[EverStrange] Body Search
Summary: Everett Ross faced the most unexpected body search of his career, as several tendrils from other dimensions silently slithered around him, suspending him mercilessly in midair.
The meeting with Stephen Strange had lasted far longer than anticipated. The CIA, proud of their procedures and notoriously uncompromising in negotiations, usually held the upper handābut this time, the counterpart, the Sanctum Supreme, presented Ross with unprecedented difficulty. He had expected resistance, but never such a complete, unyielding refusal.
The sharp, unreasonable words on the document caught the eye of the Sorcerer Supreme. His gaze shifted to Agent Rossās face, and the pale eyes no longer radiated calm toleranceāthey were utterly cold, like a storm crystallized into a stare.
āAgent Ross,ā Strangeās voice was low, each word edged with chill, āyou, and the agency you represent, appear to have made a fatal misunderstanding. The Sanctum is not your outpost, and the sorcerers here are not suspects to be deployed or inspected at your whim. The reality we protect is far more dangerous than all the missions youāve ever undertaken combined.ā
āThis so-called āagreementāā¦ā Strangeās fingers twitched, and the document rose of its own accord, slamming onto the desk in front of Ross. āIt insults that protection and tramples the dignity of sorcerers. My answer is no.ā
āThis isnāt about requests, nor dignity, Strange,ā Rossās voice remained steady. He had faced many tense situations; the Supreme Sorcererās anger carried no more weight than anyone elseās. The CIAās top agent negotiated with the same composure as always. āThis is simply procedure. Oversight. A necessary process. Anyone entering this facilityā not just youāmust undergo a body search. For everyoneās safety.ā
āSo you must treat them like criminals? Even inside the Sanctum, every sorcerer checked from head to toe every day?ā Strangeās tone finally sharpened with sarcasm, the collar of his floating cloak rising slightly in annoyance. āWake up. It wonāt even detect the simplest mirror-space disguises. The only effect is wasted patienceāand unnecessary hostility and trouble.ā
āRegardless, it still needs confirmationā¦ā
Ross persisted, but a flicker of anger crossed Strangeās eyes. He seemed tired of this endless loop of debate. Meetings with Ross always teetered between negotiation and some undefinable personal boundary, but this one was far from pleasant. He decided to break the cycle first.
āVery well,ā the sorcerer said softly. āSince you are so eager to enforce this procedure, I trust you wonāt mind experiencing the full inspection yourself.ā
With that, Strange didnāt even gesture elaboratelyājust a thought, and Ross suddenly felt the air around him thicken with a viscous ripple. The next moment, he didnāt see the attack comingāonly felt his ankles clamp tight, an irresistible force yanking him upward.
The world spun, his vision inverted and then righted.
Tendrils emerged without warning from the void beside him, snaking around his wrists, ankles, and waist, suspending him several feet above the library floor. Ross struggled instinctively, his silver suit stretching under the sudden restraint.
āStrange!ā Everettās voice trembled with anger and disbelief. This was total, unnerving loss of control. āWhat does this mean?!ā
āA body search, as you requested,ā Strange replied calmly, a trace of amusement in his tone. Circling the suspended Ross, he surveyed him slowly. āSince you are so enthusiastic, weāll start with you.ā
āItāsā¦ not the same.ā Ross gritted his teeth. The tendrils werenāt cold; they were warm, almost alive, gliding along his body curves, probing every inch for hidden irregularities. The sensation was disconcerting, far beyond anything his training could anticipate. āI did notāā
A tendril coiled over his mouth, silencing him.
Dexterous, the tendrils probed inside his suit pockets, withdrawing a seemingly ordinary pen. With a flick, it separated, revealing a concealed electronic explosive, dropping onto the carpet.
Rossās jaw tightened. He hadnāt planned to use such devices in the Sanctum; technology rarely worked here. This was habit, carried long-term as part of his professional precautions.
Next, the tendrils uncovered deeper secrets: blades hidden in belt crevices, powdered substances beneath watch dials, coin-shaped signal jammers, spare magazines, micro handgunsā¦
The tendrils explored every fold, every hidden pocket, shaking out each item with ruthless precision. Objects clattered and jingled onto the floor at Strangeās feet.
Ross couldnāt speak. His face betrayed a mix of anger, embarrassment, and incredulity. All his tools, all his contingencies, laid bare in the most absurd, complete way. He struggled againāineffectivelyāsuppressing the instinctive shiver the tendrils triggered.
Finally, one tendril even retrieved a nearly invisible earpiece and placed it neatly atop the pile of ācontraband.ā
Strangeās voice rang out lazily; he even nudged the pile with a foot. āSeems your inspection checklist is far more extensive than the Sanctumās apprenticesā, yet itās never mentioned in your document.ā
Once done, the tendrils vanished as suddenly as they appeared.
Rossās feet hit the floor; he stepped back half a pace, breathing fast, straightening his disheveled suit with tense, dignity-reclaiming motions. He drew a deep breath, eyes like blades fixed on Strange still leaning against the doorframe.
Strange watched, calm as always, though a faint trace of a satisfied smile lingered in his blue eyes.
āNow, do you need further discussion on how you intend to inspect my sorcerers?ā he asked gently, as if the prior spectacle were nothing. āOr shall I help you return these little items to their proper places?ā
āNo need.ā Ross suppressed all rising emotions, bent to gather the scattered tools, and carefully replaced them in their hidden compartments. When the last item was stowed, his gaze avoided Strange, landing on the document he had brought, returning it to his briefcase.
āIāll convey the Sanctumās feedback in full,ā he said, trying to sound composed but still betraying lingering unease. āThis documentā¦ will be reassessed.ā
He didnāt apologize, nor admit defeat. This was merely a tactical retreat in negotiationāalbeit executed in an unprecedented manner.
Strange nodded slightly, accepting this ānon-concessionā in measured tone, as if the near-complete exposure of a top agent hadnāt been his doing. āI look forward to your revised results, if they better reflect ārespect.āā
āThat depends on cooperation progress. Iāll push it as much as I can,ā Ross replied formally, closing the episode with a professional edge.
He spoke no more, turning away with purposeful, though slightly hurried, steps, merging into the night and rain.
The Sanctum gates closed behind him, cutting off the outside worldāand the humiliating, unforgettable body search.
Easter Egg (Ross & Strangeās Mental States)
A night wind brushed across Everett Rossās neck and the still-sensitive skin. He stopped abruptly, leaning against the cold, rough brick wall, eyes closed, recalling the tendrilsā touch.
A shiver ran through him.
The sensation was not just fear or angerāit was a complex, physiological tremor left by absolute domination, by being stripped of control and mastered entirely. Deeper, intimate memories awakenedāthe warm, slippery, sentient-like tendrils coiling around his limbs and torso, suspending him, denying him control. How they traced his body without pain, yet with intimate scrutiny, gliding beneath the suit over muscles, brushing ribs, probing hidden compartments, sending tingling, nearly violating currents through his skin, shaking out every secret. The sensation of complete control was both humiliating andā¦ strangely compelling.
All he could recall was the helplessness of being suspended and Strangeās gaze, so fully in control, tinged with amusement.
Ross shook his head sharply, forcing his mind back to the mission, to the reassessment document, severing the too-clear memory chain. Damn magic.
In the Sanctum library, Stephen Strange remained standing. The magical ripple from the tendrils had completely dissipated.
He watched Ross leave, the faint smile he hadnāt noticed fading, replaced by something complex. Strange didnāt enjoy humiliating others, but sometimes practical demonstration was far more effective than endless debate.
Ross, stubborn yet not malicious, relied heavily on technology and combat tools, but his human vulnerability was undeniable. Strange could almost feel how the agentās confidenceābuilt on tech and firepowerāhad collapsed and rebuilt within those few minutes.
He hoped the lesson was clear: some forces cannot be infringed upon, regulated by a document. And to convey this in a way Ross could understand, he had relied on overwhelming force.
Admittedly, there was a private, even slightly malicious satisfaction in seeing a man so used to control suspended, flushed with anger and helplessness. It had nothing to do with CIA files or dimensional securityāpurely personal curiosity, observing the human beneath the agent, the one who could be embarrassed, shiver, and feel exposed.
Guardians are lonely. Strange knew this was dangerous, but occasionally, protecting billions of dimensions allowed a tiny indulgence of his ownā¦ Stephen Strangeās private amusement.
āWang,ā Strange turned calmly, as if nothing had happened. āArrange the ritual in the meditation room. I need to conduct a dimensional patrol tonight.ā
The Sorcerer Supreme must always focus on real threatsānot play power games with the CIAābut perhaps next time, if there is a next time, he might negotiate in a gentler, more conventional mannerāmore easily accepted by an agent.
Perhaps.
