No. You Move!

XxxxxxX

"Y'all got on this boat for different reasons, but y'all come to the same place. So now I'm asking more of you than I have before. Maybe all. Sure as I know anything, I know this: they will try again. Maybe on another world, maybe on this very ground swept clean. A year from now, ten? They'll swing back to the belief that they can make people… better. And I do not hold to that."

So no more runnin'. I aim to misbehave."

Captain Malcolm Reynolds (Nathan Fillion), "Serenity"

XxxxxxX

Louise stood on the balcony and sighed, completely ignoring the vista that presented itself to her. Even at night, the view from the Royal Palace was beautiful, to be sure. But her mind was on other things that were distracting her from enjoying it as much as she otherwise would.

No one could tell her where Alex was.

Wonder Man – Simon. He said to call him Simon, she thought to herself – told her that Alex had disappeared in some sort of cage of bright yellow light. Just vanished into the ground. Alex hadn't been sighted anywhere since. It was like she'd been erased from the world. She sighed again.

"All right, enough moping." A woman's voice said, loud enough to be heard over the street traffic below the balcony. "You've been standing there sighing and staring at the lake for ten minutes now. It just isn't healthy." Louise turned toward the speaker. Natasha Romanova – the Black Widow – stood in the doorway holding on to a garment bag. Stark had assigned the Widow as Louise's personal watchdog-slash-bodyguard and told the pair to get the hell out of the United States until the crisis was over.

The American government had declared the Avengers who had rescued her wanted terrorists, and was offering a hefty reward for their capture. While Louise wasn't convinced that they were safe, Mr. Stark had told her that at the very least, no one in the government of Wakanda would respond to American demands for their return, even if they were spotted.

One of the benefits of being a friend of the King, Stark had said. They were staying within the sanctuary offered by the Kingdom of Wakanda as guests of King T'Challa Bashenga and his new bride, Queen Ororo. The castle had an exotic sense of luxury, different from what she'd seen for her own eyes in American hotels, and in European hotels in movies. There was artwork everywhere, and it had an exotic edge since it wasn't the usual European classics.

Officially, she and Natasha were the Dorchev sisters, Nedelya and Milka, daughters of a wealthy Bulgarian magnate. Louise had even changed her hair to match that of the Widow. Louise never questioned where the apparently real Bulgarian passport came from, never tried to imitate the perfect Bulgarian accent that Natasha could speak with, and never tried to speak Bulgarian (she did learn a few words, but the Widow told her that she spoke Bulgarian like an American – badly).

"Enough moping?" Louise asked.

"Yes. We're in 'the Monaco of Africa' after all. There are fourteen night clubs and a casino in this city, and you and I are going to hit a couple of them." The Widow handed Louise the garment bag. "Now, go get cleaned up, put your best face on, and get dressed in this. We'll be leaving in about an hour to get dinner first. Then some dancing, and maybe some games at a casino."

"I've never been to a casino."

The Widow just smirked. "That's all right. We're playing with Tony Stark's money. Don't worry about being bad at any of the games you try."

Louise nodded, still holding the garment bag, and turned her attention back to the view past the balcony. "Okay, give me a sec." Far above, in the sky, she saw the quick flare of a meteor and made a wish, just like she'd done when she was a child and her daddy shown her a shooting star.

I wish Alex was back here with me, safe and sound.

XxxxxxX

Had there been enough atmosphere to carry the sound, the noise of the event would have been deafening; as it was, the entire cataclysmic instance came and went in complete silence. A sudden burst of heat and light and radiation accompanied the tearing open of a hole in the very fabric of reality. The hole existed for only a moment, if such things can be said to exist at all, but that was enough for it to spit forth a flesh-and-blood figure of human shape and proportion, clad in a suit of blue, a red-cape trailing away from its shoulders. The figure had been propelled as if it was a bullet fired from a gun.

Alex Harris blinked, twice, surprised by her whereabouts despite having been prepared for it. A moment ago, she had been standing in the middle of a magic circle painted on the floor of the training room behind the Magic Box. She'd been surrounded by the various members of the Scooby Gang. Then there had been a greenish flow, a bright flash, and suddenly she was here, above the earth, falling uncontrollably.

It took her a moment to realize where she was, and the grin that spread across her face when she did would have been heartwarming had anyone been there to see it. I'm home. I've got to be home! Beneath her, Central Europe rotated past, just fast enough for the rotation of the Earth to be visible.

Alex turned herself, stabilizing herself out of the tumble and falling purposefully toward the earth. Below her, the landscape sped past ever-faster as she accelerated. As she flew, she let out a silent whoop of triumph. There wasn't enough air yet for it to be heard anywhere but in her own head, but it didn't matter. What mattered was the feeling behind it.

The friction from her passing left a quick, short-lived streak of light through the sky.

XxxxxxX

Senior Airman David Keller was tired and hated it. In his opinion, it wasn't fair; no matter how much sleep he got, he still felt exhausted during the overnight shift. Even after nearly three years at the same station, his body just wasn't adjusting to not sleeping at night. The temperature still sucked, the lack of decent entertainment still sucked. And he still couldn't get decent oranges here without having them flown up himself. If it weren't for the prestige of the posting, he'd have begged for a transfer long ago.

Alaska was still an insult to shitholes.

The radar screen was obligingly clear. Occasionally, the radar pick-up would read a scheduled space launch from Cape Canaveral, or from Jiuquan in China, Baikonur in Khazakstan, or Kagoshima in Japan. But mostly from Cape Canaveral. The launches from the southern hemisphere were monitored by a separate facility. On other occasions, they'd pick up high-altitude testing of experimental aircraft, or a trans-polar passenger plane, or a larger-than-normal meteor. And on very rare occasions they could track the atmospheric re-entry of one of the larger pieces of space-trash.

Once they'd been able to track the homicidal artificial intelligence known as Ultron as it attempted to escape the Avengers. That was a fun night, with many a bet made between radar operators. And on another occasion they'd tracked the new superhero, Superwoman, as she had re-entered the atmosphere and crashed to the ground in an uncontrolled fall.

And survived. That was the damnedest thing. She had actually, no-shit, survived falling from orbit.

There had been other occasions where they'd tracked Superwoman entering and exiting the atmosphere. Not often, but sometimes. Always in a high ballistic arc, which every rocket enthusiast could tell you was the fastest way to travel on a globe the size of earth if you wanted to get from one side of a continent to another in record time. But nothing in a while. Not in a long while. Word getting around was that she was wanted by Homeland Security for not putting up with the Registration Act.

In addition to oranges, the other thing he regularly had shipped up from home was copies of the Orlando Sentinel. His mom and dad had organized a subscription of his hometown paper and while it might get to him three days late, he enjoyed reading the huge newspaper during his off-time. Hell, so did his bunkmates, for that matter.

He'd read about Superwoman's exploits, helping people. Rescuing people whose houses had caught fire, or who were stuck in an ambulance that couldn't cut through traffic, or keeping a train from derailing and a boat from sinking. She did more than just fighting supervillains. A true hero. And Superwoman had spoken out in the newspaper regarding her opinion about the Registration Act and how much of it violated the US Constitution.

The same US Constitution that he'd sworn to uphold against all enemies, foreign and domestic.

They hadn't seen her show up on radar for a while, but according to the CO, they were supposed to be on the lookout for her.

He yawned again. Tonight, nothing was being launched, there was no space-junk falling out of the sky, and no superheroes or supervillains, and that was a good thing. When you were a radar telemetry specialist for the North American Aerospace Defense Command, "boring and empty screens" was the preferred status. 'Boring and empty' meant none of the members of the Worldwide Nuclear Club was angry at another member. 'Boring and empty' meant that, for tonight at least, there wasn't going to be a nuclear war.

He brought his hand up to his eyes again and closed them, pressing slightly. While his eyes were closed, he yawned a third time, wider than the last two times. It was during this third yawn that a white circle about the size of a grain of rice popped up onto his screen out of nowhere. His computer, which thought infinitely faster than he did immediately labeled the new contact MH8-0017.

Keller's mouth dropped open when he reopened his eyes and spotted the white spot on his screen. MH8 was the prefix code for Superwoman. Seventeen was the number of times they'd tracked her on radar.

He stared at the indicator a moment before realizing what it indicated. Oh shit! She's back!

By habit, he immediately ran the target analysis program, making the track on the signal much more precise. No sign of exit, but a definite re-entry, and a definite course and speed. Superwoman was falling in a controlled dive, heading south-east. Her track wasn't shallow enough to indicate an impact point, but given that he knew she could fly under her own power, this wasn't a surprise. Superwoman was skimming the upper atmosphere, and it looked to him like her final destination was in the south-east. Florida was the obvious guess.

Superwoman was heading home.

"Control, Station Four." He hit his com-button.

"Go, Four." The voice of Captain Lorraine Pye came back to him. She sounded tired to Keller, but his was not to question.

"I, uh, got something here you should take a look at, ma'am. I think I'm getting static on my screen and want you to okay a transfer to secondary." Okay, so it was a lie. But the Captain was a pretty good officer to work under, and he figured she'd cut him some slack.

"Be right there."

It took the duty officer less than a minute to arrive at his station. Keller pushed his headset away from his ears to avoid the possible feedback squeal caused by her headset's close proximity as he turned to address her.

"Ma'am, I've got a track here I'm fairly sure is Superwoman." He looked up into her eyes, which widened at the news. "I know we were told to keep an eye out because Homeland wanted her…" he trailed off as he saw her eyes narrow. It was clear that Captain Pye wasn't paying attention anymore. She was staring at his tracking screen, while her jaw was working, as if she was grinding her teeth. Keller just watched the duty officer and waited for her to say something.

"You're from Orlando, right Keller?" Pye asked suddenly.

Keller nodded at first, but then realized she still wasn't watching. "Ocoee, actually. Just outside Orlando."

Pye nodded. "I'm from Crawfordville; up in the panhandle, near Tallahassee. In Wakulla County." She was still staring at the track.

"Don't think I've ever been there, ma'am." Keller just waited. He was waiting for her to make a decision he was too cowardly to make on his own.

"Would be surprised if you had. Wakulla County's the size of the state of Delaware but only has about eighteen thousand people in it. I got out as soon as I could." Pye leaned over Keller and tapped the screen, finally looking at him for the first time since he told her what he was tracking. "You know, last year during Hurricane Ivan, she kept the ocean from eating Saint Marks." At Keller's blank look, she continued. "Saint Marks is a tiny fishing town right on the Gulf of Mexico, not ten miles from where I grew up in Crawfordville. The town had already begun to flood when she got there. They'd already lost thirteen buildings and nearly ten people had already drowned. The FEMA people say that had she not stopped it, the entire town would have drowned under the weight of the water. But she did stop it."

Keller nodded, understanding. "She kept my cousin Billy from dying in a tornado. No shit, it was headed toward the trailer park he lived in, down in Kissimmee. She just stopped it."

"Yeah." Pye stood back up, then looked at him again. "All right. Looks like what you have there is a slow-burn meteor. Better reclassify it and make sure it's recorded correctly in your log."

Keller grinned. "Yes ma'am. On it, ma'am."

Seems he wasn't the only Floridian fed up with the entire Nazi-assed un-American Registration Act bullshit. Keller kept the grin for the rest of his shift.

XxxxxxX

Alex landed gently, barely even creasing the sea grass of the back yard. There weren't any lights on in the house, but that wasn't unusual given that it had to be three or four o'clock in the morning. She knew time ran slower here than in Buffy's world, but given that Alex had been trapped there for close to four months, that still meant Alex had been missing from Louise's life for at least a month of this world's time.

Alex wasn't too worried about Louise's health or welfare, as she knew that Stark, and probably Coulson too, would have looked out for her. But no one liked being separated from their loved ones without any contact for a month. Lord knew Alex hated it.

She stepped up onto the porch and to the glass door that led to the kitchen. She frowned a bit, as the place seemed too dark; not even the little light – the one Louise called the 'don't spill light' – over the refrigerator's ice and water dispenser was on, and that thing never turned off. Still frowning, Alex tapped on the glass.

Nothing.

She tapped again.

Still nothing.

Alex frowned again and tuned her vision up to the X-Ray level. There was no one there. The house was completely empty. Her vision dropped to infrared to verify, and Alex was shocked to see that aside from the attic, which was slightly warmer, and the crawlspace between the house and the ground, which was slightly cooler, the entire building was as close to a uniform temperature as an empty house sitting on an island in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico ever got.

"What the fuck is going on?" She grasped at the door's handle, and only then did she notice the tape. It was almost the same color of the house, and in the dark, she had missed it the first time. But not anymore. Now, the night lit up like it had been hit by a spotlight.

It was a pair of legal notices, one taped over another. The top one read FEDERAL PROPERTY AUCTION NOTICE, followed by a bunch of legalese and some phone numbers and a bunch of other irrelevant nonsense and a SOLD notification. Louise sold the house? No, it said it was Federal. The Federal government sold my house? Why would they… The thought trailed off as she peeled away the top layer. Beneath it was another notice, this one marked FEDERAL SEIZURE OF PROPERTY ORDER signed by a judge who worked for the 16th Judicial Circuit, in Monroe County.

And next to that was the notice that the building was now the consular property of the Wakandan government, that entry was forbidden, that there was no trespassing without the express permission of the Wakandan government, and that anyone wishing entry was to contact the Wakandan ambassador T'Shan at his offices in Manhattan.

The thing even had a phone number.

Alex peered through the glass into the living room. The kitchen hadn't had many clues that things weren't the way they were when she got shunted into Buffyworld. I should have looked at the living room first, she thought to herself. There were boxes everywhere, and the stuff not in boxes were all covered in drop-cloths and dust covers.

Surprisingly, for a house that had been sold at auction to a foreign government, it looked like all the furniture was still in place.

"Contact the Wakandan ambassador." Alex growled to herself. "No. I've got a much better idea. Much, much better idea." She was going to find out what the fuck was going on, and there was one thing all those comic books had taught the Xander side of her personality, it was that when it came to Wakanda, the person you went to for information wasn't some asshole in Manhattan. It was the asshole with the crown, the one in Wakanda City.

She turned and strode from the porch and back into the yard and without any hesitation at all was flying straight up into the sky. To be honest, Alex only had a rough idea where Wakanda was located when it came to the continent of Africa. All her Xander memories could remember from the comics was that Wakanda was somewhere south of Egypt and north of Mozambique; that might have been helpful had Kara memories not told her that the area between Egypt and Mozambique was basically half of the entire continent.

It might take time, but she didn't give a shit. She'd find Wakanda. Then she'd talk to the Black Panther. And then she'd find Louise. And she really didn't care how many heads she had to bust in the meantime.

XxxxxxX

The trip from Florida to the eastern coast of Africa took less than twenty minutes. She'd gone back into orbit in a ballistic arc, and then come down directly toward Africa. Simply put, it was the fastest and easiest way to travel from one continent to the other.

Of course, once she was in the sky over Africa, the real delays began. In her ballistic descent to Africa, Alex had intentionally aimed at one of the bright spots on the coast, a large city she could see from orbit. Alex had been expecting to deal with the language barrier, but it turned out the city in question had been Monrovia, the capital of Liberia, and in Liberia the national language was English.

Most of the people Alex encountered in Monrovia wanted nothing to do with her, and had no idea how to deal with her presence in the first place. It wasn't until she found a man in uniform – apparently an officer in Liberia's army – that she found someone who could tell her, generally, in what direction Wakanda lied in relation to Liberia.

The man had told her that, "Wakanda is between Uganda and the Sudan." That just left her the task of finding Uganda, or the Sudan, and then further narrowing the search.

It took her eight hours.

XxxxxxX

"What is going on?" His Royal Majesty, T'Challa Bashenga, King of Wakanda, Guardian of the Ugand Jungle, Avatar of the Black Panther, strode into his war room accompanied by two bodyguards. These men took up positions near the door and immediately because as inconspicuous as possible. There were three people in the room, awaiting the king. General K'Nar Osago, commander-in-chief of the Wakandan military, Alice Shuri, Intelligence Minister, and Benedict Tokwenda, the Wakandan Minister of State. Above their heads, a series of display screens held images of maps and radar tracks and blurry photographs of a small dark-colored object.

T'Challa immediately turned toward the general, who correctly took the king's nod to be a command to begin speaking. "My king, intercept radar has picked up an object heading into Wakandan airspace at super-sonic velocities. The radar return is – well, it is odd, Your Majesty. It doesn't have the silhouette of an aircraft, it is too small to be a cruise missile, and yet the speed and maneuvering of the object would tend to indicate a missile of some sort." The general looked truly mystified.

"We have had no indications of missiles being fired by any of our neighbors, nor from any aircraft or ship at sea." Minister Shuri, tapped on a control wand and immediately, one of the maps was replaced by another, focusing on Wakanda's neighbor to the north. "We do have a track on it that marks the object's origins in the southern Sudan. But they simply do not have the capability to launch such a weapon."

T'Challa stared at the image, thinking. "Ah. I see. Yes. I understand." He grinned and shook his head. "Everyone is to stand down, and no interference is to be offered to this 'missile.' I'm going to the throne room. Please have the queen meet me there; I think her presence might send the right message." The king paused at the door. "Is Ms. Harris in the palace?" At his advisor's nod, he smiled. "Good. If someone could have Ms. Harris escorted to the throne room as quickly and as politely as possible. Let her know it's not an emergency and she's not in trouble. Just get her there as quickly as you can."

"Your majesty?" Minister Tokwenda, asked.

"We're about to have a visitor. Potentially, a very angry visitor." T'Challa nodded to the screen. "Someone just visited our new consulate in the Florida Keys. Someone who is quite capable of raining the palace down upon our heads like an avalanche."

XxxxxxX

Finding T'Challa was surprisingly easy once she made it to Wakanda. Turns out the country only had one major city, and that was the capital. Lots of little towns and villages, sure, but it was sort of like Delaware. Once you were out of Dover, Delaware, you were in rural farm country, or the woods. The same principles applied.

On her approach, Alex scanned the palace with her X-Ray vision, trying to place the inhabitants in this or that room. It came as a surprise, then to find that the building wasn't see-through to her senses. "Ah, right. Adamantium and vibranium." Alex said to herself. "Might be tough to punch through." She shrugged as the solution had readily presented itself. There was a large balcony at the top of the palace, and the doors leading from the balcony to the building's interior were standing open. The balcony was well-lit, and a young woman stood just to the edge of the shadows, looking into the sky as if trying to find something.

Alex knew that she was the only thing in the sky. It was most likely her the woman was looking for.

"Come into my parlor…" Alex muttered to herself. It was either a trap, or a welcome wagon. She hoped it was the latter.

Alex dropped from the sky, landing quietly right next to the woman. She couldn't help but grin when the other woman cried out in surprise at the sudden appearance of the superhero.

"You okay?" Alex smiled. She tried to project unimpressed caution. Not thinking she could get hurt, but ready for a fight anyway.

"Yes." The woman fought to get her breathing under control. "I was just surprised. I am Angela, personal private secretary to His Majesty, King T'Challa. The king instructed me to wait out here for you, and then escort you to the throne room."

"Uh-huh. And he knew I was coming because…" Alex figured she knew already; it wasn't a secret that she showed up on radar.

"Your radar signature."

"My radar signature?" Alex almost snorted. At least they were being honest. "Right. My radar signature. Of course. So. Shall we?" Alex gestured toward the open doors.

"We shall, yes." The other woman – Angela, no last name given – waved a hand toward them, gesturing for Alex to go first.

They stepped from the balcony and into what had to be the royal court, or the throne room or the audience chamber of whatever kings call the big room where the fancy chair sits, the place where they have all those meetings with crowds of people wanting to meet the king in all the movies.

And standing in the middle of the room, in a tailored suit that had probably cost more than any car she had ever owned, stood T'Challa. Ruler of the entire country. Well. I'll give him this, he's impressive. The man had a – Alex chuckled to herself when she realized the only word that was coming to her was 'regality' – about him that could not be denied. And the parts of her that were still Kara Zor-El couldn't help but note the man was amazingly handsome.

And standing next to him was Storm herself. Ororo Monroe. Former X-Man turned African queen. Alex wondered why she was there for a moment, but came up with an easy answer: not only was she an extra gun, being able to mentally manipulate weather conditions, but she was an indication that they weren't interested in fighting.

Arguing, maybe, but not fighting.

"Ah! Alexandra Harris. Superwoman. Welcome, come in. Come, let's have a seat. I'm sure there are many things you wish to speak about." The king gestured toward a low table, around which four chairs had been placed. The table was almost artistically fine in its construction and appearance, and the chairs looked fancy and expensive. Is that gold leaf paint?

Alex decided to go along with it, but she wasn't going to play this game on his terms. "Thank you." She glanced at him as she sat.

"So, you are here. I'll be honest, Ms. Harris. I thought you were dead."

"Yeah, well, you know the old Mark Twain saying. Reports of my death were greatly exaggerated." Alex shrugged. "You bought my house."

"Did you know that Twain never actually said that? It's a misquote. Apparently one of his cousins was deathly ill, and a reporter got word about it and somehow turned it into Twain himself dying, instead of merely an ill cousin. What he actually said was 'the report of my illness grew out of his illness, and the report of my death was an exaggeration." T'Challa gestured and out of nowhere a pair of servants arrived with a tea set. "The government of Wakanda bought your house at auction after it was seized by the American government, yes."

"And you are turning it into a consulate?" Alex's eyes never left the Black Panther as he poured himself and his wife tea. His eyebrow quirked the question at her. Alex thought about it, then nodded. "Thank you, that would be fine."

"Nothing so dramatic, actually. We declared our intentions to turn the house into a consulate, yes." The king handed the cups or tea around. "Mostly that was so we didn't have nosy governmental types poking around in it. The entire thing was a favor done for Tony Stark."

"Okay, would you mind explaining that one?" Alex suddenly became aware that she was being really, really pushy with a guy who ran his own country. "Uh, your majesty."

"Certainly. Tony Stark, who is not quite a friend of mine but to whom I owe a long series of favors, asked me for my help in preserving your possessions from government raiders after you were exiled to wherever you were sent, and after your domestic partner was arrested." He took a sip of his tea before continuing. At the news that Louise had been arrested, Alex had leapt to her feet.

For the first time, Queen Ororo spoke. "Please, sit back down, Ms. Harris. Your partner is quite safe. She should be joining us soon. We both know you haven't seen each other in a while, and that you are worried. We understand. But she's fine."

Alex took a few deep breaths to calm herself, then sat. Louise will be here soon! It was enough. "All right." She took another deep breath. "I'm calm. Go on."

"Yes. Well, the Justice Department of the United States seized your house, your car, and your belongings under the RICO act on charges of terrorism." The king put his teacup down. "After a month, they were put to auction, and at Tony Stark's request my agents purchased everything they could. We managed to acquire your house and most of the personal possessions that were on sale."

"We couldn't save everything, unfortunately. You're going to have to purchase a new wardrobe. Some of your smaller possessions." Ororo added.

"Did they get to our bank accounts?" Alex was thinking hard. Their accounts had been in the Grand Caymans, where they should have been safe behind heavy security and a strict policy of non-interference and neutrality when it came to who they did business with. It was likely the bankers there had told the US government to get stuffed when they came sniffing around, but it was barely possible that they caved.

"As far as Tony Stark's money men know, your bank accounts are still there, waiting for you to use them again whenever you can get in touch with your bank." T'Challa smirked. "Should I ask where a pair of young women who were once homeless managed to scrape up over $700 million?"

"Probably not." Alex shrugged and smiled.

Ororo laughed with her. "Sounds like an interesting story. Are you sure you don't want to share?"

"Well…" Alex thought about it. "Louise and I and some friends of ours figured that Norman…"

"ALEX!" She's here! Alex was up and out of her seat so quickly the expensive chair with its gold-leaf paint fell over behind her. Alex couldn't care less. She turned toward the doors at the far end of the room, and there she was. Louise was there. And Louise looked like a dream come true. Alex rushed to her. Not as fast as she could, but fast enough to ruffle hair and send papers flying, had there been papers.

Alex lifted Louise from the ground and held the other woman in her arms. She brought one hand up to cup her lover's face and kissed her. To Alex, the kiss felt like it went on for all of eternity. It felt like they were dancing. The only thing Alex heard was the distant explosion of fireworks going off around her. The sensation of Louise held against her body caused a warmth to spread across Alex's entire being. And Louise returned the kiss with just as much fiery passion. Alex could feel the love Louise felt for her through her skin. Despite everything that had happened, despite everything that had tried to separate them, Alex had made it back to her Louise. Nothing – nothing – could ever keep them apart.

When Alex broke the kiss, Louise had a huge smile on her face. Alex knew that her own face carried her own smile, just as big.

"Wow." Louise, now sitting firmly in Alex's arms, smiled up at her. "Wow. That was some kiss."

Alex could only nod. "I think it was the best kiss of my life."

"Best kiss of your life so far, you mean." Louise smiled back at Alex, then kissed her again.

It was ten minutes before they noticed that had been abandoned by their host. A servant had been left behind to inform Alex that she was welcome to the hospitality of the Wakandan royal house.

XxxxxxX

"Well, this is a sight you don't get to see every day!"

Alex groaned, but didn't open her eyes. She was so not ready for this. She, Alex, and Natasha were all sunbathing next to the king's private swimming pool. And not one of them was wearing more than their bikini bottoms. Louise and the Widow were trying to tan, while Alex was recharging her batteries by absorbing as much sunlight as she could. "Wasn't there someone guarding the door or something? You know, keeping the guys away while we all have our tits out?" she asked the air.

On Alex's right, Louise giggled. On her left, the Widow said, "Different cultural cues. Wakanda doesn't have a nudity taboo. So probably not." Alex heard Louise shuffle around on her towel, which probably meant that she was turning over to keep Stark from ogling her. The Widow, on the other hand, was so impossible to embarrass that she likely wouldn't have cared had Stark followed her into the bathroom and watched her pee.

"Right. No nudity taboo." Still without opening her eyes, Alex called out, "Stark, if you're staring at my boobies, I may have to rip your arms off and beat you to death with them."

"Oh, come on, can you blame me? They are such magnificent objects of art they should be in a museum." Stark's voice was closer.

"He's got you there, Alex." Louise whispered, knowing Alex would hear her. Louise, Alex decided, wasn't helping.

"Besides," Stark continued. "Boobies? What are we, in elementary school?"

She opened her eyes. Stark had pulled up a chair and was sitting, a big shit-eating grin on his face. He was dressed in cut-off jeans and a Megadeath tour shirt, with what looked like custom grass-green converse sneakers on his feet. About as far away from his typical appearance on Forbes magazine as Alex had ever seen him. And surprisingly, he wasn't staring at her tits, but rather wasn't even looking. Not even those sneaky glances she'd grown used to getting from every male on the planet.

"What do you need, Tony?"

"I'm bored. I think it's time we start talking about what we're going to do. Because we have to do something." Tony shrugged and looked at her for the first time she was aware of. Alex watched him take in the surroundings, and then sigh about it. "Sure, living in someone else's lap of luxury is nice, but I'm getting homesick. Did you know there aren't any Burger Kings in Wakanda? Not a one."

"There's a Carl's Junior." Natasha said without opening her eyes or looking up.

"Ugh, no, please. Kill me first." Tony shook his head. "Besides the fast food problem, there's the entire 'that bitch drove me out of my entire country' thing. And she did it with the support of the President and the military. How does that happen?"

That caused the Widow to sit up in her chair. She took no effort to cover herself, Alex noted. But then, neither have I. It made her wonder to the point that she lost the first part of what Natasha was saying. "… -like her at all. Not really. I mean, sure, she can be a hard-nosed militaristic bitch, but no more than I am. She would have said something if this was bothering her so much."

"So, she's gone nuts." Alex shrugged, then smirked when Tony simply could not ignore the effect the movement had on her upper body. "Superheroing is a stressful job. Maybe she just cracked."

"No." The Widow shook her head. "Like I said, this was way too organized and supported. If it was just Carol going off the deep end, she wouldn't have been able to throw your girlfriend in a military prison."

"She wouldn't have been able to throw Louise in a military prison at all if I had been here," Alex growled. She looked at her wife, who had shifted slightly at the mention of military prison. Louise's hair still hadn't grown back to the magnificent length it had reached before everything had happened.

"Which was the entire point of you not being here," Natasha smirked. "We still don't know how they pulled that off, and that scares me a little."

"Sure. If they did it once, there's no reason they couldn't do it again." Stark nodded. "And for the record, let me say that you being sent into a television program? That's truly bizarre. And I know bizarre."

"Yeah, it's not like I haven't been telling people about that since I arrived in this dimension." Alex rolled her eyes with a laugh.

"Point."

"That's one concern." Natasha held up a single finger. "We've got others. Like who are the jokers now calling themselves the Avengers?" A second finger went up. "Who authorized Louise's arrest when she supposedly was in the clear?" A third finger. "What's the long-term goal?" A fourth finger. "How did they militarize the Avengers?" Rather than using her thumb, the Widow held up a finger on her other hand."

"Yeah, about that. Aren't we – the Avengers, I mean – aren't we chartered by the United Nations, for crying out loud." Alex shook her head. "Isn't there a treaty or something keeping that from happening?"

"Uh, yeah, about that. I think I might have been to blame for that." At this, Alex sat up to stare at Stark. The Widow's mouth had dropped open. Even Louise, still lying on her stomach, lifted her head to stare at the man.

"How's that?" Louise asked the question before anyone else could.

"Well, hello Lady Clairol!" Stark asked with a smile. Alex smiled at that. Louise did tend to stay out of the hero talks. When she did take an interest, it was always weird. And Stark would not let Louise ever forget the nickname. "To answer your question, the Superhuman Registration Act. There are provisions which, in times of emergency, allow the government to draft superhumans into government service."

"You asshole!" Alex glared at him. She could not understand how someone so smart could be so absolutely fucking stupid some times. "Why in the fuck would set it up that way?"

"I was trying to protect people, remember?"

Natasha snorted. "Well, looks like you impressively failed."

"Okay. So we have a lot of questions. Do you think Carol could be doing this alone?" Alex looked to both Stark and the Widow, and they both shook their head.

"Carol is good, but she's not a bureaucrat, and what she's pulled off requires more than just 'punch it till it falls down.'"

"Tony's right." Natasha nodded. "There's got to be somebody behind all this. I don't know who. I'd blame Henry Gyrich, but he seems to have disappeared off the face of the planet." Alex didn't flinch and she didn't blink, but Louise nearly gave the game away. Thankfully, it appeared that neither of the other Avengers noticed anything. "Wilson Fisk doesn't have the pull. Victor von Doom does have the pull, but he wouldn't be this subtle and he'd include Carol in the downfall."

Stark thought about it. "Right. Sebastian Shaw could pull off this subtle political bullshit, but he wouldn't bother going after the Avengers."

"How about the Maggia? They've got their hooks in everything, and nothing corrupts like mafia money," Alex said.

"Nah, not Carol's style. Besides, after what Daredevil did to them, they're still rebuilding." Stark shrugged. "Right now, they couldn't take down the Postal Inspectors, much less the FBI."

"Hey, don't bad-mouth the Postal Inspectors," Natasha said. "They're the only law enforcement agency in the US with a perfect arrest record."

"Magneto?" Alex asked, just throwing the name out there.

"No. Nope. He'd tear Avengers tower up by its roots and shoot it into space before he'd infiltrate the government to take us down from the inside."

Louise raised her hand, and the other three people stared at her. "This isn't Mrs. Johnson's third grade class, Louise. If you have a question just ask it." Stark said.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry." Louise saw that she had the undivided attention of all three heroes, and swallowed sharply. "What about those dragon guys?"

"Those dragon guys? What dragon guys do you mean, honey?" Natasha asked.

"You know, the guys with the skulls and the tentacles. Cut one off and two will grow back or something." Louise shrugged. "Their name was, like, Dragon, or Basilisk or something."

Alex smiled at her wife, then turned to meet Stark's eyes. Then she met Widow's. Both of them were nodding.

"Yeah, Hydra might be able to pull this off." Stark said.

Widow continued. "Especially if they started this years ago. They always play the long game."

"Oh, wouldn't that be a nightmare. Hydra subverts the US government. If that's true, they might already be in charge of everything. I don't even want to believe that's possible."

"Yeah, but…" The Widow bit her lower lip, one of the few visible tells Natasha Romanov had. Alex could tell she wasn't merely worried but was authentically terrified of the thought.

"How do we confirm it?" Alex asked. There was a fast exchange of glances between the Widow and Tony Stark, and then both of them turned to her and smiled.

"Well, it's pretty obvious. We need to gather some information, right? We need to put a spy on Carol Danvers. One who Danvers can't kill if the spy is discovered."

"Sure, Tony." Alex nodded. "Where are we going to get one of those?"

"Well… I'm just going to toss this out there, but… it occurs to me… we just happen to have a person here who can hear a mouse fart from a mile away during a thunderstorm. Someone whose eyes can penetrate concrete." Stark said, his smile getting wider.

Alex stared at him a moment, then slumped. Stark's eyes dropping downward toward her chest at the movement didn't even register with her.

"Looks like I'm going back to New York, I guess."

XxxxxxX

"You know, I thought I was actually going to have some fun on this gig, not have to put up with you moralizing me to sleep every fucking day." She didn't recognize the voice, but knew it was the person pretending to be Hawkeye.

"You're here to play a part. The part of a superhero, not a scumbag. So act like a superhero."

Alex stood on the roof of the Central Bank of Manhattan, overlooking Avengers tower. She had a clear view into the meeting room where the fake Avengers team was meeting, and had identified Hank Pym, Ares, and Carol Danvers. She had no idea who was wearing the Iron Man armor, but it wasn't that Rhodey guy that Stark had talked about. Rhodey was a tall good-looking black man; the dude in the armor was shorter, and looked Asian. John Walker was there, and was having a hard time not glaring the new Hawkeye into the wall. Whoever was in the purple tights, the guy was apparently an asshole. And apparently, the new Wolverine was the old Wolverine's son. Who knew, right?

And then there was the Thor clone. Stark had sworn up and down that this was not the actual Thor. That this was not the actual Asgardian. That he was not carrying the real Mjolnir. She hoped he was right, because the thought of facing an actual god carrying an actual weapon of that much actual magical power made her leak on herself a little bit. The idea terrified her.

She had left Wakanda two days after the decision to gather intelligence on Carol, and so far, it had yet to pay off. Certainly, they now knew more about what the Avengers were up to, but they were just… Avenging. Fighting crime, stopping bad guys. Showing up on TV and doing PR pieces in support of the SRA and the Bush Administration. Nothing all that sinister.

Alex was getting bored, and she was missing Louise. While Tony and Natasha were coming back to the US, Louise was staying in Wakanda. It not only kept her out of the line of fire, but T'Challa was going to help Louise get her life as a law student back. Turned out UCF had an ethics clause in their enrollment contracts, and being an accused international terrorist was a violation of said clause.

Alex stretched, making sure she never left the shadows of the building. Tony and Natasha were going to get the band back together and meet her in New York as soon. Steve Rogers had been briefed on her mission and was standing by as back-up if she needed it. They had contacted Simon Williams before leaving Wakanda – he'd been working a temp job in construction somewhere in Texas – and Janet van Dyne was coming back from Canada. They'd all be back in New York in a couple of days. All Alex had to do was find something incriminating.

Abruptly, Alex blinked, then shook her head. This was an interruption she did not need right now. Ales sighed, but didn't otherwise make any move that would let the person approaching her from behind in on the fact that she had heard him – the footfalls were heavy, so 'him' – from the moment he stepped foot on the roof with her.

She allowed the unknown person to get within fifteen feet before she spoke. "That's close enough. What do you want?" Alex never took her eyes from Danvers's window.

"Oh, you know, the usual. World peace. My two front teeth. A hippopotamus for Christmas. And maybe a chance to bang one of the Olsen twins… I'm not picky," the voice replied.

Alex's face twisted in confusion. "What the fuck?" She turned around, ready to lay into the man, but stopped the minute she recognized him. The sight of him immediately caused her to deflate. What god had she wronged in a previous life to have Deadpool, of all people, come crashing into her plans now of all times and places?

"Jesus." She dropped her head into one hand. "You. Why in all the world do I have to put up with you." She looked to the heavens, but there was no help there to be had.

"Nope. Not Jesus. Just me. I know who you are, though. I saw your YouTube video. Classic. You totally look like you do in your porn parody!" The man just stood there, as patient as he ever got, it seemed. She took a deep breath, about to speak, where she caught on to where he was staring.

Typical, she thought. Just typical.

"Ahem. Mr. Wilson?" Alex asked. His eyes rose – slowly – to meet hers, and the cloth around his mouth tightened just a bit, indicating a grin. "Wait just a god-damned minute. Porn parody? What porn parody?"

"Super-Whore. Stars some girl I never heard of taking some hard pole in every way that counts, if you know what I mean. Her hooters have to be at least as large as yours." He seemed to blink behind his mask. "Now, tell the truth. I heard those were real and not, you know, a Hollywood special. Is that true?" Deadpool leaned against an air conditioning unit and crossed his arms. "You'd make a mint touring at strip clubs. And nothing says loving like dollars in the garter!"

Alex just shook her head, refusing to answer the question. "What do you want, Deadpool? I'm busy."

"Yeah, I noticed." The man straightened and looked past her. "Doing a little Peeping Tom action on Captain Reichsmarschall over there." Nodding his head toward the Avengers tower, he continued. "Word is, you and she have a beef, and not the good kind of beef like you get in mom's pot roast. The horrible slop you get at Taco Bell that keeps you in the bathroom for an hour." He turned his attention back to her, and as she watched, his eyes drifted down to her chest. "When I saw you up here, I figured you were about to put a hurting on the Fauxvengers."

"And you came up here to, what, stop me?"

Deadpool laughed. "What, me? Are you kidding? No! Way no! That's so far into the not going to happen box that its sitting next to the Biggy and Tupac reunion!"

"What are you doing here, then?" Alex huffed. The man was a pain in the ass.

"Nothing much. This is just a pointless cameo! It's all the rage in comic books! Alexi Vandeberg, one of the writer's best friends in the world, bet the writer fifty bucks that there was no way in hell that he – the writer, I mean – would just drop me into the story at random, in the same way that all those comics back in the 90s would include Wolverine just to say he was in their title once." Deadpool shrugged. "Back when they were doing it with Wolverine, it was basically just a cheap grab for better sales, but it worked. TV Tropes even has a name for it: 'Wolverine Publicity.' Pretty neato, right? Of course, it sort of breaks the flow of the story, but fifty buck is fifty bucks, right?"

"Wolverine publicity?" Alex had just about enough of this shit. "What in the hell are you talking about? What do you mean 'back in the 90s'! Who the hell is Alexi Vandenberg? And what the fuck do you mean, the writer? Wait... are you doing that fourth wall thing? Look, I know that I'm surrounded by characters I knew from comics books," Alex looked around, suddenly. "But... are we in a comic book, now?"

"No. We're in a piece of fan fiction. But don't worry, as soon as I leave, you'll forget all about it." It was clear the man was laughing at her. "In fact, now that I've made my appearance and broken the fourth wall and been atrociously obnoxious and intrusive, I'm going to go find some bad guys to spank! You can go back to spying on Blondie. The Mickey Mouse Club meeting just broke out. I think you missed it, talking to me." With that, the man in red stepped to the edge of the building. "See you around!"

Alex thought to say something, but before she could, Deadpool said, "Maximum effort!" and stepped off the ledge of the building. With her x-ray vision, Alex could still see him clearly as he made his exit, but she didn't bother to pursue. He was right about one thing: she needed to concentrate on Carol and these so-called Avengers, and couldn't waste time tracking Deadpool down to figure out what that lunatic was up to.

She turned back to Avengers tower, wondering what Deadpool meant, but immediately figured it out. The other Avengers had left, leaving Carol there. With her was a man who Alex hadn't seen before. She concentrated, and was suddenly hearing every slight sound.

"… your concern. You're doing fine, Colonel. Just fine. You're the face of a new America. You're a very, very good girl." The man's voice was deep, and there was a soothing, hypnotic quality to it. Alex frowned. Just listening to him, there was something there that made her want to agree to everything the man said. Luckily, there were two voices in the back of her head, both Xander and Kara, screaming at her to not listen, and it worked.

"Thank you." Alex's frown deepened. That was Carol Danvers' voice, but Danvers would never sound like that. "I want to be a good girl!" This was crazy. Carol sounded like a poor, downtrodden victim of an abusive spouse who desperately gathered in every word of praise like it was mana from heaven. If this is what Danvers had been reduced to…

"And you have been. And I brought you your medicine as a treat," the man replied. Alex stared through the window, slack-jawed at what she was watching. The unknown man handed Carol a bottle or a vial or something, and Carol immediately popped the lid off it and swallowed he contents.

A junkie. A junkie who was desperate to get the next fix. Xander Harris had seen enough addictive behavior in his life to recognize someone who was hooked through the soul by a drug, and that's what had happened to Carol Danvers. Immediately, all of Alex's burning hatred of the woman was washed away, replaced by a mixture of pity and disgust. She knew Carol had always been a hard-case, but her descent into fascism wasn't her fault. She was doing it because she was being forced to do it.

It took all of Alex's willpower to not immediately burst through the wall of the tower and kill the man. Whoever he was, he was fucking lucky that they needed information on just who was pulling Carol's strings.

"A man resembling Steven Rogers was seen in Cincinnati, Ohio, the night before last. You and your team should be ready to deploy the moment we can confirm his location. It would not do for Captain America and his band of idealist rebels to interfere with our plans for the government and for the American people, would it?" The man was smiling at Carol, but it was the smile of a predator.

"No, it wouldn't do." And Carol's eyes were glassy now. She was out of it.

With that, the man rose. "Enjoy your evening, Colonel Danvers. I will be talking to you later."

As the man left, Alex kept her eye on Carol Danvers for a few seconds. The new leader of the Avengers grew more and more visibly out of it until she slumped in her chair, unconscious. With a sigh, Alex stepped from the roof and dropped toward the ground. There was no time to take care of Carol. I've got to follow the asshole. She landed gently, and found a shadowy spot near the entrance to sit and watch. She wasn't in her costume, and the coloration change she'd acquired in Buffyworld had faded upon her returning to Marvelworld. It was just a matter of patience and surveillance. And no one on earth could surveille like a Kryptonian.

The man emerged from the building minutes after she'd placed herself, and Alex watched as he entered a waiting car. The driver merged with traffic, and they were off. Alex waited for five minutes, keeping the car in view the entire time, before launching herself in the air.

She followed the car for nearly three hours as it first made its way through thick Manhattan traffic before crossing a bridge into New Jersey.

Alex watched as the car eventually turned into an active warehouse complex. The place was bustling, with a small army of men and woman scurrying around on their various tasks. There weren't any convenient buildings overlooking the warehouses, so it was time to lie in the bushes. She hated lying around in the bushes.

"Well shit." Alex stared at the warehouses, using her advanced senses to their fullest. Most were filled with military equipment. Cargo trucks, tanks, armored troop vehicles. One even contained a flight of attack helicopters. But it was the largest warehouse, the one the size of a football stadium, that bothered her. From what she could see, it contained a fully armed replica of the SHIELD Heli carrier. "This just keeps getting better and better."

She listened in on different conversations, sampling from the various people wandering around the base. Most were simple foot-soldiers. The creepy, crawling sensation going up her spine just got worst as she realized that the number of times she'd heard the phrase, "Hail Hydra" had passed the one hundred mark.

Alex pulled her cell phone out of her belt and dialed as fast as she could without shattering the small machine. "Come on, pick up. Pick up." It only took five seconds for someone to pick up, but every single one of them felt like an eternity.

"Superwoman." It was Steve Rogers voice. Like Alex, he was using a burner phone that was only going to be used this once. "I take it you found something?"

"Yeah, I found something all right. It's Hydra. And they have an army."

XxxxxxX

Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the property of Warner Brothers, in conjunction with Mutant Enemy Productions. The Marvel Universe is the property of the Walt Disney Company. Power Girl is the property of DC Comics, which itself is the property of Warner Brothers.

I am constantly making edits to this story, correcting some grammatical and punctuation errors, adding missing words, and correcting whatever misspellings I find. I'm also tinkering a bit with the language used. In any case, its slow-going and gradual because I don't have any sort of beta reader helping me with it and because of my physical situation. So, if anyone spots any errors, feel free to let me know. I need all the help I can get.

This story has its own TV Tropes page. Due to my long-standing argument with Fast Eddie (the guy who runs TV Tropes – I may have once called him an arrogant jackass) – I am not allowed to update it myself. If someone wants to go over there and tinker with it or leave a review, feel free.

Just to issue the usual warnings, there is explicit language in this story, but no explicit sex (and I don't include the mere mention of nudity as "explicit sex"). The main character is a gay woman, so if the idea of two women getting together, sorry, but there are other stories out there you might enjoy more. And because I don't want to have to repeat myself here, let me drop a huge spoiler on you. This is not a gender-bender story. It's not about a guy who turns into a woman. It's about a woman who thought she was a guy realizing that she's been a woman all along.

To the reviewer who asked why I didn't write a scene involving Thor pondering Alex's worthiness after she beat him up with his own hammer, that wasn't Thor, that was Ragnarok, the psychotic Thor-clone, and he wasn't using Thor's real hammer, even if Alex didn't know that.

To the multiple reviewers who keep telling me to have Alex get the moonstone for Louise, yes, I am aware of its existence but doing that would not serve the purposes of the story, thanks for the advice you're not the first (or even the fifth) to suggest it.

To the reviewer who made a joke about paraplegia and then recoiled in horror when they realized my physical situation, don't worry about it. It's not like I post videos of me writing this story, I understand.

And lastly, to the anonymous reviewer who called me a "fucking liar" because "this story is about a faggot turning into a cunt," and went on to say that he (the reviewer) would "have the fucking dignity to kill myself if I was as fucked up as you were," let me say how about you do us all a favor and go ahead with that plan? I'll be happier, you'll be happier, everyone will be happier. You didn't even have the bravery to sign your name to it, so I'm giving it all the consideration your review deserves.