"You're probably wondering why I called you here."

"Not really. Seems to me that it’s pretty straight forward."

"Oh, is it?" Clea, the Sorcerer Supreme responded to the man in front of her. He kept smiling at her. A damnedable grin that seemed to spread across his face.

"Sure, you want to use me as your control group hoping that the laws of similarity will work where all else fails."

Clea's face stayed unreadable. "Please put your mask back on." she responded coolly.

"Am I right?" he said, his midnight blue full-face mask still on the table in front of him.

"Right enough," she replied, "Now please do what I have asked."

"Sure thing," he replied with a devil-may-care wink, again donning the guise that separated him from his counterpart... again becoming one known as the Strangeman.

"So," Sam Buchanan said from his seat in the corner, "Do you really think that there is a connection between the increase in our teammate’s power and the destruction of Stephen Strange's Sanctum?"

"Can you think of a better reason?" Clea answered.

"Well, actually," Victoria Montessi countered, "There's always the unpleasant idea that Stephen is dead... completely dead this time, not simply in the realm of death, and that his power found the form of his Counter Earth equivalent."

Clea shook her head, more firmly than she felt in her heart. "He's alive... or part of him is at any rate. I can feel it. He's more alive than he's been in quite some time. Other than that though - its all a haze, as if someone, or something was shielding him from me."

"What sort of power would it take to do that?" Sam asked, afraid of the answer.

He never received one. That unnerved him far more than any verbal response.

Clea just kept staring forward, as if she was looking through them.

"I need some privacy," she said finally, breaking the silence, "I need to see if I can find anything else in regards to our situation."

Victoria nodded, "Of course." she responded, "Is there anything we can do for you in the meantime?"

Clea shook her head, then stopped herself in midstep toward a position in the center of the room. "Actually, if you could send Cloud in. I'm going to require his/her assistance in this matter as well."

"Sure thing," Sam said as he and Victoria closed the door behind them.

Clea closed her eyes as she started drifting into a trance. They snapped open again quickly, "I thought I asked you to leave." she repeated.

"You've asked me to do a lot of things," Strangeman responded, "That doesn't always mean that I'm going to do them."

"I'd suggest you change that attitude," she informed him, "This is hardly the time nor the place for me to indulge foolishness."

"You certainly didn't mind indulging..."

She jumped to her feet, the flat of her hand catching him across his masked face. "I told you not to speak of that again!" she barked, "I thought that was understood!"

"Sure is," The man who was not Stephen Strange replied, "It’s just that I understand some other things as well. Important things..."

"Such as?"

"Such as - you kissed back."

Her face went completely cold, "Get the hell out of here," she said in a dead calm.

He bowed with an exaggerated flourish, "Of course, my lady," he said, his tone speaking volumes, "We wouldn't want to have the truth interfere with our little fantasies now, would we?"

She raised her hand, calling a spell to mind... but he had vanished before she could release it. It hung on her fingertips.

The door opened... and it slipped from Clea's distracted hand flying toward its new target.

The bearer of the power of the Phoenix, the hermaphrodite called Cloud caught the aspect of the spell between the bird's talons of flame. He/she examined it for a moment, contemplating its nature, "Nasty," he/she said, finally turning back to Clea, "Did you intend this for us?"

Clea shook her head, abashed. "That was for someone who deserved it."

Cloud looked at the nature of the spell again, through the eyes of one who's power had spanned the cosmos. He/she looked back at Clea in complete calm, "No one deserves this sort of thing."

The talons of fire wrapped themselves completely around the spell, consuming it... transforming it into the greater whole that was the Phoenix.

Cloud turned back to Clea, "What was it that you needed then?" he/she asked with the smile of an innocent.

"Sorry," Heather Douglas, Moondragon, said, "Could you repeat that last bit? I was a bit... distracted."

"So I noticed," Janine De Loup replied to the Titan trained telepath. "I was just telling you about the last time I saw my family, as slaves to Satanna." *

(* In the cyberpages of Ghost Rider- GD)

"Ah," Moondragon nodded, "And this corresponded to your own selection as Gaea's selection as the new 'Ghost Rider' - a position you no longer hold."

Janine nodded, "That's really the last thing I remember, starting off my new life as 'Janine De Loup', instead of the pretty much cursed Jean De Wolff..."

"That's a good name as well." the bald telepath commented.

"I always liked it. But I wanted a fresh start..."

Heather looked around the parlor of the mansion of their teammate Janet Van Dyne, the wonderful Wasp. She looked around, catching the eye of Sam Buchanan as he and Victoria Montessi departed through the sliding glass doors that led poolside. She nodded with a smile. She reached out with her mind... sensing the others in the mansion... Eric Simon Payne, the Devil Slayer - and Rina Patel, the older version at least, of the girl who called herself Timeslip.

"I would say," Heather heard herself saying, as she attempted to probe what was transpiring between Clea and Cloud, only to find her way blocked by powers that far outstripped her own, "that you've found exactly that."

Janine found herself following Moondragon's eyes around the room, a smile creeping onto her face as she did so, "Well, I can't say you're completely wrong about that." she replied, "After all, you can't get much more of a fresh start than being part of

	August- Year 5
	#208

Her hand was trembling as it hung just above the wooden door. Were they still even based out of the mansion? Would they be happy to see her? Especially given the circumstances?

Granted, she had helped them out before leaving, a time twist that she had been more than willing to take part. But she hadn't seen them since then... hadn't had anything to do with them... except to accept Janet's offer of money.

She had been able to use it to set up a new life, not to mention a better wardrobe, from the ashes that the old had been turned into.

Given the flowing nature of the team, would there even be anyone left who knew who she was? She chuckled to herself... she'd been a member, by choice or circumstance, of enough X-teams to populate a small mutant country, coming and going without a second thought to the consequence. Yet here she was, about to knock on the door that might lead to her future, with enough self doubt to destroy that country.

She took a deep breath and reached forward, her hand connecting with the wood, rapping twice.

She counted the beats, waiting for the door to open... waiting, for the rest of her life to start.

Lorna Dane, the mutant mistress of magnetism known as Polaris, held her breath as the door to the mansion belonging to Janet Van Dyne, the wonderful Wasp, swung open.

"This is it," she muttered to herself, closing her eyes.

"LORNA!" a familiar voice exclaimed in delight, rushing forward.

Lorna barely had time to open her eyes much less react when the arms of Rina Patel warmly embraced her, welcoming her home...

Heaven's fallen. That's what he was. A man without a God... no, a man with a God who seemed to have forsaken him. Job.

That is what it had seemed for so very long, inside his own body, looking out, screaming out in a way that no one seemed to be able to hear.

Screaming out warnings of what was coming, of words whispered in the depths of his head, that only he could hear.

But was it his absent God or some wayward demon tormenting him? Was it Gaea, the spirit of the Earth? Was it the man who had been placed to nurse him back to health, Anthony Ludgate, the man they called Dr. Druid? Might it be someone else, telling him things that no mortal man had any right to know?

He had once believed that his God had forsaken him. Now, he knew better. He had truly been like Job, having that hedge of protection ripped asunder from him, to allow the forces of darkness to do their worst. It had been a test of faith.

He wondered if he had failed.

And if this was his punishment.

He thought back to his time in the care of Ludgate, in the place he knew to be the Sanctum of Stephen Strange. He remembered the series of explosions that had rocked the building, the fire ... the pain... and then, the nothingness.

He had expected to open his eyes and find himself in Heaven. It would have been the greatest blessing possible, after living a half-life as an invalid.

Instead, God continued to work in mysteries, his hand moving in ways that were futile for mortal man to attempt to understand.

Gabriel Rosetti had opened his eyes to find himself in the depths of Hell... and sitting on a throne of made out of bones.

For what seemed like the millionth time in the last few days, Gabriel found himself opening up his shirt and staring at the mark on his chest. It had used to be a symbol of his tie to God, the mark of the cross... now, though, its inner structure was completely burned in a way that colored it pitch black... in a way that smelled like decomposing flesh... in a way that declared that he was what the devil Thog had referred to him upon his arrival.

He was still a tool of God... never forsaken, only tested. He tried to remind himself of that. But being the new regent of Hell might be the test that truly broke him.

Van Dyne Mansion

He opened his eyes, slowly. Light flooded his senses.

He snapped his eyes back shut tight.

He giggled to himself, delighted with the turn of events. As people had said since the dawn of time, things indeed had a way of working out for the best.

He opened his eyes again, this time inching them open centimeter by centimeter, letting in more and more light.

He could see the pure white, almost clinical, ceiling.

"I'm lying down," he realized, "Makes sense."

He flexed his right arm, then his left. There was still feeling in them at least.

He looked down at his body; it seemed to be the same as ever. Repairs had taken longer than usual, but, under the circumstances, that was to be expected.

He sat up, noticing that he seemed to be on some sort of table. "Couldn't even spring for a bed, huh?" he quipped, "What's happening to the state of dead guy relations around this place anyway?"

He swung his legs around to the side, then pushed them down to the floor. He shifted his body weight, cringing as he did so.

His legs gave way, causing him to crash to the floor in a heap. "Maybe I can get me some new legs too!" he giggled, picking himself back up again, slowly. He leaned his arm on the table, keeping the weight off his feet.

He would have to get used to walking again. At least until he got stronger. Craig Hollis, the man known as Mr. Immortal, felt something deep inside of him, something screaming to get out.

He chuckled as he took a step forward, assisting himself along with one hand firmly on the table. There was something inside of him screaming; he had known that for a while, lying in the state of death, something that wanted to get out and take control of his body. It was the real Craig Hollis he knew... as he took another step, feeling bits of strength flow back into the body that wasn't his own.

Eric Simon Payne sat alone. He usually did. He didn't mind it. After all, being the Devil Slayer was his lot in life. It was what he did. It was who he was. He had spent time among the Defenders in the past, but in truth he preferred to be alone.

It gave him time to think. Time to perfect the mental discipline that he needed in order to fight the forces of evil.

He closed his eyes, trying to picture his foes. Trying to better understand them in order to more easily defeat them. He tried to picture them. But all he saw was her face. Her smile. All he could smell was her scent in his nostrils, filling him.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. He was the Devil Slayer. It was who he was. It was what he was. Nothing less.

And certainly nothing more.

"...and then, I decided to come back here." Lorna finished, "I wasn't sure where else to go."

"You chose correctly," Moondragon replied, "You will always be welcomed in the ranks of the Defenders."

Lorna smiled. But she wished that she could have told them the whole story. *She let them know everything that she could, but as always - the devil was in the details.

(*As depicted in the X-Factor stories in MV1's Marvel Fanfare, available at a browser near you! - GD)

What would they say if they knew the whole story? What would they do? She wasn't sure. She wasn't sure if she even wanted to know. There had been too much tragedy in her life, too much strife just for being a mutant. It felt good to be in the one place where that didn't matter. The one place where... she belonged.

"Absolutely!" Rina exclaimed, hugging her again, "We're just glad to have you back!!!"

Lorna stared at the woman as she returned the hug. There was something more going on, she knew it. It was all just a matter of finding out what it was.

"We don't know each other," Janine De Loup said, feeling a bit out of place, "But I look forward to getting to know you better."

Lorna smiled, "Me too," she answered and automatically took her hand, "I know that we're going to be friends."

Rina giggled softly to herself. Lorna raised an eyebrow in her direction, but dropped it when a door upstairs banged open.

"We found him!" a woman exclaimed at the top of her lungs. Clea, the Sorcerer Supreme, bounded down the stairs like a school girl, two at a time.

"What's going on???" Lorna asked.

Moondragon stared in wonder at Clea, "You FOUND him?!!!!?" she asked with a catch in her throat.

Clea nodded, frantic.

A single tear fell down the side of Moondragon's face.

Clea turned to Lorna with a distracted smile, "It's good to see you again. There's quite a bit that I would like to ask you, but I hope you understand why at the moment speed would be an issue..."

"Actually..." Lorna started," not really, but I'll take your word for it."

"Assemble the others," Clea ordered, ignoring Lorna's reply, "We have no idea what we're going to be walking into and I want as much power as we have right now to be there."

The others nodded. Moondragon sent out a mental summons to the others.

Strangeman was the first to arrive. Followed by Sam and Victoria. Then Devil Slayer. Cloud was the last to come down from upstairs, looking drained and distracted, but satisfied.

Clea glanced over the team with a slight scowl, "If this is what we have," she muttered to herself as the others milled around exchanging what little information that they had.

"We've found him," Clea announced again, "Now we need to go retrieve him from whatever forces are holding him."

"Who?" Lorna asked again, "What's going on? Who's holding who?"

Before Clea could speak, Moondragon stepped in front of Lorna with a grin, "Stephen," she replied, "We're going to save Dr. Stephen Strange."

Lorna stared blankly at her for a moment, before the grin caught on her own face. Dr. Strange was back from the dead... and soon, he would be back where he belonged.

NEXT: THE RETURN OF DR. STEPHEN STRANGE

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