Mandela Effect: Prologue

Magical Mumbo-Jumbo Bullshit

As Fury took his sixth lap around the block and proved to himself yet again that there was no 177A Bleecker Street, he felt like shooting that self-centered surgeon-sorcerer in the face.

"Take another lap," he told the agent in the driver's seat next to him, "The bastard's probably cloaking it with some sort of magical mumbo-jumbo bullshit."

The agent looked doubtful, but kept driving all the same. As soon as Fury had gotten the call from Strange, he ordered some of his most trusted and loyal agents that were available to come with him to the meeting place.

Fury had been well aware that he was several hours early, but he needed answers and he needed them soon. His six most experience Avengers were MIA and when Strange said that he had someone that could explain what had happened... Well, he figured that Strange would just have to deal with him being early. How was he supposed to know that the man could make his entire damn building vanish?

The car turned the corner a seventh time and the sight in front of them made Fury swear, not because the house still wasn't there, but because it was. Dr. Strange stood in front of its open doorway, his arms crossed over his chest with a smirk that could rival Stark's.

"Do you want me to circle around the block again, sir?" the agent asked.

Fury shook his head. "No use driving away and risk having him hide the damn thing again. Park the car there next to that tree over there. We have no idea who this third party is, so watch your step when we get inside."

The driver frowned, but parked the car in the space that Fury had pointed out. He turned to look at his director in confusion and the two agents in the back seat mirrored the movement.

"Sir, the house still isn't there," one of them pointed out.

Fury turned to give him a one-eyed evaluating stare. "Evans, I could have sworn I saw your perfect vision test pass across my desk just yesterday. What do you mean, 'the house isn't there?' Don't you see the big, fat frickin' Brownstone over there?"

He jabbed his finger out the window at the house and Strange gave him a little infuriating wave. The three agents followed the gesture, but they all shook their heads in bewilderment.

"Boss, I don't see anything different from the last lap around the block," the third agent replied, "Maybe he wants you to go in alone?" he suggested hesitantly. He'd known Fury long enough to know that the man wouldn't lie about something so strange, but still, disappearing houses seemed pretty fantastic.

Fury huffed as he looked back at the house that only he could see, muttering something along the lines of Strange being a bigger pain in his ass than some guy named Wilson. "Stay here. I'll call if I need backup."

None of the agents pointed out that they couldn't enter a house that they couldn't see.

Fury slid out of the car, slamming his door behind him as he made his way across the sidewalk and up the steps to where Strange was standing in his open doorway.

"Nice of you to keep me waiting," Fury growled, "You couldn't've let me in sooner?"

Strange shrugged, the smirk still fixed to his face, but Fury could see the unease underneath. The man was nervous and it set Fury on edge. "My guest needed rest," he said, brushing off Fury's indignation, "He's been through quite a few days."

He led Fury into the entrance hall and the door slammed of its own accord behind them. Fury whipped around to stare and he could have sworn he heard Strange mutter something along the lines of "be nice", but he couldn't be sure.