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Doctor Stephen Strange stood in front of the sink, scrubbing his hands and forearms meticulously. His sharp, angular features were accentuated by the harsh fluorescent lights of the scrub room. Dark hair, neatly trimmed, framed his confident face, and piercing blue eyes reflected his intense focus. He was tall and lean, exuding an air of confidence that bordered on arrogance.
[Insert picture of Doctor Strange here]
As he finished scrubbing, two nurses entered the room, their smiles brightening at the sight of him.
"Good morning, Doctor," Cindy, the nurse on his left, greeted, handing him a sterile towel. "Ready for today's procedure?"
Strange smirked, drying his hands. "Aren't I always?" He winked at her, his tone dripping with cocky charm.
Jennifer, the nurse on his right, chuckled as she helped him into his surgical gown. "Maybe you could take us out to dinner again once we're finished here?"
Strange's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Dinner? Only if you both promise to let me pick the place..."
Cindy tied the gown at his back, shaking her head with a grin. "You always do, Doctor. How about that new French restaurant downtown?"
Strange pretended to consider it. "French, huh? Well, as long as they serve a good wine, I'm in."
One of the nurses got close to his ear and whispered, "And maybe after dinner you can take us home…"
The other followed suit, "We could spend the night again…"
As they fitted him with gloves, their flirtatious banter continued, creating an easy, familiar atmosphere. But suddenly, a small alert sounded, signaling that the patient was ready.
Strange's demeanor shifted instantly to serious professionalism. "Alright, ladies, let's get to work."
The trio moved into the operating room, where the patient lay prepped and sedated, his head shaved and marked for the procedure.
Strange approached the operating table, his eyes scanning the patient's chart briefly before nodding in satisfaction.
"Scalpel," he requested, holding out his hand. The nurse handed it to him, her eyes filled with admiration.
"Let's begin," Strange said, his voice steady. As he spoke, a record player off to the side started up, filling the room with music—Strange's choice for today's surgery.
🚨Play Macarena by Los Del Río🚨
🎶Dale a tu cuerpo alegría Macarena🎶
🎶Que tu cuerpo es pa' darle alegría y cosa buena🎶
🎶Dale a tu cuerpo alegría, Macarena🎶
🎶Hey Macarena, ay🎶
…
..
.
Taking a deep breath, Strange made the first incision, his hand steady and precise. The nurses worked alongside him, their movements synchronized like a well-rehearsed dance. They watched in awe, admiring the precision and skill with which he operated, his work akin to that of an artist creating a masterpiece.
————
Meanwhile, outside the operating room, the family and friends of the patient waited anxiously, their faces drawn with worry. The minutes dragged by, each one feeling like an eternity as they considered the risks of the brain surgery. They knew all too well how delicate and dangerous such a procedure could be.
Finally, almost an hour later, the door to the operating room swung open, and Doctor Strange emerged, still in his scrubs, which had small flecks of blood on them. Beside him were the two young and beautiful nurses, Cindy and Jennifer, who were clearly enjoying his company.
The family and friends jumped to their feet, their eyes filled with desperate hope, but Strange barely glanced at them as he walked by, the nurses fawning over him. They seemed engrossed in a conversation about going out on a date together.
"What about that French place?" Cindy suggested, laughing.
Strange grinned. "Sure, why not."
The family's confusion quickly turned to outrage, but before they could say anything, an older nurse stepped out of the operating room. She pulled off her gloves and mask, letting out a tired sigh as she glanced at Strange, clearly accustomed to his behavior.
Turning back to the waiting family and friends, the older nurse offered a reassuring smile. "The surgery was a resounding success. John is going to be just fine."
A collective sigh of relief washed over the group, their faces lighting up with happiness and gratitude.
"Thank you so much!" one of them exclaimed.
The nurse nodded, her smile warm but weary. "I'm glad I could deliver good news. And I apologize for Doctor Strange's behavior. He's a bit… eccentric."
The oldest among the group, an elderly man with a cane, scoffed. "He can be as eccentric as he wants as long as my grandson is alive and well. That's all that matters…"
The rest of the family nodded in reluctant agreement, their initial frustration giving way to relief and gratitude. Strange's bedside manner might leave much to be desired, but his skill as a surgeon was undeniable.
————
Not long after the surgery, Doctor Strange, now dressed in a casual yet high-end suit, smiled at the two nurses, Cindy and Jennifer. "I'll bring the car around to pick you up for our date. You two go ahead and change out of your scrubs."
They giggled and nodded in agreement. "We'll be ready in just a few minutes," Jennifer said, giving him a playful wink.
Strange walked out of the hospital, feeling a sense of accomplishment. As he approached his car, a sleek high-end sedan gifted to him by one of his wealthy patients after a successful surgery, he couldn't help but admire its beauty. He unlocked the car and slipped into the driver's seat, ready to pick up his dates for the evening.
But as he settled in, the unexpected happened. Two strong hands reached out from behind him, and before he could react, a damp cloth with a chemical smell was forcefully pressed over his mouth and nose.
Alarmed, Strange struggled, honking the horn with one hand while the other tried to rip the rag away. "?!"
The man behind him, however, was too strong and held the cloth firmly in place. The potent chemicals quickly took effect, making Strange feel drowsy and sluggish. Despite his desperate efforts to stay conscious, the world around him began to blur and darken.
Soon enough, the car horn's blare grew weaker and eventually trailed off into silence as Strange's arm fell from the steering wheel. His struggles ceased, and he slumped unconscious in the driver's seat, completely at the mercy of his unknown assailant.
Seconds later, an old beat-up work van pulled up in front of Strange's car, its tires screeching to a halt. As it stopped, the door of the back seat opened, and Stranges assailant stepped out, revealing himself as none other than Nick Fury, his bald head glinting ominously in the dim light.
Fury scanned the area as the vans side door swung open, and Coulson rushed out, moving swiftly to assist Fury. They worked in tandem, dragging the unconscious Doctor from the front seat of his car.
"Let's move quickly," Fury muttered, his voice low and urgent.
Coulson nodded, his face set in concentration. "Got it."
Together, they heaved Strange's limp body into the van, securing him in the back. Coulson then hopped in alongside him, his hands moving quickly to check Strange's pockets. He pulled out the car keys and tossed them to Fury.
"Here," Coulson said, his voice tense.
Fury caught the keys and nodded. "I'll follow you."
Coulson closed the door to the van, which roared to life and sped off into the night.
Fury climbed into Strange's car, the engine purring smoothly as he started it up. He took one last look around the empty parking lot before following the van, ensuring that no one would suspect a thing.
As they drove away, disappearing down the city streets, Cindy and Jennifer emerged from the hospital, their eyes scanning the parking lot for Doctor Strange's car.
————
An unknown amount of time later…
Doctor Strange slowly regained consciousness, finding himself lying in an unfamiliar bed. His head throbbed, and he fought to keep his eyes closed, pretending to still be asleep as he listened to the heated argument nearby.
"You had no right to kidnap him!" Professor Xavier's voice was filled with frustration and anger.
"We had no choice," Peggy Carter retorted sharply. "Do you think he would have come willingly? We needed him, and time is of the essence."
Xavier's voice rose with incredulity. "You sanctioned this? I thought this was Peter's doing—rash as usual—but it was you?"
"Hey!" Hearing himself being described this way, Peter Quill scoffed. "I am not rash..."
Both Peggy and Xavier turned to him, their expressions clearly saying, 'Really?'
Peter sputtered, feeling defensive. "G-Guys, come on…" He muttered. 'I'm not that bad, am I?'
Ignoring Peter's outburst, Xavier and Peggy resumed their argument. "You broke the law without my knowledge or consent," Xavier said, his tone stern. "This is not how we should operate."
"Shield operates outside the law, Xavier," Peggy countered. "You have nothing to worry about. We needed Strange, and there was no time for niceties."
Peter nodded in agreement. "Yeah, and there's no way he would have agreed to help us otherwise. I mean, look at him." He says, gesturing over his shoulder. "He's a narcissistic, egotistical douchebag of the highest caliber. And that says a lot, because I've met Tony Stark before…"
Unable to take those words lying down, Strange sat up abruptly, glaring at Peter. "I am not worse than Tony Stark!" He exclaimed, unwilling to be compared to such a person.
Peter smirked, clearly unfazed. "Oh, done pretending to be asleep, I see. And you most certainly are worse than Tony. I mean, really? First of all, your taste in music is terrible. Macarena, seriously? Second, you didn't even have the courtesy to inform the family of your patient how the surgery went. You just walked right past them as if they didn't exist. What kind of doctor does that make you?"
Realizing that they had been watching him even before they took him, Strange responded with a mix of pride and irritation. "The best. I am the best surgeon on the face of this planet," he stated matter-of-factly. "I don't do menial tasks; that's for nurses and lesser doctors. I mean, you don't see Barry Bonds going over to edit the score whenever he hits a home run, do you?"
Peter nodded, his expression still smug. "See? You're a douchebag, and you don't even know it. It must be great living in blissful ignorance…"
Annoyed with Peter, Strange turned to the older two in the room, Xavier and Peggy. "What exactly do you people want from me?"
Peggy stepped forward, her tone calm but firm. "We have a patient who needs a chip removed from the back of her neck, and we're willing to pay you a handsome fee to safely remove it."
Strange raised a brow, looking at them as if they were idiots. "I don't need your money. And If you wanted me to work on this patient of yours, all you had to do was visit my hospital. Why go through all the trouble of kidnapping me?"
Peter spoke up, answering his question. "Because the chip in her neck isn't just some run-of-the-mill piece of hardware. It's a brainwashing mind control device."
As soon as Peter revealed this, he noticed a look of intrigue, curiosity, interest, and excitement flash across Strange's face.
Pushing a little further, Peter added, "Oh, and did I mention it's rigged with explosives as well?"
Xavier and Peggy shot Peter admonishing looks, clearly worried that revealing such information too soon might scare Strange away.
But contrary to their expectations, Strange appeared extremely interested. "Tell me more about this patient..." he asked, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.
A/N: 1979 words :)
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