“Can’t track ‘em all with the big bubble?” Mr. Hill asked archly, referring to my Cosmic Awareness.

“The centers of influence are Warded, so I can’t track back to a common point and list them out, or, yeah, we wouldn’t need to do this. I have to know where they are and what they are doing to get a starting point, and I can track them unless Wyndham is interfering...” I narrowed my eyes as a wave of interference from somewhere flew across my Cosmic Awareness, “...which, unsurprisingly, he totally is.” I just sighed. “So, mundane means.”

“Done work for him in the past. Lab-raiding, mostly. Such high-falutin’ morals, and he steals stuff like all the big crooks do,” Mr. Hill harrumphed knowingly.

“Yeah, well, he’s now encouraging The Two to take a closer look at him. Imagine what they are gonna find when they do.”

“Heh heh heh,” Mr. Hill muttered under his breath. “They’re all the same. If they’re gonna shoot kids and civvies, they’re pullin’ off shit they don’t want nobody to know about themselves. ‘Specially if they’re dealing in genetics. They ain’t above us, they’re just hiding the filth on their fingers.”

“And now it’s time for him to hang himself.” I shook my head. “He could’ve done great things for humanity, you know? There is shit we want cut out of the genome. There’s shit we could add to it. Instead of doing the research and finding a way, he’s just murdering people. How do you make that leap of idiocy?! Arghhh!” I throttled the air.

“Schmot Guys...” Mr. Hill shook his head, and we walked through the darkness, surrounded by an escort from a slave race made by the Deviants, crimson veins like threads of lava shining on their skins, giving us the illusion of wading through a waist-deep river of cooling lava as we made our way back to Lavatown, a place built up with good hard work, effort, and trading with the surface world by the lava boys.

We got a lot of good E-metals out of this place, traded for them with food, water, and creature comforts for the lava boys. It worked out well for everyone, and didn’t impugn on anyone else’s territory, although others were guilty of desiring it nonetheless. Mr. Hill was real protective of these little guys, however...

Wyndham was going to be found out, and then he was going to die. Sama’s rage towards genetic experimenters and exploiting of innocents was well-known to anyone with half a brain, but it was plain that Wyndham had managed to evolve without one.

Schmot Guys, indeed...

=========

And so the short-lived Evolutionary War commences. Much shorter than the High Evolutionary expects. I think arrogance increases with evolution.

========

Time passes...

The Sending was rather unexpected. Morgan flicked up a Scrying mirror and tied the spell to it immediately. “Doctor, how may I be of service?” she asked calmly.

“Morgan, are you aware of the War of the Seven Spheres?” he began, and she sensed a certain amount of tension in his voice.

“The old Stacks, Analects and Aphorisms of Agamotto’s Age,” she replied succinctly. “Every five thousand years, there is a huge mystical dust-up between entities of The Mess for metaphysical power and territory, mandated by who knows what and why. It should be starting some time within the next decade, but the records are naturally less than exact on the timing of such a momentous mystical event.”

“That would be a yes, then,” he said, the stress in his voice making her lift an eyebrow at his image. “It seems it is going to begin rather soon.”

“Interesting.” She regarded him calmly. “From the Analects, it seems that the first act of the entities is to select champions to fight for them, as they naturally won’t scuffle directly. It is an extraordinary opportunity for any mystic. Congratulations, Doctor! Are you being recruited?” she asked politely.

He took a long breath. “This is not a good time for Earth to be losing its Sorcerer Supreme, Morgan. Lilith is making a move, there is a former Sorceress Supreme about with bad intentions, and the Dragon Mages are basically stirring up all the Spirits of Vengeance...”

“Pish, Doctor.” Morgan waved his worries away. “Whether or not you are here, problems will be dealt with. You know Sama will be disappointed if we have to request her help, but Lilith is literally a snack to the Golden Hag.”

“THE GOLDEN HAG?” a very profound voice echoed in the background, shaking the spell, and reaching right on through to make the Sanctum tremble.

“You have guests on hand, Doctor?” Morgan asked politely, unfazed.

“Yes...”

“You are being actively recruited?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes... I asked for a moment for a consultation,” he replied, definitely controlling his anxiety.

“Oh, well congratulations again! Agamotto’s time in the Seven Spheres War led directly to his later ascension and elevation to the Vishanti. It is a matchless opportunity in the mystical world! Who, if I may ask, is recruiting you?”

“Ah, all of them...” Strange answered after a moment, stroking his beard.

“ALL of them?” Morgan repeated archly, staring at his image neutrally.

“...Yes?” he repeated, wincing, and the mirror expanded to take in a view of the entities floating all around him in some odd realm out in The Mess.

Umm, three great heads representing the Vishanti. A burning figure of the Faltine Flame. Satannish and his two faces of hellfire, one normal for a devil, one on his chest, with feral Denak the Dungeon-keeper for counterpoint next to him. Windy elemental Watoomb, vaporous serpentine Valtorr, rumbling Cyttorak in his crimson armor, a glowing trio of Seraphim, an avatar of the moon goddess Munnopor, regal Raggadorr looking like his half-dragon illustration, and insectile Ikonn was morphing between forms and locations every breath, as if on reflex.

“Well, you can only choose one. Is there some sort of problem with this?” she asked, unfazed. Her sheer calm was having an effect on Dr. Strange, who was looking less pressured and more thoughtful now.

“They are saying I will be taken away for a thousand years of battle...” he told her.

She waved that away again. “Yes and no. In real time, you will be back within several months, and if you are not, you can simply come back here with a Temporal Lock. You will, however, get a thousand years of practice and active learning in.”

He blinked, and then pursed his lips as his attitude shifted sharply. “I see what you mean about an opportunity...”

“Clea is the Ruler of the Dark Dimension, successor to Dormammu. Is she participating as an Entity or a Champion of the Faltine?”

Morgan watched him stiffen in realization. “I... do not know?” he replied uncertainly.

“You said everyone. You might want to mention to the representative of the Faltine there that you suck at Elemental Magic, although I’ve been trying to get you interested in such inferior magic...”

“Errr...” he turned his head, rather embarrassed. “Is Clea one of the Principals involved in this War, my lords?” he asked of those behind him.

A great and powerful woman’s voice shook the room about Morgan. “She is too young. In the next round, she will be of age, and may take up the place of her uncle, if she still holds the Regency of the Dark Dimension.”

Oshtur, probably the single most powerful Entity there, had spoken! Umar hadn’t been seen for some time, either...

“What know you of the Golden Hag, apprentice of Strange?” Satannish demanded narrowly, his voice, full of the pain of burning souls, carrying through the spell.

“She’s his boss.” Morgan pointed at Strange through the mirror, who blinked at the description. “And mine.” She leaned forward slightly. “I don’t mean to be rude, Lord Satannish, but do you really want to make yourself that easy to find by having one of her servants standing right next to you?”

His double sets of jaws worked, and then there was a fwoosh of hellfire reaching up for him as he fell into nothingness and was gone from the gathering. “Oh, I guess he didn’t really want to recruit you, Doctor,” Morgan said innocently, and Strange smiled slightly.

“The Golden Hag commands the Sorcerer Supreme of Terra?” Raggadorr clarified for everyone, his kingly features startled, serpentine lower half sidling just a bit.

“Just try to say no, Doctor,” I urged him. He opened his mouth, looked at me, and then sort of slumped.

“If she calls me up, I generally do whatever she tells me to, yes,” he confirmed. Which was pretty much the definition of a servant. He looked around at the wary reactions of the Entities around him, and realized something had just changed.

“Poaching a servant from the Golden Hag could have... unforeseen consequences,” Ikonn’s clicking voice came from every direction. There were murmurs of agreement from all those present, and clear hesitation on how to proceed.

Strange’s face was really interesting to see when he finally realized the status Sama Rantha had in the mystic realms.

“Would I be impolite in asking if all the Entities present are currently recruiting for the War of Seven Spheres?” Morgan asked calmly.

There were murmurs of assent from all around, and curious attention focused on her.

“Are the Vishanti recruiting one champion, or three?” Morgan asked calmly.

The dragonish head, the femalish abstract head, and the white bear-tigerish head all blinked together. “We... would not turn down multiple champions who are suitable to the task?” the dragon head of Agamotto finally replied, crouching down to get a better look at her.

“Lemme check with the boss.” Strange almost blurted out for her to stop, but Morgan already had the Crystal Vaccine up and was dialing it.

“Strange in trouble?” came the harsh, fatalistic voice on the other end off of loudspeaker. Several of the surrounding Entities twitched and backed up slightly.

“There’s a thing called the War of the Seven Spheres going to happen soon, and some of the Big Names he calls on came looking for him to use as their proxy. They, uh, don’t want to piss you off, so they are wondering if it’s all right if he volunteers to help them.”

There was a moment of thoughtful silence, while Strange blinked at the total reversal of his status. Instead of a debt being owed these Entities that he was supposed to repay by service, it was now him going to volunteer to help them, and thus INCUR a debt...

“Will his duties be covered?” Sama finally asked.

“Oh, definitely,” Morgan smiled. “Uh, the demoness Lilith has been pissing around...”

“DIDN’T I KILL ENOUGH OF HER GODDAMN KIDS YET?!” roared out of the phone, Morgan holding it away from her ear as she winced. “Fine, it’s fine if he wants to volunteer. It’s a great opportunity for him. Strange, volunteer for someone! Except anyone who has an active beef with me!”

Morgan noted Cyttorak directly twitch, and suddenly Denak was looking VERY antsy. “Do you have a problem with Cain Marko’s Patron, or that Dungeon guy?” Morgan asked carefully.

“If he thinks I don’t know about that goddamn wager between them and the other six butt-buddies, he better think again!” came the hiss from the phone, and draconic Raggadorr, serpentine Voltarr, windy Watoomb, insectile Ikonn, demonic Denak, and the barbaric Cyttorak all visibly flinched. “The second they start that ‘bet resolution’, I’m going to freaking murder ALL of them for being pretentious arseholes, and I’ll burn their entire dimensions to True Death!”

‘Bet?’, Strange mouthed to Morgan, who just shrugged, nodding at the unsightly faces of the six.

“If they call off the bet, fine. If they don’t, they aren’t gonna live long enough to make their little Scuffle of the Seven Sweethearts mean anything.”

The Entities’ faces all grew even longer. However, none of them said a single word, which didn’t seem to surprise anyone.