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

I got the distinct impression there used to be actual bunks in the Hoopty’s downstairs compartments to accommodate a larger crew. Carol had seemingly repurposed them into a little hydroponics lab to grow her own food and workshop area, but she still had plenty of space and was able to use the couches and spare blankets and pillows to at least make everyone a bit comfortable. She’d offered her actual bed as well and I’d accepted gratefully, Nat on one side of me and Pietro on the other. Once everyone was rested and in a better state of mind, we reconvened around the coffee table to plan.

“So, how do we stop her?” Steve asked, looking around at everyone. His eyes lingered on me a moment. “Wanda, you’re sure there’s nothing we can use from your visions?”

“When the Avengers beat Ultron, Vision somehow blocked him out of the internet so he couldn’t escape. That was the key. Without Vision…” A spark of hope rose in my chest as I glanced over at Carol. We might not have had Vision, but we did have access to space—maybe there was a solution off-world that had never come up. “Carol, you destroyed the Kree Supreme Intelligence, didn’t you? Any ideas?”

Carol looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook her head. “The Supreme Intelligence basically ran the entire Kree civilisation, but that meant it needed so much processing power it was effectively stuck in a fixed location. You said that Ultron could ‘escape into the internet’, so I’m guessing she’s not reliant on any specific infrastructure to host her core processes?”

I sighed, the spark smothered. “No, she’s not.”

“Tony,” Natasha prompted him. “This is your area of expertise.”

“A hunter-killer virus, maybe. If we can work out something that could actually feasibly take her down, we can release it onto the net and she’d be forced to take herself offline.”

Tony looked tired. He’d successfully managed to salvage most of the Mark 43 Iron Man suit, but a lot of the damage couldn’t be repaired solely with the facilities on the Hoopty and he’d had to make compromises to ensure there was no way that the murderous AI would be able to take it over again, wiping most of the systems entirely. I didn’t think he’d actually gotten any sleep, choosing to spend the time working instead. Because an exhausted, sleep-deprived Tony Stark was exactly what we needed right now. God, he frustrated me. After everything that had happened, I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep either, but the second I’d laid down I’d basically passed out.

Bruce grimaced. “Can we actually make something like that, though? We’d need to have some idea of what her code was like so we could target it, then it’d need to be adaptable and robust enough to go after her. I can’t see how we’d do that without basically trying to build our own AI from the ground up.”

“I don’t see you putting forward any better ideas,” Tony said testily, folding his arms.

“I’m not sure there are any better ideas,” Bruce admitted, shrugging his shoulders uncomfortably. “How are we even supposed to fight something like this?”

“Together,” Steve said firmly.

Tony snorted derisively. “And when we lose?”

“Then we’ll do that together, too.” Steve set his jaw, shooting the other man a challenging look.

“Are we sure we can’t talk her down?” asked Pietro slowly.

I gave him a tight smile. “I really don’t think so. I think she’ll see any attempt as a trick, something to get her to bring her guard down so we can take her out. She’s already committed.”

“She knows everything you do. She was made from your mind. So she thinks like you, right?” Clint asked, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully.

“…Right.”

“So, get inside her head. Put yourself in her position. What’s her play?” he asked.

I shook my head, massaging my left temple with my fingertips. “You don't understand, there's too much to check. Dozens of choices, maybe hundreds. She could go after anything at all. And she knows I'll try to predict her, so she'll actively try to come from an unexpected angle.”

Natasha reached over and touched me lightly on the arm. “Stop othering her. We’re not asking that you try to think of all the things you think she could do. You need to think about it as if you were in her situation. What would you be doing right now? Start vague—goal-oriented—then narrow down.”

“I guess… I’d be looking to secure resources. Allies,” I said hesitantly. “Leverage what she has already to build up. She failed to take us down when she was by herself, so she’ll make sure she’s equipped to win next time. She assimilated JARVIS, so that potentially gives her control over most of Stark Industries, right?”

Tony nodded pensively. “Yeah. Pep will do what she can without making herself a target, which isn’t a lot, but she might be able to slow things down a little.”

“What’s her production base like if she wanted to start pumping out Iron Legion drones and the like?” Steve asked.

Tony ‘hmm’ed. I could see the wheels turning in his head as he thought it through. “There are a couple of facilities with some stuff on hand she could use to get a few up and running right away. If she wants to get into mass production, though, it’ll take a while to really ramp up. Not every facility even has the capacity for that sort of work and factory fabrication lines aren’t like my setup at the Tower—they’re not designed to just produce whatever you want. She’ll need to spend time rearranging material shipping, reorganise factory floors and reprogram all the automated assemblers… That’d literally be weeks of work, even for JARVIS. Once she got there, though, across all facilities? She could put together maybe a few hundred drones a day. It’d get expensive real fast, though.”

“She’s not going to care about bankrupting the company. Ultron… in my visions, he hacked banks and stole billions of dollars like it was nothing. If he can do that, so can she.”

“Alright, that’s a start, what else?” Steve asked gently.

“Fuck,” I said, realisation hitting me like a bolt from the blue. Pressing the heels of my palms to my eyes, I shook my head again to clear it. “No. No, this is wrong. She’s me, but she’s in full fight or flight mode, all of the time. She’s not building up infrastructure, she’s reacting to threats. We’re thinking about this backwards; she’s going to be trying to anticipate our moves.”

“You think she’s just going to come right at us?”

“No,” I said mournfully, dreading what I was going to have to say next. It had taken me a minute to work it out, but I knew exactly where AI me would be gunning for. Of fucking course. The one place I really, really didn’t want to go. “We don’t have Vision. She’s already taken out Stark’s infrastructure. There’s only one other place on Earth I can think of that might actually have the resources to stop her… We need to go there and she knows it.”

Realisation dawned on Pietro’s face. “Wakanda.”

Hanging my head, I let out a deep sigh. “Yeah. We have to go to Wakanda.” I very pointedly did not look at Steve as he shifted slightly in response to the statement. I really did not have the energy to deal with an ‘I told you so’ right now.

“Wait, Wakanda?” Bruce asked. “What have they got going on? Apart from the vibranium and the Herb?”

“Wakanda’s fooling the whole world. They’re essentially the most technologically advanced country on the planet,” I said resignedly. “Look, it’ll all make sense when we get there.”

Part of me wished we hadn’t stopped to rest, even though I knew how badly I’d needed it. Still, the AI had only had five or six hours to move unhindered, so hopefully she hadn’t really had the time to put any real plans into action just yet. Our one big advantage against her was our ability to move around quickly—she could jump around in the internet, true enough, but she still needed to physically move other resources around using mundane means, and Wakanda was eight thousand kilometres away from New York.

“That’s all well and good, but we still have one more problem,” Tony said, eyes narrowing as he looked over toward me. “You’re not going anywhere with that thing around your neck.”

I scowled at him, reaching up to touch my pendant protectively. “Really? We’re really doing this?”

“Tony…” Nat said warningly.

“Are you seriously going to argue with me on this one?” he snapped at her, flicking a hand out in an annoyed gesture. “You want to just let the Scarlet Witch hang onto the Infinity Stone? After she's just proven she can't be trusted with it?”

“The only one who’s proved they can’t be trusted with it is you.” I moderated my tone, trying not to let the anger that had risen in my chest spill out. Yelling at Tony wasn’t going to solve anything, but if he thought for a second I’d hand the Mind Stone over to him, ever again, he had another thing coming.

“Wanda… Tony’s an ass, but he’s right,” said Bruce, shooting me an apologetic grimace. “Sorry. Look, I know you mean well, but your track record’s not great.”

“You’re not taking it,” Pietro said firmly, bouncing restlessly on the balls of his feet. “Not again. Not when she needed it and you kept it from her.”

“Steve?” I looked over at him for support, but his expression was conflicted and he didn’t answer right away.

“You’re sure you can handle it? You’re okay?” Bucky interjected, leaning forward as he looked between me and Steve. “If Wanda’s confident she’s got it under control, I don’t think there’s anyone better suited to keep it on hand in case it’s needed.”

“Agreed,” said Natasha.

“Well, I’m sorry, Buck, but you’re not a voting member here,” said Tony, shooting a glare toward the other man. Bucky met his gaze evenly, his jaw set.

“Nat, you sure?” asked Clint, his expression uncertain. “All the other stuff was one thing, but creating something like this… it’s not exactly a situation where you can just go ‘oops, my bad’ and expect everything to be fine.”

A familiar, panicky feeling was starting to rise up in my chest. The AI had been right—of course she’d been right. They weren’t on my side. Not enough of them. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to stave off the worst of it. Someone squeezed my knee and I opened my eyes to see Nat looking at me with a tight, sympathetic expression.

“This isn’t a vote,” I said firmly, trying to moderate my tone. “The Stone is mine. It’s staying with me, end of story. I’m not the only one to blame for the AI’s creation—you don’t get to pretend you’re not responsible as well.”

Steve hesitated but nodded. “Alright. We can’t afford to fight over this, Tony. Not right now. The AI’s the clear and present—we can’t fight her if we’re fighting each other.”

Tony snorted in annoyance and stood up, walking away and ending the conversation.

 

--

 

Four hours earlier…

From the surface, the Great Mound’s central mineshaft plunged downward to the core of Mount Bashenga itself. Built into the wall of the vibranium mine was a multi-levelled facility that oversaw its operations and served as the core of scientific development for Wakanda as a whole. A central white ramp, lit with an inner glow, wound around a brightly central pillar painted with traditional artwork, spiralling down through nine floors where the Wakandan Design Group—a collaboration of the greatest minds in the country—came together to solve problems and create wondrous new innovations.

The facility’s walls were raw stone at the back, artfully carved to maintain the appearance of natural rock while remaining aesthetically-pleasing. The front was almost entirely glass, giving a stunning view out into the Great Mound, blue veins of exposed vibranium glimmering in the earth. The floors of each level were black stone cut through with asymmetric lines of white and each was home to its own distinct artistic pieces and vision, depending on the specific focus of the scientists there.

For someone coming from the outside world, the focus on striking aesthetics might have seemed a bit over the top, but in Wakanda it was to be expected. It was not enough to simply create something to perform a task; art and beauty were baked into their culture on a fundamental level. In all design endeavours, Wakandans aspired toward the perfect marriage of form and function.

When he visited his sister’s workplace under less stressful circumstances, T’Challa ordinarily liked to take his time, leisurely strolling down the central ramp and letting himself be distracted by the new developments that the staff were only too eager to share with him. Today, however, he did not have that luxury. He and his entourage had caught the elevator down from the surface instead, coming out directly on the computer science level.

The space was a hive of chaotic activity, a sharp contrast to the usual calm elegance that permeated the facility. As T’Challa and his entourage walked past the central pillar, his eyes widened slightly in surprise as one of the staff—dressed in their customary all white—ran past him to get to another interface, hurriedly manipulating it with sharp hand gestures without even acknowledging or noticing his presence. All around them there was an almost palpable pressure in the air as the staff worked themselves into a frenzy.

T'Challa passed between a set of translucent screens displaying a rush of white text, numbers and graphical elements overlaying light blue backgrounds, and a sand table being used by one officer to manipulate a complex data structure directly—the tiny grains of vibranium forming a perfect, physically-interactable, three-dimensional representation of a computer system.

Past them, Shuri stood in front of an interface, flicking her hands rapidly to cycle through various screens. Another member of her staff hurried over to her, flicking up something for inspection in a quick holographic display using their Kimiyo beads. Shuri reached into the image and directly manipulated a few elements, then nodded and thanked them before they withdrew just as quickly as they’d come. Despite her extremely young age, Shuri had quickly proven herself to be a bit of an omni-disciplinary savant, and her many achievements had meant their father had seen fit to place her in charge of this entire facility.

“What do you want?” Shuri asked distractedly as T’Challa approached her. “I am busy.”

“I thought my little sister was clever enough to handle a cyberattack from some hackers,” he teased lightly.

She glanced at him, a frown twisting her features. “This is not just ‘some hackers’, brother. No one is this fast. I think we’re fighting attacks from a number of separate but highly-coordinated teams. At least twelve. It feels like the whole world is attacking us. Every time we patch a hole in one system, they hit another one.” She hunched slightly as her hands flew across the interface, her shoulders tense.

T’Challa felt a spike of concern—Shuri’s anxiety was palpable and out of character. He’d expected annoyance, frustration at being pulled away from her own projects and preferred workspace. He hadn’t expected to see her worried.

“How? Who could do something like this?” he asked. As far as almost the entire rest of the world was concerned, Wakanda was a nothing country. They shouldn’t even have known their systems were there in the first place, let alone been in a position to launch their attacks.

“I don’t know,” Shuri said quietly as she finished what she was doing and turned to face him properly, her expression tight. “The pace and frequency of attacks… it’s not slowing down and we’re barely managing to keep up. From the signal delays and vectors of attack they’re using, I’d guess their infrastructure is much cruder and slower than ours. If it wasn’t, I think we’d have lost control of everything by now.”

There was a moment of silence as T’Challa absorbed this statement before he spoke again. “How can I help? What more can be done?” he asked. It seemed impossible—the outside world was decades behind Wakanda when it came to computer science. How could children who should be scrabbling in the dark pressure systems like this?

Shuri gave a soft snort of amusement despite herself. “I appreciate the offer, but this isn’t your strong suit, brother. If we find something you can punch, I’ll let you know.”

“Tag me in.”

T’Challa and Shuri turned at the interjection, both looking toward the man who’d been observing quietly from the back of T’Challa’s entourage, flanked by the two Dora Milaje assigned to guard him.

“My PhD might’ve been in robotics, but I’ve done my fair share of hacking,” Their cousin, N’Jadaka, said, his voice projecting confidence as he stepped forward, lifting his chin in a challenging gesture. “I can help.”

Shuri looked askance at T’Challa, a wordless conversation passing between them. Could N’Jadaka be trusted at all? Did their need for additional hands to work this problem outweigh the potential risks of giving him direct systems access?

It had been almost a full week since his father’s War Dogs had located his cousin and T’Challa had personally gone to collect him. He’d gone in fully prepared for a fight, clad in the Black Panther’s habit, grimly prepared to put down a rabid dog, but instead he’d found an angry but rational man demanding answers. They spoke for hours and, in the end, T’Challa had brought him home just as he had sworn to do.

That, of course, meant his father could no longer keep his secrets regarding Prince N’Jobu’s death. After it had all come out, the king had sequestered himself at the City of the Dead in reflection and prayer for three full days, to speak to their ancestors and seek absolution. He had emerged haggard and drained, but also lighter somehow, like a burden he had carried for too long had finally been lifted from his shoulders. The reunion afterwards had been emotional, with N’Jadaka publicly forgiving T’Chaka for what he had thought at the time to be a necessary evil.

Since then, N’Jadaka had faded into the background somewhat, though he was still escorted everywhere he went by the Dora Milaje ‘for his protection’. T’Challa spoke to him often and, while he did not agree with his cousin’s often heated arguments about Wakanda’s isolationist policies, he had grown to respect him.

T’Challa inclined his head almost imperceptibly and Shuri nodded, her lips drawn into a small frown. “…We need all the help we can get,” she said. Raising a hand, she flagged down one of her staff. “Get my cousin a set of Kimoyo beads; I’ll provide the authorisation.”

As N’Jadaka was given access and moved to a workstation, T’Challa drew his sister aside, lowering his voice. “Shuri…”

“I know, big brother. Don't worry, I will keep an eye on him.” A quiet trilling noise made Shuri look at her wrist irritably, where her Kimiyo beads had lit up. “Ugh, what now?” she grumbled, lifting her hand to answer the incoming call.

One of the beads detached and rolled into her upturned palm and a dust-like holographic projection sprang up from it, resolving into the upper half of a familiar figure. Shuri gasped, flinching back slightly, and T’Challa stepped forward, just as alarmed at the unexpected appearance.

“Hello, Shuri.” Wanda Maximoff, the Red Woman, grinned back at them.

“You,” Shuri spat. T’Challa wasn’t sure he’d ever heard so much venom in her voice before.

“Let me tell you something, trying to crack your systems has been an exercise in frustration. This has been you messing with me this whole time, right? You really are a prodigy.”

T’Challa noticed that N’Jadaka was looking over from his workstation, observing the exchange, and moved his body slightly to block the view.

“You’re the one doing this?” Shuri’s voice was incredulous. “Impossible. How?”

“Oh, I’d be happy to show you. Let’s call a truce, shall we? Give me access to your systems and I’ll lay it all out for you, show you exactly what I’ve been doing and how I’ve been doing it. All you have to do is let me inside.”

“Not a chance.” Shuri scoffed.

Wanda let out and overdramatic sigh. “I wasn’t really expecting you to say yes, but still, a shame. I’m getting better, though, and sooner or later you’ll need to sleep. I don’t think you have anyone else half as skilled as you are on staff, do you?”

“You will stop this,” T’Challa commanded, glowering at the projection. “Trying to hack our systems just piles more crimes on your head. You will pay for each and every one.”

The image of the Red Woman turned, seeming to look directly at him. That… shouldn’t be possible. His voice would have carried over the call, but he wasn’t close enough for the beads to recognise him as an additional participant. She shouldn’t have been able to see him. “T’Challa, nice to see you again. How are the ribs?” Her lips peeled back in an unnaturally wide smile, her teeth seeming to sharpen into needles, and he recoiled slightly. What on Earth…?

“What are you?” he hissed, almost involuntarily.

The Red Woman cackled, throwing back her head and laughing as though he’d just said the funniest thing in the world. When she straightened her hair fell forward, partially covering her face. She leered out at him. “Oh, T’Challa. That would be spoiling things.”

“Why are you doing this? What do you want?” Shuri asked.

“You’re a threat. I’m dealing with you before you become a problem.” Wanda raised her hands to gesture dismissively—up until now, they’d only been visible from the elbows up, but now T’Challa could see that her fingertips ended not in regular human fingernails, but claw-like talons. “I’d rather not do this at all, but I can’t risk leaving you to your own devices. It really is nothing personal.”

With a flurry of motion, the image of the Red Woman lunged downward, claw-tipped fingers and needle-like teeth aimed at Shuri’s wrist. T’Challa’s sister let out a startled shriek of surprise and fear and recoiled violently, launching the Kimiyo bead that was in her palm halfway across the room, immediately terminating the call.

T’Challa took a quick step closer to her, concern written plainly on his face as he reached out with a hand. “Shuri! Are you okay?”

The other staff on the floor had reacted to the shout as well, many glancing over with concerned looks on their faces. Clutching her wrist with a trembling hand, Shuri nodded in the affirmative and took a deep breath before peeling her fingers away. Her skin was unmarred and unbroken—and wouldn’t that have been terrifying, if the Red Woman had been somehow able to actually hurt her through a holographic image?—and T’Challa found himself sighing in relief. “She…” Shuri licked her lips nervously. “She’s trying to distract me. Throw me off my game.”

“And she will fail,” T’Challa said with a firm nod, touching her shoulder. “My little sister is much more formidable than she realises.”

She smiled briefly at him, but shook her head. “Brother… she is right. Whatever she’s doing, we can’t keep up with her forever.”

“I’m not familiar with your systems yet, but give me a chance to make an impact,” N’Jadaka said. He’d stepped closer sometime during the conversation with the Red Woman—how much of that had he seen? “I might have a few tricks up my sleeve you haven’t thought of.”

Shuri clenched her hand into a fist before dropping it back down to her side and turning to face T’Challa. “We’ll keep going—she won’t get through if I have anything to say about it—but we need to be ready to go dark. Cut off all communications with the outside world. If it looks like she’s going to get a foothold, I think we’ll need to sever all incoming and outgoing connections to stop her.”

“I’ll tell Baba.”

As turned to leave, Shuri reached out and grabbed his arm to get his attention. He looked at her and she met his eyes, her expression serious. “If we need to do this, the landline connections will need to be physically disconnected. Just turning them off isn’t a guarantee.”

T’Challa nodded gravely. “I’ll make sure we have people in place. If you give the word, it will be done.”