Chapter 9: New Blood
At the witching hour, Wanda Maximoff wends around the mountain property. Her lantern illuminates midnight in western Montana. It is an intimate speck of light in the still, spacious darkness surrounding Scarlet Witch and the lodge. Scanning siding, Wanda sees that her hexes have repaired the exterior damage done during Colleen and Spymaster's knock-down, drag-out fight. She has already scrutinized the inn's inside. Of course, a class-five mutant can do ready restoration. But, any responsible Avenger wishes to double-check her good work. She is sure that property owner Dan Lyons, the name on mail, would appreciate the effort.
Besides, Wanda wants to assess her powers, for they have failed to work upon the Daughters of the Dragon. That shortfall is disturbing. Normally, the magnificent mutant is a mistress of monumental miracles. She has even raised the dead on occasion. However, this night, she can neither cure Colleen Wing of her contusions nor ameliorate Misty Knight of her major mars. Ruffled a wee, Scarlet Witch must know that she has her mojo over something.
Sighing, Scarlet Witch switches off the electric lantern. She stares into the nebulous night and schemes. Ever, an Avenger should consider her next moves after resolving whatever current crisis. In Wanda's case, she seeks retaliation upon a saucy Sagbata and reunification with ally Iron Fist upon his heroic mission.
Considering Sagbata, Wanda wants revenge upon the African god. You see, Scarlet Witch is Magneto's daughter and Quicksilver's sister, and she is an original Evil Mutant. She is even kind of Cthon's occasional vessel (see Avengers #185-187) and Mephisto's too (see #51-52). So, the Witch does have some malevolence and gall in her powerful person. And, like any superbeing, her incredible abilities allow for exceptional violent solutions. Thus, Madam Maximoff resolves to have swift justice soon upon Baron Samedi for mucking-up her recent machinations.
After drubbing a divine delinquent, Scarlet Witch will rejoin Iron Fist and other allies accompanying him. A heroine cannot dally somewhere in the middle of Montana while comrades run a desperate rescue mission in dangerous other-dimensional realms. Dr. Strange recruited Scarlet Witch to help Power Man and Iron Fist reunite, and she shall find some means to do her duty.
But, how the hell does Wanda find her friends in the vast multiverse? Maybe, she extracts information from Samedi after she bests him. Or maybe, she cordially consults colleagues such as Dr. Strange and the Masked Raider. But really, Wanda could just use some light pointing her in the right direction.
From behind, a light appears abruptly, and it casts Wanda's shadow forward into the ebon forest. Scarlet Witch swivels about to face her unexpected company. Eerie eldritch energy emanates from her extended hands. However, the Avenger promptly finds that she can stand-down, for a familiar figure stands ten feet away, although she and he have never met. Avengers Files indicate him a friendly—of some sort.
A flickering kerosene lantern shines on the glowing garb of a ghostly cowboy. His cape is a white sheet over his pale, pellucid apparel from his buoyant, blanched boots to below his stark, lucent mask. The Phantom Rider tips his spectral Stetson, "Howdy ma'am, my name is Hamilton Slade, but folks call me the Phantom Rider."
Relaxing slightly, Scarlet Witch lowers her limbs. She is relieved that Hamilton is not lascivious Lincoln Slade who looks the exact same. She replies, "Hi, Hamilton Slade. As you must know, I am the Scarlet Witch, but friendlies call me Wanda."
The Rider touches earth and walks over. Scarlet offers a hand and shakes an incorporeal extremity. Slade speaks his business, "I brought you something. My horse Banshee and I kind'r played Pony Express from another plain of existence to Earth-616 here."
Witch has a couple of questions. But, before she asks . . . another visitor emerges from the cowboy's cape! For the second time in sixty seconds, someone surprises Scarlet Witch greatly. A womanly wraith wraps Wanda—in a hug—before the Witch can react. Misty Knight wriggles her sister associate back-and-forth affectionately as wide eyes examine her. Misty appears to also be but an animate apparition.
"I'm back!" announces Knight.
"I never knew that you left," Maximoff pushes protoplasm off, "I thought that you were still upstairs exceedingly injured." An index points to a lodge level.
"Well, I am," Misty mugs mischievously, "But, I shall soon be much better after my brutal beating and blood loss. After my brush with Death, she deems that my soul and shell may reconnect."
"Okay, that's ducky," Wanda deliberates, "Could Dr. Jericho Drumm assist your re-convergence? It is a strange tale, but Brother Voodoo is present and nearby."
At her shoulder, a velvet voice speaks, "Indeed, I could precipitate Ms. Knight's repossession of her flesh and bones be they bettered and fit, for I am the Lord of the Loa. Brother Voodoo delivers any spirit to its earthly flesh or its final destination depending on Death's will." Scarlet Witch startles for a third time.
"Well, I am no longer in Death's clutches," recommunicates Misty.
"Lovely. Then, I should be able to finally heal your mortal husk," comments the Houngan Supreme, "I had hypothesized that Heaven's powers themselves held you from my curative capabilities."
"I shall keep mum," Misty remembers Mistress Death's mean mien and does not wish to cross her.
Clearing her throat, Wanda catches the present presences' mutual attention. She lifts her illuminated lantern, although Phantom Rider already has a lit one, and leads the party toward the lodge's entrance. Naturally, homo superior must save face after being surprised thrice.
"Let us go inside then," Maximoff directs, "We should check on our charges. For example, Jericho, is my patient Colleen okay?"
"She should be still stably in suspended animation," Dr. Drumm deems, "I only left her side just now because otherworldly presences tend to draw my attention." The possessed person and the disembodied soul stroll abreast Brother Voodoo and accompany him into the cabin.
Hastily, Scarlet Witch strides past companions to lead the way to the lodge's loft. She signals forward the folks on the stairs as though they be simple. Jericho just shakes his head (psychologists discern obvious insecurity) and gently guides Misty to the sick bed. Standing beside herself, Knight assesses the somber scene that she has seen too often before. Her beloved Colleen lies wounded, ailing, undoubtedly aching, and yet alive. Her own form is likewise bloody, bruised, and abused.
But, a Fearless Defender cannot let such things ruin her day—or late night, as the case may be. The Daughters of the Dragon discovered a duty and vocation long ago, and they will purposefully and perpetually follow their path until Death permanently claims them. Perseverant Knight kneels down and nudges her nonresponsive carcass. She shakes the pseudo-stiff as though she be but sleeping instead of nigh-slain.
"So," Misty asks Jericho, "how do we re-animate me? How do we go from rigor to vigor?"
"Verily," Voodoo responds, "we summon the Staff of Legba, my main mystical means. Legba should bring new blood to all." Drumm inhales dramatically, deeply concentrates, and then jerkily gesticulates to generate the juiced juju.
Being witchy, Wanda asks, "Do we also summon Dr. Strange? He might offer you some magical advice. Heck, he could even offer medical." Meddlesome Maximoff half-jokingly gets her shots in.
Drumm simply smiles back. Then, he bends his head askance, rolls his eyes, hums hardily, and stiffens his muscles until his whole frame shakes frenetically. From faraway, Dr. Voodoo summons the artifact from which knave Samedi separated him. The Houngan Supreme calls it from Haiti, and it progressively conjures—more and more corporeal—in his upraised palms. The Staff of Legba shines luminously and lustrously over the Lord of the Loa.
Simultaneously, Phantom Rider slinks to Colleen Wing's side. Scarlet Witch warily watches him move suspiciously. The Phantom slips fingers inside his satchel and slides out a stoppered vessel. The vitreous vial contains an enigmatic, violet liquid—as Hamilton's vile ancestor viably may have had. With verve, Lincoln Slade's descendent crouches by unconscious Colleen and then cradles her head. He whispers ardently in Wing's ear while Drumm makes din doing his thaumaturgic thing. From Wanda's view, the vigilante looks like he could kiss comely Colleen beneath his obscuring hat brim. Maximoff moves too. Slade strokes the lips and locks of the supine sleeping beauty. Scarlet Witch seizes Phantom Rider's spectral shoulder. Her probability powers make it possible to grasp a ghost. They also make it possible that she could pummel him. And, her piqued temperament makes it probable that she may. But, to Wanda's surprise, Phantom Rider leans back and violently shakes Wing's shoulder as though he wants her awake.
Irritated, Scarlet Witch asks, "Just what the hell are you doing?"
"Trying to help her," the Ranger Rider replies.
"Oh, how's that?" the eldritch Avenger gives an evil eye, "Because you're a spook who's acting like a creep."
Hamilton sits-up Colleen, "I am not being a creep. I am trying to rouse sleeping beauty here, for it is best if Miss Wing is alert when taking this medicine. Otherwise, she could choke on this elixir, and we could lose her to that instead of a series of unfortunate events."
Apprehensive, Scarlet Witch recalls, "I have tried waking wounded Wing for several hours, and I am almost Earth's most powerful mutant. Why would I believe that your snake oil—or whatever that is—can do an ounce better?"
"Because its alchemist assured me that this potion will make Colleen Wing better than ever," Phantom Rider pops the cork stopper and slants the vial.
Violating physics, a hex halts the spilling stream in mid-air. "Who gave you the potion?" probes Wanda.
"Mistress Death!" hollers Hamilton huffily.
"Whaaaaat?!" wails Wanda. The Grim Reaper is typically as odd a source for an elixir as a ghost is as its administrator. Scarlet Witch remains skeptical and suspects that she must continue stifling Slade's efforts.
But suddenly, something distracts the assiduous Avenger. Beside Colleen, Misty stirs forcefully. First, her flailing bionic arm rives the mattress, barely missing Wing. Her writhing waist whips her legs wildly upward. They soundly slam back down. Next, her left hand clutches bedlinen and soundly rips it. Lids flutter frantically. And, a mouth gasps a long moment. The occult priest intones that Misty Knight must reunite and be whole again.
Maximoff is temporarily distracted. Slick Slade makes his move. The Phantom cradles Colleen's head and opens her hatch, gently prying lips. He prepares to dose the Daughter of the Dragon in distress. He need only get the suspended draught to drop. Like any cowboy, Rider reckons a drawn six-gun regularly does wonders, so a white glove brandishes his. He fires a magic bullet upward through the serum and the ceiling. With perfect accuracy, Physic cleanly falls down Wing's throat.
The gunshot abruptly gets Wanda's attention. The Scarlet Witch snaps alert and shoots a preternatural bolt of her own. But, the eldritch energy passes impotently through intangible entity Phantom Rider. Piqued, the Avenger applies her abilities harder. Wanda focuses on fixing the phantom utterly in place so that she might vehemently interrogate him about his actions and his defiance. Sometimes, force works. Always, its application is such a rush.
However, the hex is unnecessary. Hamilton Slade gladly explains, "Colleen Wing recovers right quick, right now. Thank the stars for the Ichor of Inari, a Shinto deity. Such godly blood really rejuvenates a warrior and readies her for the row arriving anon out east. At least that's what Miss Death said."
"What?" Wanda wonders, "Where out east?"
"I don't 'xactly know. But, I reckon Manhattan," the rascal resists her restraint, "That is where Miss Death directed me to go after gettin' these gals. And, 'sides, that's where everything seems to happen around this universe."
"That is true," Wanda concedes. She concentrates on keeping cowboy in her control, for she has further queries.
But, Slade bucks his odd bonds and slips free. Before bemused eyes, the Phantom Rider casually collapses into his own person, leaving but clothes behind before they too fold. A second later, the white shade rises behind Scarlet Witch. "Boo" sounds in her ear. The playful 'poke tussles her auburn hair a piece. Annoyed Wanda bites her lower lip. Every damned dork has surprised her this evening, and all these mini-ambushes are getting old—especially for a "Queen of Chaos".
Abruptly, Scarlet Witch startles again, for Wing and Knight sharply stir. All of a sudden, Colleen and Misty simultaneously spring into twin handstands and sail from their "sickbed" to the ceiling. Ensorcelled, they spin in air a spell. Their foot thumps hit the floor in synch. Nightwing Restorations, near death one minute, are, this night, soundly restored the next. Celebratorily bouncing about, the women are both bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as the phrase goes. The Daughters do not even dance barefoot about the floorboards, for their clothes have miraculously mended too. So, Colleen and Misty have canvas tennies and leather boots below their respective sword and sidearm.
Scarlet Witch scans the restored heroines. Her heart appreciates seeing them whole and healthy again. Against the lodge wall, Brother Voodoo leans lethargically for an instant. In his grip, the Staff of Legba smokes after great expenditure. Jericho ogles aroused Misty and Colleen capering like coneys and calling for revenge upon recent foes. Intermittently, the energized duo entreat to aid Iron Fist—wherever he is.
"Ladies," Phantom Rider answers, "I can get you on your way."
A weird wind rises within the room. It ruffles Wanda's wear and wobbles worn Drumm a wee. Scarlet Witch raises her gloves readying a response to whatever occurs. Eerily, approaching wagon wheels squeak on the rising, whistling wind as though a Conestoga comes to the cabin. Hoofing over, Phantom Rider ropes Nightwing into his arms and hefts the gathered gals. Scarlet Witch scowls and makes ready. Perking up, Brother Voodoo revives anticipating some odd eldritch event.
Then suddenly, the entire abode interior alters, for the abode disappears entirely. Abruptly, open space surrounds the lodge locale—reverted to its Old West look. The landscape is tall, lush grass amidst looming timber under abundant sunlight. Bison roam broadly over their home, and ample elk amble through the forest. The original Red Wolf watches from the horizon. And, the breeze carries both a pervasive, pungent pall of pollen and the pristine song of meadowlarks.
Across this scene, a team of stallions charge forward. On whirling winds, Phantom Rider and the ladies levitate. The drafts dangle them over the oncoming horsecart hurtling hither. The trio blumpfs to the bench seat, and Slade seizes the reins of the rampaging revenant roans. They rush away into the ether before Maximoff and Drumm's astounded eyes. The Ranger tips his hat respectfully, in parting.
In the wagon's wake, winds wrap Scarlet Witch and Brother Voodoo. Strong circulation sweeps them around the cabin room—suddenly restored. The wind rams Maximoff into the roof. It ricochets Drumm off the walls. With a crisp twist, it tosses Wanda tumbling down the stairs toward first floor. Well-trained, the Avenger tucks tight and takes the punishment. Although, she is peeved over the discomfiture. The fall dumps her fanny on the foyer.
Flipping her body back up, Scarlet Witch flicks dust bunnies from her costume. Her lips curl, and her face flushes with some frustration. Fuming, Wanda reckons that this mission does indeed need some new blood. Various bozos should pay—perhaps bleed—for what they've done. The consummate Avenger considers gathering Quicksilver, Shanna the She-Devil, Agatha Harkness, the entire Sons of the Tiger, Speed and Wiccan, Illusion and Glamor, Vision, and any other hard heroes to get Phantom Rider, Samedi, Contemplator, and any other f****** a******s who have recently crossed her. Wanda growls like a werewolf and utters an aggrieved grunt.
Gingerly, Dr. Drumm descends the stairs to check his comrade. Graceful may be the best way to approach the grumpy Maximoff. He motions for her to calm down. The good man smiles and prepares to speak. Brother Voodoo says. . . . .
Suddenly, Baron Samedi springs from the shadows. He seizes Drumm and silences his speech. Like cinders, the dark presence facilely spills over his surprised quarry. Certainly, Scarlet Witch looks surprised too—for the fourth time tonight. Sinister eyes stare back at her briefly. Then, Baron Samedi simply snaps back into the shadows, the kidnapped sorcerer accompanying! Scarlet Witch fires a hex bolt, but it hits nothing except wooden step. Finished pine smolders.
Wanda huffs. Her pride has been hurt this early morn. Some face lost, she chews her lip and cogitates. Scarlet Witch schemes to redeem herself. She could summon a Quinjet and other Avengers to aid Iron Fist and other allies at their various locales. A Lady Liberator would love for a legion and she to teach louts Thanos, Phantom Rider, and Baron Samedi a lesson or two. Scarlet Witch fishes the communicator card from her glove cuff.
All of a sudden, though, the mountain abode's owner arrives home. Dan Lyons owns Lyons Lodge lying here in northwest Montana, and Dan Lyons is retired superhero the Black Marvel. This evening, during the tumult, Black Marvel got an intruder alert at his main residence many miles away. So, the alarmed septuagenarian drove and then hiked here over the last seven hours. A moment ago, the ebon-costumed crimefighter low-crawled over the lawn in the night's low light. Presently, he surreptitiously surveys Scarlet Witch and prepares to assail her. Rising, the Black Marvel swiftly springs.
But, surprise! Normally, the veteran vindicator would never miss, despite his age. However, the Marvel does muff the tackle, much to his chagrin. Such occurrence is unlikely. But, Maximoff ably manages possibilities. And, she is done with being ambushed this morn. Black Marvel blunders into the floorboards. His old bones feel the impact.
Cursing, the codger combatant arises. Spinning, Scarlet Witch levels Lyons with an aerial kick that would make (coach) Captain America proud.
"I have not time for this!" Scarlet Witch scolds, "Whoever you are, I need to get to New York City."
"I can help," the seasoned superhero now recognizes Scarlet Witch for clearly seeing her, "I, the classic Black Marvel, know NYC well."
"What costumed crusader doesn't?" Wanda retorts.
"I used to lead the Slingers," Black Marvel boasts.
"The Slingers? Are you b. ? I have never heard of them," Scarlet Witch has never heard of the defunct Spider-Man replacements.
Black Marvel considers chop-blocking the chippy chickadee standing akimbo. An expert fighter could easily do so. However, an experienced adventurer appreciates the power of discourse. Sometimes, the middle-aged superman prefers civilized talk over physical conflict, much as melees make grand memories and are fun.
Thus, august Lyons civilly offers his outstretched hand this early August day, "Could you help me please? I would like to start over, miss. I would like to know how people came to invade my home last night. And, by the way, I think that we may both know Captain America."