Between The Devil And The Deep (Scarlet) Sea

"Well," Steve stepped down from the balcony, "Fury just called me about a guy in Hell's Kitchen."

"In the city?" Vision asked. 

"Yep. There's this vigilante guy who is apparently working on street-level, above the law. Fury claims he is concerned that the man might be a 'public hazard.'"

Sam snorted. "Big words coming from Mr. SHIELD-compromised-under-my-nose."

"...that being said," Steve resumed "I have to assume that he's more concerned with finding out if he has super powers, and if so what his long-term motivations are."

"In other words, he's recruiting." Rhodey said.

"Looks that way," Steve nodded.

"You'd think the guy doesn't trust us or something," Sam remarked.

"I'm pretty sure he doesn't really trust anyone." Steve sighed. "So. You guys up for it?"

The group glanced at each other. Sam shrugged. "I'm game if they are."

"I'm in." Rhodey said.

"I would be glad to be of assistance," Vision replied.

That left the three of them glancing at Wanda. She sighed. "Why not?" She said nothing of how very little she felt like going out and meeting new people, let alone some American street-tough.

"So, how do we find him?" Rhodey inquired.

Steve smirked. "Judging by the newspapers, just head out there at night and wait until a crime occurs."

"So, street-clothes, then?"

"Mhm. Oh, and one more thing," Steve said as he turned to go.

"What's that?"

"Try not to piss him off."

***

That evening, Sam gathered them all at a little bit after dinner so that they would have time to make the drive from the facility down to the city. They loaded into one of the SHIELD armored SUVs and drove south. 

They got caught in traffic--probably caused by a wreck--a little ways out from the city itself. Wanda had never seen such a sea of brake lights, nearly as far as the horizon. She leaned her head against the cool window and wished she could swallow up her desolation and forget the deep, hollow absence beside her. 

Rhodey spoke up from beside her, and though she was tired of the silence, she also somewhat resented its disappearance. "I've only been to Hell's Kitchen once or twice. You guys?"

"Never." Vision said.

"'Bout the same as you, buddy," Sam said. "Clint apparently lived there once."

Wanda's ears perked up slightly at the mention of Clint. The archer hadn't been on a mission with the team in a while--on paternity leave for his son or something of the sort--but she missed him. Which was odd, since she had known him all of a few hours when her brother---saved him. "Why did he?" she asked, and then realized everyone in the truck was staring at her. "Live there, I mean."

Sam shrugged. "He grew up somewhere out west. Iowa? Illinois? Not sure. Anyway, his dad was an asshole--excuse my French--and if I remember right he somehow wound up in the circus. That's where he learned to shoot. I think he was a boxer or something in Hell's Kitchen...which by the way, is notorious for it's crime rate and ne'er do wells. So be on guard when we're there, got it?"

For some reason, Wanda bristled at that. She knew he was addressing the whole car, but she had grown up on the streets of Sokovia after her parents died. She had seen its worst, which was far worse than anyone here had to deal with. But, unlike her brother, she could keep quiet when something bothered her, so she leaned against the window again as they started moving. The wreckage had been moved out of the way, and now there was a cluster of police cars and ambulances huddled around the crash. The remains of the car was on fire, sending red sparks shooting up into the darkness. Wanda stared at it until the red flame was emblazoned in her gaze when she closed her eyes. 

 ***

They made it to Hell's Kitchen just before nine. The sun was still up, but just barely. 

Sam scanned the block before settling on a public parking garage. He drove them five stories up and parked the truck. "Anything of value gets hidden or comes with you," he said.

Wanda shrugged, unbuckling her seat belt and climbing out. She stumbled a bit when she climbed out, grateful to stretch her legs. Vision stepped beside her and glanced out at the buildings scattered all down the street. "Every time I come to the city it never ceases to fascinate me," he said softly. 

Wanda arched an eyebrow at him. Ever since her discovery that she could read him, she often would reach out and prod his mind--just a little--to see what he was thinking, since he didn't seem to mind. As she did so now, she felt a sort of nostalgia, and realized that Vision's (sort of) birthplace was the city. No wonder he felt some attachment to it. 

Sam and Rhodey joined them. Both of them were carrying their respective suits in backpacks that Stark had designed with the purpose of hiding them without hindering them. "Are we going to stay in the garage until the sun goes down?" Wanda asked.

"Nah. I'm hungry. I thought we could go find somewhere to hang out where they're not likely to question night owls."

"Going to a bar in a bad neighborhood seems a bit of a poor plan," Wanda said dryly. 

Sam shrugged. "Maybe a sports bar or something, then. I dunno. We'll see what's down there."

They climbed down the stairwell and stepped into the street. There were a few people walking down the sidewalk or sitting on benches and the like; the sunset had reduced the heat to the point that it was pleasant outside--but Wanda could see their speed picking up the further the sun went down. 

After a block or two, Sam spotted a promising bar and they followed him in. He snagged them a corner booth in the back, and soon a waitress came to take their orders. Wanda had spent most of her time staring at the menu and wishing for something from home. She wound up ordering a chicken sandwich and some type of salad. 

The light outside grew steadily darker as they ate, and by the time they were finished, it was ten-thirty...and completely dark. Sam got up, and they followed him as he paid the tab and tipped generously. The waitress in question looked grateful but glanced at them worriedly. "Are you parked a long way away?"

"No, just about a block down," Sam assured her.

"Just be mindful out there, okay? And have a nice night," she finished with a weak smile. They all promised to be careful and left.

Wanda stopped behind the others right outside the door. There were still cars on the road, the occasional roar drowning out the hum of people and neon signs. 

"Where to now?" Rhodey asked.

Sam glanced around. "If I had to bet, I say we find ourselves a nice alley and stake it out."

"Why an alley?" 

"Why not? Shady shit always happens in alleys," Sam responded. 

That may or may not have been true, but since they didn't have a better plan they found an alley a bit further into town. It was a narrow lane, tucked between a warehouse and a clinic of some kind. Wanda, who was no stranger to needing to be invisible, found an easily accessible hiding spot behind a stack of crates that sat in the corner. One by one, the group huddled behind it, settling down to wait for something to happen. Wanda herself chose a spot where she could keep an eye on the alley.

The temperature dropped a bit over the next hour--not enough to be too uncomfortable, but Wanda found herself shivering more than once. It was dark and cramped, and every now and then she could hear distant commotion; screams and crashing. The mental aura was even worse; fear, exasperation, panic, sorrow, and every other human emotion swirled throughout her mind until she drew her knees to her chest and closed her eyes and summoned her brother's voice. If you need an anchor, Wanda, look to me. I will always be there. Always.

 Liar.

The screech of tires drew her out of her reverie. She straightened slightly, glanced out to where a truck had just pulled in. She felt more than heard the others straightening up behind her. 

A door slammed, and a man climbed out of the front seat. Another emerged from the other side, and they went to the back of the truck and pulled open the door. The vehicle was completely full of packages of some type of powder.

"Drugs?" Rhodey whispered to Sam.

"Of some type, I guess," Sam whispered back.

"Get as much of it out and into the crates as possible," one of the men said. "The others should be here any minute."

The group froze.

"Back," Wanda hissed as softly as possible, and they all scrunched together as far behind the crates as they physically could. There was a rustling as the men took a couple crates from the top and began loading them.

There was another rumbling, and Wanda guessed it must be the men's contacts. Sure enough, she could hear snippets of conversation--and a few soft whimpers and growled orders. 

They were trading the drugs for slaves.

Wanda felt a burning rage deep in her chest, and for a moment she considered throwing the crates aside and putting the fear of God into these men. Thankfully, the thought didn't last long. Firstly, because she knew it was suicide.

And secondly, because someone beat her to it.

There was a sudden whistle of air and the thud of someone landing on the roof of the truck. The men gave a cry of surprise, and then there was one of pain.

"Run!" Wanda was stunned at the deep, intimidating tone of the order. She could hear chaos, and glanced at Sam. 

"Avengers, let's move!" he cried, and Wanda remembered why she liked him so much. She lifted her hand and threw the crates at the remaining gang members. The containers shattered when they struck from the force of her throw, sending shards of wood flying everywhere. Vision took off, flying down to where the remaining victims were fleeing and covered their escape. Rhodey's suit quickly enclosed him, and he hurried to secure the truck, while Sam went after the vigilante.

Wanda sprinted after Sam, not quite sure what she should do, only to run into a gang member who was bleeding from a laceration to his forehead and looked royally pissed off. She twirled her fingers, raising them to his head before he had a chance to react, and wove a vision of his worst fears; a vivid scene of his sentencing and imprisonment, a call for the death penalty, humiliation in prison and being at the mercy of those he had abused.

Pathetic.

She left him to revel in his fear, continuing on after Sam. The streets were deserted except for the now-distant cries of the victims, and she paused to look around. 

Suddenly, there was a concussive blast, and she shrank down as something hit her in the side. She covered her head as she faintly heard herself scream. Heat singed her back, and she could tell that although she was safe, a building had just exploded. 

When the shaking stopped, she tried to get up, but found that she couldn't. She was pinned to the ground by something heavy, and while that would usually not be a problem for her, suddenly everything felt too small and too tight and her heart was hammering against her ribs and her temples throbbed and she couldn't breathe because she was trapped again and Mama and Papa were gone and the bomb had gone off and Pietro was gone....

And she felt a hand grasp hers tightly. "Don't worry, we'll get you out!" 

And further behind, Sam. "Wanda!"

She could have melted from relief.

Sam reached her side, and he and the other person were straining and grunting, and suddenly the weight was gone and she felt Sam beside her, running his fingers down her side gently to check for injuries. "Are you alright?" he asked. 

"I...I think so," she squeaked out, wincing at how faint her voice was. The same hand from before carefully grasped her arm, and Sam took her other arm and they helped her up. The world spun for a moment, but she had endured worse at HYDRA's hands, and soon she could stand on her own. "What happened?"

"No idea where the bomb came from," Sam said ruefully. "Rhodey and Vision are escorting the hostages to safety."

"Good," Wanda sighed, resting her hands on her knees as she tried to calm down. "Wait. But weren't we..."

"Mhmm." Sam said. He turned to the man who had been helping him free her. Now that Wanda could study him, she saw he wore a red leather uniform that looked battered and singed. 

"Scarlet Witch, I'd like you to meet the Devil of Hell's Kitchen."