Technomancer in MCU #101

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Chapter 101

Technomancer in MCU

Stark Advanced Medicine Wing, Upstate New York

–Stephen Strange–

Desperation truly was a bad thing, wasn't it, he thought to himself while looking at his trembling hands. Hands that refused to steady themselves no matter how hard he tried.

And to think he had thought that Stark would have been able to completely heal him. Instead, all he had done was give him a few months of movement wherein he could use his body adequately instead of the peak condition he had expected it to be. 

Now, all he had were a couple of months before his entire body's cellular structure began breaking down and he ceased to exist. 

He didn't blame Stark, of course not. He couldn't have known that something like this could happen. He was partly to blame as well because he just jumped on the first opportunity to get himself healed and he never stopped to think about any side effects that could happen.

As it turned out, the treatment worked. In fact, it worked a bit too well and now he was some sort of half-baked superhuman.

During the painful procedure, his cells were bombarded with so much energy that they evolved, for lack of a better term. The radiation nearly killed all of his cells but they were brought back from their damaged state by the gas that Stark had pumped into his body. The cycle continued until they ran out of gas and radiation, resulting in his current form.

Thick purple veins crisscrossed his entire body, except his neck, as his arms trembled from the strain of even holding a knife or opening a door properly. It was only a matter of weeks before his legs began exhibiting the same symptoms.

Stark was extremely apologetic and had even offered him a big check for his troubles but his pride refused to allow him to get help from someone, especially after he had already signed that waiver after being told about the risks of the procedure. At Least they were able to get data for their procedure and would not subject anyone else to what he had to go through, Strange bitterly mused to himself.

Now, there he was, in Kathmandu, Nepal, searching for a miracle, once again. Honestly, he was just going through the motions at this point.

He had sold every single thing he ever owned, except the watch on his hand that was a gift from Christine. He had exhausted every avenue of treatment. 

In the beginning, he held hope that something would happen but now? Now he just wanted it to end so that he could finally rest. He was sick of it all yet..yet Hope was a powerful and insidious thing.

Even the tiniest amount of hope can make a man move mountains and that is exactly what he was doing.

He had found a complete paraplegic playing basketball at a Y in New York and he was the one who had directed him to Kathmandu. The case of Jonathan Pangborn was a very bizarre case because he himself had diagnosed his case to be inoperable. Pangborn was rendered paraplegic after an accident at the factory he worked at. He rejected Pangborn's case because while surgery could have given him a chance at normal life, the chances of him dying on his table were far higher and he had not wanted a blotch on his otherwise perfect record so, he sent Pangborn away, quite rudely, he could recall.

And then, as he was hobbling down the streets, he found Pangborn, whole and healthy, playing basketball with kids a decade younger than himself. Astonished, he found himself talking to Pangborn who gave him the story of Kamar Taj and how it healed his mind, and through that, he healed his body.

It sounded very much like tantric voodoo to him but he had exhausted all his options anyway, what was one more? Even if it did turn out to be a scam, Kathmandu seemed like a nice place to die quietly.

No air pollution, light pollution, no traffic blocks and most of all, no hope to get after this. Judging from the rate at which his twitching was increasing, he had one, maybe two weeks left before his entire body just became a twitching mass. A scenario he did not want to experience so he would probably end himself before that happened.

Still, it had been over three days he had been here and after asking anybody who would listen, he was still nowhere closer to finding Kamar Taj than before. He had even run out of all of his money and had to vacate his cheap lodge. He was currently homeless, destitute, sick, and overall, completely helpless.

And yet, he trudged on. Without money, he relied on the generosity of the local monks and temples who graciously provided him with food and water. Oftentimes, he was allowed to take baths in the communal bathrooms. He was given clothing, withered as it may be. In return, all he had to do was clean some places. He didn't have to do even that as the monks refused to accept it but even if he didn't have anything else to his name, he still had some shred of pride left in him.

'Even after all this, I am still proud of something? What is that?' Strange thought to himself as he leaned on the broom, trying to take a respite from all the pain his body was going through. 

…

..

It had been almost 2 weeks since he had first landed in Kathmandu and now his body would shoot up sharp waves of pain once he moved anything, even breathing was painful these days. Still, after taking a moment to breathe, he continued to sweep the temple even as the broom refused to take the same path his eyes mapped for it. More often than not, he ended up sweeping the dust back into the temple with his actions but the monks understood. They had seen his injuries and were very sympathetic. Both of the parties still did not understand a lick of each other's languages yet empathy was something that transcended the barrier of language.

He could not overstate how grateful he was for the monks of Kathmandu. Without them, he would not have survived, period. Let alone, survive long enough to actually reach Kamar Taj.

…

..

It had been almost three weeks since he had reached Kathmandu and at this point, he had mostly given up on his search for Kamar Taj. He had no idea how Jonathan had done it but was pretty sure that he was not going to be able to heal himself now. Now, all he did for the day was sweep as much as he could and then lay down on the futon that was given to him in the dorms that the Monks used. His condition had gotten worse as the purple veins across his body had enlarged and now covered almost the entirety of his lower body. He had lost his appetite to eat food. Most of the time, he only drank juice and water. His hair had fallen out and his limbs had lost all muscle mass.

All standard signs of cancer. Something that was easy to diagnose but impossible to cure. He sighed and was about to get up to try to get some activity in since exhausting himself physically was one of the few things that made him go to sleep, somebody barged into his room.

It was Rajan. He was the teenage son of the owners of the dorm he was staying at. They had given up their dorm to be used as a permanent lodging for the monks and were overall just wonderful people, more than happy to accommodate him and his special needs. He felt terrible living on their generosity but at this point, he had no pride left in him to care enough. Besides, he was going to die soon enough anyway so no point in holding on to any negative feelings.

He just hoped that little Rajan never had to see his death. So, he had decided to finish it tomorrow by jumping off a cliff he had earmarked for the same.

"Uncle!" Rajan shouted, jumping for joy for some reason.

"Y-Yes?" He coughed out.

"I found it. I found Kamartaj" Rajan shouted at the top of his lungs.

His breathing paused as he contemplated what Rajan had said for a moment but then scoffed internally at the tiny amount of hope that instantly returned based on the unfounded ramblings of a kid.

Truly, Hope was an insidious thing.

Still, that was no reason to be rude to a boy who had been nothing but kind to him for all his stay here. So, he smiled, "Where did you find it?"

"Oh, it was easy. I just asked around every day and today, a person told me the address. Come, I'll take you there." Rajan chattered excitedly, trying to pull him out of his futon.

"No, No not today. We'll go there tomorrow, OK?" He hoped that he sounded convincing enough.

"Okay!" Rajan said and skipped out of the room, his joyful exuberance bringing a rare genuine smile to his face.

"You are leaving, aren't you?" He was surprised to hear someone speak before he could see them. Upon seeing who it was, he relaxed though.

"So, it's you. Finally deigned me enough to speak with me?" Strange quipped back.

It was Sanjay, one of the few Monks who could speak English well enough. Despite that, he had refused to speak or interact with him, avoiding him like the plague. It had hurt in the beginning but now it was just a dull ache.

"You are leaving, aren't you?" Sanjay just repeated the same thing.

He considered telling him off but honestly, after weeks of not being able to speak English with someone, he was kinda bored and would appreciate a little bit of company. So, he replied. 

"Yes, I am leaving right now,"

"I see. May the gods guide you to the place you need to go."

He scoffed, "Yeah. Well, if they had guided me to the correct place the first time, we wouldn't be in this mess, now would we, Sanjay?" He said as he rolled back his futon and tried to tidy up his room.

"Sanjay?" When he didn't receive any reply, he looked back, only to see nobody standing there. He sighed, too tired to even call for him once more time.

So, he took his sticks and hobbled out of the dorm and towards the cliff that was a little far away. He purposely chose the long road, taking him through the hustle and bustle of the city before finally arriving at the cliff he had chosen to be his end.

Throwing his sticks back, he took a couple of steps forward then took multiple ones back. Breathing heavily, he tried to do it once more but he just didn't have the courage to do it.

"ARGH! WHY?!!" He shouted to the mountains in frustration, knowing that he wouldn't receive an answer.

Upon receiving no answers, he just fell down and lay on the grass, trying to silence his mind. Upon not receiving any respite and not having the balls to do it, he turned back to get his makeshift walking sticks when he heard a voice.

"Given up so soon, Strange?"

Word Count - 1931

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A/N - The next one will be the last one of Strange, I promise.