Bang!
The reinforced bulletproof glass door on the ground floor of the Miracle Clinic was smashed open by a violent surge of magic.
Glass shards sprayed through the lobby like a torrential downpour.
A staggering figure stumbled in from the darkness outside. His leather boots scraped two long marks across the tiles before his back knocked over a row of metal waiting-room chairs.
Strange braced his hands against the floor and gasped for breath.
His signature Cloak of Levitation now had several large holes in it, and charred sparks flickered along its hem.
His disheveled hair clung to his forehead, and fresh blood streaked the corner of his mouth.
The air in the lobby froze for an instant.
With half a cigarette between his lips, Constantine watched his fellow veteran sprawled on the floor.
Pietro twirled the vibranium dagger in his hand, and blood dripped from its blade onto the tiles.
Wanda sat on the obsidian sofa, holding a cup of warm water, and calmly looked over.
Strange raised his head, his gaze passing over the overturned chairs.
He saw more than a dozen TVA officers hanging upside down from the ceiling.
Those higher-dimensional beings, dressed in ridiculous clown costumes, hung in midair like strips of cured meat, blood still dripping from their thighs.
The music box's tinny melody echoed monotonously through the stench of blood.
Finally, Strange's gaze settled on the man occupying the sofa's central seat.
Lynn wore a spotless white lab coat and nonprescription glasses, and held a cup of freshly brewed black tea.
Steam curled up in front of his lenses. The door being smashed apart had not interrupted his movements in the slightest.
"Lynn!"
Without bothering to brush the glass shards off himself, Strange scrambled to his feet.
His chest heaved, and his hoarse voice