Wong

Stephen Strange stepped into a portal bound for the New York Sanctum and appeared at one corner of its rooftop. The icy wind whistled across his face, bringing a trace of chill. The red Cloak of Levitation fluttered slowly behind him. He pressed a hand against the wall and looked toward the entrance of the New York Sanctum. The surrounding streets were still strewn with falling leaves, bicycles and cars passing along the asphalt and stirring up the leaves on the ground. It was a peaceful autumn scene.