Look What You Made Me Do (MCU)

[mythSSK]

In my opinion this latest update crosses the edge from making honest mistakes in unfamiliar situations into outright stupidity.
While I applaud the way you portray the consequences of her actions, I personally really dislike reading about idiots. So I can only hope that in future updates she actually takes a moment to reflect on her mistakes and starts thinking at least a single step ahead.

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When it comes down to it, Wanda is intended to be someone responding relatively realistically in an incredibly stressful situation. She has a large amounts of unaddressed trauma from her time with Hydra, is under significant time pressure because they're fugitives being chased by the Avengers, has no one she can sit down with and just talk to without having to lie/avoid/tiptoe around certain things (and has been in that situation for over a year), and is being dragged down by feelings of guilt, failure and inadequacy. She's not in a mentally healthy place. She is going to make mistakes.

While I think everyone's opinions are valid -- not everyone is going to enjoy or react to things the same way -- I really do think a massive part of the issues that a minority of commenters have is that they're used to seeing much more unrealistically competent protagonists in fanfic. There are a lot of power fantasies and wish-fulfilment in fanfic in general, and for a lot of people that's part of the attraction, part of why they enjoy them. That's fine, but that's not what I'm doing with this particular fic. I'm used to writing highly flawed characters in my original fiction because I find highly flawed characters much more compelling. It's okay if that's not your thing.

In this particular situation, there's a combination of factors that push Wanda to try for Agatha -- (1) she's just had a whole raft of failures, so a potentially quick and easy win is psychologically appealing, which also fuels a desire not to examine the opportunity too closely, (2) Pietro pushes her to do it right then and there, so that contributes to her lack of thinking it through, and (3) when it comes down to it, Agatha feels like a soft target if you're just going off what we see in WandaVision. She's alone and not particularly durable, and we don't actually see any actual non-witch-specific protections she has in place.

Hell, out of all of the approaches that Wanda has tried so far, if I as the author didn't completely invent Agatha's anti-translocation protections out of wholecloth -- if we were basing this purely and only what we see on screen in WandaVision -- I think that just portalling in and having Pietro speedblitz her would probably have actually just worked. Pietro is a massively outside context problem for Agatha, especially if he's just dropped on top of her with little warning.

I've been trying very hard to make sure that Wanda's decisions are explicable and make sense within her existing characterisation and the situation she's in. In the above context, can you clarify why specifically you think it's stupidity? Why you think it's Wanda being an idiot?


EDIT:
I've read plenty of hypercompetent SI protagonists in fanfics, and when they do something like this, and it works out because it's an awesome wish fulfillment power fantasy, no one complains. But when this fic has the protagonist essentially do the exact same thing, but it doesn't work out because this fic makes situations more complex/nuanced, it was a stupid decision.

 

[Trestira]

When it comes down to it, Wanda is intended to be someone responding relatively realistically
...
I've been trying very hard to make sure that Wanda's decisions are explicable and make sense within her existing characterisation and the situation she's in. In the above context, can you clarify why specifically you think it's stupidity? Why you think it's Wanda being an idiot?
...
plenty of hypercompetent SI protagonists in fanfics, and when they do something like this, and it works out because it's an awesome wish fulfillment power fantasy, no one complains. But when this fic has the protagonist essentially do the exact same thing, but it doesn't work out because this fic makes situations more complex/nuanced, it was a stupid decision.

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I figured, after seeing this pop up in my alerts, I might as well chime in and share my opinion.

The biggest problem, to me, is that Wanda doesn't seem to ever bother to think; she's reacting, running from one frantic attempt at a quick fix to another, and at fifty thousand words of repeated panicked flailing into failure mildly ameliorated by a marginal opportunistic success done, what, three times in a row? There's quite a bit of a feel of, "yes, we've seen this story beat, repeatedly and at length, when are we moving on to the next one?" You had her stuck in Nazi prison for a year, but she apparently didn't bother to spend any of it thinking or planning; her notebook seems to only exist once she got out, and her entire MO seems to consist of paging through it to find what appears to be the easiest target and then go in as half-cocked as possible in hopes of a quick solution. Worse, there's been, at best, paper-thin justification on why she doesn't make heavy use of the Mind Stone, which lasted all the way up until she thought she had a justifiable target in Klaue, only for her to not even hesitate to use it on Okoye shortly after, the first time things weren't going her way.

The suspension of disbelief is real; when a "hypercompetent SI protagonist" does something like this, they get away with it because the writer has managed to convince the reader that the SI doing so is reasonable. Here, however, you haven't done so; you haven't successfully established to the reader sufficient reason for Wanda's failures beyond them being directly attributed to her; indeed, your justification of such is a long list of reasons why Wanda's decision-making is quite impaired. You have told the reader she can't be trusted to make decisions on one hand, and then turned around and essentially told the reader in author's comments that 'no, she's not dumb, she's just making bad decisions.' For a lot of people, 'making bad decisions' and 'being dumb' are synonyms.

Nevermind your assertion of the reading habits or literary analysis abilities of the people complaining, dismissing everyone bringing up the issue as just "used to seeing much more unrealistically competent protagonists in fanfic," the fact remains that, while you've done quite a lot of work to establish that Wanda's having trouble making good decisions, you've done absolutely nothing to establish her competence or ability in, well, anything except being a beatstick; most of the time, she fails at that too, and needs to be saved by Pietro more often than not, despite what's stated to be top-tier superpowers and a year of hell training.

For me personally, the thing that makes her seem dumb is that she never pauses to think; she's so blindly desperate for a win she's running from failure to failure. If Wanda had been hot-dropped in, and didn't have an ostensible year of prep and training, this would make a degree of sense. Wanda at this point, however, has a year of training and prep time and managed to snag an infinity stone; all she's managed to do with it is get in fights she wouldn't have made it out of without help, and her successes can largely be attributed to Pietro pulling her butt out of the fire repeatedly while she treats him poorly.

Wanda reads not as someone trying and failing, but as someone actively making bad choices and not even putting in the research to try and make them work; the kid who gets sent to college on their parents dime, complains the whole time and doesn't study, and then has a breakdown when they fail all of their classes, then knocks over the dean's office and steals their laptop. She's wishy-washy, unable to stick to her principles and self-imposed rules, yet at the same time, both in and out of story, shown to be incapable of making good decisions.

At best, this is a chain of bad decisions resulting in bad consequences coming from a trauma victim for fifty thousand words; for people who expect this to not be the indefinite trajectory of the story, the presence of the idiot ball would be, in this case, plot armor; the author mandates that these loops of bad decisions > bad results > bad decisions continue, without ever breaking out of it, just as the hypercompetent SI you so dearly hold up as a shield against criticism runs in a loop of good decisions > good results > good decisions. There needs to be variance, peaks and troughs; you have failed to convince at least a portion of the audience of the reason or necessity of so many bad decisions in short succession, and provided little to no hope or indication of Wanda's downward spiral ever changing. Indeed, Wanda and Pietro are explicitly going after worse options, even poorer decisions. The story has shown a clear trajectory, and it appears to be a race to the bottom, with pickaxes in tow to dig deeper.

You've shown your reasoning for why it's plausible for your Wanda to make bad decisions, implicitly in and explicitly out of the story, but you've shown nothing to indicate that she is capable of making good decisions. That, I believe, is where some of the viewpoint that Wanda is dumb or has an idiot ball comes from; Wanda seems to be incapable of success and, unlike when a character prepares extensively and still fails, or is otherwise shown to be competent and be taken by surprise or somesuch, there's little, if any, of any of that with Wanda. She tries, she fails, she tries something dumber, ad nauseam. Her failures appear to all be directly related to her not preparing properly, or not fully thinking things through; they're internally imposed, not externally applied.

Wanda went camping with all the gear she needed, and she lit all the gear on fire trying to make a campfire, then left to go drown herself in the lake trying to beg shelter from the mermaids.

 

[Zealot]

I've read plenty of hypercompetent SI protagonists in fanfics, and when they do something like this, and it works out because it's an awesome wish fulfillment power fantasy, no one complains. But when this fic has the protagonist essentially do the exact same thing, but it doesn't work out because this fic makes situations more complex/nuanced, it was a stupid decision.

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I disagree. If you had written that the attempt succeeded, I would have called you out on the fact that it is wish fulfillment and doesn't make sense, because it goes against the way you wrote the story up to this point. There is little sense in calling out wish fulfillment in a story that is unapologetic wish fulfillment from the start, which is why most people don't do it. However, you set yourself a higher standard, so you get held to a higher standard.

I've read plenty of hypercompetent SI protagonists in fanfics, and when they do something like this, and it works out because it's an awesome wish fulfillment power fantasy, no one complains. But when this fic has the protagonist essentially do the exact same thing, but it doesn't work out because this fic makes situations more complex/nuanced, it was a stupid decision.

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Honestly, @Trestira summed it up very well.

I would like to underline the time intervals involved. Your reasoning for stress and desperation would make sense if everything was happening within a single afternoon or within very few days at most with the Avengers catching up to her every other hour - a completely unrealistic scenario for other reasons, of course - but this is not what happens in story. In story she had 1 year to plan while training with Hydra, days/weeks to plan while waiting for Kamar-Taj to find her, again days to find Klaue and plan Wakanda and now finally again days after Wakanda before she decides on a whim to attack the user of the Darkhold with the whole plan being "Pietro blitz her". No risk assessment, no backup plans, no plans of retreat, no alternatives considered.

So far I consider only two of her actions in this fic explicitly stupid: using mind control on Okoye and attacking Agatha. However, stupidity can be measured not just in actions, but also in lack of action. Not planning properly, not reflecting on what went wrong, not trying to avoid repeating the same mistakes - and other nots - is why I call her stupid.

 

[mythSSK]

Chapter 13

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, looking for any trace of Wanda, but there was nothing. Just me. I'd been in this body for long enough that I'd completely stopped thinking of it as Wanda's. It was mine. When I looked in the mirror, I just saw me looking back. Not her.

Seeing Wanda in the Ancestral Plane had been… jarring. Unexpected. If the Ancestral Plane was real and I hadn't just been hallucinating due to my own guilt at displacing Wanda, then seeing her there meant that she really was dead. Her soul had moved on. I found that thought more upsetting than I expected to. If she was dead, then it meant whatever had put me here had killed her.

I wished that I'd had the opportunity to speak more frankly with the Ancient One. If anyone could shed more light on how I'd gotten here or what had happened to Wanda, it'd be her. Hell, I wished I could speak to anyone about my situation. Pietro was always around, but there would always be a gulf between us that I couldn't cross. I couldn't talk to him. Not really. Not honestly. Even with him there, I was still alone.

I sighed and retreated from the mirror, leaving the bathroom to drift aimlessly about the rest of the hotel room. After we'd returned from getting what might have actually been the worst McDonalds I'd ever had in either of my two lives, Pietro had headed back out for the evening. He'd made some vague mouth noises about scouting and collecting additional supplies, but I knew he was just bored and wanted to explore. He'd probably find a bar and have a few drinks, maybe try to chat up a pretty Australian girl.

There was no reason to stop him. I was pretty sure we wouldn't be detected here and, even if we were, we were literally as far away from the Avengers as we could get. It would take them a long time to deploy here, even if they moved as quickly as possible. Besides, they probably needed to sleep at some point as well. We were as safe here as we could be and it was important for Pietro to have some space and time to himself to unwind a bit.

I touched the Mind Stone and absently brushed against the surface of my own thoughts—carefully, of course, no sense in doing anything extreme and risk getting trapped inside my own mind in a recursive loop of self-examination or anything stupid. Still, nothing had changed since I'd looked inwardly during my first few months in this body. As far as I could tell, there was no trace of Wanda's original mind, nothing hidden or locked away. I was alone.

Or was I?

"Uh, Watcher?" Talking to an empty room made me feel a little self-conscious. Clearing my throat, I raised my voice slightly, trying to sound confident. "Watcher! I know you're watching! I know you can hear me!"

I'd been vaguely meaning to try this for a while, but it had sat mostly-forgotten near the bottom of my to-do list given how much of a long shot it was. I had no idea if he existed in this version of this universe and, even if he did, he had his whole 'non-interference' policy and would be incredibly unlikely to respond. It was, at least, an easy thing to try and cost me nothing. There was a tiny chance that my situation was just unique and interesting enough from his perspective that he might humour me for a minute.

"Look, I know you don't like to interfere in the worlds you observe, but I'm not exactly from here and I figure you might be the only person I could talk to who might actually be able to tell me what's going on? Watcher! Come on, please. Talk to me."

The multiverse was a topic I hadn't broached with Pietro yet, and I didn't think it was worth getting into a big discussion of it just to tell him that a powerful entity that looked like a dude with an enormous head might be voyeuristically watching everything we do. Pietro had been pretty good about believing me when I told him things, but this one had just seemed like a lot of effort for a very unlikely payoff.

I spent a few more minutes cajoling the empty air before writing it off as a lost cause and collapsed backwards onto my bed with a sigh. I suppose it would have been too much to ask for me to be able to just tap a god on the shoulder and ask him how I'd gotten here.

I stared at the off-white ceiling above me, feeling a little annoyed with myself and the universe in general. Part of me wished I was more tired—the last time we'd actually slept had been an awkward few hours in the jeep we'd stolen from Klaue, on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere on our way to Wakanda. It was honestly a little tough to keep track of time properly when we kept bouncing from time zone to time zone, but it had to have been at least eighteen or nineteen hours ago. I was due some shut-eye, but my body wasn't tired at all—even if I curled up and tried to have an early night, I knew I wouldn't be able to turn my buzzing thoughts off very easily.

My mind turned back to the Avengers. I really, really wished our first meeting had been less… fight-y. I wanted them as allies, not enemies, but it didn't seem like there was an easy way to work towards that. The Mind Stone was a massive sticking point between us, but any scenario where I didn't keep it close by felt extremely risky. Thanos would come looking for it at some stage and I needed to deny him access to as many of the stones as possible. The only way I could really guarantee that he wouldn't get it before I was ready for him was to hold onto it directly. Not only that, but an Infinity Stone was a powerful tool to have at my disposal and it could potentially come in handy going forward against any number of threats beyond just the Mad Titan. On top of that, the Avengers would almost certainly just hand the stone over to Asgard, which was currently being run by Loki in disguise and I really did not want to think about how badly that might end up turning out.

At this stage, I didn't have any real way of convincing them to let me keep it or that Loki was alive and had somehow hoodwinked Odin. What I needed was some massive threat that we could work together to avert so I could earn their trust, but I'd already stopped Ultron from existing and couldn't think of anything else Avengers-level I could prove myself against—at least, not until Thanos showed up.

Still, I wished there was a way I could safely reach out and open a dialog with them, without risking getting into another fight. Captain America had seemed at least a little sympathetic to our situation and if I could just talk to him…

I paused, kicking myself mentally. The Mind Stone. I'd literally just tried to use it to reach out across space to communicate with the Guardians of the Galaxy. It had failed, but that had felt more like it was because the universe was a huge place and I didn't have a specific idea of where they were, rather than because it was impossible. Steve Rogers, who was at least on the same planet, should be a lot easier to find.

Sitting up, I hesitated for a moment and wondered if I should wait until Pietro got back. I had no idea how late he'd be out, and it wasn't like I was in a rush. It'd be easy enough to wait until morning. Then again, we might have an argument about it—he still wasn't on board with working with the Avengers. Besides, I was only going to project my mind. Even if I accidentally showed up in the middle of Avengers Tower and ended up pissing everyone off, I'd be perfectly safe and my body would be staying right here, on the other side of the world.

My mind made up, I pulled my legs up under me and sat cross-legged on my bed again. Taking a deep breath, I reached into the Mind Stone with threads of chaos magic. Once more, instead of letting my consciousness expand outwards randomly, I focused it on my target. Fixing a mental picture of Steve Rogers in my mind's eye, I cast the stone's power out, searching for him. It only took a few seconds. A bright spark in my perception, a mind that somehow 'matched' the picture in my head. He was 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 and instead had to push myself toward him blindly. With an effort of will, I manifested, using the Mind Stone to project myself close to where I felt him.

I looked around. This was… a bedroom? The sound of running water filtered through from what must have been an adjoining bathroom. I didn't specifically recognise it—my memory wasn't that good and I think it was only shown once or twice—but this must be Steve's apartment. Early morning light was just filtering in from a nearby window.

For a moment I was stunned at just how poor my timing was. I had no idea what his schedule was like and had sort of been mentally preparing myself for the worst, but what I'd expected the worst to be was for me to accidentally pop into the middle of Avengers Tower in front of the entire rest of the team. Showing up in his apartment while he was in the shower hadn't even been on my radar. At least I hadn't appeared in his lap while he was using the toilet.

I hesitated for a moment, unsure if I should wait or come back later, then felt like the decision was mostly made for me when the sound of running water stopped. Unsure what else to do, I sat down on the edge of the bed facing the bathroom door, hands folded nervously in my lap.

It wasn't until a split second before the bathroom door opened that I noticed the set of clothes—dark jeans, stretch-fabric grey tee, and men's briefs—laid out on the bed next to me. My eyes widened as a freshly-showered Steve Rogers, hair still damp, stepped out of his bathroom. He reacted to my presence almost instantly, his stance tensing and the towel in his hand shifting to interpose itself between my eyes and his modesty.

"Uh, hi! I am so sorry. Bad timing." I stammered slightly as I spoke, hands held up in a peaceful gesture, my eyes wide and heat rising in my cheeks as I took in his mostly-nude figure. I knew that actors like Chris Evans needed to put their body through hell to maintain their superhero physiques for filming—apparently, though, that wasn't a concern for actual Steve Rogers. Did he really look like that all the time?

"Hi…" His voice was guarded as his eyes flicked briefly around the room, probably checking to make sure Pietro wasn't about to pounce on him. Slowly and carefully, he wrapped the towel around his waist to cover himself, though he didn't move from the bathroom doorway.

I knew it would have been far more polite to avert my eyes, but I was having a lot of trouble tearing them away. "Before you freak out, I'm not really here. I mean, I am here, but not physically. I can't hurt you, you can't hurt me," I babbled, touching the pendant at my neck. "If I were actually here, the rest of your team would already be on their way."

"Okay," he said, his tone uncertain. "Why are you here?"

"To talk. I wasn't lying when I said I'd be happy to talk to you in a more neutral setting."

"I wouldn't exactly call this a neutral setting," he said, then pointed at the towel around his waist. "And uh, you've sort of caught me with my pants down."

I flushed again, trying and failing once more to do the respectful thing and avert my eyes. "Sorry again. Like I said, just bad timing. I didn't know exactly where you were—honestly, I'm just lucky that projecting myself to you put me out here instead of, uh…"

Steve let out a slightly forced chuckle. His body language was still incredibly tense, but his face softened. "Yeah, this is awkward enough." He took a small step forward and to one side, shuffling out of the doorframe and vaguely in the direction of his clothes. "You wanted to talk?"

I hesitated. I hadn't actually thought through what I wanted to say to him, specifically, and the current situation had frazzled me a bit. It took a bit longer than I would have liked to gather my thoughts, the two of us staring awkwardly at each other for a few long seconds before I finally spoke.

"…do you remember what it felt like, just before you found out that HYDRA had infiltrated SHIELD? When you thought Nick Fury had been killed and you had no idea why? Not knowing if you could trust anyone? If you should?" I let out a long sigh, slumping forward slightly and closing my eyes. "It's been a bit like that for me. There have been a lot of people I've wanted to trust—that I felt like I should be able to trust—and things just haven't worked out."

"Yeah, I know what that's like," he said, his voice quiet.

Taking another deep breath, I opened my eyes again and looked up at him, searching his features. "I want to trust you. Pietro said that he knows you, but he doesn't. Not really. I do. Better than you could imagine, even. I just… I want to stop running. Things have been hard enough without the Avengers breathing down our necks."

"I meant what I said in New Delhi. We only wanted the sceptre—the power source. It's too dangerous for us to leave out in the world." Steve shook his head. "We don't have any quarrel with you."

"You don't even know what it is. Neither do the Asgardians. It won't be safe with them. There are so many things I could tell you, but so much of it sounds insane and you wouldn't have any reason to believe me."

"Try me. Maybe I'll surprise you."

It was my turn to shake my head, a rueful smile at my lips. "There are too many variables. If I tell you certain things and you don't believe me, it could make things worse instead of better. If I could just convince you…" I straightened up suddenly, a lightbulb going off inside my mind. "Bucky!"

"Bucky?" He blinked, surprised.

I nodded to myself as I thought it through. "You're looking for him. I can find him, if you want me to. The portals I can make have a sort of… sympathetic resonance, I guess? I don't know how to explain it, but I don't necessarily need to know where a person is to be able to open a portal to their location."

"…you can find him? You're sure?"

"I don't know if it will work, not for certain, but I think the chances are pretty good and it's definitely worth trying. If I open a portal here, will you step through? If it doesn't work, I'll send you straight home." A pleading note had crept into my voice. I could see doubt and hope warring across his face as he listened to me babble and forged ahead. "I know how much you want to find him and I know this sounds risky and like it could be a trap, but… I haven't had a lot of wins lately. Let me do this for you. Let me do a good thing, no strings attached. Please."

After a second, Steve let out a soft snort of amusement. "Are you asking my permission to kidnap me?"

"Kind of?" I said, smiling back at him. "But only very temporarily. And you can leave anytime."

"You really think you can find him?" he asked. There was a note of something hard to identify in his voice. Hope, hunger… desperation, maybe. I nodded firmly, my eyes bright, and Steve looked at me quietly for a long moment before nodding. "Can I at least put some pants on first?"

"Of course." I leant back, feeling positively buzzed. This was going to work. I let my eyes roam appreciatively over his bare chest and arms. A small smirk curled the corner of my mouth and I bit my bottom lip, tilting my head questioningly. "Unless there's something else you'd like me to help you with first? We don't have to go after Bucky right away."

He coughed, clearing his throat to hide a smile, then shot me a pointed look. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all." There was a beat of awkward silence before my brain caught up with the conversation and my smirk turned into a sheepish grin. "Oh! Uh, sorry. Sure thing. One minute, then I'll open a portal. Be ready to jump through."

I closed my eyes, focused briefly and snapped back into my own body, returning to the other side of the planet in an instant. Jumping excitedly to my feet, I looked around and hesitated briefly. Pietro wasn't back yet and probably wasn't likely to be anytime soon. He wouldn't be too worried if he returned and I'd ducked out for a bit, but I wasn't sure how long this was going to take and he was already probably going to be extremely cross with me for making contact with the Avengers without him. Better to have that discussion in person instead of just dropping a note with 'gone to hang out with Captain America' on it.

Standing up, I grabbed my notebook and tore out a blank page, scribbled a quick note on it before dropping it on Pietro's bed: 'P. Went out for a bit to clear my head. Might be a little while. We'll talk in the morning. W.'

Stretching my arms wide, I let out a small sigh of satisfaction as I felt the muscles in my shoulders and back pop. The bundle of vibranium spears leaning against the wall in the corner of the room caught my eye for a moment, but I couldn't imagine a scenario where I'd want or need them. The worst thing that could happen here was a fight against Cap and Bucky and I really wouldn't want something like that to turn lethal.

I hadn't been counting the seconds, but I figured that that was probably long enough. I retrieved my sling ring from my pocket, slipping it on with a slight wince. The burn from earlier was still a little tender. Picturing the bedroom I'd just been in, I gestured, spinning threads of chaos magic into a portal. A moment later, Steve Rogers—now fully dressed in the clothes I'd seen laid out for him on his bed, his shield held loosely in one hand—stepped cautiously through.



--



Natasha rapped on the door with her knuckles, studying the black lettering stencilled on its opaque glass window as she waited for a response: Alias Investigations. She hadn't found any listed business hours when she'd done her initial research, but figured that 9AM was a relatively safe bet for someone keeping an office like this—though it was always possible that the woman Nat was here to see had already headed out on an early morning job.

Just down the hall behind her, a door opened and a tall, dark-skinned man stepped out. "Can I help you?" he called out. "Uh, we don't usually take walk-ins…" he trailed off as Nat turned around to look at him.

She smiled brightly. "Hi, mister…?"

His eyes grew round in shock. "Uh, Ducasse. Malcolm Ducasse. Mal. You… you're one of the Avengers!"

Nat nodded, shooting him one of her best sheepish 'I'm just an attractive girl who needs help from a big strong man' looks. "Yeah. Sorry, I really need to speak to Jessica Jones if she's available? Do you work with her, or…?"

Blinking, Malcolm nodded furiously. "Yeah, yes, of course. Uh, I'll just get her," he said, bustling into the corridor and giving Nat a wider-than-necessary berth as he slid past her. He fished a key from a pocket, fumbling it a few times as he hurriedly tried to unlock the door, then shot her a nervous and apologetic smile as he stepped in and closed the door behind him.

After a few moments there was a rapid knocking inside, followed by Malcolm's muffled voice. "Jess?! Jess, you up?" There was a response of some kind, but it was further muted by the multiple doors between them and Nat couldn't make it out completely. "You alone?" Another response, then the faint sound of another door opening. Satisfied that her target seemed unlikely to pull a runner, Nat settled back to wait.

A few minutes later, she was ushered inside to a disorganised mess of an office and offered a seat on the far side of a desk from a slender, pale woman with greasy black hair. Nat watched patiently as Jessica Jones noisily finished downing the entirety of a 20-oz can of energy drink in about five seconds flat.

Jones put the empty can down on her desk, maybe a little too firmly, and peered at her with bloodshot eyes over puffy dark circles. "Alright. So, Ms Romanov," she said, her tone laced with suspicion. "What does an Avenger want with little old me?"

"Maybe I just want to hire you."

"Yeah, right. As if there's anything I can do that Little Miss Superspy can't."

"I read the reports about Killgrave. What he could do. What he did," Nat said quietly. Jones went still. "It's not exactly the same, but I had a man like him control me once, too. I was in the same situation as you. Made the same choice."

"Want a medal?" Jones glared at her, her tone frosty.

There was a tense moment of silence before Natasha spoke again, changing tacks. "You're Enhanced," she said. "Super strength."

"So what?"

"So what made you want to be a private investigator?"

"Because I'm good at it. None of your business," Jones snapped, leaning forward over her desk, eyes narrowed. "What do you want?" Nodding slowly, Nat reached into the slim messenger bag on her shoulder and pulled out a manilla folder. She offered it to Jones, who hesitated for only a very brief moment before taking it. "I expected an Avenger to be a bit more hi-tech," she said as she flicked it open.

"Well, I was coming to see a PI, so I thought I'd have a bit of fun and go old school, just for you."

Jones spared a moment to shoot her an exaggerated, sarcastic smile, then frowned as she looked over the series of large, printed photos of the Maximoff twins. "Who am I looking at?" she asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she studied the pictures, taking in every detail.

"You tell me," Nat said, leaning back to gauge her reaction.

"Brother and sister," the PI said almost immediately. "Eastern European, at a guess. Pictures weren't taken in New York—buildings in the background are wrong. Not sure which country. Europe somewhere. You still haven't told me what this is all about."

"I'm looking for the answer to a question, Jones. Or do you prefer Jessica?"

Jones just shrugged irritably, gesturing with a hand for her to just get on with it.

"The question is why, when two Enhanced escaped from a top-secret HYDRA facility in Eastern Europe, the very first thing they did once they had access to a computer was to run a search for 'Alias Investigations NYC'?"

Jones looked at her sharply. "Are you asking me if I work for HYDRA?" she asked incredulously.

"Of course not," Natasha said, shaking her head. She's done her due diligence before coming here and if there'd been even a whiff of suspicion that Jessica Jones was secretly working for HYDRA, she wouldn't have come alone. "Are you sure you don't recognise them?"

"No."

"Are their names familiar? Wanda and Pietro Maximoff?"

Jones's frown grew deeper with each question. "No. Not at all."

They were interrupted as Nat's smartphone started buzzing in her pocket, quietly but insistently.

Despite the lack of volume, Jones still winced slightly at the noise. "Gonna get that?" she asked, eyeing Nat resentfully.

Natasha could tell from the ringtone that it was one of the team—if it was anyone else, she'd have let it go to voicemail, but if it was Tony or Bruce then that meant there might have been a development with the Maximoffs. "Give me a sec." Fishing out the phone, a quick glance at the caller ID told her that Tony Stark was on the other end. She stood and stepped over to the far side of the room, turning away from the room's other occupant and lowering her voice slightly as she answered. "Hey, what's up?"

Tony's voice came through clear but subdued, a note of anxiety in his tone. "Steve's missing."

Nat frowned. "What? How?"

"He didn't come in this morning. Tried calling but he isn't answering. I stopped by, no one's home. Shield's not there, but he left his phone behind. Exterior cameras didn't show him leave."

"That doesn't mean he's missing," she pointed out. There were a dozen reasons she could think of off the top of her head why Steve might have briefly gone radio silent, but something had clearly spooked Tony. "There's something else, isn't there?"

"There was a blip in the tracking algorithm, right here in New York. A short burst, only just noticeable above the background noise—we almost missed it. Did miss it. Only saw it after the fact. Bruce narrowed it down to Steve's block."

Her blood ran cold. "You think the twins took him." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Got it in one. Come in?"

Natasha had spoken to Steve after New Delhi. He was sympathetic to the twins' situation, but that didn't make them good people. They had an axe to grind and a suite of powers that would make them an absolute nightmare to deal with if they took the initiative and made a serious run at Tony. If the Maximoffs played it smart, isolated them one at a time… first Steve, who would be next?

Wanda's powers, in particular, were a serious concern. Nat had had more than her fill of mind control back when Clint had been controlled by Loki using the sceptre and Wanda's mind-bending abilities were that all over again. If Steve was compromised, they might be in a lot of trouble.

"We'll swing by his apartment first, we might spot something you missed."

"'We'?" Tony asked dubiously.

"I'll explain later." She hung up and looked over at Jones, a calculating expression on her face. "How are you with missing persons cases?"

 

[Darkcore41]

Does she get tired making the same mistakes. At a certain point it isn't realistic but the definition of insanity.

She never sits down and thinks why, what and how. Just the first stage of the plan. Or how her actions effect things over all.

 

[esp]

So after she helps out Steve and it hopefully goes okay, of course the next step is to help the rest of the Avengers with their side stories. Like give Odin to Thor, point Natasha at the Red Room and watch Tony stress out. Cuz obviously Natasha is right and she's isolating Tony.

 

[ptbptb]

Oh man. Best case scenario, Wanda returns Cap and Bucky - they are both locked up while SHEILD tries to work out how to remove their "brainwashing"

Worst case scenario, Wanda and Cap both got caught by HYDRA (or otherwise detained) while trying to retrieve Bucky. For bonus points, Pietro panics when they don't return quickly and makes a semi-suicidal attack run on Iron Man.

Bucky was actually a good idea, but the best bet would have been for Wanda to go there without Cap, work out exactly where 'there' is, and give the location to Cap for the Avengers to get him back as a good will gesture.

 

[Lain]

Nice!

Not all changes she's making are negative or biting her in the ass! Yet.

 

[Slow Learner]

Does she get tired making the same mistakes. At a certain point it isn't realistic but the definition of insanity.

She never sits down and thinks why, what and how. Just the first stage of the plan. Or how her actions effect things over all.

Click to shrink...

Infinity Ultron, "Sorry Wanda, but the watcher is indisposed right now. I heard you call for help, and I do need a new sidekick."

 

[Razefire]

Infinity Ultron, "Sorry Wanda, but the watcher is indisposed right now. I heard you call for help, and I do need a new sidekick."

Click to shrink...

Just imagined Reddington James Spader saying that, so thank you for that.

 

[lars573]

You know I'm starting to wonder how much the Mind stone might be subtly pushing her to not think things through enough. I get she can't deal with her trauma like at all, it explains almost all of her impulsive flitting from plan to plan for help. And that little bit of recklessness seems like it might be stone induced.

 

[Centergg]

I fear what Pietro is already captured by Hydra
P.S. Mind Stone was cosplaying Shard all along

 

[Lexical]

Oh man. Best case scenario, Wanda returns Cap and Bucky - they are both locked up while SHEILD tries to work out how to remove their "brainwashing"

Worst case scenario, Wanda and Cap both got caught by HYDRA while trying to retrieve Bucky. For bonus points, Pietro panics when they don't return quickly and makes a semi-suicidal attack run on Iron Man.

Click to shrink...

At this point, isn't Bucky on his own just laying low after the winter soldier movie? HYDRA shouldn't have any more of any idea where he is than Steve does. This actually should just be an easy in easy out, w.r.t. finding him, removing trigger phrases, and getting back.

But yeah, depending on how the return is handled, this probably will send the Avengers into new levels of paranoia.

 

[6f5e4d]

Read up on a lot of stuff in this fic. Seems the main character still has a lot of hurdles to overcome, but hopefully, she can overcome them before they overcome her.

 

[johnwedd]

Does she get tired making the same mistakes. At a certain point it isn't realistic but the definition of insanity.

She never sits down and thinks why, what and how. Just the first stage of the plan. Or how her actions effect things over all.

Click to shrink...

she doesn't want to be the Isekai murderhobo. she wants to be the heroic underdog

 

[Darkcore41]

she doesn't want to be the Isekai murderhobo. she wants to be the heroic underdog

Click to shrink...

Sorry I'm not seeing the relation between impulse control and being heroic?

 

[Seraph282]

I've been thinking and I actually understand and sympathize with the character more than I did earlier.

She's got the entire Avengers on her ass at the moment. Including both Banner and Stark who are refining methods to track her down.

Either one of the insular and powerful organizations she tried and failed to ally with would have allowed her somewhere to fall asleep without keeping a sling ring in one hand and the mind stone in the other.

Also her loot from the failed diplomacy checks is incredibly valuable so its not like she's only taking losses.

Also it's hilarious that she failed at returning stolen vibranium so hard that she ended up stealing a different pile of vibranium and a much more significant artifact.

I can only imagine a hypothetical future where she's somehow on speaking terms with Wakanda again and she tries to return the stolen spears only to be asked to relinquish the power of the herb and in the ensuing fight steal back the spears as well as a Panther Habit.

 

[mythSSK]

Chapter 14

"Do you know me?" Steve asked softly.

There was a hesitant pause before the man across from us answered. "You're Steve. I read about you in a museum." He seemed unsteady, as though the mere sight of us had shaken him even beyond the usual shock of having someone suddenly appear in your apartment.

Steve kept his tone level and calm. "I know you're nervous and you have plenty of reason to be. But you're lying."

James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes's eyes rapidly darted around the studio apartment. "How did you…" he trailed off, unsure how to phrase the question. We'd stepped in through a portal behind him as he'd been putting some groceries away in his ancient-looking fridge.

I shot him a smile and raised a hand. "Sorry, that was me. Magic portal," I said, looking around.

The wallpaper was yellowed and peeling, the tiles on the splashback of the small kitchenette were badly chipped, with several almost completely missing. All of the windows were papered over with newspaper, the thin barrier letting some light in but completely obscuring the outside world from view. At the front door, a salvaged wooden pallet leaned against the wall next to shelves made of a collection of loose planks and grey cinderblocks.

"Where are we, anyway?" I asked and Bucky blinked at the question, slightly confused. "What city?" I clarified.

"Bucharest."

I 'hmm'ed quietly. Steve glanced at me for a moment before turning his attention back to Bucky. "You pulled me from the river. Why?" As he spoke, he leant down slowly, putting down his shield and propping it up against the wall next to a rusted radiator. He took a cautious step forward, one hand outstretched, palm up, like you might approach a wild animal.

Bucky took a matching step back toward the front door, keeping his stance wide and his centre of gravity low, ready to respond to an attack or turn tail and run in an instant. "I don't know." He looked distressed.

"Yes, you do."

There was another tense moment where nobody spoke. After a few seconds, Bucky deflated slightly. "I don't remember everything. It's… hazy. Like a dream. Like it happened to someone else."

"What do you remember?" Steve pressed.

"…your mom's name was Sarah. You used to wear newspapers in your shoes." His features softened, a wistful smile crossing his face, and he let out a soft chuckle.

Steve smiled back. "Can't read that in a museum."

Bucky's face stilled, tension suddenly returning, and he looked down at the floor. "You should leave. It's not safe to be around me." I saw the fingers of his metal hand, mostly hidden by the sleeve of his jacket, ball into a fist.

"I'm not going anywhere, Buck."

I touched Steve on the shoulder, stepping lightly past him to get Bucky's attention. "It's the HYDRA programming, right? What they made you."

"Everything HYDRA put inside me is still there," he ground out. "I'm dangerous."

"Someone just has to come in, say the right activation phrases and you'll be him again. The Winter Soldier."

He nodded slowly, a pained expression on his face.

"I think I can fix you," I said. "Make it so you never have to become like that ever again."

"Wanda, I don't…" Steve started, eyes widening slightly in alarm.

"I can. You know I can. You remember what happened in New Delhi? That was just me doing something on the spur of the moment." I met his gaze challengingly, silently willing him to agree. "If I sit down with him properly, I can go in and scrub out what HYDRA put there. He can just be Bucky again. You trusted me once already to find him. You can trust me with this, too."

"I don't know you," Bucky said.

"I'm hoping to change that. I'm a friend. I know what you've been through and I want to help."

Steve looked back and forth between Bucky and me, brow furrowed. "I don't know if that's a good idea. Whatever they did to his head, it'd be better for him to see a doctor," he hedged.

I paused, scrambling slightly for a convincing response, but both of us were caught off guard by Bucky's snort. "A doctor's not going to be able to fix me," he said bitterly.

Nodding, I carefully took a couple of steps forward. Bucky didn't move away, but I wasn't sure if that's because he was okay with letting me get closer or if it was only because he was running out of room to back up into. "I know what you mean. HYDRA had me, too. Experimented on me, tried to turn me into a weapon. I still have nightmares sometimes about what they did."

Memories of nights spent curled up in a ball, crying until I passed out from exhaustion, my body in so much pain I could barely move, rose in my mind unbidden. The feeling of being trapped. A tearing sensation. The squelch of soggy meat. The satisfaction in Dr List's voice. I realised tears were threatening the corners of my eyes and I hastily rubbed them away, banishing the unwanted thoughts. It wasn't that bad, I told myself. I was just using the shared experience to connect with him, that's all. Back into the vault. Kerplunk.

"…I don't know if I can be fixed."

"We can try," I said, taking another step toward him. I was standing close enough that I could reach out and touch him now, if I tried to. "Isn't trying better? Otherwise, what's the point of all of this? Why run from HYDRA if they've already won?"

Bucky raised his eyes from the floor and looked at me, searching my features for… something. I'm not sure what. His gaze flicked over to Steve briefly before he nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Okay?" I asked. When he nodded again, I turned to look back at Steve. "Okay?"

My companion's expression was hard to read. On the one hand, he seemed extremely reluctant to let me go poking around in his friend's head. On the other, there was a distinct hunger there, like the conflicting emotions of a starving man when presented with a plate of possibly-poisoned food. After a few moments, he inclined his head a fraction. "Okay."

A few minutes later, Bucky and I sat knee-to-knee on a pair of wooden chairs that had been retrieved from under a tiny table that rested against the far wall of the studio apartment. Nearby, Steve sat on the edge of Bucky's bed, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, watching intently.

"Close your eyes," I instructed him. "Relax your muscles. Try to clear your mind, if you can. Don't think of anything in particular." I'd never done this before, of course, so I had no idea if 'clearing his mind' would actually make this any easier, but it just seemed like the right sort of thing to say. If Steve started to think I had no idea what I was doing and put a stop to this, I'd miss my shot.

Bucky complied, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths. I did the same, raising my hands to frame the pendant at my neck between my fingers. Off to the side, I heard Steve inhale sharply as I channelled magic into the Mind Stone. At once, my consciousness expanded outward and I could sense the two of them as brilliant points of light in my awareness.

I concentrated on Bucky in front of me, pushing forward into his mind and narrowing my focus until the brightness of his thoughts surrounded me. Instead of reaching for his senses or disturbing his surface thoughts, as I'd done with others, I plunged deeper in, diving into the depths and utterly submerging myself in his mind.

I wasn't sure exactly what I was looking for—I was mostly just hoping I'd know it when I saw it. Pouring more of myself into him, I struggled for a moment to make sense of the swirling morass of light around me. It seemed to have an internal structure or texture to it, but I couldn't really understand what I was looking at. As I focused, trying to grasp it, it suddenly snapped into a form I could comprehend and I found myself seemingly elsewhere.

I could tell that what was around me wasn't real. Well, 'not real' wasn't exactly accurate either. It was real in a sense, but what I was seeing and feeling was a product of my own mind's interpretation of Bucky's. Or maybe it was his mind's interpretation of itself? Reply hazy, try again later. Either way, while there was a distinct dissonance between my senses and how I was perceiving the inside of Bucky's mind, nevertheless I found myself standing in a long corridor in some sort of facility. My awareness of my physical body was dulled but still present, similar to when I'd projected myself using with the Mind Stone.

The walls and floor looked like solid concrete, pockmarked and dulled with a layer of grime. Steel grates set into the floor ran along the edges of the walls, bundles of power cables running below them. Several doors lined the corridor as it stretched off in either direction—thick, steel affairs set deep into the concrete. Between them were other small features—a series of what looked like emergency lights, currently off, speakers for a PA system, and the occasional boxy security camera. Was this built from a memory of a HYDRA facility? A place where Bucky had been kept as the Winter Soldier, maybe?

Cautiously stepping over to the closest door, I reached out and pulled at the handle. Locked. I briefly considered trying to bust it open but, when it came down to it, it was too risky. I had no idea what this all represented. If these corridors were Bucky's mind, damaging a door might inadvertently damage him somehow. Maybe the doors were locked for a reason. Or maybe he was behind one? Either way, I'd be better off doing some exploring and trying to get a better understanding of this place first before I did anything rash.

I picked a direction at random and started walking, following the corridor and staying alert to any signs of movement. Passing a pair of side passages, I paused to look down each one before continuing. After a while, I reached a T intersection and, after inspecting my options and not seeing any discernible difference between them, turned left and kept walking.

This place wasn't what I was expecting at all. In the original timeline, the only time we got a peek at someone's mental landscape like this was Wanda's herself, a mostly featureless white void with only a small section of ruined building in it. Then again, that was the mind of a Wanda that had been suppressed and trapped inside herself, artificially limited by the dreamwalker that was possessing her.

Bucky's mind, by contrast, felt both enormous and tiny at the same time. The corridors seemed to go on forever, and, when I looked up, instead of a roof the walls of the facility stretched an impossibly far distance above me, eventually ending in what looked like a blank white void. I had a feeling that, were I capable of flight, from the top I'd see a labyrinth—an endless maze of corridors and rooms stretching to the horizon.

Despite the open space above me, the corridors felt tight and claustrophobic, the walls looming oppressively above me. There was a pressure to the air, the same way that there was when you were deep underground, knowing there were thousands of tons of rock above you. I'd been inside the Great Pyramid of Giza once in my former life, as part of a tour group, and I got the same feeling of weight here as I did there.

My ears pricked up as I heard a soft thunk up ahead. Breaking into a quick jog, I rounded a corner just in time to see a steel door gently swing closed, as if someone on the other side were trying to make as little noise as possible. I lunged at it, grabbing the handle just before it finished closing. There was a gasp of surprise and fear from the other side and the door resisted my attempt to open it as someone fought to pull it the last centimetre closed from the inside.

In what might be one of my least graceful moments recently, I braced a foot on the wall next to the doorframe and yanked on the door as hard as I could. I had managed to muscle it open a few inches when the resistance on the other side stopped and the door flung open completely, sending me stumbling back. Clinging helplessly to the handle, I was only just barely successful in my attempt to not fall on my ass.

Once I'd gotten my feet back under me, I darted through the open doorway into a darkened room, casting my eyes around to spot my unseen quarry. It looked like some sort of ancient computer lab with large, blocky workstations covered in dials and trays of punchcards, and a series of huge magnetic tape reels dominating one wall. The omnipresent light of the corridor seemed to follow me into the room, brightening it as I stepped inside, eyes and ears straining for any hint of movement.

The barely audible sound of something scraping on the floor beneath a desk tucked behind one of the workstations caught my attention and I carefully circled around, bending down just enough to look under it from a distance. My gaze was met by a pair of frightened eyes that flinched, then softened slightly in puzzlement as their owner took in my appearance.

"Bucky?" I ventured.

His eyes flew open in panic again and he slammed a finger against his lips, shushing me. I held up my hands, palms outward, then stepped closer to him. As I drew within grabbing distance, Bucky lunged out and seized me by the forearm, forcefully pulling me under the table with him. I let him—narrowly managing to avoid braining myself on the edge of the table—and hunkered down shoulder-to-shoulder with him. Now that I was closer, I could see his face looked a little younger and less weathered, and that the hand he'd grabbed me with was the only one he had. Instead of a metal arm, the left sleeve of what I now recognised was a dark green military-style shirt hung limp and empty.

"Bucky?" I asked again, whispering this time.

"You shouldn't be in here," he hissed quietly, his words barely audible. "He's coming."

"Who's coming? The Winter Soldier?"

He shot me a fearful look and nodded. "He's always nearby. I—" He went to say something but stopped, his head jerking back as he listened. Just on the verge of my perception, I heard quiet but even footsteps coming down the corridor. Bucky looked back at me, knuckles whitening as he held my arm in a death grip. "You didn't close the door," he said, his tone laced with horror.

I reached over with my free hand to pry his fingers off my arm and he let go, still looking at me with an expression like I'd just murdered his family in front of him. Extricating myself from under the table, I stood up just in time to see the Winter Soldier enter the room. He paused just inside the doorway, his stance wide as he regarded me with a cold, dispassionate expression. If he was surprised to see me, he didn't show it.

It was Bucky, but it wasn't. The Soldier was taller—larger than life, well over six feet—and outfitted in black body armour under a military harness, with a mask covering the bottom half of his face. One sleeve was missing from the outfit, in order to fully show off the arm made of overlapping bands of metal, a bright red star emblazoned on the shoulder.

"Sorry, soldier boy." I smirked, raising my hands. "I'm afraid you're not the scariest thing in here anymore."

He was already moving before I finished my sentence, ducking catlike to one side and reaching to his waist to draw a machine pistol and train it on me in one fluid motion. He squeezed the trigger and the weapon spat a stream of bullets, the sound echoing violently in the confined space. The projectiles deflected harmlessly off my already-conjured shield, robbed of their momentum. To his credit, he didn't seem fazed and closed the gap between us, dropping the pistol and whipping out a large combat knife. I dodged back from the first two swings and caught his arm with a flicker of telekinetic energy on the third, but he simply dropped the knife into his waiting empty hand, reversing the grip and trying to disembowel me with a vicious backslash.

I was fairly certain that he would have caught me with that trick, too, if my reflexes hadn't been heightened by the Heart-Shaped Herb. As it was, I dodged back again and the blade narrowly missed my gut. My power bubbled up inside me and I thrust my hands toward him, lifting him bodily off the ground with telekinetic power and slamming him backwards into the wall next to the door. He struggled, but couldn't break free from the web of red chaos magic that held him immobile.

"It's safe," I said, ducking down to peer under the desk. "Come out."

Cautiously, Bucky emerged from his hiding space, looking disbelievingly between me and the Winter Soldier, pinned to the concrete like an insect caught on flypaper. He shook his head with a scoff. "It's not safe. Never safe. I've beaten him before. He won't stop."

I nodded. "Well then, let's stop him permanently."

Stepping over to the Winter Soldier, I reached out and pulled a handgun free from the holster strapped to his leg. I cocked it, flicked off the safety, pointed it at my captive, and paused to take a deep breath. This wasn't real, I reminded myself. It was only a representation of what was happening inside Bucky's head. A metaphor. I wasn't about to shoot someone; I was erasing the Winter Soldier persona so that he could move on. Even knowing that, my hand trembled a little and squeezing the trigger took a lot more effort than I'd been hoping it would. The sound of the gun going off seemed deafening, echoing down the corridors of Bucky's mind. The second and third shots were easier. He jerked and spasmed with each impact, then was gone, vanishing between blinks of my eyes.

Turning back to Bucky, I frowned slightly when I saw him still shaking his head. "What?"

"It's not that simple. You think he'd go away that easily? He'll be back. He always comes back."

Both of us flinched in surprise as the ancient PA system crackled to life, Russian words spoken by an unfamiliar voice echoing through the facility. "Желание. Ржавый."

Bucky's eyes widened in terror, pupils shrinking to pinpricks as he rounded on me. "What did you do?!"

"Семнадцать. Рассвет."

I looked around in alarm as the words continued. "Uh, I'm guessing that isn't normal?"

"Печь. Девять."

Bucky dropped to the floor, clutching at the side of his head. "He's coming," he ground out, spitting the words through gritted teeth.

"Добросердечный. Возвращение на Родину."

Backing up a few paces, I readied myself. Was Bucky about to turn into the Winter Soldier? Or did he mean he was coming from outside again? I moved so that I could watch both the man on his knees in the middle of the room as well as the open door. This shouldn't be a problem. Restraining the Winter Soldier had been easy enough. All I needed to do was stay alert and catch him again as soon as he showed up, then I could reassess.

"Один. Товарный вагон."

As the final word was spoken, the omnipresent lighting died and the room was plunged into darkness. A fraction of a second later the emergency lights kicked in, casting everything in a harsh red glare. Bucky had dropped his hand to his side, sagging down in defeat. Several seconds crawled by in tense silence before the stillness was broken by the sound of footsteps echoing in the corridor outside the room once more. I nodded to myself, feeling confident, and went to say something to Bucky to reassure him. Suddenly, however, I found myself unable to breathe—let alone speak—as a crushing vice clamped down on my windpipe.

I flailed impotently in surprise, reached up to claw at my throat as the pressure increased. In a panic, I flung myself away from Bucky's mind and reached for my connection to my own body. Back in his apartment, my eyes flew open to see a familiar cold, dispassionate expression inches away from my face, metal fingers digging into my flesh as the Winter Soldier tried to choke the life from me.



--



T'Challa entered his father's study, closing the door behind him. The king, his father, stood up from his desk with a small smile as he approached him. "T'Challa."

Holding out his arms, he embraced him briefly before retreating a step. "The briefs on the Red Woman and her brother have been circulated to all War Dogs. They will be found." He found himself scowling as he said the words, a burning anger rising in his chest. Wanda had threatened his father, his sister, and then just walked away. She would not escape his grasp. He would repay every word, every gesture.

"We must tread carefully. Their powers cannot be underestimated. Have we received any information confirming the details of her warning?"

A flash of annoyance passed across T'Challa's face. "Baba, I do not know why you are so willing to entertain anything that that treacherous woman said." She had lied and manipulated her way into the palace, threatened all of them, and then heaped insult on top of the indignities she had already inflicted by stealing the Heart-Shaped Herb right from their sacred garden. "Our American War Dogs have confirmed the existence of the man the Red Woman spoke of—this Erik Stevens. The Killmonger," he grudgingly admitted.

King T'Chaka nodded slowly to himself, a heavy weight seeming to settle on his shoulders. Suddenly, he looked older. Vulnerable. Why had the Red Woman's words shaken his father so?

"My son," his father said finally. "There is something I must tell you. A secret I have kept for too long."

"Baba?"

"My brother took a War Dog assignment in America." As he spoke, he walked slowly over to the window, looking out over the shining skyline of Birnin Zana. "I placed Zuri there to observe, unbeknownst to him. N'Jobu was my brother, and it gave me peace to know that he was being watched over. However… he fell in love with an American woman. They had a child."

T'Challa inhaled sharply at that. "She was telling the truth? I have a cousin?" It seemed that a devil like her could wield the truth as a weapon as easily as a lie, after all.

"The hardships your uncle saw there radicalised him. He believed strongly that Wakanda should provide vibranium weapons to those that suffered, so they could fight back against their oppressors, but knew I would not support him. So he betrayed us. He betrayed Wakanda."

"No!" T'Chaka flinched back.

"N'Jobu helped Klaue steal the vibranium. It was his plot."

The prince felt his face growing hot, a hoarseness to his voice that wasn't there before. "No, no, no…"

"I went to him. Confronted him. I only intended to take him home—to make him face the council, inform them of his crimes." His father paused, looking sadly back toward him. "He would not allow it. He drew a weapon. I killed him."

It felt like T'Chaka had been punched in the gut. He looked at his father—how could this be? How could he have killed his own brother?

"And the child?" he asked. Though he already knew the answer, he needed to hear his father admit to it.

"We left him."

"Why? Why didn't you bring the boy home?" A few moments passed in silence, his father simply hanging his head in shame. "Why, Baba?"

"He… he was the truth I chose to omit."

"You abandoned him."

"I chose our people. I chose Wakanda. Our future depended on Wakanda remaining hidden. Remaining strong. N'Jobu was dead. It would have served no purpose to sully his memory except to weaken us."

T'Challa's emotions raged beneath the surface—anger, disbelief, sadness. This was all too much. His jaw worked silently for a few moments before he ground out his next words. "The Red Woman… she spoke so cryptically because she knew what you had done. How? How is that possible?"

"I do not know."

"This man, this Killmonger. He is a monster of your making. You were wrong to abandon him. We must take responsibility. We must right this wrong."

"T'Challa…"

"I will find my cousin. I will bring him home."

His father's expression was grave. "The Red Woman spoke of things she could not know. What if she was right about the threat he poses, as well?"

T'Challa set his jaw stubbornly. "I will find the truth. I will bring him home. And if he is truly beyond reason, if he is lost to the hate in his heart… then I will do what must be done."

 

[Absolute_Flaw]

Wanda: 'How difficult could it be?'
Programming: 'well, about that… hey, wanna find out what dying in a mindscape is like?'
Wanda: 'wha-'

 

[Darkcore41]

Saying anything about what she just did would just be repetitive. She's just lucky her power carries her and can do anything she imagines. Otherwise she could hurt people being sure of what she can do.

Edit: Also come on they rewrite history in Wakanda? Sure she made a big mistake but their bodyguard threatened them first for keeping secrets.

The threat to hurt them only cap after they made an attack. Wanda should have just wiped the royal family completely.

 

[JohnDoe22]

Thanks for the chapter!

 

[Where'sMySword]

Wanda: "The risk I took was calculated, but boy am I bad at math!"

 

[Martin Bajar]

Wanda: "The risk I took was calculated, but boy am I bad at math!"

Click to shrink...

honestly, I do believe she has dyscalculia, nothing else would explain how bad she is at math

 

[Stark40763]

The threat to hurt them only came after they made an attack. Wanda should have just wiped the royal family completely.

Click to shrink...

Yeah, because wiping out a country's Beloved Royal Family is gonna make you friends. That would be like wiping out Britain's Royal Family and being surprised when SAS Teams are sent after you...

No, at least there's a hope of Redemption, at least in the future. Though probably should have told them about Namor and his people though...

 

[Darkcore41]

Yeah, because wiping out a country's Beloved Royal Family is gonna make you friends. That would be like wiping out Britain's Royal Family and being surprised when SAS Teams are sent after you...

No, at least there's a hope of Redemption, at least in the future. Though probably should have told them about Namor and his people though...

Click to shrink...

Nah they 100 percent deserve that one.

Who said we wanted to be friends. Destroy the royal family, break the shields and Wakanda ceases to be a threat. No risk to your life but being too nice.

Edit: I was joking initially but when I think about it, it's MCU Wakanda. They're easy to break.