Chapter 5
A buzzing heat swarms her body like a warm hug from a long-time friend that you haven't seen for a while. The welcoming and the familiar scent of home attacks her nose, she allows it with a smile. The shadows seem to agree, purring ever so slightly from the excitement.
Victoria was not expecting this, was not prepared for the feeling of a different kind of magic ever again. She fully believed that all of this was lost in the past, locked away in their own wooden boxes. She wonders if she was the only one to have escaped?
She is broken free from her dazed state by the growling of the shadows and the sound of the woman's steps, walking towards her with her glowing, red hands at the ready. A scowl painted on her face; her brows furrowed. She seems nervous, Victoria usually has that effect on people.
Victoria should introduce herself, talk to the other woman. They might have a lot in common considering they look the same age. Perhaps she dabs her hand in the art of needlework?Maybe she enjoys lounging down after a long, tiresome day and cracking open a book? What books does this witch read? Fantasy, mystery, autobiographies? Or perhaps she is of the dull sort? That's okay, Victoria can teach her. The shadows huff at the dazed fool by their side, grabbing onto the girl's shoulder to shake her aggressively.
...Ow.
More of her blood drips down her ratty nightdress, it looks like someone spilt their inkwell on her.
She presses her hand against the gaping wound on her shoulder, glaring back at the shadows with a stern look.
"Do you mind? I am bleeding profusely and here you are shaking me." This was embarrassing, being a brat in front of her of her new friend. Her new friend who is now staring at her like she had two heads.
Right, now it is time to turn on the charm.
"I apologise for them; they do not get out often." She gives the girl a toothy grin and reaches out with her blood covered hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Victoria Bromley, at your service.
May I have the privilege of knowing your name?" The shadows silently clap their 'hands' behind her, seemingly proud of her.
The woman however, only seemed to get more confused. She stares down at Victoria's out stretched hand like it was a bomb that could go off any second. The mist engulfing her hands only seem to grow stronger. Those beautiful, green eyes of hers change into a dangerous red.
Ah. That can't be good sign. Perhaps it's time for plan 'B'?
Run away as fast as she possibly can while barefooted.
>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<
Wanda never believed in ghost stories.
When her Papa sat both her and Pietro down on a cold, rainy night to tell them stories his mother used to tell him, they never scared her. Pietro on the other hand, he used to snuggle up close to Wanda despite arguing that he was the brave one.
Wanda never felt scared; she felt empathy. The tale of the heartbroken widow, died of a broken heart only to rise from the dead and kill others in a jealous rage. Pietro hated that one, swore that he would never get married. Papa would just laugh and shake his head, patting the boy on the head with a fond smile.
The story always made her feel sad. She could understand why the widow was so angry at the world. Having the love of your life die, leaving you behind. She couldn't imagine how the woman felt. Being forced to roam this earth, trapped for all entirety just because of something unresolved.
She thinks about that story, that widow as she stares at the blonde girl in front of her. After hours of getting pelted by rain they finally found her.
The 'her' in question was nothing like the figure on the grainy camera footage. The camera showed a monster, a zombie, perhaps even a ghost. An entity with claws that wanders the city at night, hunting their next victim.
The girl in front of her was nothing of the sort. She had kind eyes, dark brown and full of life. A crooked smile which showed off sharp canines, some might think her unsettling. Wanda thought it was rather charming in its own weird way. Her face was handsome despite the cuts and bruises, despite the inky splotches on her cheek.
Her voice, that accent which was so foreign to Wanda, sounded so lovely. Raspy and hypnotic, it scratched her brain in a satisfying way.
So, no. The girl's appearance wasn't the reason for the hair on the back of Wanda's head to stand up. It was the figure behind her.
Dripping black ink from its 'fingers', the figure stands tall. Perhaps just short of Ultron when he was still kicking. It had no eyes, no facial features whatsoever but Wanda could still feel it staring at her, judging her.
Its hold tightening around the girl's shoulders, claws grazing across her exposed collarbones.
For the third time in her life, Wanda feels genuine fear.
The girl's eyes darts around the vacant rooftops that surround them, whispering underneath her breath. The figure nods and flexes their claws, just showing how sharp they were. Like pieces of broken shrapnel.
"So sorry, darling. It was lovely meeting you and your friends, really just a lovely group of people. However, it seems to have gotten rather late in the day, hm? We should really hit the hay." The girl curtsies, the figure does the same, which is... a very strange thing to witness.
"Perhaps we'll meet again? At a better time, hopefully!"
Wait...what? No, wai-
Anddd...She's running away, the figure just laughs in Wanda's face before following suit.
Great. Good job, Wanda.
She lets out a long sigh before preparing herself to jump across the rooftops of New York to chase after a zombie girl and her...pet? Somehow, not the weirdest thing Wanda has ever done. She's not sure if she should be proud of that or not.
>~~~~~~~~~~~~<
The moon looked pretty tonight, not a cloud in sight to hide it.
He should do this more often. Stargaze, not getting beaten up by a girl that Steve could bench-press fifty of. Maybe more than fifty considering she probably weighed one hundred pounds soaking wet.
There was definitely something different about her. Catching on quick that he did not come alone, clawing onto the wall like a feral cat, giggling the entire time.
And whatever that...thing was.
Steve genuinely thought he was going to suffocate for a minute there. First time he was concerned for his wellbeing in a long time. Being a super-soldier meant he could get away with a lot of things, but this?
This scared him.
Groaning as he sits up, still catching his breath, he looks over to Natasha. She's already standing up, glaring up towards where the girl escaped. Black sludge painted across her cheek.
"Wanda's up there, come on. We need to go, now." She doesn't wait for him to respond before climbing up the wall herself.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm doing fine, thank you for asking." Steve remembers to say that quietly, last time when Natasha heard his back talk he woke up with purple hair. He had to throw out all his shampoo bottles after that little incident.
He lifts himself up with a grunt and picks up his helmet, putting it on before jumping after the assassin. Preparing himself for the worst.
He can't wait to explain this one to Tony.
>~~~~~~~~~~~~~<
So, it turns out running isn't her strong suit. She figures this out when she trips over her feet for the fifth time. In her defence she wasn't experienced in jumping from rooftop to rooftop, she was experienced in running away from people however. See how that turned out for her.
The shadows find it amusing at least, she's doing her job as their personal jester well, so it seems.
Victoria rolls her eyes at them as she tries to get herself up once more. "Thanks a lot. What a great help you are." She yelps when the shadows pick her up, pushing her over to the next building. "Yes, I know. I'm going."
The sound of voices increases behind her, the shadows yell at her. Her vision going fuzzy.
Christ, doesn't this feel familiar? People yelling, grabbing and touching. The shadows overseeing, the faith of their friend out of their control.
She has to keep going, keep running. She can't do it again, she's not able for it. Her throat feels blocked, trapped. She feels hands tightening around her arms.
She feels the rope burning into her skin.
She lets out a gasp as she trips again, this time when she falls. She falls hard.