Chapter Four
Paris, France
VISION
Tracking Wanda to a city was one thing; finding her within that city was more of an art than a science. In Cork, Vision had waded through buildings, dipped in and out of pubs, and stood long on street corners, waiting. He had nearly given up when he stumbled into that old church and saw her sitting in the front pew. Then she turned, and he ran – just for a moment, but he ran. He didn't know why.
After the church and the Eye of London, Vision had a vague blueprint for Wanda's behavior. She wandered, until she found her way to the most interesting place.
Paris had many interesting places: the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe, just to name a very well-known few. And yet, if Vision had to guess where he might find Wanda, it was none of these; no – Wanda was drawn toward enigmas, hollow places with convoluted histories.
The London Eye was meant to be a temporary attraction, but it simply never went away. Then, most things that come into being fight to remain so.
Vision walked across the Pont de'Arcole and passed a handful of tourist shops before he strolled into the shadow of a colossus.
Notre-Dame de Paris. Constructed over more than 100 years. Around 52 acres of trees were cut down to furnish its roof. It was built over the remains of the forgotten pagan city of Lutetia.
Vision sat on a concrete bench and listened to tour guides repeat these and other facts in two dozen different languages for several hours. He thought of Wanda while he waited.
"Is this seat taken?"
Vision glanced up from a daydream into the real thing. He patted the spot next to him and Wanda sat down.
"Looks like you found me this time," Vision said.
"I knew what face to look for," Wanda said. She sat very close. Vision did not mind this. "But really, how did you know where I would be?" she asked.
"Lucky guess," he said. And, "Tell me about Paris."
Wanda talked about the loneliness of The City of Love. "I feel it, you know," Wanda said. "I feel the emptiness of all these people. They want so many things that they can't have. So many of them come here looking for love, and they don't find it. They get the idea of it mixed up with the real thing."
"Do you feel lonely?" Vision asked.
"Not when you're here," Wanda said.
A young couple took a selfie in front of the Cathedral. They leaned together and kissed, each with one eye still looking to the cell phone camera to see if they were in frame. Vision wondered, as he had before, what compelled people to kiss. It was perhaps societal – those who kiss grew up seeing other humans kiss, learning the gesture from books and movies and paintings. But then, the kiss was an excepted romantic expression in almost half of the world's societies. Where had it come from? When did the first two people decide to press their lips together with passion? And why did so many others follow their example?
"Wanda," Vision said. He wanted to ask her, or perhaps ask her something else – but his attention was drawn by a sharp pop and a scream. The crowd in the Parvis Notre-Dame became a wave radiating from an epicenter, where one man with a gun was the pebble disrupting an otherwise steady pond.
"You!" the man shouted. He spoke English but with the undertones of a French accent. "You're one of them!"
Wanda grabbed Vision's hand as she stumbled to her feet and tried to back away, but they were up against the Charlemagne et ses Leudes.
"I'm not who you think I am," Wanda said. "I'm not—"
"Witch!" the man howled, and he fired at her. Vision threw himself over Wanda, catching a few bullets in the back – they stung as they bounced off and fell, flattened, onto the pavement. A few more bullets lodged themselves into the statue.
Wanda's hands sparked red and she twisted them, crumpling up the man's gun from thirty feet away the way anyone else might ball up a piece of paper in her hands. The man squealed in surprise.
Wanda unfurled herself from Vision's protective grasp and stepped into the now empty square. Her fingers fluttered like she was mastering a puppet, and the man was forced to his knees. "Alright," she said, bubbling with anger, "I am who you say I am."
"You're a monster," the man said. "All you freaks are monsters."
Wanda took another step closer, and the man flattened against the ground. He screamed.
Vision put a hand on her shoulder. "Wanda," he said. "Leave him to the police." Already they were on hand, tactically approaching the square from every direction.
Wanda released the man. A tear sputtered down her cheek as she turned to Vision. "Are you okay?" she asked.
"I'm fine. I'm fine," Vision said. "Are you?"
She nodded wordlessly and buried her face in Vision's chest and he wrapped his arms around her. They were no strangers to a fight, but no one liked being ambushed.
"We can't stay here," Vision whispered.
The bridges were closed. The police were everywhere. They had the gunman surrounded and were coming for Wanda next. "Hold on."
They shot into the air, just for a moment, and landed in a park across the Seine. They were noticed, but not by anyone who had a clear idea of who they were or what was happening. Most everyone's attention was focused on the cathedral square.
Vision towed Wanda through the park and out onto the street. They ran until they were away from anyone who might have seen their little spectacle, then they walked arm in arm towards the hostel where Wanda and the others were staying.
Vision's phone started bleating in his jacket pocket. Flipping it open, he said, "Colonel Rhodes."
"Vision, buddy. Sorry to cut your personal time short, but there's been an incident in Paris," Rhodes said. "Reports indicate Maximoff was at Notre-Dame Cathedral."
"You don't say?"
"Sounds like a load of crap to me, but we're under orders to check it out," Rhodes said.
They had stopped walking. Wanda pulled away and stood cross-armed in front of a boulangerie window. She used her sleeve to wipe her eyes.
"I'm getting on the Quinjet in ten minutes," Rhodes said.
"I can meet you in Paris," Vision said.
"Without a jet?" Rhodes asked. "Man, you're making me look bad. Three hours, give or take." Static rolled over the line and Vision tucked the phone back in his pocket.
Wanda said, "News travels fast."
"You and the others need to get out of the city."
"No," Wanda said. "You just got here."
"I know. I'm sorry."
Wanda sniffled and oscillated on the pavement. She asked, "Am I a monster?"
"No," Vision said. "No, of course not." He caught her hands to stop her nervous movement. "You're a human, and a marvelous one. Someday the world will see that."
"Vis," Wanda said.
"Wanda," Vision said, "May I kiss you?"
"What?"
"I've been thinking I would like to kiss you, but only if it's okay with you."
"I would like that," Wanda said.
"You would?"
"Yeah."
Vision leaned forward, until their noses almost touched. He said, "I've never done this before."
"Hmm," Wanda said. "Then I'll kiss you."
She stretched up, and their lips touched, and Vision still did not know where kissing began, but he knew why people did it.
"That was," Vision said, but he didn't have an exact way to describe it.
"The City of Love," Wanda said.
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Vision was still thinking about the feeling of Wanda's lips when Colonel Rhodes arrived in the Parvis Notre-Dame—Place Jean-Paul-II exactly three hours and fourteen minutes later.
"You got here fast," Rhodes said, flipping down the helmet of his War Machine suit.
"I aim to impress," Vision said.
They spoke first to the police, who insisted that there was a second enhanced person with Wanda Maximoff, but it wasn't anyone they recognized. "Haut," the police officer said. He indicated Vision, "ta taille."
"He said the man was tall. My height," Vision translated.
"So we're looking for Wanda and a tall white guy," Rhodes said. "Awesome."
Rhodes ordered a sweep of the city. First, he used Stark tech to scan for unusual readings – radiation spikes, seismic activity, the like.
Next, they tapped the security cameras all over the city. This turned up some possible evidence of Wanda, who indeed was with a man, but the images were blurry and at odd angles. Facial recognition turned up no usable matches for the man, Rhodes said.
Following a digital trail and word of mouth, they tracked Wanda to a certain block on the south side of the city, where they investigated two rundown hostels. In the second, they found further evidence that Wanda and the others had been there, but it was clear they were gone.
"Alright," Rhodes said, "let's do a round from the air. I doubt we'll get anything that way, but I want to be able to tell Ross we really tried."
Vision flew over the Pantheon, palaces, gardens, and patchwork streets, not at all looking for who he should. He was a tourist in Paris, the City of Love.