him. Rachel’s breathing grew heavy as she cleared the gap to the third rooftop. Again, he was gone. It was as if he just disappeared from thin air. How could I lose him? She thought to herself.

Suddenly, two black chains shot out from behind her, twisting around her wrists and digging into the roof she was standing on. There was something odd about the chains. A black mist seemed to float and swirl around them. She tried to pull at the chains, but they wouldn’t move.

Then, footsteps sounded behind her followed by a voice. “Students of the mystic arts have a tendency to forget that they aren’t the only ones that use sling rings.” Now, standing in front of her was the man she was chasing. Finally, she could see her target’s face. His jaw was rounded and clean shaven. His gray eyes pierced her own as his dark brown hair swooped down near his right eye. He was dressed as if he were going to some sort of meeting. A black trench coat was worn over black slacks and a cool gray button down shirt.

Gently, he grabbed her chin and turned her head side to side as if he were looking for something. “Such a delicate flower. Stephen truly is an idiot.” The man paused. He released Rachel’s chin and took a step back. “I’m so sorry. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Amadeus. Amadeus Rainer. And you are?” Rachel glared at him. “Oh come now. It’s only fair, isn’t it?”

“Rachel.” she said coldly. He stood staring, waiting for a more complete answer. “Rachel Dawn.”

Amadeus smiled. “There, now that wasn’t so hard, was it, Rachel?” He took another step back and began to pace across the roof. “Now, normally if someone were following me to bring me to that doctor you so blindly follow, I’d kill them without hesitation.” Rachel began to pull frantically at the chains. “Oh I wouldn’t bother with those. They won’t budge.” A beat “As I was saying. I would normally kill them, but there’s something about you.” Amadeus looked at her again as if he were searching for a response. “However,I would much rather plunge myself into the dark realm than to harm such a beautiful creature as yourself.”
She stood in fear as he took out a syringe and plunged it into her neck. Slowly her vision went black.

***

Amadeus caught Rachel as her body went limp. He slowly lowered her down so that she wouldn’t bash her head on the concrete. He took a closer look at his assailant. She had a fire that not many had. His eyes moved to her shoulder length hair. Within her brown hair held a small tint of a red hue.

“It’s cold outside, Rachel.” He said, taking off his overcoat and placing it over Rachel. “I’d hate for anything to happen to you. Let’s see if I can remember how to do this.”

He waved his hands over Rachel causing a protective orange lining to surround her small frame. Then, he knelt to the rooftop and put his palm to it until a white light formed under his hand. He pulled his hand away, releasing a beam of white light into the sky.

He sighed as he admired his work. “Doctor Strange should be able to lift the enchantment when he finds you. Until then, sweet dreams, Rachel Dawn.”

Chapter Text

Magic was an integral part of Michelle’s life. After all, she was born into it. Her mother was a witch, her father a warlock. They died tragically in a fire when she was just a babe without passing on their ways and their love.

She was thrown into an orphanage in Boston by the authorities, which led to her rebellious streak. Out on the streets, she learned how to steal and pickpocket from the rich and snobs of the city. Her powers made it easier to go undetected, making her invisible to the eye. Really the orphanage was a crap hole in itself, this just kept her head on straight.

Michelle just desired to spread her wings and fly. So she did such and escaped from her life of waiting. There was nothing there for her anyway. Seventeen years old and with no home to go to, she made her way into the world going by the name of Rose so the people in charge of the orphanage couldn’t find her. Soon she was able to hitchhike a ride into the Big Apple, trying to make her way into the world. She never worried about shady figures when she hitched rides, for she was always able to put them in their place when they did turn out to be a criminal or a perv. But everything came crashing down when she tried to pickpocket a weirdly dressed woman. Her usual trick of turning invisible was seen straight through by the bald headed woman. Michelle was even more shocked when she knew her entire name.

The woman had introduced herself as the Ancient One and offered her a place to practice magic at the Sanctum.

Michelle took it and had been here ever since. She sat on the deep purple carpet in her bedroom within the Sanctum practicing the spells she had learned.

Opening up her hands, a deep purple sphere wisped over her palms like a sandstorm. The magic seeped through her tattoos, lighting up the runes and lines enshrined on her fingers and back of her hands a deep purple. She opened her eyes, revealing glowing purple orbs. Breathing in heavily, she began to write in the air. Glowing purple symbols began to appear as she wrote, flying to the four corners of the room. She pushed her middle finger onto her thumb before doing the same for her other hand before moving them together. Michelle watched the runes attach themselves to the corners of her walls, burning into the wood. She smiled as she lifted the spell, admiring her work. A simple protection spell she had read in the coveted witchcraft books in the Sanctum. Now only she could use her magic in her room. A knock on her door made the smile drop from her face.

“One second!” She yelled as she ran to hide the spellbook sitting on her table.

Michelle felt as if she was reading the Darkhold at this point.

But witchcraft was a forbidden teaching at the Sanctum, so it needed to be hidden.

She put a hand over the book, pocketing it away for later use before walking to the door. She opened it to see Wong standing there.

“You are late for training. Mordo is wondering where you are.” He scolded.

“Is this even necessary? I’ve already mastered the basics.” Michelle sighed in annoyance.

“The more you fight it, the more necessary it becomes.” Wong replied as he stepped aside for her to walk ahead of him.

She huffed and shut her door, walking down the dark halls of the Sanctum Santorum.

Wong escorted her towards the Training Hall where she could hear students practicing inside. The experienced sorcerer walked ahead of her and opened the maroon oak doors to reveal an outside room where dozens of students in brightly colored robes were creating brightly lit patterns written inside brightly lit circles and squares. Sling rings were on their fingers.

“Good luck.” He said.

Michelle looked to see him holding out a pair of golden brass knuckle-like rings. She glared at him unamused.

“Very funny, Wong.” She monotoned as she took the rings from his outstretched palm.

Michelle slipped them onto her first and middle fingers as she went to take her spot in the class.

“Ah, look who has decided to finally join us.” Mordo’s deep accented voice rang throughout the hall.

Michelle grimaced as she felt the air of the classroom thicken. All eyes were upon her. She slowly turned around to face her teacher, smiling uncomfortably.

His deep brown eyes peered into her lighter brown.
“Welcome back Rose.”

She nodded before walking to stand beside a young boy about her age, dressed in deep blue Sanctum robes. Sandy brown stubble lined the bottom of his chin, making his deep blue eyes stand out. His long dirty blonde hair was tied back into a bun. He was focused on making his shields, a deep blue lighting up the surroundings around him.

“This is the third time you’ve tried skipping this month, Silver Witch.” He commented as he concentrated.

Michelle frowned as she held her hands out in front of her, raising only her first and middle fingers.

“You know I don’t want to be here, Sage. And quit calling me that stupid nickname!” She huffed as she created her circles and squares with ease, making her shield quickly.

“Show off.” He chuckled as he finally finished his own.

“Can’t help what’s in my blood.” She shot back.
“What, perfection?” He said sarcastically.

Michelle rolled her eyes.

“Any word from Rachel yet? She’s been gone for over two weeks now.” She said, focusing the conversation elsewhere.

Sage shook his head.

“Dr. Strange hasn’t told us anything. And Wong never lets us know anything anyway, Mordo too. It’s always one big secret that they never tell.” He sighed.

“A forced one at best.” Michelle said, pursing her lips as she stared off into nothingness.

“Are you still looking through that book you took from the forbidden section?” Sage asked.

Michelle nodded, refusing to say anything too loud.

“How have you kept it hidden for so long?” He asked, utterly confused.

“Pocket dimension. Only I have access to it. No one can prove it is in my possession.” Michelle explained bluntly as she took off the sling rings.

She grimaced as she rubbed her aching fingers. The tattoos on her hands burned from the metal contact.

“Why do you have those tattoos?” He asked her.

“Why do you ask so many questions?” She asked him, growing frustrated at his endless nagging.

“Because I’m a naturally curious person. Now stop avoiding the question.” He replied.

Michelle grasped the rings gently as she looked at her inked hand.

“To remind myself who I truly am.” She said.

“A Viking?” Sage said, making her sigh.

“No, a witch. Do I look like a descendant of Scandinavia to you?” She frowned at him.

“Well-” Sage began only for Michelle to slug his arm.

“Ouch, okay I’ll stop!” He said, rubbing his arm.

“You’re a dork.” She muttered softly as she returned to practicing shields.

“But you love me for it though.” Sage said, giving her puppy dog eyes.

“I tolerate you. There’s a difference.” Michelle said, shaking her head as she ignored him.

The doors to the hall opened once again and a voice called, “Rose!”

Michelle stopped making her shield and looked up to see Dr. Strange standing in the corner of the room, hands clasped behind his back. She paled slightly. What had she done now?

“Ooh, you’re in trouble!” Sage whispered into the open.

Michelle refrained from kicking him in the shin before slowly walking back up to the front of the room.

“Yes, Master Strange?” She asked.

“Doctor, Rose, how many times must I tell you.” He sighed before holding his hand out.

Michelle put her sling rings in his open palm.

He made them disappear before continuing, “I need you in the Sanctuary. Follow me.”

He nodded to Mordo before walking out of the Training Hall. Michelle followed him, shutting the doors behind her. The Sorcerer Supreme turned his hands in a circle counter-clockwise, forming a huge golden ring, revealing the foyer of the Sanctum on the other side. He walked through it, stepping into the room.

Michelle followed, the ring dissipating behind her.

“What did I do, Doctor?” She asked apprehensively.

“Nothing, although I have to ask, how is that spellbook on witchcraft?” He said.

Michelle’s heart skipped a beat.

“You know?” She said softly.

Dr. Strange smirked at her.

“Of course Rose. I did the same thing when I was practicing magic. It will be our little secret.” He replied as he walked over to a bookshelf nearby.
“But wait, if I’m not in trouble, then why have you called me here?” She asked, turning towards him confused.

“Because,” Strange replied, closing the book in his hands with a small clap, “I need you to accompany me.”

Michelle’s eyes grew wide as she kept her mouth from falling open in shock.

“Me? Why me?” She asked.

Strange looked at her.

“Because you are the only one in the Sanctum that is skilled in three sets of magic.” He said.

Michelle nodded before replying, “What exactly will we be doing?”

“We’ll be finding Rachel Dawn. I understand she is a friend of yours?” He asked as he put the book back onto the shelf.

“Yeah, we’ve been close since I came into the Sanctum. I thought she was on an assignment to find Amadeus Rainer?” She said, confused.

“Yes, but something has gone wrong.” Strange replied as he walked up to her.

“Is she hurt?” Michelle asked, her voice laced with worry.

“I haven’t the slightest clue. But I will tell you what I know along the way. We don’t have much time.” The Sorcerer Supreme replied as he walked out the door to the Sanctuary.

Michelle followed him, wishing to know more about this strange turn of events. She could only hope that Rachel was alright.

Chapter Text

Amadeus stepped through the dark ringed portal. Average security was so easy to get past. He wore a gray t-shirt underneath a black hooded jacket. The hood he wore over his head and a mask over the lower half of his face. His black cargo held a pack of miniature arrows and a sheath for his dagger. A miniature crossbow was strapped to his forearm.

Security was heavy, or it would be if it were an average thief. Amadeus was no common thief. Bodyguards were armed with batons while others with automatic weapons. The place looked like a museum. Dark wood floors and cool gray walls. The ceilings were high and echoing. Artifacts and paintings decorated the halls. But this was no museum. It was a private facility for Wilson Fisk. No one had the strength or nerve to cross him. Things always changed.

He peeked over the corner as he closed in on his goal. Three guards stood in the large showroom. All armed to the teeth with MAC-10s. He was going to have to move fast. Act without hesitating. He loaded a small tranquilizer arrow into the crossbow. Amadeus swerved around the corner and fired the arrow. It flew into the neck of the closest man. His victim grabbed his neck and collapsed to the floor. The other two quickly turned and began to raise their weapons.

Amadeus reached out one hand while grabbing for his dagger with the other. From his extended hand shot forth a black, cloudy chain which wrapped around the gun of the farthest guard, jerking it away from his hands. He threw his dagger, plunging it into the second guard’s chest. Amadeus unleashed another ominous chain around the third guard’s arm, yanking him to the ground. He rushed to the grounded man, grabbed his head and bashed it into the floor. The man laid unconscious on the ground in front of him.

“What was that?” said a voice in the distance.

Acting on instinct, Amadeus produced a smoking bow and arrow in his hands. He drew back the arrow and waited for the next set of guards. He released the arrow as the first bit of reinforcements rounded the corner. The black arrow pierced the guard’s abdomen, making him double over and fall to the ground. Amadeus used his chain projection to pull his dagger back into his hand.

The other two guards were not fortunate enough to have firearms. Amadeus smiled underneath his mask. This was going to be easier than expected. He pulled what seemed like a short baton from his belt. Black smoke surrounded his baton, extending it into a bo staff. Less than a minute later, both men were on the floor curled in pain.

Amadeus walked slowly to the display closest to him. In the glass case was a small clear crystal. Inside the crystal swirled some sort of red smoke. An image of Rachel flashed in his head. Was she okay? No, he couldn’t think about that right now. He had to focus.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his sling ring. He swirled his fingers, projecting a black, smoky ringed portal. Reaching into the portal, he grabbed the rock from the display case. He tossed the rock up in the air and placed it in a pouch on his belt. Child’s play. He thought to himself.
He walked up to the blank wall. He removed his red and black glove, revealing his hand which was producing a black fog. He brought his hand around as the fog marked the wall like black ink. All he wrote was one word: Spectre.

Chapter Text

Amadeus stepped through the dark ringed portal. Average security was so easy to get past. He wore a gray t-shirt underneath a black hooded jacket. The hood he wore over his head and a mask over the lower half of his face. His black cargo held a pack of miniature arrows and a sheath for his dagger. A miniature crossbow was strapped to his forearm.

Security was heavy, or it would be if it were an average thief. Amadeus was no common thief. Bodyguards were armed with batons while others with automatic weapons. The place looked like a museum. Dark wood floors and cool gray walls. The ceilings were high and echoing. Artifacts and paintings decorated the halls. But this was no museum. It was a private facility for Wilson Fisk. No one had the strength or nerve to cross him. Things always changed.

He peeked over the corner as he closed in on his goal. Three guards stood in the large showroom. All armed to the teeth with MAC-10s. He was going to have to move fast. Act without hesitating. He loaded a small tranquilizer arrow into the crossbow. Amadeus swerved around the corner and fired the arrow. It flew into the neck of the closest man. His victim grabbed his neck and collapsed to the floor. The other two quickly turned and began to raise their weapons.

Amadeus reached out one hand while grabbing for his dagger with the other. From his extended hand shot forth a black, cloudy chain which wrapped around the gun of the farthest guard, jerking it away from his hands. He threw his dagger, plunging it into the second guard’s chest. Amadeus unleashed another ominous chain around the third guard’s arm, yanking him to the ground. He rushed to the grounded man, grabbed his head and bashed it into the floor. The man laid unconscious on the ground in front of him.

“What was that?” said a voice in the distance.

Acting on instinct, Amadeus produced a smoking bow and arrow in his hands. He drew back the arrow and waited for the next set of guards. He released the arrow as the first bit of reinforcements rounded the corner. The black arrow pierced the guard’s abdomen, making him double over and fall to the ground. Amadeus used his chain projection to pull his dagger back into his hand.

The other two guards were not fortunate enough to have firearms. Amadeus smiled underneath his mask. This was going to be easier than expected. He pulled what seemed like a short baton from his belt. Black smoke surrounded his baton, extending it into a bo staff. Less than a minute later, both men were on the floor curled in pain.

Amadeus walked slowly to the display closest to him. In the glass case was a small clear crystal. Inside the crystal swirled some sort of red smoke. An image of Rachel flashed in his head. Was she okay? No, he couldn’t think about that right now. He had to focus.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his sling ring. He swirled his fingers, projecting a black, smoky ringed portal. Reaching into the portal, he grabbed the rock from the display case. He tossed the rock up in the air and placed it in a pouch on his belt. Child’s play. He thought to himself.

He walked up to the blank wall. He removed his red and black glove, revealing his hand which was producing a black fog. He brought his hand around as the fog marked the wall like black ink. All he wrote was one word: Spectre.