Wound and Wings
(Scott Lang’s House, San Francisco, California)
Hope wasn’t sure why she’d decided to come here and visit Scott.
Maybe she was just trying to figure out whether or not she fell for the wrong guy. Maybe she was hoping to be proven right, that Scott Lang was indeed a good, albeit a little dumb, man.
Or maybe she just wanted to make Scott see reason. Because she couldn’t bear the thought of considering Scott as her enemy. Scott, whose silliness somehow wormed into her heart and made her warm and tingly in all the right places.
Whatever the reason, however, she was glad that she did.
He had been stubborn, at first, but Hope hadn’t expected anything else from him. He’d harped about how helping Captain America was a duty he was honor-bound to uphold. For a second she’d seen a vision of him toting around bigoted signs in the street, carrying handgun in his back pocket, chanting “’Murica, ‘Murica.”
Sometimes she wondered if there was ever a line where stupidity turned into hatred.
Thankfully, he proved himself to be simply foolish instead of hateful. She didn’t even need to mention his daughter’s name, he’d whispered Cassie’s name first, all by himself. Scott didn’t need much convincing after that to see the idiocy of supporting a cause that he didn’t even understand in the first place.
And now, they were here: On his couch, watching Harley Keener’s mother fight tooth and nail for her son, and Tony Stark frighten the press with only a few, carefully worded threats. Scott’s face was a comical cocktail of begrudging approval of Tony Stark’s obvious paternal protective instinct and awed respect for the mother’s calm ferocity.
She pretended she didn’t see him clutching his phone in a death grip, while occasionally ghosting his eyes over the pictures of his daughter, scattered around his living room.
Scott watched the press conference with a focus worthy of an engineer, and Hope found herself praying to deities she never believed in. She prayed for him to finally see that the man her father and he had hated was, in fact, an exceptionally good man. It’s a praise that she rarely ever gave to anyone, and Hope had never thought that she would one day give it to Anthony Stark.
They listened as Stark cowed the usually frenzied reporters with the promise of a visit by the Merchant of Death, and even Scott whistled lowly in appreciation. Amid her awe at Stark’s ability to look intimidating while wearing a ridiculously colored shade, she felt a swell of pride for the man sitting beside her. Maybe there was still hope for Scott, after all.
Both of them clenched their teeth when Daily Bugle’s Jameson made a fool out of himself. Scott actually whooped in delight when Mrs. Keener slammed the slimeball down without missing a single beat.
“Don’t insult those people and us for not falling under your repulsively narrow category of what an ideal family should look like,” she’d said.
She supposed it was fair for him to cheer on that particular line. After all, his was one of such families with unconventional composition.
When Christine Everhart raised her hand after another awkward silence, Hope had expected Scott to start ranting. After all, he did have a bad history with the reporter, from that time he got tazed by a prison guard when she interviewed him for his heist on Vistacorp headquarters.
But as soon as the reporter congratulated Mrs. Keener on speaking up against Jameson, Scott’s features lightened into a contemplative musing. Maybe having his opinion on Tony Stark amended so drastically had given him the spare room for second impressions?
“He’s a good dad,” Scott admitted reluctantly.
Hope nodded absentmindedly. “He is.”
“You think I’ll ever get the chance to be that too?”
She paused. “I think Cassie loves you too much to not give you that chance.”
“I don’t deserve her.”
“Then make sure you do sometime soon. She needs her dad, Scott, and she deserves the best of him.” She returned the gaze that he’d been giving her. “She deserves the best from the man that I fell in love with.”
She watched as his eyes went misty with tears. Happy or sad, she didn’t know. Maybe a little bit of both.
“She does,” he whispered finally, looking back at the TV.
Yes, going here was a decision that she was going to be thankful for for a long time.
They sat in companionable silence, watching as Mrs. Keener and Tony Stark delivered lines after lines that would undoubtedly end up on the front page by tomorrow morning. That is, of course, until Everhart asked a question that even she was guilty of being curious about.
“Mr. Stark, What happened in Siberia?”
She knew something happened. Something big and bad. But that’s all that she knew about. Judging from Scott’s interested expression, she wasn’t alone in her curiosity.
But when that horrendous video played, she wished she’d listened to Stark when he told the faint-hearted to turn off the TV.
Scott and she watched as Captain America’s lies sent Iron Man into a rampage. One backhand turned into a pointed gun, one pointed gun turned into a brawl, and soon the brawl turned into a vicious 2-way alley beat down.
She stared, horrified, as the two super soldiers ganged up on her now team leader. Said man fought back tooth and nail, but she could see how this desperate rage was different from the silent, all-consuming wrath that he’d displayed when he had believed his son to be murdered.
This was no vengeance, it was grief.
And Captain America and his best bud fought back with the ferocity unbefitting for a grieving man.
Scott stood up and ran to the bathroom when the video, now a blurry security footage instead of the HD recording from Iron Man suit, showed Captain America slamming his shield－no. Howard Stark’s shield into Iron Man’s heart.
Hope was tempted to follow Scott to throw up her dinner.
But she persevered and watched until the camera panned back into the podium. Immediately, she noticed something was wrong. Stark was… hunching. His face was pale and shiny with sweat. His eyes was crinkled and strained with pain - the physical kind, not psychological pain.
“That would conclude today’s press conference,” the man said through gritted teeth.
All at once, the formerly cowed out reporters sprang into action. Camera flashed and questions was shouted on top of each other. Stark moved away from the podium, but instead of walking away with his usual poise and bravado, his step faltered and he almost keeled over before he even got to the backstage.
Her heart was already beating hard. Something was definitely wrong. She stood up when Stark had to be prop himself against Mrs. Keener and the suddenly appearing Vision to walk off stage.
“Scott!”
Said man wobbled into the living room, face a little green. “Hope, I－”
“You’re sorry, got it. I’ll tell him you said that,” she cut frantically, already packing her handbag. “I got to go now. Something’s wrong with him, and I got a bad feeling about this.”
Scott’s face fell a little, but he gave her a brave little smile. “Yeah, gotcha. Go kick their asses, Hope.”
“Will do. Call your daughter.” She waved him goodbye, and hurried out to her car.
If she used her father’s experimental shrinking tech to get to the airport faster… well, no police caught her, so she wouldn’t tell.
(Edinburgh, Scotland)
Wanda felt her anger bubbling under the surface as Stark played the media like a fiddle. He’s gone so far as to use children in his crusade against the Avengers. The real one, not the fakes that popped like daisies after Stark forced the original away with his silly little Accords.
It’s a pity that the back door she made inside Stark’s mind was more or less useless these days. She could really use an intel on whether these children were real or simply one of Stark’s evil ploy. After all, children were more vulnerable than that bitch of a CEO of his.
She didn’t know when the connection had started to weaken, exactly, but if she had to guess, it must be around the time Stark imprisoned her with that horrible collar. She definitely couldn’t feel anything when that thing was on her, and when it was taken off, all she could hear and see from Stark’s mind was some sort of buzzing sensation - like a hive full of hornets.
Whatever it was that he did, she didn’t think it was intentional. That arrogant, disgusting man stood there looking a decade younger than he was supposed to - whatever it was that prevented her from peeking into his mind, it must’ve happened when he pampered his narcissistic self.
Stark kept on yapping about this child that he supposedly “love”, and Wanda was almost bored enough to just turn off the television. But when the video started, she decided against it.
On one hand, seeing Stark’s parents killed by her former(?) comrade was very satisfying. Now he knew what he had made her feel like. Bonus point for seeing Steve and Winter Soldier beating the life out of him. She was almost giddy with joy when Steve brought the shield down on Stark.
But on the other hand… Stark was still alive. And thriving like a weed underfoot - trampled but still stubbornly undying. It must’ve been why he so arrogantly experimented on himself: to prolong his worthless life.
Wanda felt her anger surge scarlet. She directed her power with all her will, pushing against the buzzing of Stark’s mind.
Kill yourself! Kill yourself! You worthless monster, KILL YOURSELF!
Such ferocity should’ve made any man choke himself on the spot. But she doubt he’d even heard her. The buzzing sound was picking up in volume and intensity the harder she pushed.
But the man on the screen scrunched his face in pain and stumbled away from the podium, so she figured he must’ve heard the buzzing instead.
A double-edged sword, then.
Grinning, she picked up where she left of, throwing even more of her power to him. She watched in satisfaction when the man stumbled into the whore he’d payed to do his speeches. But when her Vision appeared out of nowhere and started to help Stark as well, she screamed in rage, and sent those hatred towards him.
Her TV spewed smoke and sparks, and suddenly, the electricity completely cut off in her apartment. Huffing in annoyance, she stared at the phone Steve gave her for “emergency.” Poor Steve, the world just ate Stark’s act right off of his palm. He needed her right now, especially if this situation that Stark made was to be blown over.
Steve didn’t specify whose emergency the phone was for… so, it’s OK if she used it to offer help instead, right?
She picked up the phone and dialed Steve’s number, and waited impatiently while the phone rang.
She really liked Steve and his friends. It was so rare to see people who she didn’t need to manipulate into hating Stark. That slimy man had so many ways of appearing innocent, even with the blood dripping from his hands.
When she met Steve, his mind was abuzz with anger towards Stark, but deeper down still, she sense an undercurrent of resentment, jealousy, and, oddly enough, fear. True, his mind wasn’t exactly the most stable, but really, she hadn’t encountered any recipient of SSS of any variation with no mind defect. Steve got the better end of that stick, in a sense that he was still running in full mental capacity.
She didn’t need to convince him to see Stark as the monster that he was, he was already doing it himself.
“Wanda?” Steve’s voice cut through her inner mussing.
Poor man, he sounded so scared. “Steve. I just saw the news, and－”
“It didn’t happen like that, Wanda! I didn’t－Tony was－”
Wanda felt a flicker of irritation at being cut off, but she disregarded it. “I know. It must’ve been tempered or something. And even if it wasn’t, Stark deserved that. He deserved all those pain. Listen, do you need my help? I can go to your place, if you want.…”
She could hear his relieved sigh over the phone. “Yeah… yeah, please do. Sam’s… Sam’s acting a little weird… saying such mean things to me.”
“He’ll come around,” she said flippantly. And he would…. Deep down, Sam also resented Stark for his undue wealth and power. If he didn’t manage to get over himself by the time she got there, she just had to remind him that the only reason he should be mad at Steve was because Steve didn’t do his job and kill Stark properly.
“I hope so…. Listen, are you still staying in your last address?”
“Yes. I’m still here. Are you coming to get me, or should I go there by myself?”
“Stay there. I’ll send Nat to get you.”
“Alright, cool. See you soon, Steve.”
“See you, Wanda. Thank you for being such a good friend.”
The line went dead, and she leaned back, still preening from Steve’s compliment. Now she just had to wait a few hours for Natasha to pick her up. In the mean time, she should just make herself useful and see if she could drive Stark to death by pain.
Red light danced around the dark room, and the Scarlet Witch went to work.
(Peter’s Room, New Avengers Facility, Upstate New York)
“Peter? Can I see now?” Hailey asked, eyes still tightly shut, and ears firmly covered from the last time Harley and he asked her to.
“Yeah, it’s OK now. No more scary movie, see?”
Slowly, the girl opened her eyes, only to pout at the holoscreen. “Why’s Daddy frowning?”
Immediately, they all noticed how Tony’s face was pinched in what looked like….
“He’s in pain,” Harley whispered, more to himself than to the general audience.
“Something’s wrong,” Peter warned when his Spider-Sense tingled.
“No shi… stuff, Sherlock,” his brother sassed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.? What’s wrong with Dad?”
“I am not at liberty to say anything, Harley,” the A.I. answered, sounding almost regretful when she did.
“But are you at liberty to… hypothesize what happened out loud?” Peter asked carefully.
“Boss also thought you’d be the one to try that, Peter… I’m so sorry.”
“Peter, do you think Daddy’s going to be fine?” Hailey asked worriedly.
Harley mock gasped at their sister. “Oh, I see… you got a new brother and now you’re not even talking to me anymore?”
“Peter’s older!”
“Peter’s a dummy that got his as－butt kicked trying to open a door, that’s what he is.”
“Hey!”
“I’m literally sitting on half a butt-cheek because the rest of your torso is bandaged, Pete.”
“Don’t sit on me, then!”
“Make me.”
“You know I can.”
“But will you?”
“Aunt May! Peter and Harley’s being mean to each other!” Hailey tattled at the top of her lungs
“Lay off, boys! I’m trying to cook here!” his Aunt shouted back from presumably the kitchen.
“Oh no,” Peter blanched. “Don’t eat anything,” he warned his younger siblings, “she’s stress cooking, so it’s not gonna be edible.”
His brother cocked an eyebrow at him. “Rude. Imma tell her you said that.”
“Oh yeah? Well, I’ll tell your mom you almost cursed in front of Hal.”
Harley scowled at him. “What are you? Five?”
“Fifteen, actually,” He mumbled. “Almost.”
Harley whipped his head around so fast it creaked. “Wait, what?”
“Don’t tell Dad.”
“You’re fourteen?”
“Don’t tell Dad!”
His brother floundered like a fish. “What kind of Dad doesn’t even know－He made you passport!”
“Happy made me passport, actually.”
“Well, he’s gonna know sooner or later.”
“Peter’s having a birthday soon??” Hal asked excitedly.
Peter cringed at the impending conversation with his dad, and his brother laughed at his face. But as soon as the laughter died out, a sense of dread crept back down his spine.
Tony was in pain. He didn’t know why, or how, or who did it, but when he found out…. Harley looked at him grimly, because he could read minds like that. Somehow, he just knew both of them suspected the same party.
Soon enough, F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced their dad’s arrival, and Harley and Hailey scrambled up to greet him downstairs. Little traitors actually left him to struggle alone. Not even a day being their brother yet, and he was already getting sat on, sassed, and then left to shuffle solo downstairs by his supposedly loving younger siblings. He grumbled along the way, taking care not to get noticed by his aunt. Lucky for him, his room was one of the nearest to the elevator, so he didn’t have to stumble for too long.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, kid?” Tony teased with a strained voice as soon as the elevator’s door opened.
Instead of answering, he limped to where his dad was being crowded by the others and joined the group hug.
The older man let out a soft chuckle and ruffled his hair affectionately. “Missed you too, buddy.”
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Better now.”
“And you call me sappy,” he scoffed, even as he snuggled in closer.
“Never told them I’m not, though,” Tony reminded him as he pulled away and moved to sat heavily on the sofa.
“Dad? Are you really okay?” Harley fretted.
“Killer headache. Sorry.”
“What happened, Dad? I thought you’re not supposed to even get sick anymore with extremis?”
“Well, it’s not physical, so….”
Harley frowned confusedly. “So psychological? Like… a panic attack?”
“Oh, no!” Hailey gasped as she threw herself back into Tony’s lap.
The man grunted and looked at Vision with… an apologetic sort of look? “It’s… uh…. More metaphysical, actually.”
Huh? He thought to himself in confusion before he realized something.
Metaphysical.
Magic.
“Hal, why don’t you go and help Aunt May in the kitchen?” he asked, carefully trying to keep his voice even and calm.
The girl pouted. “But I missed Daddy!”
“I’ll go up in a sec, sweetheart. It’s gonna be fine.”
Hailey looked like she’s about to protest, but eventually, she caved. “OK…” she mumbled and trudged away dejectedly.
Tony looked at Harley and him chidingly. “Alright, you kicked your sister out. Congrats. Now talk.”
“What happened, Dad? Full story. No more censoring,” Harley said.
The man sighed and said to Vision, “You want to tell them instead? I know you and her…－”
Said android’s feature turned even colder than an ice block. “No, Tony. The Wanda that I thought I loved wouldn’t do something like this to anyone. I don’t know whether she changed for the worse, or I was just being ignorant, but whatever it was that I had with her is now gone.”
“I will murder that bit－prostitute,” Harley promised darkly when they heard the implication.
“Okay, what is it with you kids and murdering people that bother me?”
“Are you… are you in pain, right now?” Harley ignored the question.
Tony hedged uncertainly. “Well, I got a killer headache, but nothing else.”
“Can’t you do something, Vision?” Peter almost begged.
“I can, but－”
Tony cut him off impatiently. “No. Right now, she doesn’t know that we’re aware of her little hole in my mind. I want to keep it that way until the Council can deal with her.”
“But you’re hurting, Dad!”
“Nothing I can’t handle, Harl. Calm down.”
They bickered back and forth for a minute, until a feminine voice drawled from behind them. “You want me to help you with that?”
All of them turned to the voice’s owner, revealing her to be none other than Tracy Crowley, somehow dressed in expensive leather jacket and combat boots.
Harley snorted beside him. “Gucci? Really?”
“Hey, if I’m gonna make a doppelganger of me, I might as well dress her up real nice.”
“You heard me again, didn’t you?” Tony asked a little apologetically.
“Yeah, it’s pretty fucking loud. Turns out I can block it as long as you don’t shove it on my face just after I woke up from a surgery, though, so we’re good.”
“How come you told me not to curse but your own mouth is dirtier than my school’s toilet?” Harley pointed out.
“’cus you’re not tall enough for this ride, shrimp. Now hush, the adults are talking.”
Now Peter understood why Harley seemed to like his kidnapper so much. She mouthed him off even better than their dad could.
“What are you going to do? Just in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not letting you play with my mind. No offense.”
“None taken. And it’s not your mind that I’m gonna fuck around with. It’s hers.”
Tony huffed a pained laugh. “Which you’ll access through mine, so no thanks.”
“Nope. I’m not suicidal, so I’d rather stay the fuck away from your mind. Vision, though.…”
Vision perked up at the idea. “I do have the ability to access the wound in Tony’s mind with little to no discomfort, so in theory I could act as your proxy. And since no one except us knows about your existence…. Yes, this is perfect, Tony!”
Vision sounded so enthusiastic at the prospect of helping his creator, but Tony still looked apprehensive. “Have you ever done something like that before, though? I’m not looking forward to be your lab rat, Crowley.”
“Don’t worry, Tony. Even if anything goes wrong, my part as the go-between will shield you from harm.”
“You heard the robot.”
Tony chewed on his lips. “What are you even going to do with her? Knock her out?”
Tracy’s doppelganger smiled evilly, and her skin shimmered blue for a second. “Hey, Harley. If I spook the bitch a little, are we gonna be even?”
His brother smirked in answer. “I want full commentary.”
“Deal.”
Peter wasn’t sure if he should follow his heart and cheer with his brother or listen to his brain and comply to his dad’s disapproving outcry.
(Underground Parking Lot, Queens)
“You sure he’s our guy?”
“For the last time, Leo, yes,” Naomi hissed through the com. “Both license plate and facial recognition matched. Just do your job, and I’ll get the rest done.”
“Okay, okay, just checking.”
Straightening his shoulders, he marched (casually) to the black man fiddling with his car’s trunk lock.
“Mr. Davis?” he called.
The man didn’t answer, and just stared at him distrustfully.
“Major Leonardo Verde, U.S. Air Force. I’m here to－”
Davis broke to a sprint to the exit.
Immediately, Naomi dropped in front of him from wherever the hell she was perching for the last 30 minutes, and raised from her dramatic crouch landing in all her badass, 5’6”, Chinese-American dragon lady glory.
Her words, not his.
“Shouldn’t have run from the good cop, buddy,” she whispered menacingly, folding open her EXO-wings like an angel’s.
“Aw, hell na, man! Falcon’s ain’t no chick!”
Leo winced. “Bad call, man,” he mumbled.
Naomi’s eyes turned cold, and her wings’ bladed “feather” flashed angrily at the man. “I’m not sure if I should address your support for a known terrorist or your blatant sexism, so let’s talk business instead. Where’s the weapons?”
Davis gulped audibly and backed away slowly. “I－I don’t－”
Leo extended a manacle gun from his EXO-wings pack into his forearm and shoot one at the retreating man’s ankle. He stumbled and fell on his ass.
“I thought you’re the good cop, man,” he complained.
“Just doing my job, sir. What information can you give us about the weapons? Who’s the creator? Who’s the dealer? Where’s the guy with the wings?”
“And just so you know, if we don’t make you crack, you better be sure FBI’s gonna try twice as hard. Talk. Now,” Naomi said as she loomed in front of the frightened man.
“I－I don’t know anything, I swear! I just know that he’s a psychopath that likes to dress like a demon!”
“I am not sitting on a vent shaft for 30 minutes for your fashion commentary. Where is he?!”
“I don’t know! I－Wait! Wait!” he wailed when Naomi flared her wings like an angry chicken mama. “I… I know where he’s gonna be. This crazy dude I used to work with, he’s supposed to be doing a deal with him.”
“Where?” Leo asked before Naomi could unleash more threat on the poor guy.
“Staten Island Ferry, 11.”
For a tense minute, nobody said anything. But then, Naomi’s fake flinty eyes thawed and she quipped bubbly, “Right! Thanks!”
She turned around and tucked her wings back in. “C’mon Leo, we got a ferry to catch!”
“Wait! What about me?”
“Hang around for a bit, man. FBI’s car got stuck in a traffic.”
“I got an ice cream in here!”
“Just eat ‘em!” he shouted as he took off to the sky and chase after his partner.
“You’re gonna report back to Mr. Hogan?” she asked once they’re both flying.
“Yeah, just a sec.” He tapped a few button and placed a call to SI.
“Hogan,” answered a gruff voice.
“Mr. Hogan, this is Major Verde. We just got a new info. The Vulture is going to be on Staten Island Ferry in an hour for a deal. We’re flying there as we speak.”
“Good job. But you should check your phone every once in a while. Colonel Rhodes is a Major General now. Report to him.”
He blinked even though the man couldn’t see him. “Wait, really? That’s quick.”
“Yeah, I’m surprised he cave in that quick. Here, have his number.” A notification popped up in his UI. “He’s been informed, and asked me to tell you to meet him on the first warehouse’s roof top.”
“Roger that, sir. Thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just catch that maniac.”
The line went off.
“Well? Where are we flying, Partner?” Naomi asked from above him.
“Terminal’s first warehouse. We’re reporting to Major General Rhodes now.”
“For real? Cool! Race you there!” With that, Naomi sped like a bat out of hell with a gleeful whoop.
Well, he thought, best not keep the Boss waiting.