A Vision in the Rain

May 10, 2015:

Wanda encounters her assassin

NYC

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Mood Music: None.


Fade In…

His day like any other, though overcast with steady rain falling. It was threatening a storm,a low rumble of thunder somewhere in the distance as that steady thumping of rain spattered rooftops and windows alike. That threat lingered all day, but remained just that, a threat little more. The dark grey even began to turn lighter, the thunder more distant. The city was awake, between afternoon and night, that time in the city where, with buildings of a good size, darkness came earlier on the street itself.

That is when that blur of green and scarlet, or purple even, became real of course. At one moment it floated about, like a vision of a ghost, between buildings, curious, seeking, questing. Flitting like a humming bird even, as if it would come and pass, begone. But it didn't, it came closer, appearing as a man, or not unlike a man. Green, with scarlet red face, yellow cape, glowing eyes. A man, but not quite, maybe an android. The diamond like object in its head glowed the same, yellow, like its golden eyes. Feet coming down first, its hands outstretched, as if floating on water, maintaining balance but not means to show for this. Not like a flying suit, not combustion anywhere, just a ghostly floating, yet more real.

It came down to land, feet meeting with the wet street itself, no one around. Thinking this a safe place, it was unsure, questing. It was new, everything was new to it. When those feet touched, it became tangible, the water falling could then be seen hitting its metal like surface, sliding down its body. The memory there, was the rain falling through it a moment before. But no, it was there, the rain hitting it, bouncing off it some, falling to the ground and it stood there, like a Vision.

Wanda was out in the rain again. She had been offered places to stay, and she still had her good clothes at one of them, but the streets still felt safe. There were people after her, and her brother, and she didn't want anyone else to be in danger if they found her. Pietro was with his new friends, unable to remember her face, and so he would be fine?she hoped. Wanda had friends too but her voices kept reminding her how trouble always followed wherever she went. Sometimes she would ask her friends for help but they also had other things to do and she didn't want to be a bother. So tonight she was back on the streets, making her way down Second Avenue towards the small Transian store where she had ordered some presents for those who had helped her. Her face is uplifted to the rain, smiling at the cold water that trickles over her skin and drenches her recently brand new, but now battle scarred, clothes.

The heels of her black knee-high boots click upon the pavement as she walks. Her black latex pants with the red stripe down the side have been melted on one thigh and her wound beneath, though healed, is still obvious. She wears a black corset over most of her torso though that has also been melted on one side. Over it all is a long scarlet coat, a present from the Transian shopkeeper, that Wanda leaves open rather than closes against the rain. "Do you think they will like the presents?" she asks the nothingness beside her. Her voice still heavily Eastern European accented - she isn't as quick a learner as her brother. Wanda nods to an unheard response before shrugging. "If it will keep them safe then this is good. Even if it keeps them safe from me."

Wanda stops suddenly. Her right hand goes to her forehead as her eyes squint and she sways slightly, her fingers pressing at her flesh. "I feel it" she nods to the voices. "Like a…a nothingness." Scarlet energy starts to crackle around her left hand, her defences kicking in subconsciously, as she looks around the seemingly empty street for the cause. And then she sees him. The green, scarlet and yellow of the stranger hard to miss in the gloom of the street. Energy starts to crackle around her right hand as she lowers it, preparing herself for the worst - have 'they' sent him for her?

The Vision stands upright, turns until it faces her direction then for but a second or two, it completely stops. It is that second or two in which a myriad of input is received and analyzed within the mind that is nothing. It is synthetic, everything fabricated somehow, any senses given out to detect him would detect little more than a computer performing processing. Unaware of its own purpose, the why of it being created, it has only the compulsion, hidden into that mystical gem in its forehead. A juxtaposition that, a singularity of technology to become a synthezoid, or made into such a being, the epitome of science and yet that gem, that spark of sentience that would make him human despite the synthetic body, was perhaps the pentacle of mysticism. A fusion of the two, altered by separate beings.

Those seconds and he found his query, yes he, a gender, not an it. He was alive, the compulsion was to stop her, prevent her from some future fate. But there was hesitation, his own reasoning, was it the right thing to do as, beyond functions and compulsions, he was self aware. Could he harm her, she seems to have had struggles already, the burn of coat and pants, her composure, the look on her face alone, she had struggles perhaps unwanted, he being another one. "You are Wanda, who will be the Scarlet Witch?" A turn of his head, will be or, is now? Why would that distinction matter if she is or will be, is he aware of time, or should he be. He starts to walk towards her, not knowing he wanted to. That is not logic, his body moves despite what his mind wills.

"Wanda," he calls again, "You are in danger." His strides become purposeful, "You must leave, quickly." It showing some struggle himself, the body moving for her, his voice conflicting with his motions. "Away from me, you must get away from me. My logic ? I have been altered." Even as he says that, his hand lifts up, yellow gloves seem to glow, as the arm lifts to level it at her, leaving her time to react in how slow the hand moves, but it is beyond him and it means to fire an energy blast at the woman. Yet curiously, pain on his face, even with the golden eyes, his features show pain in what he is doing, or what his hand is doing beyond his control.

"Witch? I am not a witch…I am Romani" Wanda replies with a touch of venom in her tone. She is sick of everyone calling her a witch. She doesn't know magic!! Or she doesn't realise she does at least. But when a hand is raised towards her, she can't not be aware of the threat it entails. Her hands move in front of her and her mystical energy creates a wall that envelops her. "You warn me and then threaten me? And yet your mind is so…peaceful. Who are you? Who sent you?"

"It is not my intent to harm you … Romani," returns the Vision, not aware enough in his present state to realize what Romani are, or that he can easily access wifi to figure it out. It is just this moment, his and lifts to fire, "There is something which is not my decision." A pause, his hand glows golden, giving another second of computation, "And it overrides my control. You are not safe." A beam comes from his hand, not full strength, drawing from the gem at his head. It deflects off the mystical barrier, at a nearby building, sending bricks loose. "Please, I am sorry."

It may deflect but Wanda feels it, her power spiking to defend herself…and she knows he wasn't on full strength either. "I will not go until you tell me who has done this to you" she states firmly, even taking a few steps towards him, her energy still sparking and growing but totally defensive for now. "I know that /you/ do not want to hurt me" she adds softly…but still easy enough for him to hear. "And only /you/ are in charge of yourself. You know that to be true. Tell me /your/ name. I know you have one. You are not someone else's toy."

Taking a step closer himself, he shakes his head, "It is an impulse, a flaw in my design." The hand glows, but she says he is in charge, and asks his name. This gives him a pause. His head turns down to the ground and a query of self is executed, is he in charge. "Who am I … Vision?" He looks up to her as if she would affirm this, the name he knows, a Vision, someone else's perhaps, but its in his programming, or his self awareness. "I am someone else's toy, they have altered me." He lowers to his knees, the rain still spattering at him, bouncing off and he lifts the glowing hand to his head, as if he might fire. There is pause there, "You can help me … Wanda." Then he touches his head, making to alter himself, he can't change the gem, that is mystical, but he can change the interaction with him. "I can stop the impulse now, but it will come again, you can fix this." The gem perhaps.

Wanda is wary as he falls to his knees in the cold rain. It won't be the first time she has been tricked but he seems…different. "It's okay" she hisses at nothing next to her right shoulder. "We will be okay" she assures again before walking up to the strange 'man' and reaching out to place her hand upon his forehead…and the gem. A gasp as she feels the power…the energy…the anger and hatred that created it. Wanda closes her eyes and starts to mumble in a language as old as the world. Her mystical power is summoned…even if she is not fully aware of it…and seeps into the Vision's mind. It permeates his neural network, finding the blockages, the vile intentions of the creator, the links with the mystical powers of the gem. Her eyes remain closed as her body shudders with the contact.

"We will be," he takes that as directed at him, they will be okay. His hand stays turned to him, being aware of his own construction and design, he can work with the synthesized elements. As it is at bay and she summons her own mystical energies, the hatred she sensed is unleashed some into his mind as she touches his forehead. Not feeling true pain, the empathy of it overwhelms him and his hands come out quickly, but only to grab at her pants, at the sides of her thighs. Undmindful of the damage he noted on arrival to one side of them. A moan not quite a cry from him, he looks up at her, or beyond her, into the stars themselves, his golden eyes fade, closing as they will. A seepage of that golden glow, from the gem, like the one from his hand, at his eyes then, trailing away, whisping away. Whether magic or a mingle of hex power and reality probability manipulation, it seems to either lock or prevent the impulses. Then the cry or agony seems to fade. He looks up at her, lefting one foot up, "Whatever has done this, it may come again. I have brought this to you Wanda." Well, he was but a vessel, but he takes that responsibility for coming to her, not that he knows much yet of how he came here.

No matter how precise programming or circuitry is there is always a chance of error. There is always the chance of just plain old bad luck…or hex…or chaos…to stuff the best laid plans of man or machine. And that is what frees the Vision…with the help of magic that she doesn't even realise she has. Wanda lets out a gasp and opens her eyes again. For a moment her pupils are aflame with red before they return to their usual blue. "Who sent you?" she asks him softly, moving to crouch down to look into his strange eyes. "Why would they do this to me?" Her hand caresses down his strangely coloured face, fingers stroking the symbiotic flesh with curiosity, wiping away the rainwater. "The peace inside your mind now…I have never known the like." A tilt of her head before she shakes it. "It will only come back if you let it" she whispers and she has to believe that.

There, half a crouch himself, that touch from her, more than to help him, to feel him, our discover him, it touches at his own intent, being human. The woman someone tampered with that gem to turn him to a weapon, she readily treats him with kindness. His own hand lifts, touching her cheek as she touches him. "I do not know, we must find out." Who debt him that is. "You can help me Wanda, I only want peace."

Wanda suckles on her lower lip as she listens to him. Rain flowing down her face and matting her hair to her body. She wants peace too. The voices she hears…so many voices. But this…Vision…he has calmed them all. "I only want peace too" she admits before nodding. "I will help you…but I need to hide you too. And I don't know where…" She does live on the streets mostly. "Come with me" she announces as she stands again. "I was promised it was a safe place so you can stay there if you like."

He moves to stand with her, that hand falling from her wet cheek, curiously holding the water more than his own skin. "Will we always hide," he considers as he moves to follow her. That same hand reaches for hers at the thought of a safe place. A gentle squeeze even. While the hand is truly capable of so much more, it keeps to a genteel approach. "I am grateful, for you Wanda." Entirely innocent despite the blast moments ago.

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