The swirling energies of the portal deposited Ranger back into the familiar, ancient library of the Sanctum Sanctorum. The journey to the colossal, unnamed planet and the initiation of its Alphalinking process had been… efficient, thanks to Strange's reluctant but precise teleportation. Doctor Strange stood by the massive window, his back to Ranger, the Cloak of Levitation rippling slightly as he observed some impossible, extra-dimensional vista.
"The sheer scale of that celestial body, Ranger… and the energy signature your 'Alphalink' is now imprinting upon it." Strange finally said, turning, his expression a mixture of awe, deep concern, and his usual intellectual arrogance. "I confess, I didn't know your particular brand of 'Turbo' technology extended to… planetary-scale engineering. Even Stark, in all his years of reckless innovation, never attempted anything quite so… audacious."
He looked Ranger up and down. "Will you be employing this new… capability… in the current terrestrial war?" His tone was sharp, a demand more than a question.
"Would my answer offer you any genuine solace, Doctor?" Ranger replied, his voice calm, as he moved towards one of the armchairs. "Even if I were to assure you that my intentions are purely defensive, purely localized to that sphere of influence, you wouldn't truly believe me. Not entirely. Your nature, your duty, compels you to anticipate the worst-case scenario. So, why pose a question to which you've already formulated the answer you'll distrust?"
"Pragmatism." Strange retorted, his eyes narrowing. "And a necessary assessment of potential threats to this reality. If you intend to use that… planet-sized weapon… on Earth, Ranger, I will have to stop you." He didn't raise his voice, but the underlying steel was unmistakable. "The energies involved are beyond anything our Sanctum's shields, or indeed this world, could withstand even a glancing blow from."
"My primary aim is not to target Earth, Strange, unless it becomes a matter of absolute, unavoidable self-defense." Ranger stated, shrugging with an air of weary resignation. "But, as you've astutely observed, I have cultivated a rather… enthusiastic… list of enemies. Both within this nation's borders and far beyond. People, organizations, entities that seem to harbor a deep-seated, almost pathological aversion to my continued existence. And many of them possess the capability, and certainly the inclination, to cause significant harm, not just to me, but to those I have… taken an interest in protecting here."
"You've made your rather dramatic point, Ranger." Strange said, his cloak guiding him to the table where a tea service, now untouched, still rested. "So, the obvious question remains: what would it require for you to not employ this newfound, reality-distorting capability on Earth? You clearly possess resources and power that render many conventional concerns moot. You could have likely achieved this interstellar journey through your own, albeit messier, means." He gestured vaguely.
"So, tell me. Your price for not turning Earth into a collateral damage statistic in your personal vendettas, or your… enthusiastic self-defense."
"I already told you, Strange. It's for self-defense." Ranger reiterated, finally taking a seat, though he waved away the tea. "The mutants, a significant faction of them, despise me. President Ross, in his infinite wisdom, wishes to nuke me and the small town I've taken under my wing. Director Fury is likely one bad day away from calling in Captain Marvel to try and 'pacify' me. Our new Captain Grudge… America… would probably throw a party if I spontaneously combusted. Then there are the various obscure agencies, half the Krakoan Quiet Council who'd prefer me erased, and a delightful assortment of supervillains and even some so-called heroes just waiting for me to make one tiny misstep so they can descend like vultures." He ticked them off on his fingers, his tone almost bored.
"And those, Doctor, are just the ones I can be bothered to list off the top of my head. So, a man, even one such as myself, requires a certain… deterrent… a significant measure of protection, does he not?" Ranger put his hands down, his gaze direct.
Strange let out a short, humorless laugh. "Ranger, you truly possess an unparalleled talent for making powerful enemies. Stark's list of adversaries looks like a child's coloring book by comparison." With a sharp snap of his fingers, the teacups transformed, the fragrant tea replaced by what looked like aged, amber liquor, ice clinking softly into the glasses.
"What can I say?" Ranger replied, accepting the offered glass. "It seems the world often resents those who operate outside its preferred, predictable parameters. It loves its designated heroes, adores its theatrical villains, but it despises the anomaly. The good are often naive, the wicked predictable. I, it seems, am neither." He took a sip. "An excellent vintage."
"The Ancient One's private reserve," Strange remarked, a flicker of something almost like nostalgia in his eyes. "He claimed it aided in… contemplating the infinite. Consumed it rather liberally." He swirled his own drink.
"So, what precisely do you require from the Sanctum, Ranger? You've already shown me the scale of your… deterrent. What would it take for you to agree not to shatter the mystical shields of this entire planet in the name of your 'self-defense'?"
"Even if I were to articulate my precise requirements, Stephen Strange." Ranger said, placing his drink down, his gaze direct, "I suspect you lack the singular authority to grant them. Would it not be more… efficient… to discuss matters of such grave import, matters that pertain to the overarching security goals of the Sanctum, directly with the current, officially recognized Sorcerer Supreme?" He tilted his head slightly. "Isn't that right, Wong?"
As if summoned by the name, a swirling orange portal opened nearby. Wong stepped through, his expression as stoic as ever, though his eyes held a keen, assessing light as they fell on Ranger. He carried a bundle of five vibrantly colored, if somewhat simply made, capes. He tossed them unceremoniously onto a nearby table.
"Matters that may compromise the Sanctum's primary directive are indeed the concern of the Sorcerer Supreme, yes." Wong stated, his voice a gravelly monotone. He then addressed Strange, a hint of familiar exasperation in his tone. "Strange. Autograph these. Your scrawl is at least passably famous." He ignored Strange's indignant noise and sat. "Now, Ranger. Your terms. What for this… planetary weapon… to remain dormant in Earth's affairs?"
"The unequivocal promise of the Sanctum Sanctorum." Ranger stated, his voice devoid of any of its earlier playfulness, "that the town I currently reside in, and its immediate surrounding territories, will not be attacked by forces you can influence or deter. That it will be considered a sacrosanct, neutral zone. A safe haven. I require your word, Sorcerer Supreme, that the Sanctum will actively ensure its protection from any and all threats, be they mystical, extra-dimensional, or unusually potent terrestrial aggressors that fall outside conventional deterrence and might draw my disproportionate response."
"Only your 'turf'? Not your person?" Wong questioned, his eyebrow arching slightly. Sharp.
"No." Ranger replied flatly. "I do not require saving." He leaned forward. "Do I have your word, Sorcerer Supreme, that the people and the territory I have designated will not be targeted, and will be actively shielded by the power of the Sanctum should the need arise?"
Strange made a small, almost imperceptible nod towards Wong. Wong, after a moment of silent contemplation, and a brief, complex series of hand gestures that seemed to consult unseen energies, nodded once, a gesture of finality.
"Very well, Mr. Ranger." Wong declared, his voice resonating with quiet authority. "You shall have the word of the Sorcerer Supreme. Your designated territory, and the innocent lives within it, will be considered under the direct protection of the Sanctum Sanctorum. None shall breach its peace through mystical or extra-dimensional means without facing our retribution, provided your presence there does not itself invite such specific incursions."
Ranger nodded slowly in acknowledgment.
Strange, however, couldn't resist a final jab from behind Wong, a smirk playing on his lips. "So, Wong, just to be absolutely clear for the minutes… does that mean his myriad enemies can still attempt to turn him into a fine paste if he happens to be within his precious, magically warded turf? Or is he only fair game once he steps outside its mystical picket fence? The details, as always, are where the devils reside."
"That, Doctor Strange." Ranger said, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he rose, "is for your considerable intellect, and theirs, to interpret and gamble upon." He turned to Strange. "Now, about those five capes, Doctor? And your esteemed, if somewhat secondary, signature?"
Strange handed over the capes with a theatrical sigh. "I still fail to see how I became the designated autograph provider for children's superhero paraphernalia. I didn't know you possessed such a… cool uncle persona, Ranger."
Ranger merely shrugged, then turned back to Wong, holding out the capes. "Actually, Wong, on second thought, I believe the signature of the current and, dare I say, more administratively competent Sorcerer Supreme would be a far finer, more prestigious addition to these garments than that of some… flashy, prone-to-interdimensional-bar-brawls, apprentice-class sorcerer, wouldn't you agree?"
"What did you just call me?!" Strange retorted, his voice rising in mock (or perhaps not-so-mock) indignation from the background.
Wong took the capes, a rare, almost imperceptible smirk touching his lips. "Indeed, Ranger. An apprentice, however naturally gifted, like Doctor Strange here, often detracts from the inherent dignity of the Mystic Arts with his… unnecessary flamboyance and disregard for library overdue policies. My signature." he produced an elegant, shimmering pen from within his robes, "shall elevate the beauty and mystical resonance of these capes to a level of sophistication Doctor Strange could only aspire to achieve after another several centuries of diligent study. And perhaps some anger management."
He began to sign each cape with a flourish: "Sorcerer Supreme Wong."
"I held the title with distinction before you did, Wong, and with considerably more panache!" Strange fumed from his chair.
"And yet, I possess it now, Stephen." Wong retorted without looking up from his meticulous signing. "And the other Masters actually attend my council meetings. And I do not misplace potentially world-ending artifacts on Tuesdays."
"That was one Tuesday! And it was mostly Mordo's fault! Besides, I was blipped out of existence! A significant handicap to administrative duties!"
"And whose brilliant, universe-altering, ethically questionable plan was that, again?" Wong finished signing the last cape and handed them with a slight bow to Ranger.
"I shall leave you two esteemed sorcerers to continue your spirited debate regarding past glories and current administrative competence." Ranger said, taking the capes, his voice laced with dry amusement. He downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. "Remember your words, Sorcerer Supreme. And I shall endeavor to remember mine." He gave a curt nod, then turned and walked towards the door. As soon as he was outside the Sanctum's immediate wards, he was airborne.
As Ranger departed, Wong watched him go, then turned to Strange, who was nursing his drink with a disgruntled air. "An arrogant man, that one. Is he not, Stephen? Though less than you. One would think he would, at the very least, ensure our words would be binding by insisting upon a magically sealed contract, a Geas or something."
Strange stared at the spot where Ranger had vanished, a thoughtful, almost troubled expression on his face. "He holds all the keys, Wong. That… Alphalinked planet… his own formidable power, the unsettling depth of his knowledge. Why should he restrict himself by signing any contract with us? He is arrogant, yes. But he is also terrifyingly intelligent. He just made us party to his terms, bound by our honor, not his."
He paused, then a mischievous glint, the first genuine one since Ranger's arrival, entered his eye. "And Wong?"
"Yes, Stephen?"
"He's just one of them. You still owe me butler duty, complete with the little white gloves, for four more of my… unconventional house guests, as per the explicit terms of our little wager."
Wong groaned, a truly heartfelt sound of profound suffering. "I deeply, deeply regret accepting that bet regarding your ability to go a full calendar month without accidentally inviting an elder god, a rogue AI, or a dimensionally displaced warrior-poet over for tea."
Strange smirked, finally looking like his old, insufferably brilliant self. "You just regret the fact that you lost, my dear Sorcerer Supreme. You just regret that you lost. Now, about that re-shelving the restricted section…"