Don't Mess With Doctor Dream

[Martyr]

---

  
I have spread my
dreams under your feet;

---

Lieber Memorial Hospital was a labyrinth of beds and echoed with cacophonous sound. It was always like this. Emergencies did not stop in the largest city in the country. This was especially so given the overabundance of superhumans in the city.

When some otherworldly entity decided to steal Empire State University, it was Lieber Memorial that was left picking up the pieces.

She, however, was not the typical sort of healer found at a place like this. She did not try and figure out exactly how to operate on something like the Hulk. Instead, she dealt with the sort of trauma that was more hidden. Doctor Demir was there to assess the minds of those who came before them.

A not insignificant number of their patients who did not happen to be driven to madness by some fear virus were supervillains themselves, brought to them after a haymaker punch from the likes of the Submariner.

The type of psychosis that would cause a person to dress in a colorful costume to rob banks was often a deep seated one, and she was there to deal with them upon their arrival, should the need arise.

Speaking of which.

<<DOCTOR DEMIR TO OR-4.>>

Doctor Demir ran a hand through her prematurely silver hair, snatched up the nominal hot chocolate the machine had just moments ago dispensed. 

She wore a silver colored blouse under a white coat with her name and speciality in light blue font on the right corner. A crescent moon necklace hung around her neck. Black slacks and shoes completed her outfit.

The staff psychologist made her way to operating room 4. Leaving what was left of her hot chocolate in a nearby trash, she donned a mask and entered.

There he was: Stephen Strange. The most brilliant surgeon on the staff by a good measure. 

"Doctor Strange, your usual objection to my presence is noted with the caveat that it is deemed necessary by hospital policy."

She was meant to deescalate the tense intersection of medicine and supervillainy.

Wait, was he operating on a fish tank?

---

Tread softly because you
tread on my dreams.
— William Butler Yeats

Template adapted from Silv.

[Ysmir]

"The Doctor is in."

---

"Scalpel," he requested, hand outstretched, a nearby surgeon's assistant complied.

But it was no ordinary scalpel -- it was carved with runes that allowed it to cut more than just flesh, parting any substance no matter what it may be composed of. And that was a necessity, too, given the nature of the task before him.

In the largest city on Earth, full of mutants, wizards, heroes, and villains, you never knew what exactly was going to come through those double-doors. Stephen had operated on stranger things; a glass tank full of what seemed to be ordinary water was, decidedly, low on that list. But this was no ordinary vat of liquid, however. Contained within what one might find at your ordinary pet shop was none other than Carl Creel, AKA the Absorbing Man. He had wondrous abilities that allowed his chemical structure to assume the exact physical properties of anything he touches. Sadly, this has the unfortunate side effect of being beyond his control at times. When reverted to something without solid form... well, one could see the consequences.

But Stephen had a plan. He simply needed to find Carl's "brain", scattered somewhere among the various molecules that were gathered within the tank, and trigger his ability manually to revert him back to his human form. Easier said than done, though.

He wore a physician's mask and magnifying lenses. Over his dark blue scrubs, he wore a scarlet red surgical smock that ensured his work clothes remained free of any contamination. On his hands, his latex gloves were a deep golden yellow. One could see the glow of some kind of necklace hanging around his neck, though its purpose and function in a surgical setting were anyone's guess.

Stephen spoke before Doctor Demir even had a chance, and without looking over his shoulder.

"I thought I instructed the theater to be closed until this was done?", he asked half-sarcastically. Then he sighed.

"Nevermind. I know you're not going to leave no matter what I say," he resigned, still laser-focused on the task at hand. When he cut into the surface of the "water" with his scalpel, the molecules parted around the runed blade harmlessly, as though the device was severely hydrophobic. "Besides, it's good you're here now. When Mr. Creel finds himself back in top shape in a few moments, I'm guessing he won't be very open to conversation. In fact, he's going to be rather disoriented."

When he had parted the surface of Carl's liquefied body and exposed more surface area, Strange reached to his side with his free hand and retrieved a small device that looked like a laptop. He began initializing the device which was hooked up to several electrodes affixed to the outer walls of the tank in various places; scanners searching for any localized brain activity, excited neurons firing and interlinking. This is how he'd locate Carl's brain.

"Oh, sorry," he began, glancing back to her. "How has work been?"

[Martyr]

---

  
I close my eyes then I drift away
Into the magic night, I softly say

---

Demir soon donned a mask too, not because she was going to perform surgery, but because she was now in a place which required one. As Doctor Strange resigned himself to his fate, Doctor Demir responded a bit more positively. "Mm. Perhaps you just need to find the right words."

Doctor Demir nodded when Doctor Strange mentioned the threat the Absorbing Man posed. "Which is the exact reason this protocol is being followed to the letter. A regular man disoriented by some manner of drug is one thing; a supervillain is quite another."

"You bemoan that you are not cloistered like a monk and then start on chitchat. That seems somewhat unusual."

Her eyes moved to the instrument, to Doctor Strange, and then to the aquarium.

"If you are searching for a part of him, perhaps he can help you out. Let's talk about Mary MacPherran. That's whom I was with before coming here. Doctor Blake took care of her injuries. It was more precautionary than anything. The worst bruise seemed to be her ego, but she is safe and sound."

---

A silent prayer like dreamers do.
— Roy Orbison "In Dreams"

Template adapted from Silv.

[Ysmir]

"The Doctor is in."

---

He felt odd, in a word. No different than any other day, really, but the entirety of his work shift, Strange felt... as though he didn't belong. As if he resided somewhere else entirely, on a mental level.

Perhaps it was simply "one of those days"; at least, that's what he kept telling himself. He was living his dream, practicing surgery with magic, combining aspects of the mystical and the scientific in a way that would make Victor von Doom blush with jealousy. What was there to be suspicious of?

At her incredulity, Strange scoffed.

"It isn't about the lack of cloistering. And besides, what use is it fighting when I know you're going to find yourself in here, one way or another?" He tilted his head as he delivered this rhetorical question, then shrugged. "I may as well make the most of it and be civil. Or, if you want, I can go back to being snarky. I'm told I wear that quite well."

The electrodes buzzed to life as signs of brain activity began to make their way through the scanner. He was getting close.

"Ah, the great Titania." He'd met the villainess once or twice in passing, but only knew her name and face, really. What she was in the shadows was insignificant to him. "Take it from me -- damage to the ego can often be more dangerous than damage to the body, especially when egos as soft and squishy as the ones we deal with on a daily basis are concerned. But I'm sure you knew that already."

The scanner beeped again in alarm, as Strange neared his goal.

"It won't take long to fix this up once I get what I'm looking for. Are you ready, Doctor?" He glanced over his shoulder at Demir once more. One of the most exciting parts of super-powered surgery? When you had to subdue the patient immediately after, of course.

[Martyr]

---

  
When I wake up early in the morning
Lift my head, I'm still yawning

---

Even though she wore a mask, the subtle marks of the eyelid were unmistakable signs of a smile. "Perhaps you should seal the door, if you don't want people entering." For the briefest of moments, her middle and ring fingers on her right hand touched her palm.

The good doctor let it be known that others thought he was very good at snark, that he wore it well. "Mm. As well as an old dress shirt left overnight in the dryer.", Demir responded.

Strange asked in so many words for an assessment of Titania.

"Both the body and the ego can be roadblocks, certainly. They, more often than not, are prisons. What is an allergy but the overreaction of the immune system? It raises the metaphorical klaxon for something as benign as a peanut, with deadly results."

"Likewise, the same psychological defences that are put up to protect can become so thickened as to become a tomb, if one is not careful."

The metaphorical quicksand of soft science and of mental medicine, perhaps.

The silver-haired woman was confident when asked if she was ready. "Of course."

---

When I'm in the middle of a dream
Stay in bed, float up stream (float up stream)
- The Beatles "I'm Only Sleeping"

Template adapted from Silv.