Fire and ice
*****
The so-called green room isn’t green. Instead, it’s this godawful burgundy and beige and blue that mix together on carpets that look like the alien goo monster she and Steve fought off last month. Typical hotel conference room, not that Wanda’s seen tons of them before (the hotels back home in Vasilkia are not exactly five-star, or even two-star), but Wanda knows what they generally look like, thanks to way too many hours watching American TV as a kid, and teenager, and now a twenty-six-year-old superhero.
At least there’s a good buffet spread for the Very Special Guests, as they wait to go on stage. She sips a Red Bull even though she knows full well it screws with all those powers under her skin, but she’s exhausted after flying into Atlanta at the crack of dawn for the Fire & Ice Fan Extravaganza. It’s her first fan convention, and it’s not at all what she expected – cookie-cutter hotel aside. Sure, it was weird as hell to walk around the lobby this afternoon and see people dressed up as herself, but they were all really sweet as she posed for what must’ve been a thousand selfies. When one asshole tried to grope her ass, a ton of other fans swarmed around her and shut that right down, as if they had superpowers instead of her. She feels a bit guilty for immediately searching for the VIP rooms, but she’s never been good with crowds.
On the plus side, the organizers are paying her a fortune to show up, do a couple of panel discussions, and sit on autograph row. Wanda could definitely use some extra cash, since Steve is such a cheapskate.
Twenty-seven minutes until she’s due on stage, and she can’t find a damn charger for her phone. In addition to not being good with crowds, Wanda’s not good with the absence of screentime. Probably that undiagnosed ADHD that Natasha keeps needling her about. And of course this green room is the only place in the Hyatt Regency that’s not packed full of people. So she plays Wordle on her phone (she sucks at it, but it helps her practice her English) until the battery finally craps out, then flops back against the sofa cushions and reaches for the convention programme booklet.
Thirty-Seventh Annual Fire and Ice Fan Extravaganza. October 27-29 in Atlanta, Georgia. Come meet your favorite superheroes and sci-fi/fantasy actors, along with very special guests from the Crusaders and X-Team.
Crusader. That’s her.
Wanda Maximoff. Born in Vasilkia and orphaned at age 10 with her twin brother Pietro, who later died in their first big battle. Joined the Crusaders for lack of any other options (though the programme doesn’t say that.) Superpowers include telekinesis, telepathy, and magic. Fights the forces of evil alongside the Black Widow, Captain America, and the Falcon. Autographs available for $50, and photo ops for $150.
God, it’s so silly. She just wants to do her crusading without all the additional crap, but, as Sam – who’s done a half-dozen of these things – reminds her, might as well cash in on the fame. It’s not like superheroes (er, “enhanced individuals”) have tons of other opportunities to earn an income, like get a regular job or whatever.
So yeah. The first of her two panel discussions is coming up, with the charming title, “Beyond the Cape: The Scarlet Witch and Vision Reveal the Untold Stories of Their Heroic Adventures.” She’s never met Vision, since the X-Team and the Crusaders aren’t exactly fond of joint missions. But she’s heard of him, of course. Synthezoid, or whatever the hell the term is for whatever the hell he is, but he seems nice enough in the videos she watched on YouTube on the flight this morning. Also, he’s pretty fucking hot. Not that she cares about such things. Nope.
And there he is.
He’s standing right in front of her before she even realizes he’s walked in. Probably phased through the door, if that’s what it’s called. Instead of his whole superhero costume, he’s got on a sweater and slacks that fit him very nicely. Totally put-together and posh, just like the other X-Team folks, while she’s slouched on the sofa in her red dress and black leggings. Shit.
Wanda sits up straight, trying to look as put-together as he does. He smiles down at her and holds out a hand for her to shake. “You must be Ms. Maximoff. Lovely to meet you.”
“That’s me,” she mutters and stands up to take his hand. He’s really fucking tall. “And I guess you’re Vision.”
“Guilty as charged,” he quips, and damn, he’s also charming. Plus, his hand is really soft and warm, with snow-white skin that looks fascinating against hers. “Shall we?”
“Shall we what?”
Either he’s confused or she’s as ditzy as she feels right now. “Sit down? Unless you’d prefer to stand for the next twenty-three minutes.”
Okay, that deserves a laugh, which she follows with, “Sure, might as well.”
They sit down on opposite ends of the burgundy-beige-and-blue sofa. Kind of awkward. Are they supposed to make small talk? Compare superhero notes? The only thing she can think to say is, “Um, there’s food and drinks over there.”
“Oh, I do not eat.”
“Right. I knew that.” She didn’t. Whatever.
“But please feel free to nosh if you’d prefer.”
“I’ve already had, like, a dozen hors d'oeuvres. Any more, and they’ll have to roll me out into the ballroom.”
Vision matches her laugh, then silence descends. She’s not good with crowds, being phoneless, or small talk. She’s got superpowers, though, so that’s something. If she ever joined a dating app, she’d either be hugely popular or totally ignored.
He finally says, “This is your first convention, yes?” Wanda nods, and he continues, “My first, as well. To be honest, I’m not entirely certain what we’re meant to do.”
“What? I thought your whole deal was that you know everything.” Maybe her sarcasm isn’t obvious, because he stares at her. So she winks for effect.
A gorgeous smile spreads across his face. “Well, I don’t know anything about you, beyond what I have seen in the media, of course.”
“That’s pretty much all there is to know about me.” Then she remembers the rumors out there, like how she and Sam are secretly hooking up (he’s gay) or she and Natasha hate each other (BFFs, or as close as Nat is capable of), or that she’s really a communist spy trying to bring down the Crusaders and the entire fucking world through her super-scary powers.
Before she can come up with a joke about them, he says, “So, it’s true that you bathe in the blood of your vanquished enemies?”
Her jaw drops.
His turn to wink.
Okay, is he flirting with her? Nah, can’t be. Vision is simply a nice guy making small talk before their panel discussion. She’s only known him for, like, five minutes, but he doesn’t seem like the alien robot that the media claims he is. And he definitely doesn’t seem completely neutered like they also claim. He’s hot. Killer smile. Charming. And she finds herself wondering what he looks like under that sweater. Maybe he’s not flirting, or if he is, it’s unintentional. But that doesn’t mean she can’t flirt.
So she shifts on the sofa in order to fully face him, and gives him her most sultry look – which, she knows from experience, is embarrassing. But it seems to work because his mechanical eyes start spinning. Hmm. Very interesting. And when she says, “I’ll tell you the truth if you take me to dinner after this panel,” she’s pretty sure that’s a flash of lust on his face.
Except he suddenly frowns, so fast that it’s almost like a switch has been flicked in his brain.
Oh, shit. “Um, sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” (She did.) “Just thought it might be nice to have dinner with another superhero, even if you’re from the X-Team,” Wanda adds to ease the awkwardness.
“No, it’s quite alright,” he says in a rush that’s unlike his very proper vibe. “I’ll admit I’m not accustomed to flirtation. Er, if you are indeed flirting with me.”
Ah. Should she lie and say it was all a misunderstanding? Or, hell, why not go for broke? “I thought you were flirting with me. Not that I mind one bit.”
Vision’s chin tilts to the side in a ridiculously adorable way. “Now that you mention it, I do believe I was.” Another gorgeous smile. “Dinner sounds lovely.”
“Good.” And yeah, it’s good. Definitely something to look forward to. “I guess it’s a date. Well, unless supervillains attack this hotel in the next hour.”
“That would be a pity.”
“Yup.”
“But it would also lead to a collaboration between our respective cadres, which could prove quite entertaining.”
“Collaboration? The Crusaders would totally kick the X-Team’s ass.”
“All in service of vanquishing our nefarious foes.”
“Of course.”
“Naturally.”
She starts to laugh, and he joins in. “The Scarlet Witch and Vision, saving the world.”
“That does have a rather nice ring to it.” There’s definitely a flash of lust in his eyes, along with a surprising amount of affection from a guy who only met her ten minutes ago. Wanda likes it.
Of course one of the convention organizers chooses that moment to open the green room door and announce, “You’re on.”
They both stand up. “Here we go,” she sighs. At least there’s the promise of dinner later.
Vision holds out his hand for her to take. She gives it a quick squeeze – and god, it’s like a bolt of lightning when they touch – then drops it because the last thing she needs is for a ballroom full of fans to see it and start rumors. “So. Vision. Shall we?”
He nods. “We shall.”
As the X-Team’s publicity crew likes to proclaim, The Future Awaits.
*****