Look What You Made Me Do (MCU)

[mythSSK]

Chapter 71

Once May and Ned had been returned safely home through a portal, the rest of the group broke apart as well. Nat gave me a little peck on the cheek, our hands lingering interlocked for a brief moment, before she left with Rhodey to talk about boring government liaison stuff. Steve and Sam said they were heading for the training space in the hangar for a light warmup, and told us to drop by once we'd finished at the labs. Pietro and I followed along with Peter, Tony taking the lead.

Just outside our destination, I touched Peter on the shoulder to ask him to wait. "Hey Tony? Can I just have a real quick second with Peter first?"

Tony's eyes narrowed briefly, but then he shrugged. "Sure. I'll head in and let Bruce and our Princess know we've got a visitor."

I waited until he'd headed inside, standing quietly with Pietro and Peter for a few moments before I turned to the teen, swallowing nervously. "Hey, so, um," I started, suddenly anxious again. I rubbed at my arm absently. "Peter, I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry about what happened. HYDRA. Putting May and Ned in danger. I almost got you killed. Just… everything."

"Oh," he straightened up, a flash of concern passing across his face. "No, you don't have to be sorry! You didn't do anything wrong. It wasn't your fault."

"I know. I still feel responsible."

He paused for a moment, his eyes flicking to Pietro briefly before he averted his eyes, looking down and to the side. "I… in the Tower. When I got shot." He swallowed. "When you were trying to help me and you just… you fell over. Stopped moving. I was so sure, for a second, that you'd died. That you'd died and it was my fault."

"How could it have been your fault?"

"Because I shouldn't have gotten shot!" he said, his voice a little thicker with emotion. "You kept trying to tell me that we shouldn't fight, but I was so sure I could take them and…" he trailed off with a slightly shaky breath.

"Hey, no." I reached out and took hold of his arm. He was trembling a little. Not much, but enough that I could feel it. "I know no teenager ever likes to hear this, but you're still just a kid, Peter. I was the adult in the situation, and I put you in danger."

Peter was quiet, his jaw working silently for a moment before he looked back up at me. He wasn't on the verge of tears, exactly, but his eyes were a little shinier than they had been and his cheeks were flushed. For the first time since we'd picked him up, I noticed that he had slight dark circles under his eyes.

Fuck. This was my fault. I had kept putting off talking to Peter because I'd felt guilty and didn't want to face him, telling myself that he probably didn't want to see me. I'd been so worried that he'd be upset with me, but the whole time he'd been blaming himself for what had happened. It was starting to feel like I just couldn't do anything right.

"You did good, okay?" I said firmly. "If I didn't do anything wrong, then neither did you. If anything, you saved me. I think I probably would have died if you hadn't been there. Come here."

I pulled Peter's arm gently and he very easily let me draw him into a hug, putting his arms around me and holding on tightly for a moment. Rubbing the back of his head soothingly with one hand, I glanced over at Pietro, who gave me a tight smile, sympathy written across his features. After a second, I pulled back from the embrace and looked at Peter seriously. He hid his face a little, wiping at his eyes with his wrist.

"Have you been sleeping okay?" I asked softly.

"Not really. I've…" He hesitated, clearly not really wanting to admit he'd been having nightmares. "…just been having some bad dreams. That's all," he settled on.

I squeezed his arm. "Look, I'm not an Avenger, but my original offer to you is still there. I'll give you my number. If there's anything you need… anything. Even if you just want someone to talk to. I'll be there. Okay?"

Peter nodded. "Thanks. I… that… just thanks." He took a deep breath to steady himself, then hesitated again, glancing back in the direction we came before looking back at me. "Uh. I hope it's not rude to ask, but are you and Ms Romanoff…?"

I smiled. "Yeah."

"Cool. That's cool," he said, then frowned, shaking his head and looking at me with a touch of confusion. "I don't get it, though. She's an Avenger. Your brother's an Avenger. You've got powers. You fought with them… why aren't you an Avenger?"

I fidgeted for a moment, feeling small and tired all of a sudden, and sighed. "I really wish everyone would stop asking me that. It's complicated, Peter. I don't really want to talk about it, if that's okay."

"Oh. Sorry. I didn't—"

"Hey," Pietro interjected, stepping forward to pat Peter on the shoulder. "We should probably go up, yeah? Don't want to keep Stark waiting."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah." Peter nodded, straightening up again.

I shot my brother a grateful smile. "Let's go."

Tony met us at the top of the stairs and gestured for us to follow him. With the space to spread out afforded by the size of the compound, an entire floor of the building had been claimed as an extensive set of labs—I knew Dr Cho's stuff was being set up in here somewhere as well, but we didn't see her, instead beelining for the engineering wing, stepping through a sliding door that opened and closed silently.

A decent amount of equipment had been set up already, but it was still a clear work in progress, almost half of the space taken up by a mix of neatly arranged metal crates and haphazardly unpacked and stacked machine parts. A pair of autonomous robotic arms rolled around the far end, slowly but surely assembling what I was pretty sure was some sort of large, complex fabricator that Tony used for rapid prototyping of parts.

Shuri was at a workstation close to the door and stood up as we entered. She was wearing a long, bright orange coat, sleeveless with a high collar, the black straps of the top she had on underneath hanging off her shoulders. Her long braids hung loose about her shoulders, intricately-wrought golden caps threaded onto the ends. I felt a little underdressed and slovenly in comparison, and wondered vaguely how long it took her to get ready in the morning. She shot me a baleful glare, her posture stiff. I raised my hand in an awkward half-wave, shooting her a tight but hopefully friendly smile. I still didn't really know how to act around her, but I didn't want to do or say anything that might cause her to snap or get angry.

I felt about ninety-nine per cent sure that Peter and Shuri were going to get along like a house on fire. He was a few years younger than her, but he was a lot closer to her age than Tony and Bruce. They were both super smart—Shuri more so, of course, but Peter was no slouch—with similar scientific/tech interests, and her dry, slightly-smug sense of humour was along the same lines as MJ's. I really didn't want my presence to mean that they had a bad first impression of each other. Maybe it would have been better for me to just leave Peter with Tony, though it was a bit late for that now.

Tony took the lead and gestured dramatically toward her, bowing his head slightly. "Peter Parker, I'd like you to meet Princess Shuri, our resident royal, visiting from Wakanda. Just Shuri, like a rockstar or the Pope."

Tony's introduction was enough to pull Shuri's attention off of me and she rolled her eyes a little, turning slightly to very firmly ignore me and giving Peter a tight smile. "Hello, Peter Parker."

Peter's eyes had gone wide, like a deer caught in headlights. "Uh, hi! Hello, princess, um, you—" he fumbled, lurching awkwardly forward in a stiff half-bow. "I'm… I'm Peter."

Oh. Oh no.

"Yes, I know," Shuri said, mild amusement in her tone. "I hear you'll be an Avenger-in-training?"

"Yeah! Um, I'm… I'm Spiders." Peter paused, looking panicked. "Uh, Spider-Man! I'm Spider-Man." He swallowed nervously, hands balled into fists at his sides as he went quiet.

Jesus Christ, the kid was drowning.

"Peter's actually a bit of a science guy," I jumped in, valiantly trying to rescue him. "Midtown School of Science and Technology, top of his class. Programming, engineering, biochemistry. He invented his own synthetic spiderweb—its ridiculous stuff, tensile strength is off the charts."

A flicker of annoyance passed across Shuri's face at my interruption—she glared at me again momentarily before her expression softened and she looked back at Peter. Even though she didn't like me, I was pretty sure she'd caught my intent. "Is that so?" she asked. "When you've had a chance to settle in, I'd be interested in taking a look at the formula, if you'd be willing to share it?"

Tony had his phone out, flicking it forward to project a small holographic screen showing one of the videos a bystander had caught of Peter web-slinging around the city. "It's pretty impressive stuff, yeah," he said, then pulled a face. "Shame about that onesie, though."

"…It's not a onesie," Peter responded sullenly, a little deflated.

Tony shot him a sceptical look. "Either way, you are in dire need of an upgrade; systemic, top to bottom. A hundred-point restoration. Don't worry, we'll sort you out. Part of the perks of the team."

"I have somewhere else I need to be," Shuri announced suddenly. She walked over toward us and I sensed Peter stiffen a little as she drew closer, stopping an arm's length away from him. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you again soon. It was nice to meet you, Peter Parker."

"I- I'm nice to meet. Um, I mean, it was nice to meeting you, too." His mouth snapped shut and I winced a little. Absolutely mortifying. Okay, yeah, I'd slightly miscalculated the implications of introducing the teenage boy to the attractive, highly intelligent princess… Hopefully that wouldn't cause any problems.

Shuri shot him one more amused look before she continued past us and out the door.

Once she was gone, Peter whipped around to face me, a look of betrayal on his face. "You didn't tell me I was going to meet a princess!" he hissed.

Over on the other side of the room, Tony tried not to snigger. I held up my hands defensively and gestured toward him. "Tony said!"

"I thought it was, like, a nickname or something! That he was making a joke!"

"I didn't think it was that big a deal!"

"It's not a big deal! I just… ugh." He paused and bit his lip, his expression thoughtful. "She really doesn't like you, does she?"

I winced again. "It's complicated. Probably just don't mention me at all when you talk to her."

He frowned at that, but nodded. "…Okay, if you say so."

Tony stepped over and clapped him on the shoulder. "C'mon, kid, I'll show you what we're working with, here."

We spent the next forty-five minutes touring the labs—it would have gone a lot faster, but Peter quickly got comfortable and had a million excited questions to ask. He and Tony got sidetracked a few times, delving into a discussion of science and tech stuff that I didn't really understand. I hung back a step or two, listening quietly, my attention drifting elsewhere for the most part. Pietro seemed more interested than I was, even asking a question or two himself. As we went, Peter got brief introductions to Bruce and Dr Cho as well, the latter of whom I was also meeting for the first time.

Afterwards, Tony got a phone call he had to take and said he'd see us at lunch, so Pietro and I snagged Peter and headed across the compound to the hangar. The teen rubbernecked a little at the Quinjet that was currently parked on the landing pad at the front of the building as we passed it by, heading through to the exercise/training centre that took up about a third of the indoor space.

Steve, Bucky and Sam were sitting on a couple of benches next to the multipurpose sports court, drinking from water bottles and chatting a little. They'd changed from the clothes they were wearing earlier into some light activewear—Steve and Bucky still looked pretty fresh, but Sam had massive sweat patches staining his shirt. The perils of being an unenhanced person training with two super soldiers, I guess.

Steve shot us a smile as we approached. "Hey! How'd the tour go?"

"Amazing. There's just so much cool stuff," Peter said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Mr Stark said he would help design a new suit for me! It's… all of this is so unbelievable. It's like a dream."

"And Shuri's interested in taking a look at his webbing," I chimed in.

Peter reddened slightly. The three guys didn't miss it, Steve and Bucky exchanging a small smile and knowing look. Casually, Bucky reached behind the bench and produced a basketball, spinning it effortlessly on his finger. "We've got a little bit of time before lunch. What do you think? In the mood for a little three-a-side?"

"The three of us against the three of you?" I asked, a little uncertainly. I actually had very little experience playing basketball, and the little grin Bucky had on his face put me in mind of a shark sizing up his next meal.

He shrugged. "Sure. I mean, if the kid's up for it."

I looked over at the teen. "Peter?"

Peter blinked, a small smile plastered across his face. "Uh, yeah. That sounds fun." He sounded really nervous. I supposed it was still sinking in that he was actually here and would be interacting with the team on a regular basis from now on—it's not every day that you get asked if you want to play basketball with some of the Avengers.

"You gotta be kidding me," Sam protested. "I am literally the only normal person here."

"Don't worry, Sam, we'll keep it clean." Steve chuckled, clapping his hands together as he stood. "Ten minutes. No super strength dunks, no super speed, and no magic," he said, looking pointedly between Pietro and I.

Pietro shrugged, a cheeky look on his face. "Cowards."

"Sure, fine," I said with a grin. "Me and my boys don't need powers to run circles around a normie and a couple of senior citizens. Right, Ps?" My confidence might have been misplaced, but hell if I was going to back down from the challenge. I had enhanced reflexes and strength from the Heart-Shaped Herb, so I should at least be able to keep up with everyone else.

"Right," Peter responded, chuckling nervously.

Steve retrieved a coin from somewhere and held it ready, glancing at the teenager before he flicked it into the air. "Call it."

"Uh, heads."

Steve checked the result. "Tails," he said with a small, smirk. "We'll start."

Bucky tossed Peter the ball and we moved onto the court. Embarrassingly, Steve had to move me into position, patiently explaining that the defence needed to start inside the arc. Oh, good, half-court had extra rules that I didn't know. When everyone was ready, the game started with Peter passing the ball to Bucky.

Pietro and I moved to intercept, but Bucky spun and managed to thread the ball precisely between us, passing to Steve—it was immediately clear that they'd played together a lot. Steve stepped around Peter in a fluid motion and took the first shot from outside the arc, with none of our team in a position to stop it.

The ball swished cleanly through the hoop.

"Two-nothing," he said with a shrug, like it was no big deal.

Oh, damn. Me and my big mouth. We were about to get rinsed.

Pietro grabbed the ball from under the basket. He threw it to me, but I wasn't completely ready for it. I caught it, my enhanced reflexes kicking in, but froze as Bucky stepped into my path—I wasn't sure which way to go. His smirk was infuriatingly smug.

"Go on," he teased, eyes flashing with amusement. "Don't let the 'senior citizen' spook you."

I faked left then bolted to the right, doing what I thought was a passable job of dribbling the ball. Bucky moved with me, forcing me to spin and pass to Peter, who zipped around Steve like he'd been bitten by a radioactive LeBron James rather than a spider. He launched a shot from just outside the arc and it bounced off the rim.

Steve snagged the rebound. "Nice try, kid," he said, tossing the ball back out to Bucky—who I was stupidly not marking. Bucky flicked the ball right back in to Sam. Pietro narrowly missed intercepting it and Sam made a quick layup.

"Three-nothing," Bucky said, his smirk widening.

Peter nodded, his eyes narrowing a little as something clicked into place. He was relentless after that. Locked in. He darted and dodged, somehow managing to get around Steve and Bucky to pass to Pietro, who was free and clear to score our first basket.

The next few plays were a blur of movement and adrenaline, Sam and I both being edged out by the others—Sam was struggling to keep up and, despite the benefits granted by the Heart-Shaped Herb, I was pretty obviously the least-skilled player there. Even with me as a lead weight around my team's neck, Peter was faster and stronger than the super soldiers, and he and Pietro working together managed to close the gap to 7-6. Honestly, I'd been expecting Pietro to give up and cheat with his speed, but he played well without getting frustrated—he even seemed to be enjoying having the handicap.

It came down to one final play. Peter had the ball and I darted into the open, just inside the arc. Sam moved to block, but Peter easily lobbed the ball past him with a quick shout. I caught it, turned, and took the shot. It felt perfect as it left my hands, soaring through the air toward the hoop.

And then Bucky's metal arm came out of nowhere, swatting it down with a resounding smack.

Without slowing, he scooped up the ball and passed it out to Steve, who threw just as the alarm went off—signalling the end of the game—sinking a final long shot with the calm precision of someone who's done it a thousand times before.

Peter groaned, flopping dramatically onto the ground. "Aw, man."

"And that's game," Steve said, grinning as he held his hand up for Bucky to high five him. Sam was bent at the waist, hands on his knees, panting, but straightened back up in time to join his two teammates in a round of self-congratulatory pats on the back. Pietro offered Peter his hand, pulling the teen back to his feet.

"Not bad for a normie and a couple of senior citizens, right?" Bucky said, shooting me a smug look.

"Yeah, yeah. Lucky break," I responded, but I was smiling too.

"Alright," Steve collected the ball and jogged over to the storage unit off to one side of the court, dropping it in before turning back to everyone else. "Who's ready for lunch? Let's head up."

As the group came together and started to move toward the exit, I straightened up. "Oh! Bucky, I'll top you up now, if that's okay. Otherwise I'll forget."

"Oh, yeah. Sure," he said, glancing toward Steve. "We'll catch up in a minute."

"Go with them," I told Peter. "Save me a seat."

Everyone else continued to head out while I went back over to one of the benches that the guys had been sitting on. I put one leg over and sat straddling it, patting the spot in front of me expectantly. Bucky rolled his eyes a little, but obediently came over and mirrored my movement, so we were sitting facing each other.

Red wisps of chaos magic caressed his limbs before securing him tightly, and I reached on and placed a hand on his forehead. Closing my eyes, I cast my magical senses out and examined the spell I had placed on him to restrain the Winter Soldier persona. Once I was sure that it was still holding perfectly well, I touched the linked battery enchantment and filled it with power.

"All done," I announced. Dismissing the magic binding him, I dropped my hand from Bucky's forehead, but, before I could stand up, he reached over with his non-metal hand and gently grabbed hold of my forearm. I looked at him, surprised, a questioning look in my eyes. He didn't say anything at first, simply holding onto my arm, as though he was working up to saying something. "Uh, I mean, you know I'm up for whatever but we should probably be quick," I joked.

"We haven't… had much of a chance to talk since everything happened," Bucky said hesitantly. He looked a little uncomfortable, maybe even anxious.

The temporary good mood the game had put me in evaporated completely and I heaved a sigh. What had I done now? I braced myself for the worst. Bucky… I didn't even know what he was going to confront me about yet, but out of everyone I'd upset over the last few days, this one was definitely going to hurt. He was the first person I'd really managed to get onto my side; who'd believed in me. What had I done to upset him? My chest felt tight. "Sorry," I said quietly. "Whatever it is, just tell me. I'll do better."

His brow furrowed slightly and he shook his head. "Huh? No. I mean, I wanted to just… let you know I know how it feels."

"…How what feels?"

"Before you and Steve found me," he said, looking at me seriously with his steely, grey-blue eyes. "There were a few times when I thought it might be better for everyone if I just… ended it. I knew there was a chance I'd become the Winter Soldier again. I was a danger to myself and everyone around me."

"Oh," I said. This wasn't what I'd been expecting at all. I felt some of the tension leave my chest.

"I came pretty close, one night. The only thing that stopped me was… Steve. I thought about him finding out and it made me feel sick. I couldn't do it." Bucky shook his head, frowning, and gave my arm a little bit of a squeeze. "I'm not great at this sort of thing. I just… I wanted to let you know that I get it. If that helps."

I reached up and put my free hand over his, a little bit of a lump in my throat, giving him a squeeze in return. "I don't know if it helps, but I appreciate it anyway," I said. We stayed like that for a few moments—in a slightly awkward, but also slightly comforting, silence—before I flicked my head in the direction everyone else had gone. "Come on. We should catch up to everyone else. Unless…?" I bit my lip and eyed him suggestively.

Bucky gave a long-suffering sigh, a small smile curving his lips. "Not today, Wanda." He let go of my arm and stood up, starting off toward the exit.

I blinked. "Hang on, what does 'not today' mean?" I called after him, hurrying to my feet. "Bucky? What do you mean 'not today'?"

 

[Krazyfan1]

thanks for the update.
poor MJ...

and "Not Today"!
wonder if that arm has any tricks?

 

[Lexical]

Bucky tossed Peter the ball and we moved onto the court. Embarrassingly, Steve had to move me into position, patiently explaining that the defence needed to start inside the arc. Oh, good, half-court had extra rules that I didn't know. When everyone was ready, the game started with Peter passing the ball to Bucky.

Click to shrink...

You mean Sam starting with the ball? Or Steve?

 

[mythSSK]

thanks for the update.
poor MJ...

Click to shrink...

Shuri's still three years Peter's senior (she's 18, he's 15), so any crush that may or may not form is almost certainly going to be one-sided. Don't count MJ out just yet!

and "Not Today"!
wonder if that arm has any tricks?

Click to shrink...

Wanda: "I kinda want you to choke me a little with your metal hand."
Bucky: "Wanda, I literally almost tore out your throat with it the first time we met. You could have died."
Wanda: "...That makes it even hotter, tho."
Bucky: "..."
Wanda: "What doesn't kill me makes me kinkier."

You mean Sam starting with the ball? Or Steve?

Click to shrink...

It is my understanding that, in a game like this (half court three-a-side), you usually start with the defending team passing to the offense.

 

[Lexical]

It is my understanding that, in a game like this (half court three-a-side), you usually start with the defending team passing to the offense.

Click to shrink...

Ah, goes to show my lack of basketball knowledge, I'd probably do even worse than Wanda.

On another note, Tony still going to design the iron-spider suit for Peter is fun. I wonder how they'll go about training his danger sense? Maybe rubber bullets which sting and bruise enough to trigger as threats but don't cause serious injury?

 

[mythSSK]

Chapter 72

"Alright, Captain," I said. "Permission to come aboard?"

The holographic image of Carol Danvers inclined her head, a small smile on her face. "Permission granted."

I was in the briefing room in the main living area at the Avengers compound, along with Pietro, Natasha, Steve, Tony and Clint. Tony had put together a specialised comms array based on Carol's specifications to allow for directed signals to be shunted through the Universal Neural Teleportation Network and, as far as we could tell, it was all working perfectly. As long as Carol's ship was within a certain distance of a jump point, we'd be able to call through to her—or anyone else we had the right codes for, for that matter—and have real-time conversations no matter the distance. I was pretty pleased about it; this would make things a lot easier going forward when it came to planning our future moves against Thanos.

There was just one other logistical thing we needed to test out. Stepping back from the table, I fixed an image of Carol in my mind—visualising her face, her body, her scent, the way her power thrummed beneath her skin—until I could practically feel her right there in front of me. I took a deep breath and spun a thread of chaos magic into the sling ring I was wearing, my free hand gesturing to create a portal.

Nothing happened.

I continued to focus, repeating the circular movement again and again as I channelled more magic into the ring. There was a small red spark, but it sputtered out again almost instantly. Frowning, I poured even more energy into the relic, feeling the spellwork reach out further than it ever had before. The spell flailed awkwardly into the ether, untethered and wobbling, like a tower that had been built too tall. There was a clear target in my magical perception, provided by my focus on Carol, but it felt impossibly far away. The threads of magic refined by the ring were being stretched incredibly thinly, straining to reach their destination.

I redoubled my efforts, feeling my hands start to tremble a little. I was breathing hard, now. My target was moving, spinning, slipping away from me. When I'd created portals into Earth orbit I had noticed a slight drag effect—I hadn't really paid it any mind at the time as it hadn't really impacted my ability to make portals, but this threw it into pretty stark relief. At the distances involved, it was less like trying to draw a straight line from point A to point B and more like I was trying to accurately lasso a moving target with a throw from somewhere beyond the horizon. The gulf of space between Carol and me was mind-bogglingly large, difficult for a human mind to even conceptualise properly. She was in orbit around a planet a hundred trillion miles away—we were moving at phenomenal speeds relative to each other and we were spinning, spinning, spinning. I fell to my knees, feeling my gorge rise as dizziness overtook me for a moment.

"Wanda?!"

My shoulders shook with effort as I pushed even harder, staring at the ground in front of me, willing a portal to open there. I drew deeply on my well of personal power—as deeply as I had when I'd thrown up the flawed Hex in Wakanda. I was dimly aware of concerned voices around me, but I couldn't really hear them, blood pounding in my ears as I continued to gesture, continued to feed more and more magic into the ring, extending the reach as far as I could push it. Embers started to flare into being, red wisps of chaos magic drawn whip-thin and snapping like sparks from struck metal. My head hurt.

The portal suddenly flared fully to life below me and I fell through, grunting in pain as my knees banged painfully against the metal floor of the Hoopty. The gateway above me snapped shut almost instantly; I just couldn't hold it for more than a bare couple of seconds.

Carol was immediately at my side, a steadying hand on my shoulder. "Wanda? Are you okay?"

"'M gonna be sick," I mumbled, my throat feeling thick.

She hooked her hands under my shoulders, lifting me like I weighed essentially nothing to her, and quickly carried me through to the ship's bathroom, managing to get me in front of the toilet a bare moment before I started to retch in earnest. Working quickly, she gathered my hair in one hand and held it back, out of the way. Her other hand started rubbing gentle circles on my back, and she murmured indistinct but soothing words as I messily emptied the contents of my stomach.

Less than ten minutes later, I was back on my feet—I'd washed my face, rinsed my mouth, and Carol and I had rejoined everyone to discuss what had just happened.

"I don't get it," Tony said. "You said that Dr Weird and the other sorcerers could do this easily, right? Portals across space?"

"Strange," I corrected him. I was still breathing a bit hard. "Yeah. Just the once, though, that I know of. He didn't… this isn't right. He was fine when he did it. It shouldn't be this hard. I'm doing something wrong."

Nat looked thoughtful for a moment. "Could it be something to do with the fact that you're using your personal power instead of sorcery? What did Master Wong call it? Chaos magic?"

Huh. That wasn't actually something I'd considered as a possibility at all. I didn't think it would cause issues—same shit, different bucket, right? Then again, I knew so little about the way that magic functioned that I couldn't really rule it out. "Maybe," I hedged. "It could be anything, really. It feels like… like I'm trying to brute force something that you aren't supposed to brute force. The other theory I had, last time I tried something like this, is that maybe there are advanced techniques of some kind, or supplementary support spells you can use to amplify the range of the spell."

This had been the easy test, too. Carol had parked over a random planet with a jump point on the opposite side of the Milky Way to start with. The plan had been to try this first and then, next time, we'd have her head over to somewhere in Andromeda—maybe Xandar or Knowhere—and check intergalactic distances as well, but there was no point doing that now. The distances involved in that were orders of magnitude larger and, based on what had just happened, there was simply no way I'd be able to make a portal that far.

"Maybe we should just ask Kamar-taj?" Clint piped up. "They would know, right?"

I snorted and shook my head. "We can try, but fat chance. They aren't happy that I've still got the ring at all. I don't think there's any way they'd be keen to teach me how to use it better."

"Maybe we'd have a better chance if we framed it as a request from the Avengers?" Steve said uncertainly.

Tony was resting his elbow on the table, stroking his beard, a slight frown marring his features. "I don't know, I think Wanda's probably right on this one—they're just gonna say no and we really don't have a lot of social capital to burn with them."

Clint frowned, but nodded. "I guess. The Ancient One's still a little stand-offish, and we probably didn't help matters with the whole spontaneous 'let's have everyone try to learn portals' lesson."

"Will you be okay to come back?" Natasha asked me, sounding a little worried.

"I think so, probably, just… maybe not right away." I glanced at Carol, a slight questioning look on my face. "If Carol's happy to put up with me for a little bit, I might just hang out here for an hour or so, rest and recover a little, before I try. I'm feeling pretty drained after that."

Carol nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Of course. Worst comes to worst, we can just head back to Earth so I can drop you home. We're only seven jumps away, wouldn't take long."

"Alright," Steve said. "If you run into any more trouble, call and let us know."

"Will do, Captain." I saluted him.

He rolled his eyes, but smiled. "Go rest up."

"Speak soon," Carol said with a wave, then closed the comms. She turned to me and smiled sympathetically. "I could make you a bit of tummy tea; it might settle your stomach, make you feel a little better?"

"Oh, sure. That sounds nice."

Carol fished out a kettle, filling it up and then laying her hand on it briefly. Orange energy flared through her skin, outlining her bones, and a second later the water was boiling. She retrieved a pair of mugs, making herself something zesty-smelling while she made me my tummy tea.

It was pleasantly fragrant, smelling and tasting of sweet mint, ginger and fennel. I held the mug in both hands and inhaled deeply, enjoying the aroma, then blew on it and carefully took a small sip. "I hate to be a pest, but there were actually a couple of other things I was going to ask you very nicely to look into for me, while you're bouncing around the universe, if it's not too much trouble."

"Like what?' Carol asked, leaning back against the wall as she nursed her tea, looking at me curiously.

"Translator implants, for one. I definitely want one, and some of the Avengers might as well."

"Oh, yeah. That makes sense. Uh, I've got a Kree universal implant, but those aren't easy to get hold of. There are other types around—you can get them pretty much anywhere where trade happens through the network—but they work off a database and sometimes you run into languages they can't translate."

"Whatever you're able to get your hands on would be good. Do you think Tony and Shuri would be able to reverse engineer one?"

Carol wobbled her head from side to side in a 'so-so' gesture. "Maybe. All the actually worthwhile ones are proprietary to whichever megacorp made them, and they generally have pretty strong anti-tampering measures built in to protect their designs."

"Ah. Fair enough."

"I'll pick up a few, next time I see them. You gonna reimburse me?" Carol asked, a teasing edge to her tone.

"US dollars probably aren't going to cut it, are they?" Before she could respond, I bit my lip and tilted my head, leaning forward a little. "Maybe there's some… other way I could repay you?"

She chuckled. "Maybe there is. Anything else, or was it just the translators?"

"There's this guy on Earth, Enhanced, someone who's a good friend and ally… he's blind. He was in an accident when he was young," I said. "I was really hoping to help him out. I know that cybernetic prosthetics exist, but I don't know how common they are or anything."

Carol grimaced, shaking her head. "Yeah, they exist, but I'm pretty sure that eyes—in particular—are not cheap."

"Ah. Of course not. Sorry, don't worry about it."

"I didn't say no," she said, making a dismissive gesture with her hand. "It just might be tricky to track some down that are affordable and still worth grabbing. Leave it with me, I'll have a think and talk to some people."

"Thanks. I really do appreciate it." My eyes flashed mischievously and I placed my mug of half-drunk tea on a side table, stepping closer to Carol before sinking down onto my knees in front of her. I looked up at her expectantly, back straight. "…I can start paying you back, in advance, right now, if you'd like?"

"I thought you needed to rest and recover?" she reminded me, though she was grinning. "Get some energy back?"

"Well, I mean, you're full of energy. You are what you eat, and all that." I reached over and hooked my hands around Carol's legs, just under her butt, and gently tried to pull her closer to me.

Carol barked out a short laugh, shaking her head, and very pointedly resisted my attempt to move her. She took a leisurely sip of her tea while I waited on my knees, then reached down with her free hand and lifted my chin with a finger. "Okay, but first you're going to finish your tea, then you're going to go brush your teeth and freshen up," she said, then crinkled her nose at me. "You're still a little gross."

"Gross?!" I said with mock outrage, then paused and shrugged. "Yeah, that's fair enough. Sorry. I'll go clean myself up… then I can start paying you back."

A few hours later—a little less rested than I probably should have been—I managed to successfully portal back to the Avengers compound (after several false starts and another bout of vomiting). No one bothered to ask why I'd taken so long to get back.



--



After what felt like an eternity we finally pulled over, coming to a much more abrupt stop than I really would have liked. I didn't say anything, sitting quietly for a moment while I made an active effort to control my breathing, slowly unclenched my fists, and tried to let my shoulders relax, heart pounding in my chest. Pietro glanced over at me, an amused smirk on his face. I glared at him.

Natasha had driven into the city for a late afternoon meeting at the United Nations HQ and had, very kindly, let Pietro and I borrow her car for the evening while she was dealing with that and a few other little errands around Manhattan. Of course, Nat happened to drive a black Chevrolet Corvette Stingray—a sleek, low-slung sportscar—and Pietro had looked at me with puppy-dog eyes until I'd agreed to let him be the one to drive us.

Never again.

"It's a nice car," he said with a casual shrug, ignoring the clear distress I was in. "It handles really well."

"'It's a nice car, it handles really well'," I repeated in a high-pitched, sarcastic voice. He'd at least driven a bit more responsibly once we'd gotten to the suburbs but, even then, it was borderline. "I swear to God, Pietro… you are not driving in the city ever again. Not while I'm in the car, at least. I'd rather have you carry me again, like in the old days."

"Feh. You're being silly."

"Am I?" I said, eyes flashing red with chaos magic. "Am I being silly?"

"Yes," Pietro responded, still smirking a little. "Why did you want to do this, anyway?" He lowered his head a little, peering through the car window at the glass-fronted suburban mansion we'd parked in front of. "I still think you could have let Natasha or someone else handle it. This isn't really important or urgent, right?"

"No, it's not."

"Then why? You're supposed to be taking it easy."

"This is easy," I said, a little defensively. "Small, simple, no real way for it to go that badly. In, quick chat, out. Problem solved."

Pietro rolled his eyes, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "And now you're jinxing it."

"I like doing stuff myself, okay? It makes me feel less useless. You didn't have to come."

"You're not useless, and even if this guy doesn't have any powers, I still don't like you running off to handle random bad guys alone."

"I'm sorry—am I not useless, or am I incapable of handling one unpowered suburban dad by myself? Getting some mixed signals here." I huffed at him. "I know I'm not an Avenger, but give me some credit, at least."

"Wanda…"

I ignored him, annoyed, undoing my seatbelt and getting out of the car instead before taking in a deep lungful of the cool, early evening air. Pietro stepped out as well and we convened on the footpath in front of our destination.

"This is a really nice house," Pietro commented, shooting me a sidewards glance. "And they say that crime doesn't pay."

It was a very expensive-looking house, at least—sleekly modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows taking up two-thirds of the frontage and an immaculately-maintained front lawn and gardens. The path up to the front door had a low-set wall along one side, lined with accent lighting. Natasha had helped me track down the address when I'd asked, as well as made some other arrangements with Tony on my behalf. We headed up the path, stopping next to a huge, hexagonally-patterned pot with what was effectively a small tree in it, and rang the doorbell. After a minute, the door opened to reveal the man we'd come to visit.

Adrian Toomes—the Vulture—stood there for a moment, dressed plainly in a blue flannel shirt and jeans, a look of confusion and concern flickering across his face for a brief instant before he smiled. "Can I help you?" he asked, his eyes lingered on Pietro.

"Hi, Adrian," I said, smiling tightly as I drew his attention back to me. "We're very sorry to bother you at home, but we need to talk to you about your business."

The man made a passable attempt at looking like he had no idea what we were talking about. "Uh, what about my business? I don't…" he looked at Pietro again, licking his lips nervously. "You're Pietro Maximoff, right? The new Avenger? Look, the Department of Damage Control handles the cleanup of all Avengers-related incidents. My, uh, company legally can't get involved."

I clicked my tongue. "Legality isn't something you're overly concerned with, though, is it? Look, you know who we are. That should make this an easy conversation. Can we come in, please? We're just here for a quick chat and then we'll be out of your hair," I glanced at his balding head. "So to speak. I promise. We won't take long." I straightened up, setting my shoulders stubbornly.

He hesitated, blowing air out his nose, probably wracking his brain for any way he could get out of this. After a moment, he gave us another tight smile and stepped aside to hold the door open. "…Sure."

Toomes led us down a small hallway, an expensive-looking abstract painting hanging on the wall, to an open-plan kitchen and living room. He tried to divert us to the dining room, off to one side, but Pietro and I stepped in the opposite direction and lingered in the kitchen instead. I ran my fingers absently along the fancy marble countertop. When it became apparent that we weren't following him, Toomes grimaced slightly and stepped back to rejoin us.

"Wife home?" I asked.

"She's out," he responded tersely. He was standing stiffly, his body language tense.

"Okay, good," I said, nodding. "Wouldn't want to have to awkwardly usher her away."

"Holy shit." A quiet voice said from behind me, tone filled with amazement. I glanced toward the hallway leading toward the back of the house and saw Liz—high school crush of one Peter Parker and unknowing daughter of the Vulture—standing there, her eyes wide.

Toomes' expression shifted instantly, an easy, cheery façade slotting into place. "Sorry, Liz, honey? Could you please leave us be?"

"Oh, it's fine! She can come say hi for a sec!" I said brightly, crinkling my nose at her. "We're just here to talk to your dad about a work contract—pretty boring stuff."

Liz took a step forward, hesitating a moment. "Woah. Quicksilver! Um. Would it… would it be okay if I got a selfie?"

Pietro glanced slyly in her dad's direction. "Oh, for sure! Everyone always wants a selfie. That's fine."

Toomes let out a slightly forced-sounding laugh, his composure slipping a little. "Okay, honey, just one picture—they're very busy, though, we don't want to take up too much of their time."

Pietro moved over as Liz fumbled for her phone, shooting her a winning smile that made her cheeks flush, stepping in close to her shoulder as she opened the camera app.

The teenager hesitated for a brief second, looking over at me. "Um, could I get you in it, too?"

Huh? "What? Me?"

"Uh, yeah? If that's okay? You're Quicksilver's sister, right?"

I was having trouble processing this. "I'm… I'm not an Avenger, though."

"No, but you still fight with them, right?" Liz said, as if she was the one surprised at my reaction. "I mean, you have those cool energy powers and stuff."

"…Yeah. Sorry, sure." I went over, ducking around to her other side so she had Pietro and I over either shoulder. "Hang on," I said, carefully drawing out a thread of chaos magic, wrapping it around my fingers and bringing my hand up so that it was in the bottom of the shot.

Liz's grin was so wide it threatened to split her head in half. "Oh my God, this is so cool," she said quietly, before controlling her expression a little bit for the photo.

It really was. Holy shit. Things had been a bit up and down for me lately, but this… somehow, this felt really good.

"Thanks so much!" Liz beamed at us.

"Liz," Toomes said, his voice a little strained. "I really need to wrap up things with these guys now, alright?"

"Uh, sure, dad. Sorry. Thanks again!" Liz shot us another smile before retreating back down the hallway she'd come from, almost at a run and practically vibrating with excitement.

I waited until I was fairly certain she was out of earshot, then turned back to her father. "Okay. Like I said, just a quick chat and we'll be gone. With any luck, you'll never have to see us again." Toomes' smile had vanished, his expression carefully blank. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a business card, offering it to him. "We know all about your operation. You're done. It's over. I am giving you one chance to avoid having the Avengers and the Department of Damage Control come down on your entire crew."

Adrian hesitated a moment before taking the offered card. It was one of Happy's, with his personal details on the front and an address carefully written on the back. "…What's this?" he asked quietly.

"There's a Stark Industries facility at that address. What you're going to do is pack up everything—and I mean everything; every bit of stolen tech and everything you and your boys have made using it, including the big flappy vulture suit—and deliver it to that address. Tomorrow."

His face could have been carved from stone.

"I am asking—very nicely, very politely and very quietly—for you to do this. Don't try to hide or hold anything back. We'll be watching to make sure, and if we don't like what we see, the next time you or any of your men will see your families will be when they come to visit you in prison." I sighed and shook my head. "Look, I want to be very clear, here. This is your chance to have a clean break, and you're extremely lucky to be getting it. The only reason you haven't already been arrested is that I'm trying to protect your family. You've had a good run; now it's over. Time to go legit. You have one chance. Don't fuck it up, because there won't be another. Do you understand?"

He was quiet for a few seconds. "…I understand."

There weren't many villains that would respond well to something like this—for most, this would have been a terrible way to try to get them to stop being a bad guy. Adrian Toomes wasn't most villains, though. He didn't have an ideological reason driving him. He'd turned to crime because he'd have been financially ruined if he hadn't. Toomes didn't have any grand schemes that needed to be foiled… he was purely and only in it for the money, so he could give his family a good life. There was nothing more important to him than his wife and daughter and, with this, I'd effectively trapped him. He wasn't an idiot; if he didn't do what he was told, he'd have to come clean to his family and try to get them to go on the run with him, or he'd lose them, or he'd go to prison. I was giving him an out. He basically had to take it.

I shot him a tight smile. "Good. Look after Liz. She seems like a good kid. I bet she's gonna do great things. Be a dad she can be proud of." Toomes was looking vaguely off to one side—still taking in what I was saying, but obviously taking a moment to process what was effectively half his life being upended. I reached over and tapped the card he was holding. "Also, I don't know his name off-hand, but the guy who does all of your tinkering, repurposing and repairing the stuff you've stolen? Get him to call this number and talk to Happy. He's got a job offer waiting for him at Stark Industries. If any of your other guys have trouble finding work, I'm sure something can be arranged for them as well."

Toomes' jaw worked silently for a moment. "Okay," he said, nodding slowly. "I don't—"

I held up a hand. "You don't need to say anything, or try to explain yourself, or whatever. Just do what I've asked." I moved slightly, ducking my head down to put my face back into his direct line of vision and locking eyes with him. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I really hope we never have to see each other again. For Liz's sake. We'll show ourselves out."

 

[Krazyfan1]

great as usual.

Yeah Carol!

and i hope Adrian listens to her.

 

[mythSSK]

great as usual.

Yeah Carol!

and i hope Adrian listens to her.

Click to shrink...

Toomes: "Under the radar. Under the radar! That's how we survive. If you bring Damage Control or the Avengers down here, we're through."

Toomes knows he and his crew have no chance against the actual Avengers or the DoDC, let alone whatever the fuck Wanda can do. Plus I think it'd be really surprising if he doesn't have enough money tucked away to land on his feet, given how his crew are shown to be raking in the cash and his obvious wealth (if his house was any bigger and fancier it'd be an actual mansion).

 

[mythSSK]

Chapter 73

My target flared brightly in my mental perception, a small but blazing spark that I felt somehow 'matched' the picture in my head. He was much too far away for my own personal magic to reach him directly, so I couldn't use his senses to build a picture of his location. Instead, I pulled back a little, carefully using the Mind Stone to feel for other nearby minds. There were five others in relative proximity, but none particularly close to him. My guess was they were in the same building, but not in the same room. I pulled back a little further. There weren't many people at all wherever he was, so that probably ruled out a military base. Given the current time of day in Sokovia, I guessed he was home—maybe even at his family's estate, given how few people were around—rather than wherever he stayed in Novi Grad itself.

I opened my eyes, letting my connection to the Mind Stone slip away. I took a deep breath, taking my hand off the pendant around my neck and retrieving my sling ring—I didn't put it on right away, idly toying with it for a few seconds while I thought about how I wanted to handle this. Part of me just wanted to open a portal immediately. No backup, no plan, just jump in and coast through the situation using the overwhelming power at my disposal. I knew it was stupid to feel so annoyed and upset about not being an Avenger, but Pietro had really clinched it for me the other night. I didn't need to get Avengers-level backup for every little unenhanced villain I was thwarting. I was freaking Wanda Maximoff.

Still, going into unknown situations alone was just asking for something to go wrong. Having someone else backing me up, or at least aware of where I was going and what I was doing, was important. I picked up my phone and unlocked it, my finger hesitantly hovering over Pietro's name in my contact list for a moment before I scrolled up to Natasha and stared at her name instead. She had a long, boring conference at the United Nations today that she hadn't been looking forward to. I'd guess that they'd probably be breaking for lunch soon, if they hadn't already, but I wasn't about to interrupt Nat with something minor while she was off doing important Avengers business.

After Toomes, though, I really didn't feel like calling Pietro and asking him for help with another small fry. Besides, I was already getting both of them to come along to Westview with me tomorrow. That hadn't been a fun thing to bring up, but they'd both been pretty supportive, if a little worried about how rough it might be on me.

I could always do this another time. I didn't have to do it right now.

I made a small noise of frustration in the back of my throat. Stupid Avengers. This wasn't an Avengers-level threat. It wasn't even a me-level threat. Hell, it was probably not even a threat at all. But even if I was getting frustrated at being treated like I couldn't do anything on my own, it'd still be stupid to go off and do something like this completely alone. Maybe I could call Bucky? I had no idea what he was up to. He might be free and he wasn't officially an Avenger yet so it would feel a bit less bad to ask him. Or maybe…

I stood up abruptly, tossing my phone onto the bed and walking out of the bedroom and down the short hallway toward the living room, following the sound of the TV. Yelena was lying splayed out on the couch, an episode of BoJack Horseman playing on the screen in front of her. As I watched, she reached into a bowl of popcorn she had perched precariously in her stomach and stuffed a few pieces in her mouth.

"Yelena?"

She grunted noncommittally, not looking away from the TV.

"…Never mind, I can see you're very busy."

As I turned to head back down the hall, Yelena let out a loud, irritated sigh and pulled herself laboriously into a sitting position, fumbling for the TV remote so she could pause her show. "What? What do you want?"

I stopped. "Want to get out of the apartment? There's a thing I want to do, but there's a very slight chance it might go sideways. Will you back me up on it? It shouldn't take long. Like, twenty, thirty minutes, tops."

Yelena frowned and sat up a little straighter. "Why are you asking me? Why not talk to Natasha or your brother?"

"I don't need to go running to the Avengers for every little thing," I responded, maybe a little too defensively. "I'm not helpless on my own."

"…But you still want backup, so you won't be on your own?"

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "You're not getting it; it's different. Look, are you in or what?"

"Well, I offer several competitively priced packages for my services, depending on your needs," Yelena said. It was my turn to frown and look a little confused. "I've decided I want to be a mercenary now. You can be my first client," she clarified.

"…How much?"

"Fifty?"

I blinked. "Fifty thousand dollars?"

"Oh, right—you said like, twenty minutes. I should probably ask what the thing you want to do actually is, first."

"We're just going to pay a guy a quick visit and make sure he's not up to anything nefarious."

"Just the one guy? Does he have henchmen or minions? Goons?"

"Aren't those all the same thing?"

Yelena gave me a Look, shaking her head. "Absolutely not," she said, her tone switching to an almost classroom-like lecture. "Minions and goons are both low level threats—chaff, your easily-dealt-with followers—but where minions are loyal to you and your cause, goons are hired guns in it for the money. Henchmen are your more skilled subordinates, like Ghost was to Eliza."

"Oh." I thought about it for a moment. "He doesn't have any henchmen that I know of. He's a Sokovian military officer, so he could have soldiers—do those count as minions or goons?—but I think we're going to be catching him at home, so with any luck he won't have any with him."

"We're not going to fight him?"

"Nope. I mean, I hope not. Even if we do, he's just a guy with no special powers. I can handle him."

Yelena grimaced. "Just one guy and I'm not even going to get to fight him? Ugh. You are the worst first client ever. Alright… five thousand, then."

"Five thousand?"

"What do you want? Me to come along and be bored for free? I could watch another episode instead. Five thousand. That's with the 'family and friends' discount."

"…Fine. Five thousand."

"Seriously?" she asked, a little surprise in her voice.

"Okay, first bit of client feedback: Don't act surprised when a client accepts your offer."

"I thought you'd just turn me down and call your brother."

I held up my hands in mock surrender. "Look, you don't have to do it if you don't want to."

Yelena snorted, placing her popcorn bowl on the coffee table as she stood up. "And miss out on five thousand dollars for half an hour's work?" She lifted both arms above her head and there was a faint cracking and popping as she stretched. "I'll be ready in ten."



--



Yelena ducked through the portal the instant it was open, leading with her gun held at the ready, moving like the professional assassin she was. I followed quickly after her, stepping over the threshold into an extravagantly-appointed sitting room. The ceiling was high, with intricate plasterwork that caught the faint gleam of the small crystal chandelier bathing the room in a soft, golden glow. Walls of muted dove-grey were punctuated by tall windows framed with cascading silk drapes. A grand fireplace, its mantel carved with delicate floral motifs, dominated one wall, flanked by sleek bookshelves filled with ancient tomes and objets d'art. Clean-lined, contemporary sofas upholstered in lush velvet sat atop a Persian rug so detailed it seemed painted. The air carried a faint scent of aged wood and fresh lilies.

Our target was standing to one side of the fireplace, hands placidly raised in surrender as Yelena held him at gunpoint. "Ms Maximoff," Baron Helmut Zemo greeted me, seeming far too relaxed given the dynamic nature of our entrance. "Питао сам се када бих те могао поново видети." I was wondering when I might see you again.

Yelena side-eyed me, keeping her weapon trained on him, but didn't say anything. It looked like she was taking her role as a mercenary pretty seriously, which was nice. Did she count as a goon or a henchman, here? She'd probably kick off if I ever called her a goon, so henchman it is. I nodded at my henchman. "He's fine, I'll watch him. Make sure we're not interrupted."

She immediately snapped back into action, moving quickly to the room's only visible door. Opening it a fraction of an inch, she carefully checked the hallway outside, then closed and locked it before taking up a position at one of the room's tall windows, leaning against the frame and carefully peeking out through the curtains, gun held loosely but still ready as she kept a lookout.

Meanwhile, almost the instant Yelena had lowered her weapon, Zemo walked casually over to one of the sofas and sat down, seemingly completely at his ease despite the fact that we'd just invaded his home. "Нећемо бити узнемирени. Овде нема претњи. Само моја породица." We will not be disturbed. There are no threats here. Only my family. He gestured toward a couch across from him and smiled at me, switching to English. "Please, sit."

"I'll stand," I responded, a little tersely.

"As you wish. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"Well, I mean, you did kidnap me that one time."

"And then I let you go again, as you asked me to."

"You did," I acknowledged with a small nod. "I can't imagine your superiors were happy about that."

"They weren't, but my family is wealthy and well-connected." Zemo said with a nonchalant shrug. "I could have stayed, but instead I pulled a few strings and chose to step away. An American would call it an honourable discharge. Very unusual in the Sokovian armed forces, for someone uninjured and relatively young, but not entirely unheard of."

I blinked. "Hang on a sec, sorry. You quit?"

Zemo gave a small, amused smile. "Yes. My father, in particular, was extremely vexed by my decision. But do you know what else my father is?"

"What?"

"Alive. As are my wife and son."

I didn't respond right away, pausing and looking over toward Yelena. She was still peering through the window, watching vigilantly. I could only imagine she was hoping that this was all an elaborate ruse and we were about to be swarmed by Sokovian military. I glanced back at Zemo. "Family's important," I said quietly. "Saving yours is one of the few things I've done that I feel like I can actually be proud of."

He pressed his lips together and inclined his head, acknowledging my words. "You reminded me what was truly most important to me. I have been enjoying my early retirement," Zemo said. His eyes flicked down and away for a moment. "I am only sorry you were not able to save your own family, as well."

"…What's that supposed to mean?"

"Your husband. Your sons."

I flinched, almost taking a step backward, feeling a little bit like I'd just been punched in the gut. "How… that… I didn't intend to show you anything about that." At the time I hadn't really known what I was doing, my magic wasn't working right, and I had still been pretty heavily sedated. I'd opened my mind to him in desperation, but all I'd meant to show him was stuff that was personally relevant to him, then the looming threat of Thanos. That was it. He should never have seen anything about me.

"You showed me a great many things you did not intend to, I think."

Well… fuck. That was concerning. Just how much had Zemo seen, when I'd drawn his consciousness into my mind?

I sat down heavily on the sofa across from him. A tiny movement from Yelena made me realise she wasn't really keeping a lookout for any magically-appearing guards, but surreptitiously watching me instead. I sat quietly for what felt like a long time. Zemo simply sat there placidly, waiting for me to process what he'd just said.

Eventually, I exhaled sharply through my nose and shook my head, still not really sure what to do with that information. "Huh." I bit my lip and frowned. "Do I need to kill you?"

Zemo chuckled, leaning forward and threading his fingers together as he rested his elbows on his knees. "If I thought you might try to kill me, I would have done something about it by now. Whatever I may or may not know, I am not a threat. Not to you, nor to anyone you care about. Now I am just a man—a father, enjoying the time you gave him with the family you saved."

His confidence wasn't entirely misplaced, at least. If everything he'd said was true, then I really didn't have any reason or desire to take any further action here… If this was real, it was one of the better changes I'd made to the timeline. I wasn't about to senselessly break apart a family I'd saved. I stood back up and took a step toward him, raising a hand wreathed in red energy. "I need to check. Make sure you're not hiding anything from me."

To his credit, he didn't flinch away at all as I moved my hand to the side of his head, my fingers hovering an inch from his temple as they twitched, sending small wisps of chaos magic into his mind. I brushed up against his thoughts, feeling through his intent, vigilant to any sign of deception.

He wasn't lying. What he'd seen had shaken him, made him reevaluate. But that feeling—the disquiet at what I'd shown him—wasn't what dominated his mind. Nor was it the feelings of love, the thoughts of his son, or his wife. The strongest thing that Zemo was feeling right now, overwhelming everything else… was pity. He wasn't scared of me. Not even a little bit. He pitied me. I yanked my hand back like I'd touched a hot stove, breaking the connection. I'd intended to delve into his mind a bit deeper, to try to check over what he'd actually seen, but suddenly I really didn't care to.

The former military operative looked up at me, his deep brown eyes weighing me consideringly. "I find people like you, like the Avengers, who can do the things you do, troubling. Your desire to use the uneven power you wield to change the world, to align it with the image you desire, cannot be separated from supremacist ideals." He let out a small sigh. "Knowing what is coming, the threats this world will shortly face… It is unfortunate. If this were an ideal world, someone like you would not be needed. But it is not, and so you are. And I must pray for your success."

"…I'll try not to disappoint." I didn't really know what else to say. I went quiet again for a moment. Yelena glanced toward me, a questioning look on her face, and I shrugged. "We're done here."

She stepped away from the window, walking back over to join me as I gestured and channelled magic through my ring, a portal back to New York flaring up in the middle of the room. Zemo abruptly stood as well and Yelena's arms snapped back up, her gun levelled at his chest. I paused as well, the two of us looking at him askance. He met my gaze and we stood there for a long, quiet moment.

After a bit, he gave me another small, tight smile and nodded. "Ms Maximoff… thank you. I am truly grateful."

…Had anyone else ever said that to me? For literally anything I'd done this time around? For anything meaningful? I didn't know how to respond. My face started to grow a little hotter and I turned away from him, stepping through the portal without another word.



--



My phone vibrated and I checked it to see—as expected—a text from Nat letting me know she was ready to be picked up. I got up from the couch, where Yelena and I had just binged six consecutive episodes of BoJack Horseman and were halfway through a seventh, and fumbled with my sling ring for a moment.

I focused, channelling magic into the ring as I fixed Natasha's image in my mind's eye, a portal quickly spiralling into existence. Natasha was directly on the other side, dressed in a cute pencil skirt and matching blazer with a simple white blouse under it and carrying a slim leather business bag. She stepped through, shooting me a tired smile—she looked a bit over it all—but then almost immediately perked up, nostrils flaring.

"Oh, wow, that smells great," she said, looking around. I dismissed the portal behind her as her eyes found the two cooling racks sitting on the kitchen counter. "Did you bake?"

I grinned and stepped into the kitchen, waiting for her next to the counter. "Yep."

Natasha backed off toward the front door for a moment, returning a couple of moments later sans high heels and bag, to inspect my handiwork. Yelena stood up from the couch as well, pausing the TV and moving quietly over into the kitchen to stand with us, her back to the dining table. She was trying to be subtle about it, but she'd been eyeing off the cookies since they'd come out of the oven; I'd told her she had to wait until Nat got here before she could have one.

I reached over and plucked one of the cookies from the first batch; it had deformed in the oven a bit and had managed to form into a vague heart shape. "Look, this one's a heart—that's how I feel about you!" I said, offering it to Natasha. Her smile was genuine as she took it from me, if a teensy bit pained by the cheesiness of what I'd just said.

Yelena was hovering nonchalantly, trying not to make it too obvious how keen she was to get past Nat and me to the racks of delicious baked treats. There was another misshapen cookie on the rack nearest to me, so I picked it up. "This one's like… Michigan?" I waved it toward Yelena. "That's how I feel about you."

She blinked, her brow creased with confusion and suspicion, but accepted the cookie. "What does that mean?!"

"These are really good," Nat mumbled around a half-mouthful of cookie. "I didn't know you baked."

"I don't, really." I did like cooking, but found baking pretty intimidating with how strict you generally had to be with sticking to measurements and exact recipes. Making the cookies had been a little stressful, but I'd needed something to focus on that would take my mind off the earlier encounter with Zemo and, overall, I was pretty pleased with how they'd turned out. "It's Sam's birthday tomorrow—I don't know if anyone has anything planned, so thought I'd just drop these off at the compound in the morning before we leave. I wasn't confident enough to make a good cake."

"Oh, it is too," Nat said. "I'd forgotten. Steve's probably doing something, but I don't think Sam likes to make a big deal out of his birthday."

"But he will like these cookies," I said confidently and she nodded her agreement, reaching for another one. I gently smacked her hand away. "You'll spoil your dinner, and these are for everyone," I scolded her.

Natasha made a noise of protest and gestured toward Yelena, who had sneakily retreated to the couch, a pair of stolen cookies clutched in her thieving hands. I hadn't even noticed her get past me to get at them. She shot me a triumphant, challenging look, as if daring me to do something about it.

Looking decidedly unimpressed, I turned back to the tray. "Fine, fine. One more; the rest are going away."

Nat happily pecked me on the cheek, took another cookie, then went to get changed out of her work clothes. I got out a Tupperware container and packed the rest away, then looked suspiciously over at Yelena, who had unpaused the TV without waiting for me. Her eyes flicked casually over to the container of cookies, then back to the TV. I flexed my fingers and red wisps of chaos magic boiled over the Tupperware, holding it shut as I tied off the magic and laid a linked battery enchantment on the lid. I heard a disappointed 'hmmph' from Yelena and allowed myself a small smile of satisfaction as I put the sealed container of cookies on the side of the dining table, ready for tomorrow.

 

[Krazyfan1]

nice to see things went well.
i'm imagining Wanda using her powers for baking...

 

[UnbegottenProxy]

But like… what does that mean?

 

[Lexical]

As fun as the basketball scene was, it does feel a bit like the repeated domestic avengers scenes with Wanda and Yelena have started to kill the pacing a little bit.

Hopefully things start to heat up soon. Natasha going to meetings at the UN is certainly delightfully ominous, although she'd probably mention to Wanda if anything consequential were happening.

 

[Stark40763]

I'm just waiting to see what happens in Westview. Considering all the magic used on the Canon version, first in Wandavision, then Agatha All Along? There might be some Dimensional Leakage there...

 

[Lexical]

I'm just waiting to see what happens in Westview. Considering all the magic used on the Canon version, first in Wandavision, then Agatha All Along? There might be some Dimensional Leakage there...

Click to shrink...

I'm not sure there'll be dimensional leakage exactly, but I do anticipate something going wrong. If Wanda's increasing alienation/annoyance with not feeling like a part of the team results in her not taking anybody with her, I could see some sort of incident happening, which would dovetail nicely(that is to say, terribly) into an accords/avengers schism.

 

[mythSSK]

Chapter 74

I carefully pulled at the threads of chaos magic binding the Tupperware container, undoing the enchantment I'd left on it overnight, before glancing over toward Natasha. She was dressed in a simple black top and pair of dark skinny jeans, a chic red leather jacket over the top. I watched as she slipped on a pair of comfortable flats, my eyes tracing the curves of her body. I'd originally assumed that her causal look—the effortless-looking, slightly-messy-yet-perfect hair and 'natural' makeup—was something that took an hour or more of careful work, but after showering she barely spent fifteen minutes getting ready. That was just… how she looked. It made me feel a little bit self-conscious.

I mean, intellectually I knew I was very attractive as well—with confidence and objectivity that literally no one else had, given my memories of my other life and how attractive I'd found Elizabeth Olsen as Wanda—but it was funny how easy it was to fall back into old patterns of thinking. Even when I actually made a real effort and spent three or four times longer than her getting my own hair and makeup right, I still felt like I barely measured up. I suppose it's always easier to see your own flaws than it is to see other people's, especially when you're attracted to them.

She looked over and saw me watching her. "Ready to go?" she asked, smiling.

"Yep," I confirmed, smiling back and gently shaking the container in my hands.

Yelena, sitting at the dining table with a half-full mug of coffee, looked up from her phone, her attention caught by the noise. "Where are you going, anyway? You're out all day?" she asked, eyeing the container full of cookies.

"We're going to stop by the compound and pick Pietro up, then we're taking a car and going on a long drive out to a town in New Jersey. Westview," Nat told her.

Yelena narrowed her eyes a little, giving us a suspicious look. "Long drive? Why not just hop a portal if it's far?"

Natasha glanced at me askance—Yelena only knew bits and pieces about whatever was going on with me, so she obviously didn't want to speak out of turn. I answered instead. "I'm trying to get a better understanding of what's up with my memories. Westview's important to me." I sighed and shook my head. "I honestly don't even know what we're looking for, exactly, but when I went there in my visions, I drove, and the drive there was… emotional. Following in my footsteps as best we can might help knock something loose."

"Huh." Yelena looked thoughtful for a moment, then pouted a little. "So you're going on a family road trip with Nat and Pietro? And you didn't invite me?"

I blinked, surprised. Off to the side, Nat looked slightly amused. "I wouldn't have thought you'd be interested in coming," I said.

Yelena exhaled sharply through her nose, folding her arms defensively. "You and Natasha, that's your problem. You don't think. Thoughtless, both of you. You say you want to get tattoos together but you don't even invite me along on your road trip of self-discovery."

"Wait," Natasha interjected. It was her turn to sound surprised. "What's this about tattoos, now?"

I ignored her. "Okay. Well. It's maybe a two-hour drive, each way. I don't know how long we'll be in town, and I don't really know what I'm doing there. Did you want to come? Uh, lunch is on me."

Yelena's eyes predictably lit up at the offer of free food and she stood, draining the remainder of her coffee mug. "I can be ready in ten minutes."

While Yelena went and got dressed, Natasha looked at me curiously. "Tattoos?" she prompted.

"Just ideas at this point," I said, waving a hand dismissively. I didn't really want to talk about it until I had a better idea of what I actually wanted. "There are some things I thought it might be nice to memorialise. Wanda-3. Vision. My children. Even Eliza, kind of."

Nat's forehead creased as her expression turned sympathetic. She took a step closer to me, reaching over to gently take me by the hand, then pulled me into a hug. "Ah. Well, if you need someone to come hold your hand…"

"Thanks," I said, enjoying the embrace for a few moments before I realised my nose was like, an inch away from Nat's ear. Keeping the container of cookies held carefully behind her back with one hand, my other one crept upward, darting in at the last moment to steady the back of her neck as I lunged in and stuck my nose in her ear, sniffing and snuffling furiously.

Nat made a strangled noise that was half-laugh, half-shriek of alarm and immediately tried to pull away, vainly attempting to protect her ear by bringing her shoulder up. I was much stronger than her, though, and she was essentially helpless as I continued my assault, keeping her trapped against my body as I tickled her, snuffled at her ear and neck like a dog that had just caught an interesting scent.

"Wanda! No! Stop!" she pleaded between gasps of choked laughter. After a couple more good snorts, I relented and let her go. She immediately darted several steps backwards, looked at me with a betrayed expression on her face that was only somewhat undercut by the huge—if involuntary—smile still on her face. "Why?" she asked plaintively, her voice pained.

"You're too pretty," I said. "I'm jealous; had to muss you up a little bit."

"What is going on out here?" Yelena said as she emerged from the bathroom and padded back down the short hall toward us. "I swear to God, I leave you two alone for two seconds…"

Natasha shook her head and sighed, but she was still smiling as she reached up to fix her hair with a few quick touches. "You are the actual worst sometimes, you know?"

"And yet…"

She wagged her finger at me. "Behave."

"Never."

Yelena snorted. "You couldn't make Wanda behave if you called in the Avengers, Wakanda and all of your sorcerer friends together. She's a lost cause."

I pointed at her with the container of cookies. "Shh, you. Are you ready to go?"

Once we'd all confirmed we were ready to head off, I retrieved my sling ring from my pocket and spun up a portal. On the other side, the three of us stepped out near the path running along the river-side of the main central building at the upstate Avengers compound—the grassy spot had sort of become my standard arrival point whenever I came by. I'd half-joked to Nat about asking Tony to install an empty doorframe in the living area that didn't lead anywhere, so I could portal there and it'd almost be like I was living in the compound, but I was pretty sure something like that would be a bit too much of an implication or acknowledgement that I was actually part of the team.

Heading inside, we walked up the stairs into the main common area to find Clint and Sam leaning over the breakfast bar, chatting amiably, each nursing a mug of coffee. Clint's prosthetic arm was missing. I'd barely ever seen him actually armless, so it felt a little weird to see him without it, like he was lopsided. It was also a very visible, uncomfortable reminder of what Eliza had cost us. He'd never seemed like he blamed me for it, but there had to be a little resentment hiding there, right? When a copy of me took his arm? I knew I was probably being paranoid and it wasn't actually my fault in any case, but it was still hard to shake the sudden feeling of guilt.

"Morning, guys!" I said, forcing a cheery façade. "Happy birthday, Sam!"

Sam gave a slightly awkward smile. "Thanks."

Yelena, Natasha and I walked over to join them and I put the container of cookies down on the bar, popping it open and sliding it over in front of him with the same sort of dramatic flourish that a mobster might use to display a briefcase full of cash. "I come bearing homemade cookies, to celebrate."

He let out a small, amused snort. "Thanks. You didn't have to do anything."

"Well, I mean, if you don't want them…" I started to slowly slide the container of cookies away from him.

"Now hold on, I didn't say that," he protested, reaching over to stop the container from creeping any further away from him. I grinned at him and let go as he reached in and picked out a cookie. "These look pretty good."

"They're really good," Yelena said, darting in to help herself to two—two! At once!—as well.

Nat had her phone out, tapping at the screen, and I looked at her curiously. She noticed and held it up so I could see the screen. It was a group chat—she'd dropped a pair of quick messages in:

Wanda baked cookies for Sam's birthday, they're in the kitchen

If anyone wants any, you'd better hurry before Yelena inhales them all

My own phone hadn't vibrated, so it wasn't part of the group chat I was in. I felt myself falter again, just a little bit. There was an Avengers' group chat that I wasn't a part of. I mean, of course there was—it made sense—sometimes you'd need to communicate something just to the actual Avengers. I was feeling sore that I wasn't on the team, but I shouldn't feel bad about the fact that they had an internal group chat. Just before Natasha tucked her phone back away, however, I saw Helen Cho respond with an exclamation mark.

Oh. It wasn't just Avengers. It must be everyone who was living in the compound. That was… I mean, it still made sense, but it felt worse somehow. More like something I was being deliberately excluded from.

Behind the counter, Clint reached down to the dishwasher—the door was cracked open, like it had finished a little while ago and someone had opened it to let the contents airdry. As I watched, he pulled it fully open, reached into the top rack, and took out his prosthetic vibranium arm.

My brain short-circuited for a second, thoughts of being excluded from group chats banished by the bizarre sight. "I'm sorry, but did you put your advanced cybernetics in the dishwasher?" I asked, a note of incredulity in my tone.

He gave a one-armed shrug and reattached the prosthetic with a practiced motion. "Shuri said it was safe. Easier than scrubbing it."

I looked around at the others. "It's not just me who thinks that's a bit weird, though, right?"

Yelena nodded, mumbling through a mouthful of cookie. "You're right; it is weird."

"It's not weird," Natasha said firmly, eyes widening with an implicit threat as she looked between Yelena and I. "It's convenient."

I felt a little chastened—Clint probably felt self-conscious enough about his arm as it is; he didn't need me to poke him about it. Before I could say anything else, though, there was a blur of motion and Pietro was suddenly next to me, already taking a bite from a cookie of his own. He nudged me with his shoulder, a happy expression on his face. "Thank you for this gift of cookies."

"My gift of cookies," Sam noted firmly. "For me." He'd finished one cookie and had started on a second.

Okay. Conversation had moved on. It'd be worse if I went back to apologise for being insensitive now. I could do it privately, later. Instead, I chuckled. "Boys, boys, no need to squabble. There's plenty of my cookies for everyone."

"Why did you say it like that? Now I don't want any," Pietro said, a vaguely disgusted look crossing face. "Ugh. It's too early to deal with you."

Yelena straightened up, gesturing emphatically toward him in agreement. "Thank you! This is what I have been having to deal with, every day."

"More for me, then. I'm fine with eating your sister's cookies," Sam said to Pietro lightly, grinning as his eyes flicked briefly over to me.

I leaned toward him a little bit, resting an elbow on the bar as I tilted my head to one side and shot him a questioning look. "Oh, are you now?"

Natasha barked out a short, sharp laugh. "Careful, Sam."

His eyes widened slightly, but his grin didn't fade and he shrugged. "So what if I am?"

Pietro grabbed my wrist and started pulling me away from the bar, toward the stairs. "Alright! Such a shame, it's time to go! We're in a very big hurry, lots to do today."

I laughed and let him pull me away. Natasha and Yelena followed, each snagging a cookie for the road as they did so, Nat chuckling and saying goodbye to Sam and Clint.

The four of us made our way down to the garage under the building, Natasha leading us over to a big, black luxury SUV. An Acura MDX, I thought—something that a not-very-good-at-being-undercover SHIELD agent might drive. It looked pretty new, but I wondered briefly if it actually was an ex-SHIELD vehicle. Nat took out a key as we walked, pressing a button on the attached remote to unlock it as we got closer. I stepped toward the passenger seat and Yelena sniffed. "Who says you get shotgun?"

"I need to be in front," I said, shaking my head. "The whole point of the road trip is to try to knock some memories loose, and it probably won't work as well if I'm staring at the back of the seat the whole way. And Nat's driving."

"I could drive," Pietro suggested.

"No," Nat and I said simultaneously, maybe a little too sharply.

Pietro grumbled something I didn't quite catch. I went to open the door, but Nat reached over and touched my arm, drawing my attention. "Hey," she said quietly, a serious look on her face. "Whatever we find in Westview—if anything happens—just promise me you'll be safe, okay? No unnecessary risks. If it gets too heavy for you, we back off. Just… be safe."

I smiled, then leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the lips. "I will."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Yelena turn to Pietro and bat her eyelashes at him. "Be safe," she purred in a deliberately-loud faux-whisper.

Pietro took her hand and dramatically put it to his chest. "Oh, I'll be so safe."

"Can you two not?" I said testily.

Pietro, of course, took that as a challenge. He turned and swooned, guiding Yelena to catch him in her arms. "You don't even know how safe I'll be," he said breathlessly, looking up at her.

I turned to face them more fully, wisps of chaos magic glimmered around my fingertips. "That's it; killing you both."

Yelena gently pushed Pietro out of her grasp, giving a scandalised gasp. "But how would that keep us safe?!"

Nat sighed. "Just get in the car. All of you."

We piled in, as directed, and once everyone was buckled in and ready to go, Nat started the engine and pulled out onto the driveway leading out of the compound. "Ugh, Happy," she muttered under her breath, sounding a little exasperated. She glanced over at me and rolled her eyes. "We'll need to fill up on the way. Looks like Happy forgot again."

I peeked over at the fuel gauge—it was sitting somewhere between a third and a quarter of a tank. "Eh, it's not a big deal, is it?"

"Not a big deal, no, but this happens literally every time. This is why I usually just drive my own car."

"Your car is pretty cool," Pietro piped up from the back.

Nat grinned and gave a little shrug. "Yeah?" she said, faux-modestly. "It's okay. Gets me from A to B."

"Huh," I said.

"What?"

I grimaced a little bit, playing up being unimpressed while trying not to vibrate in my seat. This was going to be good. "Well, I just mean that's not very far."

Nat chuckled a little. "From A to B?"

Yelena scoffed, but I ignored her and continued to speak. "Yeah, I mean, if we're using the alphabet to denote distance that's really as short as it gets, right? Like, I mean, if I had a car, I'd want it to get to at least C, then I'd want to know that I could get back to A again. Because if I started at A, then that's presumably where I live, right?"

I peeked in the rearview mirror to gauge the reaction I was getting from my hostage audience. Pietro leaned heavily back against the headrest and sighed. "Wanda…" he groaned.

"And I mean I'd want to go on longer trips, as well," I said, completely ignoring him, unable to keep the smile off my face. "Like, I'd want to go from A to C, back to A, then out to maybe R. And…"

Natasha glanced sideways at me. She was smiling as well, and I was pretty sure she'd already landed at the punchline. "And?" she prompted.

"And then it would spell what it is." I paused, waiting for the backseat to work that one out.

Nat chuckled, but Yelena just let out an unimpressed, derisive snort. "Was that a joke? Did she just tell a joke?"

"I don't know, it's hard to tell," Pietro replied. I could see him in the mirror, stroking his chin thoughtfully like he was considering it. "Sometimes I just laugh when she finishes talking and, if she wasn't making a joke, she's pleased because she thinks she made one by accident. Keeps her happy either way."

That got a small laugh out of Yelena.

Oh, he was gonna be like that, was he? Well then, this meant war. "Don't worry, I'm just getting warmed up," I said, sounding far too pleased with myself. "I'm gonna go ahead and dub this road trip the 007 because we are gonna bond."

Yelena groaned. "Ugh, actually no; I have changed my mind about coming and would like to leave."

Nat took a hand off the wheel and touched a control at her side. A firm cha-thunk let everyone know that all of the doors to the vehicle were now locked. She reached into her pocket, taking her phone out and unlocking it with a practiced, one-handed motion before tossing it onto my lap. "Connect to the Bluetooth; I put together a playlist."

"Oh, cool," I said, a little surprised. A little part of me was always disappointed whenever I didn't get to be in charge of the music, but Nat had pretty good taste from what I'd seen so far and it was cute that she'd put together something specifically for the drive. I fumbled with her phone for a moment as I connected to the car's sound system and brought up the playlist—it was right at the top, named 'Westview trip'.

As we headed toward the I-287, there was some temporary signage up on the side of the road. "Roadworks ahead," Natasha read it aloud absently under her breath.

My eyes lit up. I couldn't believe this was actually happening. A true Vine moment! "Uh, yeah," I said loudly, struggling to sound nonchalant rather than vibrating with delight. "I sure hope it does!"

"Is she going to be like this the entire drive?" Yelena asked, sounding both defeated and horrified.

"I thought you'd been living with her?" Pietro asked, letting out a small chuckle. "How have you not had to put up with this?"

"Usually I can leave! I might die. This trip might actually kill me."

Sometime later, we'd made it onto the interstate and I'd run out of easy ways to annoy Pietro and Yelena. Both of them had taken out their phones and were engrossed with whatever they were looking at on them, while I just stared out the window at the passing scenery, listening to the playlist Natasha had put together for the trip. A 70s-ish rock ballad I hadn't heard before had been playing for a little while, and I noticed I'd been moving my head unconsciously to the rhythm. I listened to it properly for a little bit. "Nat? I like this." I gestured to the display—I could have read it myself, but I wanted to prompt Nat's thoughts. "Who is it?"

Nat tapped at the audio control on the steering wheel, turning the volume up a little bit. "It's Lorna Wu. You haven't heard it before? This was her biggest hit. Down, down, down the road…" she sang along quietly for a moment as the song's chorus kicked in again, before glancing sideways at me, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I thought it was an appropriate choice for the drive. You know, with the lyrics and all."

The bridge kicked in and I swayed my head from side to side a little bit. "Huh. I don't think I've ever even heard of Lorna Wu before. She's good."

"Yeah. I like her, too," Nat said, tapping the audio control again as the chorus came back for the final time. The chorus was catchy and easy to pick up, and both of us started to sing along as we continued down the I-287—I was pretty sure I could hear Yelena in the back, too.

"Down, down, down the road; down the Witches' Road…"

 

[Krazyfan1]

Nice!
thanks for the update.
poor Pietro and Yelna.

 

[ptbptb]

"I'm sorry, but did you put your advanced cybernetics in the dishwasher?"

Click to shrink...

This is, incidentally, an actual thing you do in the Cataclysm-DDA zombie rogue like.

"Uh, yeah," I said loudly, struggling to sound nonchalant rather than vibrating with delight. "I sure hope it does!"

Click to shrink...

When the storm hits, people batten down the hatches and button up their coats. But then, when fair weather returns they DON'T batten up the hatches and button down their coats. 🤔

 

[Stark40763]

Yes, I'm sure nothing will come about from Wanda hearing that song, nothing at all...

 

[Dr. Bob Doom]

Yes, I'm sure nothing will come about from Wanda hearing that song, nothing at all...

Click to shrink...

Considering the fact that the song really is just a song, and the SI was inserted pre!AAA... I don't think much will come of it.

 

[mythSSK]

Nice!
thanks for the update.
poor Pietro and Yelna.

Click to shrink...

Everything Wanda does, Pietro and Yelena deserve.

This is, incidentally, an actual thing you do in the Cataclysm-DDA zombie rogue like.

Click to shrink...

I'm an old hand at CDDA, been playing it on and off for nearly a decade.

Yes, I'm sure nothing will come about from Wanda hearing that song, nothing at all...

Click to shrink...

Considering the fact that the song really is just a song, and the SI was inserted pre!AAA... I don't think much will come of it.

Click to shrink...

Yeah, as far as Wanda knows it's just a song -- she has no reason to suspect anything more, or for her magic to do anything with it subconsciously.

I don't know if I'll do anything with it, but I have it in my head that Natasha is one of those people who are "witchy enough" (as Agatha puts it) to theoretically join a coven and manage to get some analog magic working. The song still does have a bit of a magical resonance with Westview so she felt drawn to it, even if she didn't really understand why.

 

[Stark40763]

Everything Wanda does, Pietro and Yelena deserve.


I'm an old hand at CDDA, been playing it on and off for nearly a decade.



Yeah, as far as Wanda knows it's just a song -- she has no reason to suspect anything more, or for her magic to do anything with it subconsciously.

I don't know if I'll do anything with it, but I have it in my head that Natasha is one of those people who are "witchy enough" (as Agatha puts it) to theoretically join a coven and manage to get some analog magic working. The song still does have a bit of a magical resonance with Westview so she felt drawn to it, even if she didn't really understand what.

Click to shrink...

Well the Song is still being used as a protection spell for Alice at this point, so there's definitely some magic there. Though I kinda want Wanda to end up usurping the Canon Coven, if only so most of it isn't killed off...

 

[mythSSK]

Well the Song is still being used as a protection spell for Alice at this point, so there's definitely some magic there. Though I kinda want Wanda to end up usurping the Canon Coven, if only so most of it isn't killed off...

Click to shrink...

"The Scarlet Witch is not born; she is forged. She has no coven or need for incantation. Her power exceeds that of the Sorcerer Supreme. It is her destiny to destroy the world."

To be fair, though, Agatha is completely off the rails at this point. We're so far away from the original timeline now that there's zero chance that things play out the same way for the canon coven, so hopefully they're safe.

 

[mythSSK]

Chapter 75

"Follow me, my friend, to glory at the end…"

The gathered coven of witches looked around at each other as they finished singing the Ballad, exchanging nervous glances as they waited for something to happen in response to their invocation. Agatha Harkness gave the little bell she was holding a final cheeky 'ding', the sound ringing out loudly in the sudden silence, and tried not to laugh at the slowly mounting concern and confusion. The silence dragged on for a few more seconds before she let an easy frown come to her face and looked around critically at the young women that had joined her this time around.

Showtime!

"Huh," she said, putting her hands on her hips sassily and eyeing the skinny teenager across from her suspiciously. "Some feedback for you: It did not take this long last time." A little colour rose in the girl's cheeks.

It was a young group. Summer was the youngest, at seventeen, with Tracy and Gwen both being nineteen, leaving Carla as the eldest in her early twenties. Agatha actually generally preferred covens like this—teenage girls packed full of hormones and daddy's disappointment were much easier to goad into attacking her than older, wiser witches. They just always had so much to prove.

Carla looked at Agatha, her brow furrowed. "Are you sure we did it right? We got all the harmonies right, the lyrics, everything?"

"We did everything right," the older witch confirmed. "I guess you guys just kinda sucked? I mean…" she grimaced, screwing up her nose like she'd caught a whiff of something foul.

Tracy shrugged and glared accusingly at Summer. "You were a bit all over the place."

"Hey! No, I wasn't." Summer snapped, defensively.

Agatha grimaced and held up a hand to faux-whisper behind it. "Says the pitchy-ass soprano," she said, rolling her eyes at Tracy.

The teen took the bait, rounding on her. "Pitchy?!"

"Bitch, you were sharp," Agatha said, watching in barely-concealed glee as the jab hit home and Tracy's face contorted angrily. Ugh, such an easy target. Sopranos were always so sensitive. Accusing any soprano—witch or otherwise—of being sharp would always make them want to murder you.

The girls started to respond all at once, flinging barbs in every direction and talking over each other. Agatha tried not to smirk. "Well, maybe Agatha just doesn't know what the hell she's talking about," Gwen snapped, glaring at the older witch.

"It's not my fault that only a true coven can open the Road," Agatha clapped back instantly, pressing her tongue against the inside of her bottom lip in a childish, mocking gesture. "Either you all can't hack it as witches, or maybe it's the pitchy soprano diva who's in love with the sound of her own voice."

"She wasn't that pitchy!" Gwen protested, coming to her friend's defence.

"What do you mean 'that' pitchy?!" Tracy scowled at her.

"Oh, of course you would defend her, as if you were any better—your voice was flatter than a pancake," Agatha said to Gwen with a derisive snort. She made a show of eyeing the slender girl's figure, looking her up and down before gesturing with a hand for emphasis. "Matches the rest of you, I suppose." The girl's eyes widened with shock, face flushed red, and she started spluttering. "Buh-whu-whu-what?" Agatha mocked her.

"H-hey! Leave her alone!" Summer stammered a little as she spoke.

"Oh, don't even get me started on you," Agatha said, rounding on Summer, striking a mocking pose and pitching her voice higher, making herself sound as nasal and whiny as possible as she pretended to imitate the girl. "Boohoo, my boyfriend cheated on me and then dumped me to be with the girl he cheated on me with even though I followed him around like a pathetic little puppy." She scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Guess he just needed a real woman instead of a little girl. You probably should have just killed yourself—that might have at least gotten his attention." She gestured to the marks on the teen's wrists dismissively—she'd taken note of them earlier as a potential vector to provoke her. "But I guess you probably wouldn't even be able to do that right."

The teen flinched, reeling back like Agatha had slapped her across the face. Her eyes had reddened, her mouth open but unable to form words, her hands clenched into trembling fists.

"What the fuck, Agatha?!" Carla spat angrily. Her hands were held stiffly at her sides, but her fingers flexed and wisps of blue energy coalesced around the tips. "You better shut the fuck up, or—"

Agatha cut her off, laughing in her face. "Or what?" She gestured toward the witch's hands. "You gonna blast me? With your pathetic amount of power? You couldn't blast your way out of a wet paper bag, you dumb slut."

Carla's eyes widened. "The fuck did you just say?"

"I said 'Are there any real witches in the house?' What a group of pathetic, useless rejects."

"Just shut up!" Gwen snapped at her. "This isn't our fault!"

"No, you're right, it's my fault. I was an idiot to think any of you were worth my time," Agatha continued, her voice dripping with venom and disdain. "You've barely enough power to light a candle between the four of you—might as well not even be witches at all. You can forget the Witches' Road; I'd die before letting you befoul it with your noxious mediocrity."

"Go to hell, Agatha," Tracy said between clenched teeth. Her voice was low, with a dangerous edge to it. She was right on the precipice, now. Next to her, Carla was almost vibrating with rage. Almost, almost. Just a tiny bit more.

"Make me!" Agatha over-enunciated, her face twisted in the most condescending sneer she could muster up.

Carla broke first, lashing out with her hand and sending tendril of glowing blue spearing into Agatha's chest. It was just a slap—a warning strike. Instead of hurting, however, the magic flowed into her and her own power latched on, sinking almost unnoticeable barbs into Carla's spell. Agatha deliberately staggered back half a step, acting as though it had hit home properly, and let out a mocking laugh. There was an art to this—acting as though the younger witch's power had stung her and that she was just pretending it didn't, luring her to continue pouring power into the attack to stop her from realising she was no longer able to stop. Just like almost every other witch before her, Carla was oblivious to the danger, too focused on proving herself as she redoubled her effort, sending a pulse down the wispy beam of magic connecting them.

Tracy added her power to Carla's a heartbeat later, and Summer a moment after that. Gwen, however, didn't join her magic to theirs, instead taking a step back, tears running down her cheeks. "Pathetic little bitches!" Agatha screamed at Gwen, trying to goad her into joining the assault, as she staggered back another step, hunching her body as though she was in pain.

It was too little, too late, though. Tracy tried to pull back and Agatha's magic flared, an aura of purple, edged in black, flickering around her and sending a pulse of purple back into each of the other witches through the magical conduits connecting them. Tracy staggered forward a step, trembling with effort as she tried and failed to force her arm down. "I can't…" she gasped, a sharp edge of sudden fear entering her voice.

Once they realised that something was wrong, Carla and Summer tried to break the connection as well and found themselves similarly stuck, their power being wrenched out of them at an alarming rate. Their faces twisted in terror. "Agatha! Stop! Please," Carla begged, tears welling up in her eyes even as her face started to shrivel and hollow, her life force draining away. Next to her, Summer shrieked, scrabbling and clawing at her upraised arm with her free hand as though trying to rip it off.

It was impossible for them to escape. They had a decent little chunk of power between them, but even the strongest magic-users Agatha had ever faced had been utterly helpless in the face of her ability. The Darkhold also held a ritual that would allow one to steal the power of another, of course, but it required setup and preparation; it couldn't be done off the cuff like this. As far as Agatha was aware, the specific way in which her power latched onto someone who lashed out at her was unique to her.

As the other three screamed and pleaded with Agatha, Gwen stumbled backwards, falling on her ass. She froze, her eyes wide as saucers, seemingly unable or unwilling to do anything but watch as the rest of the coven shrivelled and collapsed around her. Agatha continued to hold on tightly to the girls' magic, drawing it into her until every last drop had been drained. The last wisps of power fled the three fresh corpses as they lay unmoving on the floor and Agatha's shoulders shuddered, a pleasurable shiver running through her body.

"What did you do?" Gwen gasped, a mixture of fear and horror in her voice and warring across her features.

Agatha sighed happily, flexing her fingers as she savoured the heady rush of power, then made a few quick gestures, her purple flaring up as threads of magic came together to weave knots around the last living coven member's hands and feet. The girl shrieked, vainly struggling against the bindings as she was yanked roughly several feet into the air, hovering in front of Agatha.

This wasn't that unusual. Over the centuries, Agatha had made a fine art out of goading people into lashing out at her, but every so often she'd run into a witch who couldn't be provoked into even the smallest warning blast. There'd even be the occasional witch who'd rather swing a fist than attack with magic.

"You know," she said conversationally. "You really should have just blasted me, too. It would have worked out better for the both of us. I would have gotten your magic and not had to waste more of my time, and you…"

"I what?" the terrified-looking girl managed to choke out, tears running down her cheeks. "You killed them… they were screaming…"

Agatha smirked, questing tendrils of purple crawling up the helpless teen's body. "I mean, yeah, it wouldn't have been fun for you. But now?" Purple magic flickered in her pupils. "Now I have to get creative."

Half an hour later, Agatha walked down the worn stone steps to her underground lair, softly humming the Ballad to herself as she wiped the last of the teenager's blood off her hands with a damp cloth. It really did feel great to be in control again—once again free to do whatever she pleased, as the mood took her. Now, what was next? Ah, yes. She looked over at the page of the Book of Cagliostro, still hanging suspended in a web of minor energies between two cracked and pitted stone pillars.

As she did, Señor Scratchy emerged from his hiding place, hopping over toward her feet before gently headbutting her ankle. Agatha tossed the bloody cloth away to one side and the rabbit started to move excitedly toward it, but she quickly reached down and scooped him up instead. Cradling him gently in her arms, she scratched under his chin with her long nails. He leaned into it, but she could tell he was still eyeing off the discarded cloth. "Alright, little man," she murmured. "That's enough playing around for now. Time for mommy to get to work."



--



Once we reached the outskirts of Westview—just before heading into suburbia proper—I pointed out a gas station and insisted we stop so Natasha could fill up the tank. A lead weight had settled in my stomach when we'd crossed over into New Jersey. As we'd gotten closer and closer to Westview, this whole thing had stopped feeling like a fun road trip where I could tease Pietro and Yelena and more like a slow march to the executioner's block. I'd hoped I could just ignore the anxiety gnawing at my insides, but part of me really didn't want to do this and was looking for any reason to delay our arrival.

We all got out. Pietro and Yelena wandered inside on a quest for snacks while I just leaned against the side of the SUV, staring at nothing in particular. While the attendant worked the pump, Natasha came over to me and touched my arm to get my attention. "Hey," she said gently, shooting me a sympathetic look. "Are you okay?"

"I'm really nervous," I confessed, putting my arms around myself. "Westview is… scary, with everything that happened there in my visions. I just don't know what to expect. If I really did get some memories from that version of myself… I have no idea what might happen. Should I even expect anything? What if nothing happens? Would nothing be worse or better than something?"

Nat stepped closer and carefully pulled me into a hug. I nestled my face comfortably into her shoulder, but didn't otherwise react. "You'll be fine," she said firmly. "We're all here for you. Whatever happens, you won't have to deal with it by yourself. We're doing this together."

"I know," I said quietly. "I just… so much has changed. My visions aren't any help here. I'd gotten so used to knowing the future. Knowing what will happen—or what would happen, at least. We're going so far off the map here and I just… I really miss knowing how things were going to turn out."

"Well, you'll just have to learn to take things as they come, like the rest of us ordinary humans do." Pulling away from the embrace, Natasha let out a soft snort of amusement and lifted her chin to gesture behind me. "Then again, if you want to know the future…" she said, trailing off leadingly.

I turned and looked. Across the road, wedged between a nail salon and a pool supply store, was a bright blue and yellow façade hung with colourful bunting and a neon sign in the window—lit, but weak in the clear morning sunlight—advertising 'Madam Calderu's Psychic Readings', with 'Tarot, Palm Readings, Crystal Ball' under it in smaller lettering. A row of well cared for potted plants lined the edge of the sidewalk under the windows.

There was something about it that actually seemed kind of enticing, for some reason, even beyond the urge to do everything in my power to delay our arrival at Westview. Back in my other, non-Wanda life I'd had a friend who'd been super into Tarot cards, even if they hadn't ever really sparked my own interest. My eyes searched the glass windows for a moment, taking in the stars and crystal balls and magical eye sigils covering them, then I grinned and glanced back at Nat. "Actually… I mean, it could be fun?"

She raised an eyebrow, an amused expression on her face. "Could be fun," she echoed, then nodded. "Okay. I'll just pay for the gas and we can take a peek, if you like?"

"Sounds good."

Once everything had been sorted at the gas station, Nat parked the car and we headed over toward the shop. It was just the two of us—Pietro and Yelena had both begged off, neither of them particularly interested in the kitschy-looking fortune teller. There were a few other shops and bits around the place for them to investigate instead, and we agreed to meet back at the car in a little while.

The moment we stepped inside, heralded by the soft chiming of a bell attached to the door, the air changed—thick, sweet, and stifling with the mingled scents of incense, wax, and something faintly metallic, like old coins. Everywhere you looked, the space was filled with stuff. Diaphanous draperies and curtains of beads, small bells and coloured glass that softly tinkled in the breeze before the door closed, shelves packed with crystals, oddly-shaped jars and bottles, and other assorted trinkets. More potted plants. Another small neon sign attached to the wall—a cursive, flourished 'Psychic' with PAST, PRESENT, FUTURE in bold caps underneath it. The thing that drew my eye the most, of course, was the almost-disconcertingly-unsafe number of lit candles throughout the store, packed onto shelves or sitting in holders both free-standing and attached to the wall.

There was a quiet clicking noise as an older woman brushed aside a beaded curtain hanging across a doorway at the back of the store, stepping through to the main space. "Welcome to the curious," she—Madam Calderu, I presumed—greeted us, a little grandiosely. She had a dark shawl, threaded with astrological patterns, over her shoulders and chunky, gaudy jewellery adorned her ears, fingers, and neck. Her permed hair was mostly brown, with a few lighter grey curls framing her face.

Her face.

"Hi," Natasha replied, but I did a sudden double-take, my eyes wide, and just stared at the woman silently for a few seconds. Nat noticed my reaction, glancing at me curiously. "Wanda?"

"I…" I hesitated, trying to decide if I was seeing things. I squinted at Madam Calderu for a moment, tilting my head. Yeah, no. Definitely. There was no doubt about it.

Since I'd woken up in the HYDRA research base, I'd met a host of heroes, villains and other people… all essentially recognisable as the characters I'd seen in movies and TV shows in my memories from another life in another world. This, however, was the very first time I'd encountered someone who I was pretty sure I recognised as an actress from my memories that wasn't an existing character I knew from the MCU.

Standing in front of us, a faintly curious expression on her face, was musical theatre legend, TV and film actress Patti LuPone. It was definitely her. I was sure it was her.

I shot her a strained smile. "Can you excuse us for just one quick second?" I asked, not waiting for a response as I grabbed Natasha by the arm and pulled her back to stand just in front of the door, turning to face away from Madam Calderu. "Nat, if I say 'musical theatre legend, TV and film actress Patti LuPone' to you, you know who I'm talking about, right?" I asked quietly, a note of urgency in my tone.

"Of course," Nat said immediately, then frowned and gave me a confused look. "What's going on?"

Okay. She knew the name, but she didn't recognise the woman standing ten feet away from us. I fumbled in my pocket for a moment, pulling out my phone and bringing up the internet browser, tapping furiously. "Ugh. Stop showing me sex ads, Google. I know there are desperate sluts in my area; I have a mirror," I muttered as I brought up an image search of Patti LuPone.

She looked different than I remembered. Like… not significantly different, I supposed—she still had the same general feel about her, still had similarly strong Italian features—but different enough that Madam Calderu and Patti LuPone were clearly different people.

"Wanda? What are you…?" Nat touched my shoulder and I looked back up at her.

Why had I never even thought to check something like this before? "What about Scarlett Johansson?" I asked, memories tickling the back of my mind. It felt weird, but I had two contradictory images in my head when I thought about Scarlett Johansson, the actress. One looked exactly like Natasha, standing right in front of me. The other…

"What about her? Why are you asking about actresses?"

I Googled Scarlett Johansson and inhaled sharply, eyes widening a little. There were definitely some similarities, but the Scarlett I was looking at on my phone had a distinctly Asian cast to her appearance. I tapped through—she was half-Japanese. "What the fuck?" I muttered to myself. Well, that at least made a certain casting choice less problematic in this world.

I kept tapping. Every actor I checked was the same. The exact level of difference varied significantly—with Asian-American Scarlett Johansson being the most notable outlier and Samuel L Jackson being probably the closest to what actual Nick Fury looked like—but none of the versions from this world looked exactly the same as the ones in my memories from another world. It made a certain kind of sense, I supposed, but something about it just felt… weird. I didn't know what it meant.

Okay. I turned my head a little to look over at Madam Calderu, who was watching me with a curious crease to her brow. This could be a coincidence. Maybe everyone in the world from my memories had an equivalent visual doppelganger in this world. There could just happen to be someone in this world who looked exactly like my mental image of Patti LuPone. It might not mean anything at all.

Then again, narrative tropes and extreme coincidences, rhyming timelines… could I afford to assume something like this meant nothing? Was this going to be significant, somehow? I'd come in here intending on asking for a Tarot reading just for fun, and it suddenly didn't feel like 'just for fun' anymore.

"Wanda? Talk to me," Nat prompted me again. She sounded a little worried.

I'd originally been careful to avoid any hints as to how my 'visions' of this world had really worked, because they'd have sounded insane. Now, though, after everything? I could probably come clean to Natasha about it all. She'd believe me, and Nat—of all people—might be the most understanding about why I'd been lying to everyone about everything the entire time I'd been here. It'd change things, though. How she saw me. How she thought I saw her. I might tell her, but it couldn't be right here, right now. I needed to think about it properly; not make a snap, on-the-spot decision.

"Not here. It's not important right this instant," I said, shaking my head. "I just thought of something relating to my other memories. I need to… process it a bit."

"…Okay. Did you recognise her? Is that it?" she asked, tilting her head fractionally toward the psychic.

I shook my head. "No. Um. Maybe?"

Nat didn't look completely convinced, but she knew me well enough not to try to press me on it.

I took a deep breath and turned back toward Madam Calderu, stepping forward and smiling brightly. "Good morning. Sorry about that. Uh, you do Tarot readings?"

She smiled back and inclined her head, thankfully choosing to ignore my vaguely bizarre behaviour. She probably got all sorts in here. "Please," she said simply, gesturing to a table and chairs set to one side and moving to sit down. The tabletop was covered by a cloth printed with a complex, black-and-white design of interwoven spiritual and pagan symbology, the adjacent chairs narrow, with intricately twisted wicker frames, but comfortably padded. "What kind of reading are you looking for? If you want a reading from the cards, first you must have a question," she said as we sat down across from her. "Specific but open-ended is best, rather than a simple yes or no."

I hesitated for a moment. Should I ask about what to expect in Westview, or was that too narrow? I was suddenly very nervous about asking the wrong question. If this reading turned out to be important, somehow… but I mean, it was still just a Tarot reading. Tarot was just woo, like astrology and palm-reading and stuff; it wasn't real, not even here… right? Oh, God. I licked my lips nervously, pausing for a moment to think it through. "I want to know how can I make things better, this time," I said finally.

"This time?" Madam Calderu prompted me, tilting her head to one side, her eyes boring into mine.

I scratched at my forearm, feeling nervous. I really wasn't intending on explaining my exact circumstances to a random stranger, but it might be worth noting how important the question was—and not just to me. "There are a lot of choices that I have to make," I said after a moment's consideration, looking over at Natasha. She looked a little taken off-guard by the way I was acting. "Um, I don't know if you recognise us, but my girlfriend here is one of the Avengers. I work with them as well. The things I do can impact the entire world."

There was a flicker of recognition in the psychic's eyes as she glanced briefly at Nat again. "I see…" she said, pausing for a moment as if weighing options before speaking again. "The Safe Passage spread would be the best fit, then. I can offer a surface-level reading for fifty dollars, or a detailed one—up to an hour—for a hundred. How will you be paying?"

"We'll do a detailed one, please." I fumbled for a moment before taking out my card, looking over at Natasha. "Can you text Pietro and Yelena and let them know how long we'll be?"

Nat nodded, still looking a bit concerned as she took out her phone and started tapping at the screen. Across the table, Madam Calderu produced a small card scanner from under the table, sliding it over. "Debit works," she noted. I dutifully paid and passed the scanner back, and she smiled again. "Thank you. Your bank statement will say 'Lilia's Leggings', but that's just my side hustle. Now…"

Lilia Calderu, then, if the surname wasn't just part of the stage name. I took note of it, though I didn't recognise the name at all. The scanner disappeared back from whence it came and was quickly replaced with a deck of cards, wrapped in a gauzy red cloth. They were proper, large Tarot-sized ones, significantly bigger than playing cards. The psychic unwrapped them carefully, bundling the cloth off to the side before she placed the deck firmly in the centre of the table.

She gestured toward me. "As querent, you will shuffle and cut the cards. While you're shuffling, concentrate on your question—feel the energy of it imbue the cards. You will feel a subtle moment, an instant when the energy changes and the cards are ready. Stop when you feel it."

I reached over to pick up the deck but, as I lifted it, I almost lost my grip and had to grab it with both hands to stop the cards from spilling everywhere across the table. Two, however, practically leapt out of the deck—like they were fleeing from my hand—and landed face-up on the table between us, one on top of the other. Weirdly, it felt less like my fingers had slipped and more like the cards had actually moved.

"Ugh, sorry," I said, a little embarrassed, and went to grab them. Madam Calderu's hand darted across the table, fingers firmly touching the back of my hand to stop me from returning them to the deck. I hesitated, looking up at her.

The psychic was staring intently at the fallen cards. "When cards fall out while the deck is being shuffled there is always a significance to it," she said slowly, a concerned frown creasing her brow. "Something important that is being communicated, relating to your question."

"Oh." I looked blankly down at the two cards. The World under The Tower. Madam Calderu was quiet for a few moments, staring thoughtfully at the two cards. "So… what do they mean?" I prompted her.

"…That's not always a simple question," the psychic said, looking back up at me and giving a small shrug. There was something hard to place in her expression. "Interpreting Tarot is an art, not a science. Many elements can influence a reading and all of the cards have both positive and negative associations. Symbolism, numerology, colour theory, even where they appear in the spread and what other cards they're presented alongside. The artwork is very important as well; the cards don't look the way they do for no reason. Finally—some would say even most importantly—there's an element of personal intuition. Reading Tarot isn't about following a guidebook."

Next to me, Nat shifted in her chair, leaning back and folding her arms. I glanced at her and she raised a sceptical eyebrow.

Madam Calderu slid the two cards into the centre of the table, moving the topmost one until only the very edge of its corner still covered the one underneath—allowing us to see both cards properly while still maintaining their positioning, with one beneath the other.

"The World is… well, the world. The sum total of all things. It's all-encompassing. It can mean completion, the end of a cycle and the beginning of another," the psychic explained as I looked at the card she was describing. A nude woman, encircled by a ring or laurel wreath, with clouds and animal faces surrounding it.

"And The Tower?" I asked. The art on that one was significantly more ominous—a burning tower, struck by a bolt of red lightning, a pair of people falling to their deaths.

"Sudden change. Upheaval. Catastrophe sweeping away all you thought was strong and stable. The tower is destruction, but its fall can make way for something new." Madam Calderu's hands lingered above the cards for a moment before she placed them on the tablecloth, palms down. "For someone else, I might say that this contextualises their question into one with severe consequences. Something that could potentially be a complete upheaval of their entire life, massively destabilising, something… world-shattering. For someone in your position…" She hesitated.

"World-shattering," I repeated quietly, feeling a tight knot of apprehension forming in my stomach. Under the table, my hands clenched into fists.

The psychic let out an uncomfortable sigh and looked away, fidgeting slightly with one of her oversized rings. It reminded me rather unpleasantly of the way Jessica had looked, the last time I'd seen her. "Perhaps," she hedged, but she didn't sound very convincing. "There are many possible interpretations."

"Well, the reading's off to a great start, and we haven't even actually started yet," I joked, a bitter note leaking into my tone.

Natasha glanced at me, a crease of concern marred her forehead. When we'd come in here, it had been for just a little bit of fun—she didn't understand why I was suddenly taking it so seriously and it was worrying her. "Confirmation bias, cold reading, apophenia," she said. "It's not real. You don't need to worry about this."

"I'm not… I'm not sure, but there's some stuff…" I stumbled over my words, feeling a little self-conscious and unsure what exactly I should say. After a moment, I let out a heavy sigh and shot her a pleading look. "Look, for now, can we please take this seriously?"

Nat stared at me a moment, then nodded and leaned forward again, reaching over to squeeze my arm reassuringly. "Okay, well." She turned her attention back to the cards, frowning briefly, then gestured with a hand. "She said The World was the sum of everything, and also about cycles, right? And there's a woman in the centre, with a ring around her."

"Yeah?"

She reached over and pointed to the woman on the card, then traced the ring around her. "You. Your visions." Her hand moved over to indicate The Tower. "Forget about destruction. This is about change, right? Followed by something new. You swept away the old, and it's time for the new."

"Huh," I said, the knot in my belly loosening slightly. "You think this is just… what? Confirming what I meant when I asked the question?" It was a much nicer interpretation than Madam Calderu's, but something about it just didn't ring true to me. I really didn't like the destructive connotations of The Tower being there—it made me think about the prophesied destiny of the Scarlet Witch. But it was still nice that Nat was willing to at least entertain this. I shot her a grateful smile, leaning over to nudge her with my shoulder.

Madam Calderu gave Natasha an appraising look before turning back to me. "That's certainly possible. There are other interpretations, of course—we could more literally link the burning tower with the attack that happened in New York that levelled Avengers' Tower, for instance. The reading proper will provide more context." She paused. "You mentioned visions?" she asked, a note of naked curiosity in her tone.

I held up a hand. "Sorry, we can't really talk about that. National security. Or, er, global security, rather."

The psychic nodded slowly. "Alright. Well. Shall we move on? Leave those two aside and shuffle the rest."

I nodded and shuffled the cards, as directed. I wasn't the worst shuffler, but the larger size of the Tarot cards made it a little bit more awkward, and I fumbled them a little bit. Part of me was worried more cards would tumble out but, then again, what could I possibly pull out that was worse than something that might mean my choices could destroy the world?


--


A Note From The Author
My beta reader slash editor for this story (and every other serious story I've written…) is super into Tarot cards, so I touched base with him in advance to talk and ask some questions around the reading I was intending on having Lilia give Wanda, and he suggested that we just go ahead and do an actual reading for Wanda and see what we get. So we did. The results were actually really fitting for her in a bunch of different ways, so I decided to run with it essentially as-is. There is only one card that we swapped out for something that fit what I had in mind a bit better. Even this bit, with The World and The Tower falling out when I shuffled the cards, actually literally happened. We were laughing about it for the entire rest of the reading. Look forward to the full thing next chapter! If any readers are also Tarot enthusiasts, I'd be very curious to see your own interpretations.

Also a heads-up... I've had a really rough December so far, hurting my back and nursing a very sick little kitty cat back to health, and have consequently gotten very little writing done. Accordingly, Chapter 76 will be posted on Friday per the usual schedule, but then I'll be taking at least one week off from posting new chapters. At this stage, that means that Chapter 76 will be posted on 27/12, then the plan is for Chapter 77 to go up on 06/01 (reverse the days/months if you're an American). I might need two weeks, but that's my plan at the moment. Thanks for your patience and I hope everyone has a great Christmas/New Year!

 

[Krazyfan1]

thanks for the update.
hope things improve irl.

"Ugh. Stop showing me sex ads, Google. I know there are desperate sluts in my area; I have a mirror," I muttered

Click to shrink...

 

[Dr. Bob Doom]

December so far, hurting my back and nursing a very sick little kitty cat back to health, and have consequently gotten very little writing done. Accordingly, Chapter 76 will be posted on Friday per the usual schedule, but then I'll be taking at least one week off from posting new chapters. At this stage, that means that Chapter 76 will be posted on 27/12, then the plan is for Chapter 77 to go up on 06/01 (reverse the days/months if you're an American). I might need two weeks, but that's my plan at the moment. Thanks for your patience and I hope everyone has a great Christmas/New Year!

Click to shrink...

May the New Year bring better things for you and your little kitty, too!

but the Scarlett I was looking at on my phone had a distinctly Asian cast to her appearance. I tapped through—she was half-Japanese.

Click to shrink...

I genuinely laughed out loud. Well played.