Chapter 17:
[Wanda Maximoff POV]
[Weeks later, AVENGERS HQ, New York City]
[Living-area.] SHIELD provided a new base of operation, a state-of-the-art helicarrier. The place has everything a person could possibly imagine. Living quarters for each member of the team. A fully stocked kitchen. Training-area. R&D-Lab. Complete with a built-in AI. SHIELD and Stark really put a lot into this. The AVENGERS even got a new addition added to the team. Sam Wilson (Falcon). From the corner of my eyes, I catch Spartan staring out at the city. It's obvious he's very uncomfortable. I remember sensing a similar feeling coming from him back on the SHIELD-BUS. "Are you alright?" I question, walking over to him. He gives a slight nod as an answer. Clap my hands behind my back and lean forward, "Are you not comfortable with heights?" Spartan rocks his head, "No, I'm fine with heights. Just not a fan of being trapped inside a box suspended in the air, but I tolerate it." The crusader emits through his tone and body language; he hates the lack of control or the feeling of defenselessness. Being a soldier, Spartan prefers the crusade to stay grounded.
I find myself gazing at the super-soldier longer than I should. It's funny how everything seems easier every time I'm in Spartan's company. All the negativity in my life takes a back seat. Then, abruptly Spartan fixes his focus on me, "What's your plan for the day?" I pull out a flyer and hand it to him, "During the week's hiatus, I started volunteering at the homeless shelter in Hell's Kitchen. There's a charity event today. Would you like to attend it with me?" He beams, "Sure. it Should be fun," he tells me.
[Spartan POV]
[1 day later, New York City]
[Hell's Kitchen.] Hell's Kitchen was once a melting pot of cultural diversity. Since the Battle of New York, it's been a chaotic mess of poverty, crime, and anarchy. By hearsay and experience, Hell's Kitchen has become far more dangerous in recent times. Wanda and I walk to Saint Luke's shelter. We spot a priest at a donation stand. At the sound of our approach, he turns his head toward us. He wears a severe expression, but there's kindness in his eye. The old man lands his eyes on Wanda and smiles, "Wanda, hello. I'm happy you made it." Wanda shines a polite smile and then waves at the man.
As the two talked, I eye the surroundings. After a short wait, the priest considers me, "Who's your companion? Husband?" Wanda's face glows bright red, embarrassed, "W-What? Umm-" She takes a moment to compose herself, "He's a friend. Corvo." I put out a hand. The priest shakes it, "It's good to meet you." "Likewise," I voice respectfully. A few kids run around us, playing tag. A kid tags a little girl before he can clear himself from reach. "Hey, no tag backs!" the boy complains. "Too bad," the girl yells out, sprinting away. All three of us chuckle, amused. "Anyway, what brings you to Saint Luke?" the priest questions. Wanda sways her finger between the two of us, "Well, I told Corvo about the charity event, and he volunteered to lend a hand."
Father Lantom sighs, "Any aid is greatly appreciated." "What exactly do you guys do?" I ask. Father Lantom clears his throat then begins to count off his fingers, "Well, in the past several years, I have established a shelter where the dispossessed can sleep, a soup kitchen to feed the hungry, a library for the people to better themselves, and workshops so the residents can gain skills for employment. It isn't much, I admit. But it's a start." Wanda breaks in, "It is a good start, Lantom. There are limits to what one man can do." "That is true," he nods at Wanda, "Thankfully, some of the neighborhood people came out to help. I got 16 assorted volunteers from all around Hell's Kitchen working with me. They help me man the soup line, stock the library shelves, and do hundreds of things that a community organization needs done every day. The extraordinary individuals are living proof that what we do here has value." Wanda beams at the compliment. Lantom regards the other volunteers who are spread out, each assisting their fellow person.
"Are you taking donations?" I inquire. The priest's eyes flash with hope, "Yes, of course. We're actually desperate for them, truth be told. Our shelter has some basic needs that desperately need to be filled. The walls of the shelter aren't insulated, and new blankets go a long way toward keeping our guests comfortable during the winter and heaters." Drawing out my phone, I digitally transfer a few hundred thousand dollars, "Here you go. Take what you need." The older man's eyes gape, "This is... incredibly generous. Thank you, young man." I hold up my hands, "No big deal, padre. Do good with it." "Please do not downplay your charity. You have shown kindness when few others will. I will put your contribution to work," he says, happy. Wanda and I get busy doing our part.
[Steve Rogers POV]
[Hours later, AVENGERS HQ, New York City]
[Room.] Using SHIELD's best surveillance system, I tirelessly searched for any sighting or possible lead on Bucky's whereabouts. Three hours in and nothing. Drag a hand through my hair. 'Damn it, Buck, where are you?' leaning back in my chair, I stare out the window, lost in thought, dealing with a dilemma. Which Bucky am I going after? My brother or the Winter Soldier. Will I be able to bring him in to save him, or will I be forced to put him down? 'God, I pray for the former over the latter.' A hand claps onto my shoulder snaps me out of my chain of thought. I turn my attention to the person the hand belongs to. Natasha. Despite not vocalizing it, her gesture questions how the search's proceeding. I shake my head in disappointment. She sighs, overlaps her arms, and leans up against the desk, "He's a ghost, Steve. He specialized in being invisible. It's going to be a challenge." I drop my shoulders but remain steadfast, 'In spite of the odds, giving up is not an option.'
Rub a hand over my face, 'When did things get so complicated.' For the first time, I take note of how close Natasha is, taking her all in. Since the whole Triskelion takedown, she has been on my mind a lot more. When I'm in her company, all my doubts and worries fade away for a moment; I just focus on her. Only one other person made me feel that way, but I left her behind in another life. I shake the thought off; this isn't the time for that. I push away from my desk, needing a break.
[R&D-lab.] Making my way through the hallway, I cross by R&D. Inside, Tony outfits Sam with an upgraded Falcon suit. Wanda is there as well, off to the side. "Alright, Sam, the suit operates the same way as the original. Just added a few extra functions," Tony tells the man, "Like a HUD goggles, weapons, armor, comms, sensors, and a red trim for design." Sam tinkers with the wrist-mounted computer, then his head jerks to Tony, "What's a Redwing?" The tech genius beams excitedly, "Redwing is a compact falcon-shaped drone stored within a compartment on the back of the suit."
In the zone, Tony now turns his attention toward Wanda. "Oh, Wanda, being that you are now an AVENGER, I took the liberty in creating a suit for you as well," Tony voices, placing a case onto the desk. Taking the suit in her hands, Wanda gives her thanks and moves to try it on. She steps out of the booth wearing the new uniform. "It's an advanced combat-suit based on Steve's SHIELD suit. Flexible plates overlaying an MR-fluid armor layer. The tri-weave consists of an outer and inner layer made of a titanium tri-weave fiber. Sandwiched in between is the MR-fluid liquid armor that hardens in response to impacts. The liquid body armor layer is flexible, giving the wearer greater mobility. Also, shockproof and fireproof," Tony explains. In appearance, the suit is dominantly black in color with a few overlaying red stripes. Wanda's head is covered by a cowl minus the face and hair. "What do you think?" Wanda questions Sam and Tony. The two of them give the woman an approving nod. She throws on her red cropped jacket, adding a personal touch. I stay station by the door, arms-crossed. The mood is slightly lifted with the display, happy that the team is starting to form camaraderie.
[Wanda Maximoff POV]
[Dream.] All around me, there's chaos and destruction. I can hear the screams and cries of people suffering in all directions. As far as the eyes can see, the city of New York lies in ruins. Bodies of the fallen fill the ground. In the center stands a colossus figure. In his hand, he holds a golden iron gauntlet. Terror sweeps through me, tears falling. At the monster's feet laid the bodies of the AVENGERS. Without thinking, I dash toward them, yelling out their names. Suddenly, a massive shadow appears and towers over me, grinning. The mad titan fixes his craze gaze on me, "Soon, little witch. Soon."
[Room.] I jerk awake, my brow covered in cold sweats. My entire body shakes with indescribable fear. It took me a moment to pull myself together. "A nightmare. It was only a terrible nightmare," I tell myself. For all I'm spewing to convince myself, I could not fully believe it. Drag a hand over the face and hair. On the nightstand, the clock blinks 6:30 AM. It's still semi-dark out. The sun is just starting to hit the horizon. I let a tired sigh. There is no point trying to go back to sleep now. I get out of bed, throw some clothes, and exit the room, needing to distract my mind from the nightmare.
[Training-area.] I trek the hallway to find Spartan within the training-area, sparing with a few drones. A small smile escapes my lip at the view. 'Wonder if all super-soldiers have that type of physique. Both males and females.' I find myself paying very close attention to the super-soldier. Taking him all in, gravitating toward him. The daze breaks away as Spartan becomes aware of me. "Hey, you're up early," he strolls toward me, then tilts his head, "You good?" I guess the expression on my face still conveyed the aftereffect of the nightmare. "Yes, I am fine. Just woke up from a bad dream, is all. Nothing to be concerned about," I tell Spartan. "Want to talk about it?" he asks, concerned. I rattle my head, "No. As I said, it is nothing. Just a silly dream." In my mind's eye, I still see the bodies of the AVENGERS laying at the feet of the titan with the golden iron gauntlet, smiling that sickening grin. 'Soon, little witch. Soon.' "So you spend your morning beating up on drones?" I say, quickly changing the subject. He notices but doesn't push. I turn away, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, then peer around, noting that AVENGERS HQ is light on team members, "Where are the others." Spartan folds his arms in thought, "The others are all out doing their own things. It's just you and me. Want to join me for breakfast?" I shy away, "I do not want to be a bother." He pockets his hands, "Wanda, you're not. Plus, I like your company." My cheeks flush red, but I smile brightly, "In that case. Sure."
[Spartan POV]
[1 day later, New York City]
Out on patrol via the city rooftops, EPYON tags an op. A break-in at a tech company. Wasting no time, I make my way toward the location. [Hell's Kitchen.] [Rooftop.] In stealth-camo, I perch myself across the building EPYON marked. The HUD tags various hostiles, and they were already engaged in combat with a lone masked individual in a red-&-black combat-suit. Realization quickly hit me of who these assholes are battling against. The defender of Hell's Kitchen, Daredevil. We worked an op once to take down a gang of corrupt cops. Even though I don't think he needs it, I head inside to provide backup just in case.
[Inside.] [Hallway.] DD slams a fist to one thug's face, knocking him out with one blow. He straightens as two goons charge him; the guy in front swings a bat. Ducking low, DD strikes a fist to the man's ribs, then tags him with a right-hook-punch. He goes down instantly. DD fights thug-3 and batters the man with a storm of punches. Getting back on his feet, thug-2 runs at DD. The masked vigilante gets in some hard punches. Obtaining the upper hand, he arm-throw the goon onto his back and knocks him out with a foot-stomp to the face. A downed thug comes too; he reaches behind his back and pulls out an M1911 pistol. DD skillfully flings his baton without even looking, bashing the goon over the head, knocking him out cold.
"Nice suit," I say to DD, switching off the stealth-camo. The masked vigilante smirks, "It's been a while." I nod, "Yeah, been busy." DD adopts a more serious demeanor, "I need your help. I got info that there's going to be an underground auction going down tonight." I fold my arms, "What are we dealing with? Weapons? Drugs?" "Human trafficking," DD tells me. "Where?" I growl, already planning out the pain I'm going to inflict on those scumbags. "Don't know. But I think I know someone who does. A slime ball named Turk," he tells me.
[Bar-With-No-Name, New York City]
[Rooftop.] Both DD and I crouch over the edge of the building, surveying the area. The HUD marks a dozen people inside. Half of them are armed. "How do you want to do this?" DD asks me. I straighten myself, "I'll go in and drag Turk out." The masked vigilante nods. Jumping off the roof, I make my way in. [Inside.] The place is exactly what I'd imagined, a cesspool of scum and villainy. By the bar, I spot Turk chatting up a group of gangbangers, talking a big game. If I wanted to, I could've taken the silent approach. Slip in completely unnoticed. Not tonight. Not on this mission. I want to be noticed. To be seen. Hell, I want all of NYC's criminal underworld to witness what's going to happen.
I stride up to Turk. It doesn't take long for the man to notice me. His eyes go wide with panic; he quickly searches for a nearby exit and yells to his men to attack. Turk's men flank me, boxing me in the middle. One of them even draws a gun and aims it at the back of my head. 'Hard way it is.' Moving fast, I maneuver out of line-of-fire, circle around the goon, and hip-throw him toward a group of thugs. One tries to rush me, but I manage to drop him with a quick push-kick to the chest. Then, quick-drawing my pistol, I drop the remaining tangos with stun-bolts. Grab Turk and drag the man out the back where DD is waiting for us.
[Outback.] I toss Turk onto a pile of tanks. DD appears beside me. "Oh, shit. You two are working together now? Fuck!" Turk complains. "We can do this in one of two ways, Turk. Easy or hard?" I tell the man, "Your call." The man barks a humorless laugh, "What the hell do you want?" "Info," DD tells him, "There's going to be an underground auction tonight. Where is it taking place?" "Man, I don't know anything about some auction," he says. DD punches him right in the nose, then slams him to the wall, "Lie to me again; a broken nose will be the least of your troubles." "Okay! Okay! I heard about an auction taking place at a hotel in Chelsea. That's all I know!" DD and I make our leave.
[New York City]
[Chelsea.] [Rooftop.] DD and I watch what's going on inside the hotel via the skyline window. The HUD tags a few influential people within the crowd. City officials, judges, businessmen, and two politicians. A man in a neatly pressed suit walks onto the stage, signaling the auction is about to start for the bidders. The HUD runs a facial scan of the ring leader to get an ID. Vasco Quinn. Import-export magnate. One-time Alchemax CEO. International human trafficker. The world sees Quinn as a legit businessman. A philanthropist who gives to charity, not a scumbag who profits off the suffering of innocents. I steal a glance at Quinn's entourage. His Security team is guarding him pretty tight. Men like Quinn count more enemies than friends. Quinn orders his goons to force a group of scared young girls onto the stage with a finger snap. Each is dressed provocatively; identical tattoos mark their bodies like cattle, ready to be sold to these sick fucks. DD and I make our move; we burst into the hotel via the skyline window.
[Inside.] Once we hit the ground, I set off an EMP blast to kill all the lights and electronic devices within the building. The hired guns go for their weapons. DD quickly leaps under a nearby table and flips it toward a small group of goons. I zig-zag across the room, punch out goon-5, slam him face-first to the ground, quick-draw my pistol, and drop four. Quinn tries to escape, but DD fires a grappling line, catching him by the legs, and drags him back, screaming. The two of us unload our fury on these monsters with human faces. One by one, they are taken down. We didn't leave a single one standing. They're all bloodied and bruised but alive. DD goes to secure hostages. Tapping my comlink, I call it in.