Chapter Text
After finding Peter on Earth with his grandfather, Mantis went to Doctor Stephen Strange for some help. Peter had explained that Strange should be able to help her with her appearance, since attennaes weren't exactly common in New York—also that he had connections to Tony Stark, who could help her.
After the battle against Thanos, Tony and Strange had taken somewhat of a liking to the Guardians of the Galaxy for their help.
“They'll like you, I'm sure of it,” Quill had assured warmly, patting his half-sister on the back affectionately. “You're all sunshine and rainbows, except when Nebula told me you called her a—”
“Thank you, Peter!” she exclaimed, too happy to bother listening any further and practically skipping out the door. Peter had luckily given her the address before she left, so she was hopefully going to be alright.
Mantis would most likely be allowed to see Tony. It was just hard to catch the man’s attention, and it would be even harder to get him to help if he didn't even know she needed it. She had hoped Stephen would maybe be able to help with those issues.
Despite all the weird looks she got on the subway (Peter had given her very specific instructions), she paid no mind to them, completely oblivious.
She accidentally leaned too far towards a teenager with dark skin and a short buzz cut. Feeling the unexpected warmth, she accidentally caught a glimpse of his feelings.
”You are sad,” she said casually, turning to the boy with sympathy.
”Uh…Excuse me, ma’am?” the boy questioned, most likely thinking she was high or mentally ill.
Mantis smiled, her dimples on either side of her mouth curving to fit it.
“You miss your father,” she whispered like it was a secret. “You wish he would come back, but you don’t quite know where he is.”
The kid scooted slightly away from her, staring at her with wide eyes. A few other people were glancing, yet didn’t really hear what she had said.
Then a sudden bang interrupted the low chatter inside, and the vehicle came to a stop. Mantis snapped her head up in alert, completely forgetting about the boy seated next to her.
“Oh—Sorry, guys! Up ahead, there's some explosives, so I have to stop you guys here,” a kid no older than eighteen explained. The voice sounded familiar to Mantis.
When she saw large, fixated eyes looking at her through the window, her own eyes widened in recognition. “Spider child!” she said a little too loudly.
She still remembered the battle with Thanos, meeting the kid again after five years of being dusted. He was nice, even though he was scared of her at first. Their few interactions after their first also didn’t go terribly; they managed to form somewhat of an acquaintanceship.
“Are you mentally stable?” the kid from before questioned, looking at her like she had grown two heads. Not only did she touch him, but she also read his emotions and is a goddamn alien; her antennae are visible through the slits in her beanie, and her eyes are pitch-black. Not to mention, she just called Spider-Man “Spider child” since she was so oblivious to his actual name.
”Am I mentally a stable? What does that mean?” Mantis cocked her head in confusion, misunderstanding the question. She might’ve picked it up from Drax if anyone—He rubbed off a lot on her. She wondered how he was doing; he was one of the companions she was closest to.
Peter, she believed to be his name (she remembered because he looked like a mini version of her half-brother), fired finger guns at her before swinging to the front of the train.
”If there are any unexpected stops or if you are in danger, message this number. You don’t have a phone yet, so you won’t be able to message me, but try not to get in any danger until you do,” Peter said thoughtfully, handing her another neatly folded piece of paper. The handwriting enscripted inside was slightly scrawny, as if it was written with little care and minimal time.
“How does this work?” Mantis questioned. “OH! It’s magical paper, I press it, and you are instantly informed!” She grinned like she won a lifetime’s supply of jellybeans.
“Not exactly…” and that's how they had a rather long conversation about what a phone was while Peter’s grandfather fell asleep in the corner of the room in a leather armchair.
At the next stop Mantis eagerly ran off the bus, grinning widely. She was only a few blocks away from the New York Santorum.
She passed an alleyway, subconsciously turning towards it to take everything near her into mind. There was a raccoon, which Mantis (as expected) confused with Rocket.
Mantis gasped in excitement, “MINI ROCKET!” she shrieked, causing her to get even more dirty looks than before. She ran up to the raccoon, who instead of getting startled and running away—Just stood there.
“Turns out I am a ‘raccoon’.” Rocket shrugged, his comment being directed towards Peter.
“Obviously! You look like a trash panda, so of course you’re a raccoon,” Peter said like it was rocket (no pun intended) science, causing Rocket to glare at him, letting out a nasty growl and flashing his sharp teeth. ‘If looks could kill…’ Mantis had thought. She did get somewhat startled easily.
Mantis now stood in front of the doors she assumed were the correct ones to enter. She had to ask around quite a bit, with some people either giving her wrong directions accidentally or being utterly confused. It was usually the latter, Mantis assumed. Strange most likely preferred privacy.
With a deep breath and a smile then plastered on her face, Mantis threw open the door, walking in.
There were two spiral staircases, each leading to either side of a platform that served as a second floor. A red cloak Mantis recognized floated down on top of the stained glass embedded into the floor, which led to the assumption Doctor Strange was nearby.
“Magic human!” Mantis called, awaiting an answer. She was a little fidgety with habit, but it increased because of her emotions that were a mix between excited and anxious.
Suddenly the cloak flew away but came back, this time with Strange as its holder. “Welcome, Mantis.”