Look What You Made Me Do (Wanda-SI/OC)

I blinked and Pietro was suddenly by my side, making a fuss. Reaching for his shoulder, I used him to help me lever myself into a standing position and winced at a sudden stabbing pain in my side. He wrapped an arm around my waist, taking some of my weight. I was pretty sure I could walk okay, but my head was still ringing and I was mostly just grateful for the support.

“Wanda, I take it?” Carol asked, eyeing me appraisingly. “Why’s the big one trying to kill you?”

“Empty suit, controlled remotely. Evil AI.”

“Huh. Well, this wouldn’t be first one of those I’ve dealt with,” she said with a shrug.

At the far side of what remained of the room there was a cracking, crumbling sound and we all turned toward it.

Rubble was shouldered aside as the Hulkbuster extracted itself from underneath, almost every inch of its armoured plates battered, bent or scuffed. “Okay, so at this point, I have to ask,” the voice of the other me came out of the suit’s speakers, bitterly sarcastic. “Are conveniently-timed, last-second twists and heroic saves literally baked into this universe on a cosmic, fundamental level? Because I am already pretty damn sick and tired of them.”

Carol frowned briefly and shot a quick glance back at me, but I was scanning the sky. “Where’s the other suit? Pietro?” I asked. I glanced around, trying to see if I could spot any of the others through the smoke and dust.

Carefully letting go of me once he was sure I could stand on my own, Pietro shook his head. “Not sure. Captain America was holding it off. I lost track.”

The giant armoured suit paused for a few seconds, seemingly hesitating. That was fair enough—a fully-fresh and operational Hulkbuster armour might have been able to put up a bit of a fight against Captain Marvel, but one that was already damaged after an extended bout of combat, with no support from Veronica? We’d lost our own Iron Man support, but the Hulk should be making his way back up the Tower and, even concussed, I’d still be able to help out. The digital me was outgunned and outnumbered.

“Alright, Brie. Let’s do this,” my voice said as the Hulkbuster rolled its head and shoulders, like a boxer stretching out their muscles.

Carol didn’t respond, her eyes narrowing slightly as her hands tightened into fists. Glimmering orange and blue fire danced across her body.

Pietro looked at me and I took a deep breath, holding my hands loosely out to the sides, red wisps of energy dripping from my fingers as I summoned what magic I could. “Find the others,” I said. “We’ve got this.” He nodded and blurred away.

At the same time, the giant suit of armour sprang into motion, once again moving much faster than its bulk would imply as it lunged forward, firing a repulsor from its remaining hand. Carol moved as well, punching forward and unleashing a bolt of burning energy, dense and powerful enough to pulverise metal. The photon blast hit the repulsor beam head on and ripped through it, dissipating its kinetic energy without slowing down and continuing forward to slam into the armour. The Hulkbuster fired its thrusters, using a burst to turn the hit into a glancing blow without slowing down.

I thrust both hands toward the charging armour and it faltered, red wisps of energy flowing over its surface as it struggled against my attempt to kill its momentum. But I didn’t need to beat it… I just needed to give Carol an opening. She darted forward, lightly skimming over the rubble and ruined floor. Dodging easily under a wild swing, she planted her feet and thrust her fist up into the suit’s midsection, blasting it with another pulse of energy. Even though I was standing a dozen metres away, I felt the force of the blow deep in my own chest as it hammered into the Hulkbuster, armoured plates buckling as it was physically lifted off the ground and sent flying backwards. Its thrusters fired again, trying to recover in midair, but Carol didn’t let up, lunging in to hit it twice more in rapid succession with booming blows that resounded across the battlefield.

While they fought, I took a deep breath to block out the ringing in my skull before spinning a crimson portal. Reaching through, I wrapped my fingers around the haft of the vibranium spear that was stuck into the side of the Tower and pulled it free with a firm tug. Another portal, and the rest of my spears fell through. I caught them all with my telekinetic power, red energy weaving around all five of them as they flew up into the air, spread roughly evenly in a circle around the fight, thirty feet up. With time to concentrate and space to breath, I could focus on my magic and get in some hits of my own.

The Hulkbuster fired its legs thrusters wildly, trying to get some distance from Carol, and I flicked out both hands. Two spears lanced down, one stapling the armour’s right foot to the ground and the other skewering its left shin. The suit’s leg thrusters died and the ones on its back and remaining hand fired instead. Another flick of my hand and those were pierced and misfiring too, the vibranium projectiles ripping through the thick metal and electronics beneath like they weren’t even there.

The suit reeled back and I thrust my hand forward again, the last spear burying itself in the Hulkbuster’s faceplate. Whipping both hands around, I focused all of the telekinetic force I could bring to bear on the spears, trying to hold them—and by extension, the armoured suit—immobile. It fought back, straining against them, joints grinding and struggling as I wrestled with it.

Carol kicked off the ground and shot toward the staggered armour, wreathed in a corona of burning energy. With one last burst, she dove directly into and through its midsection, smashing out the other side in a spray of twisted metal and sparking of shorting electrics. I raised my left hand, clenching my fist and making a pulling motion. The spears withdrew from the armour and flew back to me, threading through the air to hover in a fan-like arrangement behind my head.

The Hulkbuster collapsed, its helmet lights going dark. Carol landed lightly a few paces away from me, breathing slightly heavily as the corona of energy around her guttered out and vanished.

We looked at each other for a moment, then Carol shrugged and pointed to the spears. “That was cool. Why didn’t you do that earlier?”

I went to snap something back at her, but stopped when I saw the slight grin curling the corner of her mouth. “Had to give her a fighting chance,” I said with a shrug.

There was the sound of rubble shifting, then a roar and the Hulk leapt out of the massive hole in the centre of the building. The green giant landed, looking around wildly.

Carol flared up again but I waved her off. “No! No, he’s good. He’s a good guy. Right, Hulk?” He turned to me and took a menacing step forward, practically panting with rage as his eyes fixed on me. “…Right, Hulk?” I said again, a little less confidently.

Growling, he moved past me and strode over to the remains of the Hulkbuster, looking at it for a moment before yanking its arm loose and smashing it into the ground petulantly. He punched its ruined chest again for good measure.

There was a feminine grunt of effort off to one side. When I glanced over, I saw Natasha had emerged from wherever she’d been, sliding down the remains of a collapsed corridor to join us. She took a few steps toward the Hulk. “Hey, big guy. Sun’s getting real low,” she said, reaching out with a hand, palm up.

Pietro suddenly blurred next to us, a swearing and muttering Clint slung over his shoulder. He dumped him forward, setting him down on his feet. “Come on, man. Was that really necessary?” Clint grumbled as he took a deep breath, putting his hands on his knees as he tried not to throw up. He looked a bit roughed up, with some scorch marks on his suit, but appeared to be otherwise intact.

The Hulk whipped his head around to look at them. “Hey, hey. Over here. Come on, big guy,” Natasha got his attention again and he snorted, his breathing becoming somewhat calmer as he looked at her and her outstretched hand.

He took a cautious step forward and reached out with his own, holding his palm up. Nat reached in, gently touching the inside of his wrist, then running her fingers down his palm and middle finger. His expression flickered and he staggered back, almost losing his footing. Slowly, he started to transform, going to one knee and leaning heavily on the ground. Carol watched in surprise, vaguely fascinated.

As Bruce returned to normal, Steve appeared from around the side of some rubble, a hobbling and black-streaked Tony Stark leaning heavily on his shoulder. I heaved a sigh of relief. Everyone was still in one piece, though I knew we weren’t clear yet.

She might not have the Hulkbuster armour anymore, but presumably the Mark 45 was still active along with the missing Iron Legion drones. We couldn’t rely on any of the building’s systems, either—if there was anything that was still functional. She deployed Veronica and the Hulkbuster from orbit, which meant she had access to Stark’s satellite network. She hadn’t given up, I was certain. She knew we’d go after her, so she’d want to take us out first, if possible. We needed to retreat.

“Is everyone okay? Can we go? We need to go somewhere and regroup,” I said, my tone urgent.

Steve nodded in agreement, still breathing heavily as he squinted at Captain Marvel, taking in her red-and-blue suit. “I’m guessing you must be Carol?” he asked.

The corner of her mouth quirked upward again. “My reputation precedes me, I see.”

“Wanda said you were a heavy hitter. She—”

“Yeah,” Tony interrupted him, his expression dark as he turned toward me. “Wanda says a lot of things. Speaking of, I had a really interesting conversation while I was wrestling to keep control of my suit. There some things you want to share with the rest of the class?”

A cold stab of fear pierced my gut. What had she said to him, exactly? “Look, I’ll explain everything, but we really need to get out of here. She’s still—”

I was interrupted as the floor suddenly tossed and rolled violently underneath us, everyone almost losing their footing as a series of explosions ripped through the Tower below us and the whole structure started to come down. I reacted, spinning up a portal to the first place that sprang to mind as a safe haven, the red portal sparking into existence almost immediately. Pietro blurred over to Steve and Tony, roughly shoving them through the gateway before jumping through himself. Almost simultaneously, I wrapped tendrils of red magic around Clint and flung him through after them before the ground beneath my feet lurched and fell away.

Off to the side, Carol darted forward, grabbing hold of Natasha and Bruce’s arms before flying up, lifting them out of the way of the collapsing building. She saw me fall, her eyes flicking between me and the portal for a moment. Flailing, I grabbed onto one of the Vibranium spears still floating above me and used it to lift myself up. This was… awkward, and not easy, but at least it was easier than trying to telekinetically lift myself directly. I really, really needed to work out how to fly properly at some point. As it was, trying to move myself relative to myself was weirdly recursive and my magic did not like doing it. I managed to hold myself in the air long enough for Carol to deposit Bruce and Nat through the portal, then she grabbed me and we went through together, portal closing on a New York skyline now bereft of Avengers Tower.

 

--

 

For the second time in as many weeks, Baron Wolfgang von Strucker sat silently in a cell, listening to the muffled sounds of battle. The muted roar of a distant explosion made the whole building shiver. Everything had gone wrong… Stark had been in the building. Perhaps he had seen through the ruse they’d tried to use to draw him away, and deceived them into thinking he’d fallen for the bait. A dozen soldiers, no matter how skilled, were never going to take out Iron Man on their own.

Now Strucker had no idea what was happening. Rumlow was dead—he’d seen the body—and the rest of his forces had been summarily dismantled. So who was attacking the Tower? Had another faction taken advantage of his own operation to launch an assault of their own? Was Zemo playing some sort of 4D chess game with an unknown goal this entire time, with Strucker as merely a clueless pawn? The thought made him bristle, but it would explain how Wanda and the boy had been there to interfere with his raid. Strucker couldn’t imagine that they’d manage to free themselves without assistance.

The faint, familiar sound of heavy metallic footsteps echoed through the corridor outside Strucker’s cell and he stood up, back straight. Perhaps he could talk his way out of this—the Avengers had underestimated him once before, so they would be cautious not to do so again. If he could convince Stark that he might be useful to them…

The cell door slid open to reveal a pair of Stark’s Iron Legion drones. Surprisingly, it was Wanda Maximoff’s voice that came from the robots’ speakers. “The whole Tower’s about to come down,” she said casually, as if she were making idle note of the most ordinary thing in the world. “I was just going to leave you here to die, but I already made the mistake of not finishing you off when I had the chance once before. I won’t be doing that again.”

Strucker started to panic slightly, his breath catching in his throat. “Please, be reasonable, Wanda,” he spluttered. “I could—”

He was cut off by the wine of repulsors as the drones both raised their hands and fired, slamming him into the wall behind him with bone-crushing force. His body exploded with pain, his vision blanking out white for a second as he collapsed to the floor, barely able to breathe. Blinking rapidly, he let out a pained whimper. As his vision cleared, he saw one of the drones standing above him, hand raised and pointed at his head. The repulsor cannon in its palm whined again, lighting up with a faint glow, and then there was nothing.

 

--

 

Agatha sat back, watching the distant fireworks play out at the top of Avengers Tower. She was the only person sitting; the few other rubberneckers who had been using the benches had risen to their feet to try to see what was happening some time ago. This part of Central Park wasn’t overly busy at this time of the day, most of Agatha’s company being meandering tourists and a small assortment of late-afternoon joggers who had been getting their steps in before the plane had struck the building and most people’s attentions had been captured. Agatha had heard panicked murmurings amongst the scattered crowd about 9/11 and the Battle of New York, which only made her roll her eyes.

Another explosion ripped through the top of Avengers Tower and someone nearby, a woman, screamed. There really wasn’t much left of the upper floors of the building at this point.

Agatha had been on the cusp of instructing Señor Scratchy to intervene when the heavily-armed soldiers had captured Wanda—though she would have only done so to ensure the girl was freed and not whisked away to some government lab. Thankfully, it had proven unnecessary. To be honest, the Scarlet Witch had proven to be a bit of a letdown after the initial excitement of her appearance. Agatha had had several opportunities so far where she could have swooped in to pounce on her prey, but the idea of missing out on grasping the nascent legend’s real potential rankled at her.

Agatha closed her left eye for a moment, getting a literal bird’s eye view of the battle that was currently raging at the top of Avengers Tower as she viewed it from Señor Scratchy’s perspective. Wanda was strong, it was true—her telekinesis had significant power behind it, and her telepathic spells could be cast with only a gesture and no incantation—but those seemed a poor prize on their own when her potential was so much more. Once in the fullness of her power, the Darkhold prophesised that the Scarlet Witch would be able to rewrite reality at her whim, with power enough to bring the entire universe to its knees. Wanda was… not that. Not even remotely

close to that. The black book also said that the Scarlet Witch was forged, not born, and this girl had barely been tempered. While an actual universe-level threat would obviously be a bit beyond Agatha, right now she could afford to wait and watch, and steal away the Scarlet Witch’s power once she’d developed herself into something a bit more worthwhile. Doing it now would just be a waste of potential.

Her familiar had followed the Scarlet Witch as she’d been carried across the city, hastening toward the Tower to intercept the soldiers’ attack. That had been averted, but then the Avengers had crashed their plane into the building, apparently deliberately, and now the heroes seemed to be fighting amongst themselves rather spectacularly. Agatha had literally no clue what had sparked the fight, but it made for good entertainment at least.

There was a sudden spike of alarm through her connection with Señor Scratchy, and she closed her eye again to see what was going on. One of the Iron Men had broken off from the fight and seemed to be trying to grab him out of the air. “Hold still, you stupid bird,” the pilot said in frustration.

Huh. Oddly, the voice coming from the suit sounded a lot like the Scarlet Witch, but she definitely appeared to still be fighting for her life atop the Tower. Agatha sat up straight, suddenly excited. Could it be that Wanda had mastered duplication casting already? That was extremely promising if so—the spellwork involved was extremely finicky. Agatha could do it in an extremely limited fashion, but she was far from displaying the same sort of mastery that Wanda would have to have to pull off something like this.

Señor Scratchy dodged and weaved, desperately trying to throw off his pursuer. Agatha just watched impassively. She had no intention of intervening. “Sink or swim, darling. You know I’m no helicopter witch,” she murmured under her breath.

It’d be a shame if she lost him, binding a new familiar was a tiresome and time-consuming exercise, but if he wasn’t intelligent enough to get away from the tin can then she had little use for him in any case. It was interesting… Wanda must have been tipped off that the crow was more than he appeared, but did she suspect witchcraft? Agatha would have to take more stringent precautions in her surveillance from now on.

The demon dived down into the Tower, dodging through partially collapsed floors and through a shattered window before ducking behind the lee of the building across the street. He alighted on a ledge, pressing himself into the shadowed corner of the window, blending into the darkness and making himself as small as possible as he watched the sky for signs of pursuit.

There was another series of explosions and a rumble, and suddenly the entirety of Avengers Tower was coming down, collapsing in on itself, leaving only a plume of dust in the city skyline and the distant sound of sirens. There were a few more shouts and screams from the crowd, people on phones talking in panicked tones to loved ones, with some dashing away entirely. Señor Scratchy took the opportunity to peel away under cover of the demolition, cloaking his passage with dust and sticking low to the streets as he took a circuitous route back around to Central Park. It looked like he was clear.

Well, that was irritating. Agatha had missed the end of the fight, or so it seemed. With luck, the Scarlet Witch would have survived—she wasn’t the type to let a mere building collapse stop her. After a moment, Agatha decided it would be for the best to return to her temporary sanctum and ensure that the tracking spell still had a link to Wanda’s magic. Once she’d confirmed the girl had survived, she could plan a new approach to her surveillance. While the crow was a fine animal—a witchcraft classic for a reason!—it was definitely a little conspicuous. The form of something smaller, like a beetle, was easier to use for infiltration but was slower and came along with increased risks of natural predators in an open environment like the city. She would have to think on it.

Agatha stood, smoothing down the creases in her pants while tutting quietly to herself. Turning, she walked away from the crowd, toward the side of the park opposite where the Tower had been. She walked slowly until Señor Scratchy caught up, perching in the branches in a nearby tree.

The witch felt the sudden panic through their connection at the same time she heard the thrusters fire, her head snapping up as she backpedalled a few paces. Slicing through the tree branches in a dive that was too fast for her familiar to evade, the battle-scarred Iron Man suit closed metal fingers around her familiar’s neck and back, pinning him, then landed in a kneeling position less than a dozen yards away from her with a heavy thud. “Got you, you little shit,” the pilot—Wanda?—said triumphantly.

Agatha schooled her expression into one of innocent surprise and concern; she was just a random bystander, after all. Just an office worker in a neat business-casual pantsuit, on her way home after a day of tedium at her boring job. She stared at the armour as it stood up, taking another step smartly back to avoid getting in the hero’s way—a common drone like her had no business interfering with Avenger business, after all.

The armoured figure looked down at the bird in its hand. “Worth two in the bush,” Wanda said to herself quietly with a small shrug, then looked up and went stock still as she saw Agatha. “Hi…”

The witch gave her a concerned but puzzled smile. Nothing to see here. Just a random citizen. “Oh, uh, sorry,” she said, ducking her head and holding up her hands in a nervous gesture, then turned and started to hurry away.

“Agatha Harkness.”

It was Agatha’s turn to freeze, stopping mid-step. That was an unpleasant surprise. She recovered almost instantly, wheeling around with a quizzical expression on her face. “I’m sorry? I don’t know who that—”

The witch gestured mid-sentence, thumb and ring finger pressed together, grabbing the front of the armour’s head in a telekinetic web of purple and black energy before yanking downward as hard as she could. Wanda faceplanted immediately and Agatha was already halfway through incanting a mind control spell, “Teneo imperium anima.”

The younger girl recovered, getting her feet under herself and firing her thrusters to rocket toward Agatha just as she finished. Agatha grinned triumphantly as she flicked the spellwork toward her attacker’s head.

Nothing happened.

Wanda raised her free hand, palm forward, and there was a momentary whine before a blast of power hit Agatha directly below the sternum, knocking the wind out of the older witch and sending her tumbling back across the grass in a tangle of limbs. A second whine signalled a blast that sent Señor Scratchy smashing against the trunk of a nearby tree—pain exploded through their link as her familiar’s bones shattered on impact.

Agatha gasped for air, trying to pull herself back to her feet as quickly as she could. What on Earth…? Even if Wanda’s psyche was completely rock-solid there should have been some struggle, a battle of wills. Not nothing. This wasn’t good. She needed to get out of here, fast.

She gestured again, lashing out with a whiplike strand of bright purple that scoured the side of Wanda’s armoured suit with a sizzle of energy while simultaneously weaving a shield between them, when a metal hand suddenly clamped down on her wrist. While she’d been distracted, one of Tony Stark’s unmanned drones had lunged in from somewhere unseen, its expressionless face regarding her coolly with blue-glowing eyes. Its free hand found the back of her head, fingers clamped vice-like in her hair, and there was another whine of a weapon charging up.

“Stop, Agatha,” Wanda said, slashing one hand horizontally in a ‘cease’ motion. The older witch froze obediently, her mind racing as she tried to work out her avenue of escape. The armoured suit stepped forward menacingly. “Do you know what that is? That's the sound of a repulsor cannon pressed against the base of your skull. Now, I'm not actually sure what'll happen if I fire it point blank like this, but it'll definitely be messy. Do you understand?”

Agatha let her lower lip tremble. “I don’t know who you think I am, but—”

“Agatha Harkess. One of the most powerful witches alive, if not the most powerful. Bearer of the Darkhold. Killer of her mother’s coven.”

Her jaw worked silently for a moment before she gave a sheepish grin. “Well, darn.”

“This is actually excellent timing. I have some things I’d like to talk to you about,” Wanda said casually. “Not here, though. Let’s relocate to somewhere a bit more private.”

The front of the armoured suit opened up, folding outward to reveal… nothing. It was empty. Hollow. There was no one inside. The drone holding onto Agatha frogmarched her forward a couple of paces and her eyes widened as she realised what was about to happen. Her heart started beating more rapidly, mind working frantically as she tried to decide if trying to rip herself from the robot’s grasp would be survivable or if she could get a spell out before the thing took her head off. “This really isn’t necessary, I’m sure we can come to some—”

“Shhh,” Wanda’s voice came through, seemingly from every direction around her. “Be a good little witch and hold still…”

The Iron Man armour closed around her like a metal coffin.