A Walk in the Park

April 30, 2015:

Scarlet Witch is heading home when she stops off in a park to play on the swings…and learns that the Lord is still angry with her.

A park in New York City


NPCs: The Holy Spirit (ghost), The Power of the Lord (lightning)


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Wanda slipped out of Jericho Trent’s apartment in the early hours of the morning and found herself on an unfamiliar street which was far more lit up than she was used to. Fancy cars drove back and forth even at this time and she quickly pulled her coat closed and slinked her way into what shadow she could find; head down, eyes furtive, a quick pace back towards the room Lunair had arranged for her. At least she thought she was going in the right direction. “I am not lost” she hisses to the nothingness beside her as her boots now step on the soft, wet grass of an empty park. She squelches her way down a gentle slope, mud clinging to the heels of her new boots and spattering her pants. All that talk of Pietro she had with Jemma Simmons has left her melancholy and when she spots the small children’s playground she turns for it. Her gloved hand caresses the chain that holds up a swing before she lifts the bottom of her coat and settles down on the damp plastic seat. She stares out at the park as she starts to push herself back and forth, her hands gripping a chain each, a faint smile forming as the speed builds up. Wanda takes a deep breath; the perfume of wet grass helping her remember her homeland when everything was perfect…ish.

A park light flickers out. Then another. The concrete path they lined now just a light grey snake in the moonlight. There is no wind yet there is trash blowing across the playground in front of the swinging…and oblivious…Wanda. The temperature drops. Her breath now clouds of mist in front of her face. She wakes from her reverie to look about in the darkness. “Bobby?” It is usually Bobby when it is cold…but not this time.

Wanda notices the first one in the underpass at the end of the grey snake. She feels the rush of air first, blowing back her hair and causing her to squint and jump off the swing. “Hello?” she asks as a humanoid shape emerges, rising into the air. It seems to be wearing white. A robe perhaps the way it billows. Or a ghost. Wanda watches it rise into the air, her fingers absently drawing shapes in the air as they start to crackle with mystical red energy. And then the lightning hits her.

It came from the side; blasting Wanda through the air from the impact and she lands hard onto the dirt next to the climbing castle. It was only luck she missed breaking her back on the metal structure. As she shakes her head clear she peers up at what looks like streaks of lightning approaching. The jagged lines making up the limbs, body and head of what is now a laughing figure. “You’re coming with us” it says with a voice like a static hiss. The ‘ghost’ lands nearby, little tornadoes forming around its hands. It seems to be a woman…and that robe looks to be one from the church group.

“We need to hurry” says the ‘ghost’, anxiously looking around for witnesses but everything is quiet sand they seem alone.

“Don’t be in such a rush” the lightning man smirks…which is an odd expression for jagged bolts of light. “We can have a bit of fun with her first. The Preacher only said not to burn her to a crisp. A little burning will be okay…” Fingers made of electrical energy reach out for Wanda’s leg. “Just a little reminder of the Power of the Lord for all the bother she has caused Him.”

It hurts. It burns. Smoke rising from her pants as the electricity courses through the contact with the man’s hand. Wanda screams but her agony is unheard by the world as the ‘ghost’ surrounds the air above her with swirling winds that absorb the sound waves. “I thought you would be used to this” snorts the lightning man, “Don’t you come from Hell? Get the Smooth ready!” The last to the ‘ghost’ who fumbles under her robe to find a syringe.

Wanda’s eyes flicker with a scarlet hue as she mutters through the pain. Willing herself to complete the words and ignore the searing electricity burning her leg. Her hand unleashes the power of her anger. The mystical energy slamming in the lightning man and it is now his turn to fly through the air, slamming into the metal frame of the swings. His ‘body’ shooting back and forth over the playset, unable to focus its form.

The witch drags herself upwards, barely able to put her weight on the scorched leg, and slowly turns to face the ‘ghost’. Her eyes ablaze with red now. Her smile manic in its glee. The white robed woman backs away, dropping the syringe. “Get away you foul demon!” A wall of icy wind shoots from her hands and slams into Wanda; but only pushing her back rather than knocking her down. And that seems to alarm the ‘ghost’. “The power of Christ compels you!!” More wind thumps into the frail looking Wanda but her own energies burn bright. Her red energy forming a wall that protects her…and slowly starts to push back. Sweat pours from the witch’s face. Strange, ancient words fall from her lips and empower the very air around her as well as her mystical energies.

The ‘ghost’ staggers and realises she will not be winning this battle. Not on her own. “The Lord will have his vengeance on you” she gasps. “We are watching you!” And then she is propelling herself through the air and away from Wanda…as fast as she can conjure air.

Wanda breathes heavily, her hands surrounded by energy that crackles and warps the world around them, her eyes glaring at the disappearing ‘ghost’ before she turns towards the still sparking swing set. Subconsciously her mind searches for a solution as she walks slowly towards the lightning. It finds a water bottle – left by some child and thankfully, luckily, unfinished. Her telekinesis lifts it up into the air and over to the swings. The lid is slowly unscrewed before it drops to the dirt. Then the bottle starts to tilt, the liquid contents spilling onto the metal just as the lightning hits it. There is a bright spark. A fusing of metal. And then the lightning is arcing through the air over Wanda’s head…over the underpass…and disappearing into the dark of the streets beyond.

The witch gasps for breath, slowly calming down as the danger seems to have passed. At least for now. Smoke rises from her pants where the latex has melted onto her flesh. More smoke rises from her corset where the first blast hit. Wanda frowns at the damage, tentatively touching it with wary fingers…and wincing at the pain. “They ruined my clothes” she pouts to her unseen voices before hobbling over to pick up the syringe. The purple blood of the Lord drips from the tip of the needle and it looks so alluring… The Smooth is deposited carefully into her coat pocket before she summons the strength and energy to walk again through the pain. If she’s lucky she will find her room again without any more trouble. Thankfully luck is usually on her side.

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