1964-03-22 - What's Up, Doc?
Summary: Ford meets the Sorcerer Supreme to get a few (vague) answers on what's up with Central Park.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
ford strange 


It's not the first time New York has dealt with weirdness at the Park. Not some half-baked title for a concert, this time. Nope. This is rather akin to a set of circumstances that happened a few months back, at a time of the year where the veils between worlds was thin enough to be pierced.

It took a surgeon's touch with Mystical might and a hell of a lot of back-up to get things done last time. This time, that same Supreme surgeon approaches the barrer set up along the broadest entrance to the Park. New York's finest stand on the outside of the CAUTION tape strung up like depressing decorations and enough of a crowd lingers, rotating out with new faces as boredom sets in, that he doesn't stand out. Black winter coat, crimson scarf, he's a bystander like the rest of them…minus that faint glimmer of silvery-lilac about the centers of his irises. He's ascertaining the lay of the land beyond the officers, hanging back and allowing his height to help him over the ocean of heads in hats and bared alike.

*

Ford is a bit less subtle in his approach of the park. He certainly stands out, being 6 feet of greaser and mechanic in those trademark blue jeans and black leather jacket, but he pushes forward through the crowd, trying to get up close to the mess that Central Park was knee deep in. He'd had a run in with those… zombie things in the park. One got loose, and he would have investigated more… but he seriously had work to do! It's not easy being a middle class meta human!

"Hey! Hey, coppers! Someone? Anyone! Someone care to explain what in high hell is going on with that park?!" he demanded on reaching the caution tape. Not that he couldn't push through, not with his strength or speed. But it paid to have at least a modicum of knowledge before leaping headfirst into danger. Especially if zombies were involved.

*

Ford is given a flat look from underneath the brim of a cap by the nearest policeman. "Mind the caution tape." The man is professional enough, appropriately terse, but underneath it all, the slink of boredom enters his tone. His arms crossed constitute a barrier in-and-of themselves, muscle at the seams of his deep-blue officer's jacket, padded for winter. "We don't have any new information for the public at this time." It sounds practiced and it is. The guy has been fielding reporters all…day…long…and he's looking forwards to returning to the station for a cup of coffee.

The tall gentleman in the black coat rests his eyes upon the back of Ford's head, seeing as he's remained on the periphery of the crowd, but…any knowledge is worth having. Here's an opening for further discussion. With grace belying his height, Strange makes his way towards the front, murmuring quiet apologies on the way, and ends up standing beside the greaser. He gives the man in the leather jacket another glance before speaking the officer.

"No new information, hmm? Somehow I can't believe that. Any…escapees?" And the policeman manages to look only mildly discomfited.

"No new information," he repeats, rather stubbornly.

*

"I'm not asking for what's new, I'm asking what's going on! Period!" Ford replied, as stubborn (if not moreso) than the officer he was dealing with. He folded his arms, shifting his weight to one leg before grumbling, glancing up at the elder gentleman who opted to jump in on the subject. '…strange ol' codger, isn't he? What escapees is he- oh right, the zombies.' he thought, before turning back and looking beyond at the park. "Look, a couple days ago, some sad businessman was eating a rabbit - raw, mind you - and then attacked me. First chance I've had since then to come back and get some answers… you know what? Screw it."

Ford grunted a bit, before ducking and moving underneath the caution tape. He aimed to get inside that park, and get some answers, by God! And he had the strength to push aside any sad officers who dared to try and interfere. "It'll probably be faster if I just go have a look myself. Out of my way."

*

"SIR!" The officer is quick to duck under the tape and go to lay hands upon the black-jacketed greaser, his face screwed up in honestly-shocked anger. "Get back behind the caution tape! This is not a joke!"

"He's right, you know," the gentleman with the silvered temples calls out, the corners of his lips rising in a knowing smile. "They eat more than rabbits. You want answers? I'll give you them." He tilts his head towards the length of sidewalk extending down the edge of the park. "Walk with me."

*

Ford shrugged the officer off, ready to head in deeper, but at the words of the older man offering him some sort of explanation, he paused. Looking between the gray haired man and the park, Ford huffed and ducked back under the tape. "Yeah, I gathered they eat more than rabbits. Like when that last one tried to bite me." Ford stuffed his hands in his pockets and kept pace alongside the old man as he quirked an eyebrow. "Alright. You said you had answers. I'm waiting. What is going on, and will whatever is causing that… zombie behavior spread to either Brooklyn or East Village?"

*

Glad to be done with the impulsive young man, the officer returns to his post and wishes once again that time would pass more quickly. Coffee. He's dying for it.

With a walking companion in tow, Strange allows a few dozen steps to pass in thoughtful silence before glancing over at him. "I'm not surprised one tried to bite you. They go for anything that moves and travel in packs. If you have any memories of last year's autumn…you might draw some uncomfortable conclusions based off that alone." The Sorcerer's lips thin. He still has nightmares over what he needed to go to close off that obscene tear in reality. The crimson scarf snuggles closer about his neck, the movements minute. Sharp eyes might catch it and then there's the concerning thought: did the object become lively of its own accord or was it a trick of the eye?

*

"You some kind of expert on these things or something, old man?" Ford asked, quirking his brow as he blinked. That… scarf was really lively. Must be this accursed winter wind. Wasn't it supposed to be spring yet? "Let's say I didn't: gimme the short and sweet of it. Because I don't recall zombies last year." Ford… may have been busy with other things. Like machines. And women. Mostly women. "Truth be told, I don't quite care too much - I just want to make sure this… whatever it is doesn't threaten my neighborhood, or my mom and my aunt. I'll leave the heroics to everyone else."

*

A long, somewhat impatient sigh escapes the Sorcerer, ghosting in the chilly air of lingering winters.

"I sincerely don't understand the need for anyone under thirty to call me 'old'." That musing said, he glances over with a bit of flint in his look. "I'm the foremost expert…junior. The…short and sweet of it is that it's contained — for now. The officers have been doing an excellent job gunning down any of them that attempt to cross the barriers. Other measures have been set down as well, so, for now…everything's fine."

For now.

*

"Maybe because you have hair that someone over 60 would be jealous of?" Ford replied, nodding at his silver lockes and shaking his head. "For now? Okay, cool. So, how do we make it fine and contained and not need to worry about it getting worse? Because I'm a mechanic, and trust me, 'for now' is an unacceptable phrase. 'For now' is what you say when you put a spare tire on before driving to the shop. As in, it'll do until the repairs are finished."

He lazily turned his head towards the park, squinting in through the trees. "So… left untreated, it'll get worse? Spread?" he asked, huffing a puff of air before shaking his head. "…name's Ford, by the way. So… why not just go in, find whatever's causing all this, and turn it off? Break it or whatever?"

*

The Sorcerer snorts and rolls his eyes. Their walk takes them past another section of the Park, another main entrance, and the caution tape strings boldly too here. No such luck. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.

"It's contained for the moment," he repeats. "I haven't gone in yet because you don't just delve into a complicated problem without planning and knowledge. If you don't know the schematics for a car, do you start taking it apart when errant pressure could blow a gasket into your face?" It's a point. He gestures over towards the greenbelt with a leather-gloved hand. "In the same manner, I wouldn't open up a spinal cord and start slicing into it without knowing what the end goal is for the surgery. This…is one hell of a surgery." This seems like the proper place for introductions.

"You said your name was Ford? Doctor Strange. Just Doctor, please — and yes, it's really the family name and so unfortunate or awkward, let's skip that part entirely."

*

Ford grimaced as he huffed again. Complicated… great. His favorite kind of situation. "Hey, you're talking to a guy who consistently has to field the car comparison. I know what you mean by curious names." He might not be such a stodgey coot after all. "So, I'm guessing you've got some kind of experience with… erm… magic? I'm guessing that's what's causing all of this… can't imagine much of a scientific reason for any of this, save perhaps some weird new disease." He paused, realizing that he was talking to a doctor. "…that's not it, is it?"

*

"You could easily say that magic is my forte." The Sorcerer manages a rather sly grin. It fades as he continues talking. "If you wanted to stretch the current understandings of science, I'm sure you could find a way to explain it, but…it's best left to the mysticism of the metaphysical, unfortunately. Not a disease either, unless you count the curses upon the shamblers. Those spread like a disease."

He probably doesn't need to warn, but does anyways: "Don't get bit by them. In fact, stay out of the Park, like the officer said. You might be able to hold your own, but if you get hurt, it doesn't help your family. Protect them."

*

Ford looked back at the park, frowning before shaking his head. "No need to tell me twice. I'll let the magic man handle things, and stick to what I'm good at: cars. And women." Ford nodded, looking back at Strange. "Pleasure to meet ya, Doc. Least now I know what's going on. Stay clear, let the heroes handle it. I'll just keep my portion of the city in the best hands there are. Good luck on ya, Doc."

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