At the top floor of Osborn Tower, Manhattan's steel jungle stretched beyond the floor-to-ceiling panoramic windows.
Peter Parker swiped open the heavy walnut door and led Strange inside.
Harry Osborn leaned back in a broad leather office chair, having waited there for quite some time.
Strange was somewhat surprised. This man was far younger than he had looked on television.
Yet he carried the unique oppressive aura of someone in power...
"Parker, go get the lab ready first."
Seeing the two enter, Harry continued.
Peter nodded, turned around, and closed the door behind him.
With a soft click, only the two of them remained in the enormous office.
Strange stood at the edge of the Persian rug, not daring to step forward.
He looked down at his wrinkled plaid shirt and mud-stained dress shoes.
He felt that every decoration in this room was mocking him. Even the brass globe in the corner was worth more than he was now.
"Sit."
Harry pointed to the sofa across from him.
Strange awkwardly shuffled over and dropped himself into the soft leather cushions.
He hid his ruined hands, wrapped in thick bandages, in his trench coat pockets, his Adam's apple bobbing.
Harry got to his feet, walked to the coffee bar beside him, and pressed the coffee machine's switch.
The machine's low hum broke the silence.
"I've reviewed your résumé, Dr. Stephen Strange."
Harry returned with two freshly extracted espressos, pushed one toward Strange, steam rising from it.
"A double PhD in medicine, the undisputed authority in New York neurosurgery. Pity that car accident ruined your career."
Strange stared at the coffee, a fine layer of crema clinging to the cup's sides.
He did not reach for it.
He could not even hold a plastic paper cup steady, much less such an exquisite