As Wanda sprinted to the opposite end of test area, she made it a point to look around her, taking careful note of the layout on both sides of the street. This would be the only 'free pass' where she could take stock of the terrain before being fired upon. Sam and Clint had left her with several areas on either side of the street where she could take cover, deep recessed doorways, faux stairwells, even a few parked cars. Even so, she somehow had to traverse the street, in the open, multiple times, carrying hostages - essentially dead weight - and there would be no warning of any attack. By the time she heard a shot, the paintball would have already found its target. So, how to get herself and the hostages to safety?
The 'hostage room' had been placed on the third 'floor' deliberately; Sam wanted to force Wanda to fly as part of this exercise, and often. That part was easy enough. She could float herself up to the third story window and descend, almost without effort. Once she emerged from the safe room, however, she and her rescued family member would become targets. How do I make myself not a target? Wanda wondered.
Clint had told her that part of the exercise was seeing what kinds of solutions she would come up with for this scenario. But for the moment, she hadn't any idea, apart from continually racing back and forth along the street, hoping she could use her energy shields and the surrounding terrain to protect her from a 'kill shot'. She was certain that strategy would prove fruitless in the long term. But she still wasn't sure how else to proceed.
Reaching the end of the street, she lifted her arms from her sides, and let a gentle burst of ruby-red energy carry her aloft. She reached the open window in seconds, and clambered inside. As soon as she emerged again, she would be a target. The 'room' wasn't anything more than an extension of the catwalk, but it had been walled off, so Wanda had no view of the rest of the facade; she would have no idea where Clint might be lurking in wait for her. The 'hostages' - five crash test dummies - had been loosely propped up against the wall.
Take one of the children first, Wanda thought to herself. She had no rationale for that decision other than, for a first run, it would be easier to gauge her strength while lifting the weight of a child; and, the thought that any parent who was conscious would surely plead with her to carry the children away to safety first. She would need to leave at least one arm free, however. She needed to stabilize her 'flight' down to the sidewalk, and also be able to throw up an energy shield for protection the moment she landed. She wondered if she could extend a shield while in flight. She thought she probably could - but, she had never tried to do that before.
She hefted the smallest of the mannequins in her arms. As she expected, it was about sixty pounds of dead weight. Fortunately, she was able to hoist the 'child' cradled in one arm, with the upper torso draped over her shoulder. Wanda regarded the open window warily. Now the fun begins, she thought to herself.
Radiating energy to keep herself from simply falling to the street, Wanda launched herself through the window. She reached the street in two, perhaps three seconds, but she hadn't given herself enough buoyancy; the landing was too hard, and sent an unpleasant reverberating shock running up through her ankles and knees. She remembered Clint's strident warning about protecting herself, and was suddenly glad she'd allowed him to tape her ankles. The moment she was down, she created an "umbrella" of her signature energy wave. It would provide adequate protection from any overhead attacks, but she was having difficulty extending the shield downwards, to also protect her from any attacks at street level. There was no time to waste, however. Shifting the weight of the mannequin in her arms, Wanda began to sprint towards the other end of the street, praying she was sufficiently guarded for the first run.
She made it half-way across the distance without a single shot being fired, and she began to worry. Why wasn't anyone firing on her? What were they planning?
Wanda didn't stop running, but as she got close to the end, Clint simply stepped out of a doorway in front of her, gun sights raised. Wanda froze - and she knew as soon as she did so, it was a costly mistake. Clint shook his head sadly, and fired.
The pellet impacted on the protective vest with surprising force, and Wanda was knocked off-balance. She dropped the mannequin and went sprawling into the street. Groaning, she pushed herself up on one elbow. The shot was perfectly centered, leaving a blotch of bright red paint right over her heart.
Clint tutted in genuine disappointment. "Damn," he murmured softly. "That was one expensive shot."
"Expensive?" Wanda winced.
"Just cost me a bottle of bourbon. A nice one. Cease fire," he called out in a loud voice, and the buzzer sounded again, indicating the end of the round.
"Why weren't you guys firing on me?" Wanda asked, getting to her feet.
Clint snorted. "What do you call that big hole in your chest?"
"You know what I mean. I almost made it."
"Almost being the operative word."
"I thought you guys were going to open fire the moment I stepped out of the window."
"That could still happen. Probably will," Clint replied. "This isn't a video arcade, Wanda. Some rounds might have a hundred shots. Others, just one. Always, always keep your eyes open, look at what's around you. Be aware of your surroundings at all times. Especially when you're caught out in the open. You never know where and when you might need to duck for cover." He gave her a sympathetic smile. "Ready to try again?"
"I guess so. Ugh." Wanda stretched out gingerly. "You're right about those pellets. They really sting. I'm glad you made me get padded up."
"Paintball is one of the most ugly, vicious and brutal games ever devised by man," Clint declared. "It brings out the absolute worst in everyone."
"Which is why you love it so much," Wanda retorted.
"Well, duh," Clint grinned. He picked up the mannequin and slung it over his shoulder. "Okay, park yourself on the rear of the van. Catch your breath. Soon as I put this dummy back in position, we'll go again."
"Swell," Wanda groaned. She walked over to the van and slumped dejectedly on the bumper. Well, that was an epic fail, she scolded herself. What will you do for an encore?
The radio in her headset crackled again.
"Fifteen seconds," Sam's voice warned her.
"Copy," Wanda answered, pushing herself upright, shaking out her arms and taking in a couple of deep breaths. She was also keenly aware that each sprint was going to sap more and more of her energy, so the longer this went on, the less effective she'd become. There had to be some way to complete the mission before she exhausted herself.
The buzzer sounded again, and taking a deep breath, Wanda launched herself back into the street. She had barely crossed a few yards before the Redwing drone swooped down on her from the rafters above.
Yelping with surprise, Wanda dropped to one knee, raising her crossed arms up over her head, generating the most powerful energy shield she knew how to create. And she did so just in time - the drone bore down on her with astonishing speed, and unloaded its entire magazine of paintballs in the space of a few seconds. The paint splattered and steamed against the barrier created by Wanda's energy wave. It rained down and coated almost everything around her - the street, a parked car, a storefront. The drone lifted up and soared away, programmed to retrieve another full magazine from somewhere behind the facade. Wanda scrambled to her feet, and pelted for the end of the street at a dead run. She saw Clint aiming for her from a second story window, and she threw up a shield just in time to protect herself from another kill shot. He knows exactly where to shoot, Wanda realized with a shudder. I bet he never misses.
A paintball went hurtling past Wanda's right shoulder, so close she could feel as much as hear the 'sizzle' of its velocity as it passed. Sam must have been laying in wait for her to pass by, and then try to catch her from behind. By some miracle, the shot had missed. Not breaking stride, Wanda launched herself into the air, and sailed into the safe room where the mannequins were patiently awaiting rescue.
Panting heavily, Wanda stayed on her hands and knees for a moment. She'd made it through the first gauntlet. She realized this exercise might even be fun - if only she could find someway to even the odds, or at least turn them slightly in her favor.
Slowly, she pushed herself up on one knee. Just make it with this first one, she told herself. Get one hostage safe across the finish line. It will all come together after that. Or at least get easier.
She reached over to grab the nearest mannequin. She hoisted it to her shoulder as before, staring at the window. She wasn't going to get a free pass this time, she was sure of that. But there was only one way out. Through the window and down. She frowned. Maybe she could try flying to the opposite side of the street? That might catch Sam and Clint off guard. She couldn't sail in through another window, that was out of bounds. Her best option was straight down, fast as she could go, shielding herself as best she could.
Taking a deep breath, she cocooned herself in energy bands, and dove out the window. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Clint targeting her from about four windows over. She tried to twist herself out of the way, and also keep her shield pointed towards him, but she was too slow. The paintball exploded harmlessly on her energy shield, but Wanda was thrown off-balance, and she fell, unprotected, towards the street.
The crash pad deployed perfectly, and Wanda landed on her back in soft, cushioning foam. The fall didn't even really knock the wind out of her. But she lay unmoving where she fell, spread-eagled on the mat, burning with frustration. How do I beat this?!
She could hear Clint's voice calling out hoarsely, "Cease fire!" - and moments later, Clint and Sam were bending over her, their concern plainly visible on their faces. She glared up at both of them in disgust.
"I hate you," Wanda declared emphatically.
Clint sighed with relief; only Wanda's pride was hurt. He pointed innocently at Sam.
"Just him, or -?"
"BOTH of you!" Wanda shouted.
"No, you don't," Sam replied, imperturbably. "Come on, rookie. On your feet."
He held out a hand, and after a moment, Wanda took it, and Sam effortlessly pulled her up.
"You know what this means," he said.
"I know, I know. I'm dead, the people I'm trying to rescue are dead, everybody's dead. AARGGHH!" She shrieked in aggravation.
"Suck it up, rookie. We haven't even started in on you yet."
"And please stop calling me that," Wanda said. "It's really annoying."
"Oh? What should we call you, princess?"
"She does need a proper field alias at some point," Clint pointed out.
"Let Maria handle that. Sounds like the XO's job to me."
"As long as she doesn't choose what Stark calls her... ohh, crap."
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Clint knew he'd made a horrible mistake. Sam glared at him in genuine anger. Wanda stared at Clint.
"Tony Stark has a name for me? What does he call me?" she asked, genuinely curious.
Clint made a grimace of embarrassment. "Uhh..."
"Don't look at me, Barton," Sam snorted. "You put your foot in your own damn mouth. I ain't pulling it out for you."
"What does Tony Stark call me?" Wanda repeated her question insistently. "Clint, what does he call me?"
Clint sighed. There was no escaping from this faux pas.
"He calls you... the Scarlet Witch," he admitted finally.
Wanda's jaw dropped. "The Scarlet...?"
"Because, when you use your powers, your eyes and your hair get all... well, you know." Clint made a helpless gesture, waving his hands near his face. Wanda stared at him, speechless.
"Oh, nice going, Barton," Sam snorted angrily. "You kick puppies, too?"
"The Scarlet Witch..." Wanda mulled that over thoughtfully. "I like it," she decided, after a moment's consideration.
Clint stared at her, dumbfounded. "You do?"
"Yeah. It fits me."
"You must be joking."
"Seriously. You want that as your field alias?" Sam asked in bewilderment.
"Sure, why not? It's no worse than the 'Black Widow' or 'Captain America'. Or 'The Falcon'," she gave Sam a mischievous grin.
"That's the name of the rescue suit, not..." Sam gave up with an irritated grunt. "Okay. Fine. Whatever. We hereby dub thee 'The Scarlet Witch'. Rise, and be valiant. Now, Dame Scarlet, if you wouldn't mind, would you kindly haul your supernatural ass back over to the van, so we can start the next round? Please?"
Wanda gave them both a wicked grin. "Watch out, boys," she warned them. "It's the Scarlet Witch coming after you now. This round will be different. You'll see."
She sprinted away. Sam glared angrily at Clint.
"I got half a mind to start shooting at you, instead of her," he growled.
"It worked out," Clint protested meekly. "She likes the name. How was I to know?"
"Never mind! Get your ass back up on the catwalk! And put those dummies back in position!"
As Clint hurried away, Sam shook his head, muttering angrily to himself. "This is supposed to be a war games exercise, not a freakin' kindergarten class."
Wanda sat on the bumper of the van, thinking furiously. She was going about this all wrong, she was sure of it. And then the answer came to her. It was so obvious, she almost winced.
Of course Sam and Clint hadn't given her a gun. She didn't need one. She had a far more powerful weapon at her disposal - one that no gun could match.
Wanda's mind began to race. If this were a real-world scenario, how would she react? If the bad guys were shooting bullets at her, she certainly wouldn't waste her time trying to dodge the bullets. She would neutralize the shooters first, before even thinking of attempting a rescue of the hostages. Wanda's whole face brightened with inspiration.
"Fifteen seconds," Sam's voice came over the radio.
"Copy," Wanda responded. She raised her hands, red energy bands sparking brightly from her palms. A confident grin pasted itself to her face. Oh, yes, this round was going to end much differently.
The buzzer sounded. Wanda leapt up as if she'd been stung, and charged onto the street, writhing energy bands encircling her arms and hands. As before, the opening attack came from the Redwing drone, who was beginning its initial dive-bombing run.
"Oh, no, you don't!" Wanda growled angrily. "This time, I'm ready for you!"
As the Redwing drone swooped down into firing position, Wanda sprinted backwards in apparent retreat; at the last possible second, she raised her hand and encased the entire drone in an energy bubble - just as it attempted to discharge the entire magazine. In seconds, the bubble was flooded to the top with paint. The paint not only covered the drone and its cameras, but seeped into its intake vents and its propellers. Sensing its propulsion systems had been compromised, the drone shut itself down, and spiraled to the ground.
"Got you!" Wanda grunted in satisfaction. "Choke on that!"
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sam drawing aim on her. She let him. As soon as he fired, she lashed out with an energy band, meeting the paintball and slingshotting it away. Sam raised to fire again, but the grin on his face made his reaction obvious: he was clearly delighted that Wanda had figured out the crucial aspect of winning the round.
Wanda dove across the hood of the nearest car. As she expected, Clint was taking a bead on her from the opposite side of the street, two windows up and to her left. She lashed out with an energy band to force him to retreat from the window; as he ducked, Wanda reached out with her other hand, and ripped a door of the nearest storefront right out of its frame. As she suspected, a cache of paintballs was just sitting there. Well, at no point had Sam or Clint said to her that she couldn't raid the enemy caches for her own use. Using her powers, Wanda scooped up a half-dozen paintballs, and sent them hurtling towards the windows where Sam and Clint were positioned. She could hear Sam exclaim, quite audibly over the radio, "Oh, shit!" - just before the paintballs splattered around the window frames and ledges. Wanda's aim hadn't been perfect, but that didn't matter. Now all the players knew - the Scarlet Witch had finally joined the game.
It was nearly midday when Natasha finally completed the long drive from Manhattan back to the upstate facility. There were several cars parked along the sidewalk as she pulled into the driveway, and even as she got out of the car, she could see several people going to and fro inside the lobby. Happy Hogan, Pepper Stark's personal bodyguard, came hurrying down the steps to meet her.
"Hey, Happy," she greeted him. "What a difference a day makes around here, huh?"
"Hey, Tasha. Welcome home."
"Thanks. I guess this is home now, isn't it? And yeah, it's good to be here. And it's nice to see you," she added. "I'm so glad Pepper was willing to loan you to us for a few days."
"Good to see you too, gorgeous. Can I assume you have a car trunk full of clothes?"
Natasha sighed with chagrin. "Yes, I certainly do. Not to mention the back seat. And the passenger seat."
"You want me to have your luggage delivered direct to your suite?"
"You can do that?" Natasha didn't dare hope she would spared the burden of making several trips from the car with several very heavy garment bags.
"Relax, Tasha," Happy grinned. "You actually have staff on site now. And yeah, we can have someone do the whole bellhop thing for you. Just leave the car here, we'll park it around back for you."
"Happy, you're a lifesaver," Natasha declared with a grateful smile. "I don't suppose you've seen Wanda this morning?"
"Haven't seen her, but I understand she's in the training center, with Barton and Wilson. I wouldn't go in there, though," he cautioned. "They basically hung a big 'do not disturb' on the doors first thing this morning, and nobody's seen or heard from them since."
"Oh, not to worry. I have unrestricted access everywhere," Natasha grinned.
"Okay. It's your neck. I'll let Cap and Maria know you're home."
"Thanks, Happy. I'll catch up with you later."
Natasha hurried inside. She had a nagging suspicion as to what sort of training exercise the men had prepared for Wanda, and she was fully prepared to be outraged about it.
Deciding to bypass the main entrance, she went instead to the observation deck on the third floor, and as soon as she entered, she heard a very familiar and unwelcome sound of air guns discharging paint capsules.
"I'm going to kill them," Natasha seethed, striding angrily across the balcony. "I'm going to skin them alive and mount their hides on my wall!"
As she came up to the guardrail, though, she paused, watching the scene unfolding below. Wanda was striding confidently up the fake street, two mannequins safely encircled in energy bands, while paint balls were flying at her from every direction. Wanda simply had them sailing away from her with a dismissive wave of her hand. Natasha had never seen Wanda expending this much energy when using her power before; even from this distance, she could see that Wanda's eyes were glowing bright red, and her hair was nearly the color of fire, practically lighting up the street of its own accord. The continual energy bolts discharging from her body were almost blinding, lighting up the entire training center like some gargantuan pyrotechnic display. And there was something else. Wanda was laughing. Merrily. Heartily.
"You have to do better than that, boys!" Wanda sang out to her teammates.
Natasha stared in amazement for nearly a full minute, then turned and touched the intercom on the wall. "Steve, Maria, can you report to the observation deck of the training center immediately, please. There's something you need to see."
Steve and Maria arrived a few moments later, just as the next round was starting.
"Hey, Natasha," Maria greeted her. "This is kind of a bad time. We have a whole new crew here right now -"
"I know, but you'll really want to see this." She tilted her head towards the floor below.
They all watched as Wanda navigated the trap-laden street with relative ease, engaging with Sam, Clint and Redwing simultaneously, deflecting their constant attacks, and sending them all diving for cover with some well-placed attacks of her own. Both Steve and Maria could only stare in slack-jawed amazement.
"Holy crap," Maria muttered.
"Admit it, Steve. She's good," Natasha said. "Look how precise her control is. She could probably take on a whole Chitauri invasion force by herself."
"I don't know about that," Steve answered, unable to tear his gaze away, "But she's certainly everything we hoped she'd be."
As the exercise reached its conclusion, Steve nodded to his friends that they should head downstairs. They took the elevator from the balcony, and moments later, were striding across the training center floor, towards the paint-splattered facades.
Clint looked up. "Uh, oh," he murmured to Sam. "We're busted."
Steve came to a stop just at the edge of the street, to keep the soles of his boots from being covered in paint. Sam, Wanda and Clint all straightened up in evident embarrassment, every one of them covered head to toe with paint. Wanda's face lit up with joy at seeing Natasha, but her happiness evaporated when she saw her friend's disapproving scowl.
"Would someone like to explain to me what's going on here?" Steve demanded in a harsh tone.
There was a momentary, awkward pause.
"Uhh, training exercise, Captain," Sam said at last.
"Training exercise?"
"Hostage rescue simulation," Clint managed to answer. "We've, uhh, been evaluating Wanda's ability to assess threats, and her capabilities to neutralize them."
"I see. This is a performance evaluation."
"Uhh... yeah."
"And what is your evaluation of Wanda's performance?"
"On this most recent exercise, all hostages were rescued. All threats neutralized."
"She got a perfect score, Cap," Sam added.
Steve looked down the length of the simulated street. There didn't seem to be an inch of the training area that wasn't dripping with wet paint. He turned to Wanda.
"All right, Wanda, you're dismissed," he told her. "Training's over for today. Go get yourself cleaned up, and get something to eat. It's been a long time since breakfast."
"Yes, sir," Wanda started to turn away.
"You might want to take those boots off first," Steve suggested.
Wanda grinned sheepishly. "Yes, sir."
"Wanda?" Steve called after her, as she began to walk over to the van.
Wanda turned back. "Yes?"
Steve smiled approvingly. "Good job. Well done."
Wanda's face broke out in a radiant smile. "Thank you, Captain."
She retreated to the back of the van to remove her gear and wipe herself off as best she could.
Steve started to turn towards the entrance, and Natasha remonstrated in dismay. "Steve!"
"What?"
"That's it? That's all you're going to say?"
Steve turned back to look at Sam and Clint. They undoubtedly had taken the worst of this particular exercise, each was practically coated head to toe in paint. Only the skin around their eyes where the goggles sat had been spared. He shook his head in disappointment.
"Clean this place up," he ordered. "I want this floor clean enough to eat off of by morning."
"Yes, sir."
Steve turned and left. A moment later, Maria followed, unable to suppress a crocodile grin. She obviously found the whole thing quite amusing. Natasha regarded her two paint-splattered colleagues with obvious disgust.
"I'll deal with you two later," she vowed darkly, then turned on her heel and stalked out, following behind Steve and Maria.
"We're dead, aren't we?" Sam asked Clint.
"Unmarked grave dead," Clint sighed. "And Cap just gave us that look, didn't he?"
"Which look?"
"The look that says, 'you losers just let a teenage girl take you to school'."
"Yeah," Sam admitted. "That was the look, all right."
From somewhere above the ruined facade, a huge glob paint fell from the rafters and splattered on the top Sam's head. He didn't even bother trying to wipe it off.