coveted magics, 3
Sleep still wasn’t coming easily to Harry, more than a week after the experience he’d had in the Mirror Dimension, or whatever that place had truly been. What happened to Gustavo, and what could have happened to him. His mind had circled back to it over and over again, and he still hadn’t told anyone about it. How was he supposed to explain that he’d felt something he could only guess was Chthon trying to claim him? The fact that he was simply just barred from that one domain of magic wasn’t an issue - and he knew he was barred from it because Harry had gotten the spell right. He’d opened a portal to the Mirror Dimension, and yet he still ended up somewhere wrong. The scary realisation was that even with the Darkhold gone, clearly Chthon still had influence in other dimensions. Harry had to be careful. And he had to find a way to deal with the nightmares.
Idly, he wondered if Doctor Strange was facing similar such issues. Harry had sensed the Chthonic energies that had found a home in the sorcerer’s body quite some time ago, and he couldn’t help but wonder how the far more skilled magic user was handling it. If he’d overheard the idle chitchat at the Sanctum correctly, then factoring the time that Doctor Strange had been blipped, he’d only been a sorcerer for a few years. Even so, he was scarily well informed and skilled at the manipulation of eldritch energies. He probably had all of this down, and had no issues with the Mirror Dimension like Harry did.
Or maybe the fact that Harry had taken in vastly more Chthonic energy put him in more danger.
Harry was snapped out of his thoughts a few minutes into his pondering by a new arrival up on the rooftop. It wasn’t even his rooftop. It was Gwen’s, because he’d instinctively gone there when he realised he wouldn’t be able to settle these thoughts on his own. He just hadn’t gone to speak with them yet. He wanted to, but he didn’t know where to start. He’d already pushed past the part of him that wanted to not burden his best friend while she processed all that had happened with her family, so now he just had to organise his thoughts.
The new arrival wasn’t Gwen, because Gwen didn’t ooze so much magical energy that it was nearly impossible to hide. He hadn’t even needed to use his sonar-like spell for sensing magical energy, which made it easy to guess who had come to join him.
“So, are you a rooftop thinker too?” Harry asked as Wanda came up and stood a metre off beside him. It would be amusing if it became a trend amongst the local superpowered individuals to often go up to high places to think; after all, Harry knew that Peter and Riri shared the tendency too.
Wanda shrugged. “It seemed the best place to get some fresh air. So…” she started, and then paused. “Is something troubling you?”
Harry paused too. What did he want to share with Wanda? He still barely knew her beyond the legend of her name and past. “I don’t suppose you’ve travelled to any other dimensions since blowing up the original Darkhold?”
A huff of air escaped Wanda’s lips, and Harry wasn’t sure whether it was from amusement, surprise or something else. “I cannot say that I have. I do not currently possess the means, and would rather avoid any spaces where that demon may still hold influence. So, you have?”
“The Mirror Dimension,” Harry nodded. “Or… somewhere adjacent to that. I think it almost killed me. Like… it wanted to drag me in.”
Wanda hummed, thoughtful. “Stephen Strange would likely have more to offer you than I on matters such as this, but I suggest that you stay away from alternate dimensions for now. Chthon is a power-hungry beast best kept at a distance.”
“Isn’t it just,” Harry agreed, and let out a heavy sigh. A pit set in his stomach, then. “Do you think it’ll come back?”
“I sure hope not,” Wanda chuckled. She didn’t sound nervous, which Harry took as a sign that he could rest easy – at least on that matter. “The only person who might want to restore Chthon’s influence in the mortal plane is securely held in Westview. Even if she did break free, I’d not put it past her to take the opportunity to gather power solely for herself.”
“That’s… good?” Harry tried, not sure quite what to do with that. After a few seconds, he decided to go with a change in topic. “So… how are you settling in?”
This time, Wanda’s laugh did sound nervous. Not that Harry had intended to scrutinize her so closely, but his focus did wander and he did notice that she wasn’t showing her nervousness in any other physical ways. As if she had spent years refining a skill of keeping it hidden within.
“I know it’s only a matter of time before I’m asked to leave. You’ve all been kind, but it’s a danger to each and every one of you to house me here. Eventually, your kindn-”
Harry chose that point to interrupt. “Wanda. You do realise that we’re all just a bunch of traumatised bitches who are getting through life by holding each other up, right? I mean, I get feeling out of place. I hardly feel like my own trauma compares to anyone else here, but I’m learning that I don’t need to compare. You’re one of us now, get used to it.”
And that was that. Harry suspected that Wanda was going to need a few more reminders of this particular fact, but for the moment she didn’t protest.
It was a disaster. Everything was wrong and the world was going to end and how did Peter inherit this trait from his aunt when she had married into the Parker family? It certainly wasn’t genetic, it couldn’t be. Peter had been well informed of the fact that both of his parents were perfectly capable chefs. And Harley would be here in half an hour and the food was burnt and wrong. How the hell did a pot of pasta and water catch on fire?
Peter was really just trying to do something nice and cook for his boyfriend of a few days. Plus, he was a college student now, which meant he had to fend for himself more often. Not only that, he was a college student who had just moved out from the conveniently catered dorm, and even with Daisy assuring him that his basic needs were financially taken care of already, he only wanted to order in so many times.
So, he had chosen to make a simple pasta bake. Just pasta, cheese and a few other things into the oven. Step one, boil the pasta. It should have been easy. There shouldn’t have been any possible way it could go wrong, and now the pasta and the water it was in were on fire. Acting as quickly as he could, Peter turned up the stovetop fan as high as it would go and yanked open the nearest window, grateful that he didn’t overdo it and outright break it.
What was even more concerning than the already flaming pasta was the smell. Peter, with all his chemistry expertise, would probably never have an answer to why his flaming pasta smelled like burnt rubber, especially when the pot didn’t have a single bit of rubber on it. But it did, and it was only a matter of time before he was going to get an earful from his neighbours. Even if he managed to prevent the smoke alarm from blaring, the smell was spreading fast.
His better judgement prevailed, and Peter did not hurl the flaming pot out the window, for fear of starting an even bigger fire where it landed. No, he could handle this. He’d seen May start and put out enough kitchen fires to know what to do. He just had to get the lid and cover the flame until it ran out of fuel. The pot lid that he’d just put over-
It wasn’t there. Someone was knocking on the door already because the awful smell had spread and Peter couldn’t find the damn pot lid.
“Is everything okay in there? That smell is horrible,” Wanda’s voice called from the hallway. Her footsteps drew closer and closer, and Peter turned to face her with a sheepish look on his face.
She looked at him.
And then at the flaming pot on the stove.
And then back at him.
With a single flick of Wanda’s wrist, a pot lid emerged from the stool over on the other side of the kitchen island, soared across the kitchen, and covered the flame. Peter let out an embarrassed sigh of relief, and scratched at the back of his head in awkward shame.
“Thank you so much,” Peter desperately choked out before pinching his very sensitive nose and moving away from source of the smell. “I don’t know why the pot lid was over there.”
Wanda offered him a small, consoling smile, and then turned to leave. Before she took even one step, though, she paused and then turned back to him. “Would you like me to vent that smell out?”
Peter hurriedly nodded, and Wanda waved her hands. Red energy washed across the room, carrying a strong breeze across the whole apartment that coalesced into a funnel of smoke headed straight for the window. Several seconds later, Wanda released her magic and the smell was gone.
“Thanks,” Peter managed, daring to release his fingers from his nose and take in a breath of mercifully clean air. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Oh, it was nothing,” Wanda tried to deflect. Peter could tell that she was still walking on eggshells around everyone here, even though it had been about four days since she’d been welcomed to live here. Harry had mentioned something about trying to make her more welcome, but it apparently wasn’t quite working yet.
Well, Peter wanted to see her settle in here, and he’d just been presented with a perfect opportunity to build on that goal. Mustering up the best puppy eyes he could manage – having not utilised them in over a year – he stepped forward to catch Wanda’s attention. “Do you, uh, do you know how to cook?”
Wanda let out a sigh. “What were you trying to make?”
Peter ducked his head, because even if he’d managed to pull her in, he still have every reason to be embarrassed as all hell. “Uh, a pasta bake? Just… cheese and pasta and stuff?”
“Then what was the source of that fire?” Wanda questioned with furrowed brows.
If Peter’s head could hang even lower, it would have. “Pasta? And water?”
“And how on earth did you manage to set that on fire? With that smell?” Wanda then demanded in the same sheer exasperation Peter had felt the moment the flames had begun.
Peter threw his arms into the air. “I don’t know! It just… happened! Wanda, please help?”
Another sigh, and a small smile betraying Wanda opening up just a little. “I’ll help. Do you have more pasta?”
Peter nodded, and swerved back into the kitchen to grab a bag of shell pasta from the cupboard below the kitchen island, just opposite the oven. Technically there was a proper pantry room right next to the kitchen, but Peter hadn’t yet gotten organised enough to use it. He dropped the yet-to-be-destroyed pasta down on the island countertop, and took a step back.
“Okay,” Wanda said, sizing up the pasta. “Now tell me, what is the purpose of this meal?”
“The purpose?” Peter questioned at first, before proceeding to answer. “Well, Harley’s coming over soon with some more of his stuff to finish moving in – except we’re not actually calling it him moving in just yet, he’s just crashing here – and I wanted to make some dinner so there was food ready for him. I know he likes pasta bakes so I really wanted to try making some for him.”
Wanda nodded approvingly, with something warm to the movement. “Good. I find that food tastes better when made with intention. It’s… something I haven’t had a chance to do in a while.”
That was what the warmth was, Peter realised. Wanda’s actually quite a softie, huh?
“Why don’t we make extra, then? You can take some for yourself, or maybe even join us to eat?” Peter offered.
Wanda shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to intrude. But certainly, it never hurts to make extra. Now, do you have another pot?”
Peter nodded, and grabbed one from a cupboard off to the side. The very burnt pot would be a cleaning mission for another time – plus, he was quite sure Harley would get a laugh out of seeing what happened when he arrived. He handed the clean, intact pot over to Wanda who simply set it straight back down before moving to fill the kettle with water.
The two worked in silence for a while, only speaking to issue and acknowledge instructions and communicate recipe information. They got the pasta boiling safely, and started measuring out some of the other ingredients. Peter couldn’t help but notice how gentle Wanda was with each and every act of cooking; it was like this well of love coming to the surface and pouring out into the task of making food. Then and there, Peter resolved to make more food with her when he could. He wouldn’t push her to talk now, but maybe next time he could get her to start opening up more. He really wanted her to feel at home here, to let her know this was a place where she could rest and heal.
Except that it wasn’t Peter who broke the silence, as the tray full of pasta and cheese and spices and flavour went into the oven. It was Wanda. “I noticed that you have a trans pride flag on your Spider suit. Is that just an act of allyship, or…”
Peter grinned, and nodded. “Yep, I’m trans. There was this whole thing back when I’d just moved here that made me consider whether to go public. I ended up talking to this really cool rabbi about it because I was already looking for a synagogue to go to and decided to put it on the suit for the world to know. And it seems like it’s really helping.”
Wanda went silent again, but only for a few seconds. Then she started speaking again, but slowly, measuring every word out carefully. “That sort of thing did not go over well where I grew up in Sokovia. It was a struggling country that was too afraid of outside threats to accept any difference from within. I remember crying to my own rabbi as a young girl, wondering whether I would be allowed to become bat mitzvah, but he assured me that he would have it no other way. A kind rabbi makes all the difference in the world.”
“And so you had your bat mitzvah?” Peter asked, delightedly storing away the new knowledge that he had both being trans and Jewish in common with Wanda. And then there was the fact that she had chosen to confide in him, which was another point towards Wanda beginning to open up.
Sadness welling into her eyes, Wanda shook her head. “This rabbi died before I had the chance. The rest of the community were… not so kind.”
“I’m sorry,” Peter said at once. And then, an idea. “If you wanted, I’m sure Rabbi Isaacs would be willing to give you a bat mitzvah!”
“I do not think this rabbi would approve of a wanted fugitive and murderer in his synagogue,” Wanda responded after a heavy breath. Peter dropped the conversation there, but he wasn’t so sure Wanda was right about that. At this point, Peter was reasonably confident that if he vouched for Wanda, not only Rabbi Isaacs but the whole Beth Shalom community would protect her identity and give her haven there.
Running had become one of Gwen’s favourite things to do ever since she went through Terrigenisis and got her powers. Back in high school they’d never been all that interested in anything athletic. But now? It gave her a sense of thrill and peace and catharsis all at once. Sometimes, at the end of their patrols, Gwen would just ramp up their speed as much as they possibly could and go anywhere. Sometimes, they’d make their own way back home. Other times, Gwen checked in to see if Harry could pick her up, since he so loved to use his portals as some kind of taxi service.
Tonight was one of those nights where Gwen was just letting herself blitz through the streets as fast as she could. They’d chosen a neighbourhood that wasn’t usually particularly busy at this time of night, which meant they weren’t likely to disturb anyone. There was an illegal street racing thing going on here sometimes, but she was pretty sure tonight wasn’t one of the nights they were running. She didn’t mind them much since as far as she could tell they weren’t hurting anyone, but stayed clear of them to avoid any butting heads.
Once Gwen had found a good stretch of road to rhythmically race back and forth across, they let their mind wander. It had been a pretty good few days. Home was far more lively now in the best of ways. Peter and Harley lived down the hall now, and Riri and Harry came over often enough that everyone who was close to her was just there so much of the time. Gwen’s life had taken such a magnificent turn that they couldn’t help but stop and appreciate it.
How her abusive parents were out of the picture. Gwen knew they had more grieving and processing to do about that, but for now they were just enjoying the freedom.
How Daisy had shown up and become the sister Gwen never even knew she could have. Gwen could tell her just about anything, and recieve all of the support, affirmation and banter she craved.
How Riri and them were comfortably dating and hanging out at least a few times a week if not more. Riri was awesome to be around, a great kisser, and a constant net positive in their life.
Not only all of that, but college hadn’t even slightly pulled Gwen and Harry apart. More people had been brought into the found family fold, and yet they were still as close as ever. Later tonight, Harry was going to meet Gwen several miles outside of the city to stargaze a little together and do a fun little nature-y photoshoot Gwen wanted to surprise Riri with. Not the sexy kind, just some fun and pretty pictures.
Distracted by their thoughts, Gwen barely just noticed something odd. There was a racecar driving beside her. Not one that she’d passed by given how her speed greatly outstripped even racecars when she let loose like this. No, it was driving right next to her, and keeping up.
No, it wasn’t keeping up with them. Gwen was keeping up with it. Or… was that even the right read on things? Casting pleasant thoughts of how much better life was aside, Gwen started to actually pay attention to their surroundings. Only then did she notice the odd thing – buildings were passing by slower than they were supposed to.
Well, that was new.
Gwen heard another car speeding closer from behind, and it took almost a split second too long to realise that it was going faster than her and she needed to get out of the way. They dove to the right and the approaching car barely just missed Gwen’s ankle as they stumbled and rolled to a stop off the side of the road.
Even if Gwen was still relatively new to her Inhuman abilities, the experience had thrown her concentration and composure all at once. She’d never been slowed down like that before. Sure, running against Daisy’s quakes slowed her down, and so did training in the modified Playground field that was specifically designed to drain away their electricity. But that was different, because in those situations Gwen could feel something like resistance or their energy literally being sapped away. This time, Gwen had felt nothing until they noticed how slow they were. It was uncanny.
“The fuck?” Gwen questioned to nobody in particular as they watched several cars approach from further down the road. And-
The car that had almost hit Gwen had also dramatically slowed down. The other cars approaching clearly weren’t expecting it, because half of them were now on a collision course for a huge multi-car pileup. One that Gwen wasn’t sure she could stop. Even if the slowing effect wasn’t there, Gwen’s powers didn’t exactly help when it came to moving or stopping massively heavy objects. That was more Peter and Harry’s thing.
At the very least, though, Gwen could try and get as many of the drivers out as possible. They’d done Daisy’s civilian rescue training course enough times that they were now confident in their ability to not zap anyone while carrying them to safety. And so Gwen commenced spending the next ten seconds diving in and out of cars, breaking windows and pulling drivers to safety. Some of them managed to swerve a little before being hauled out, which would help limit vehicle damage.
It was then only a matter of plugging her ears to dampen the noise as metal crunched on metal and several now-empty cars slammed together. Once the noise was gone, Gwen brushed some stray bits of glass off her protective suit and turned her attention to the group of very confused and disgruntled drivers.
“Is everyone okay?” Gwen asked. With her mind still a little rattled by the strange experience and the crash, she couldn’t help but feel the pull of distraction of the vocal distortion her mask produced. It was a weird experience hearing her own voice from inside her head as well as the distorted reproduction of her words from just past her lips. Usually they were able to tune it out, but not this time. Mindful of all that was going on, Gwen pulled her attention back to the far more rattled drivers. Well, rattled and pissed off.
“-fuck is going on?” One of them growled.
“You better not report us to the cops or I swear we’ll find you and put you down,” another hissed, but Gwen couldn’t feel any real malice behind it. It was more fear. And yeah, Gwen got that. They weren’t the biggest fan of cops themself, all things considered.
“Nah, that’s not my style,” Gwen assured them. “I have my own bone to pick with the cops, if that helps. Besides, far as I can tell, you guys aren’t actually hurting anyone, right? Just racing for fun, money, honour and whatever else. Honestly, I can see the appeal! But right now we’ve all got a bigger problem. Can anyone shed any light on what the fuck just happened?”
Each of them glanced around, a silent conversation of undiscernable facial expressions happening over the span of a few seconds. Eventually, one of them nodded. A big guy, taller than the next by about half a head, wearing one of those thick, well-loved leather jackets covered in patches. Some were probably gang or crew related, but Gwen couldn’t help notice an antifascism logo displayed proudly just below the collar. They smiled at him, even knowing he wouldn’t see the expression under their mask.
“Had a newbie joining our runs a few weeks back. Over-eager, wanting to prove themself and win big. Confident, but we could all tell their heart wasn’t in the right place. Nothin’ against stolen cars here, but there was no love put into it. Rubbed us all the wrong way. I let ‘em race with us once, and they didn’t do too well. Hadn’t seen them since, until they showed up tonight with the same car. And they showed up angry,” the big man explained. “Real angry. I shoulda sent ‘em off, even if they had double the entry cash. Fucker.”
“So if I’m getting this right, that racer is just salty about losing? Huh. Anyone know anything about whatever power got used?” Gwen questioned, mindful that she was going to have to track down that driver in a moment and find a way to deal with them.
The big guy shook his head. “Nah. We don’t care about that crap here. It’s don’t ask, don’t tell, and don’t use. Keeps things fair.”
So they’re used to powered people here, huh? Gwen thought to themself. Okay, I’m on my own to figure this one out then. Well, it’s definitely something that can slow down moving objects around the driver. I think I can handle that.
“Right,” Gwen said aloud. “Thanks for that. Sorry about your cars, I’m gonna go sort that newbie driver out. You guys good here?”
Another set of glances thrown around between the group. They looked uneasy, but less so than before. A few nods, and Gwen took that as her cue to leave. Letting energy well up and flow around their body, Gwen took off at a run. In terms of tracking this bastard down, she had two theories about how this would play out. Either the driver would race to the end of the usual track, which Gwen happened to know the layout of, or they would bail and could have gone anywhere.
Gwen didn’t have anything like Peter’s enhanced senses, so she had to decide what to do about this fast. A moment of thought unfolded into the realisation that if this person was here to win money and willing to break race rules thinking they’d get away with it, they’d go to the finish line. Besides, would a newbie really form enough of a grudge to show up purely to wreck everyone else’s cars? So she sped off towards where the races usually finished.
They caught up just as the racer was approaching victory. This time, Gwen was acutely aware of how their speed slowed down the closer they got to the noisy silver car. Even so, they could keep up. Letting out a pulse of electricity on the car was probably a bad idea because it might blow the whole thing up, and Gwen had no intention of killing this person, even if they almost killed a whole bunch of other people themself. No, she had to go directly for the driver…
…Which presented a new problem when Gwen caught up enough to run right alongside the driver’s window and the driver pulled a gun on her.
Well that’s certainly brave, Gwen thought as she smacked the window hard enough to shatter the glass, and then let herself slow down a little so she didn’t get shot. The driver swerved, and Gwen waited to see what happened. They couldn’t afford to be careless here, after all. Even if their suit was woven to be resistant to various kinds of damage, it wasn’t even close to completely bulletproof.
The car eventually regained control, and Gwen rushed forward again with a relatively simple plan in mind. Catch up, reach forward, and zap the driver unconscious. Fortunately, that was exactly what happened, even before the driver could fire any shots. Of course, this now meant a speeding car bound for a crash that needed to be stopped.
Feeling her speed return almost all at once, Gwen hauled the unconscious driver out of the car and onto the side of the road before chasing after the car and doing the only thing she could think of to stop it – Gwen blew it up by jumping onto the hood, pulling it open and releasing an electrical blast inside before leaping off and running for cover. The explosion flipped the car, and it skidded to a stop a decent fifty metres before the finish line.
Now, there was only one thing left to do before going home, since the other drivers probably would appreciate being left to clean up the mess on their own. Gwen doubled back to where she’d left the person who caused all this mess to begin with, and carried them a few blocks away before slapping them awake.
“-wha?” the driver yelped.
“Hi there,” Gwen responded cheerfully. “You caused quite a mess, you know?”
Recognition washed over the driver’s eyes. “You’re one of them vigilantes!”
Gwen hummed. “I mean, as much as I like the word superhero, vigilante does have a nice ring to it. Anyway, as chill as all those other guys seemed, I can’t guarantee they won’t be out for blood after that pileup you caused. My advice? Haul ass out of town and don’t come back. Oh, and if you pull anything like this again, I’ll find you. Understood?”
“Uh…” the driver mumbled intelligently. Gwen cleared her throat, and they jolted all the way upright. “Got it! I’ll be out of here tomorrow!”
“Good,” Gwen nodded, and disappeared in a flash to head home. After the interruption to her evening run, she just wanted to go home and get in bed.