From beside them another two figures emerged. To their left Dr Strange, looking just as Steve Ditko had imagined him, stood square on to the corridor, arms folded across his chest, eyebrows raised in scepticism as Gregg approached. To their right, Mandrake, top hat in hand, stared down the corridor in silent thought."Swami?" Gregg was convinced that that was who his dream host was.The man nodded, acknowledging Gregg's question.Gregg went closer until the Swami held up his hand to stop. "The question is, Gillstrom, what are you going to do about the girl, Samantha? Disrespect has been shown. She has failed to know her place as a handmaiden, as dasa."Gregg realised at once the Swami was right. He couldn't believe that he had forgotten her insults and the way that she had ignored him. Sam needed to be shown the error of her ways; to be convinced of the power of the Swami. He was about to thank the Swami for his guidance when Strange lifted up his hands sending two shimmering globes of. " Sun pats you on the back, standing up. You stand with her, still holding hands before you splitting to enter each other's separate rooms. You stood at the foot of the dresser, examining your room. It was simple. One ceiling fan spun clockwise, three light bulbs attached to it. Your bed was well made, it's makeup a light blue and orange. Turning around you saw your reflection, you had shoulder length sandy blonde hair, tied up into a pony tail; your bangs falling just short of your face, a single hair clip assisting in not getting them over your sea blue eyes. The color of your skin was tanned from the excessive amount of running you do, usually it was fair. You were never able to join any clubs, or participate in any social activities, and up until today, you never knew why. So you just decided to run and found that you really enjoyed doing it. Your outfit consisted of a black cotton top, and pair of black sweat shorts with diagonal white lines running down the sides, barely.
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