#behold-thevision

[damn-and-blast-it]

Homecoming (Wanda & Vision) 5 August 2017

[dr-betty-ross]

Time to Go (part one) || Betty & Vision

Betty sighed softly, glancing up at the building ahead of her before glancing back at her phone. Two missions ahead of her, one wanted and one forced. She sent out confirmation that she had arrived before waving away her “support”. Support was more of a lie though, the general wanted to keep an eye on her more now than ever. She walked up to the compound, flicking her sunglasses up when she reached the front door.

“I’m here to speak to Mr. Stark and the rest of the Avengers that reside in the compound.” The sound of the door sliding open was her answer. She kept her face blank until she heard the doors slide shut behind her. Then disgust took over. All those names in the email but none had actually reached out to make plans. Maria trying to atone for selling them all out was a joke as well. She was still so angry at the woman. She glanced around, looking for someone, anyone to talk to.

After all, she did need some help.

Betty walked down the hallway, pausing at the different openings to see if anyone was there. She did not know who all was on the Raft, but she did know Stephen was there. The General had left Strange’s file on the desk. Clea had spoken highly of the man during the time they spent together, and at this point they needed some magic to right this situation.

It wasn’t even that she necessarily disagreed with the idea behind the register, kids needed to be taught. They shouldn’t be government pawns though. It should be more like getting a driver’s license. You want to hero without getting charged or arrested? Train with the Avengers or other approved hero, get your certificate or whatever and it would be fine. No name but the super hero name needed. Like Xavier’s school, but without mutants. It could settle everyone worrying about who did what without compromising the ones that wanted to keep home life separate.

Code names existed for a reason.

She huffed once more, pausing once she reached a living room looking space. She cocked her head to the side before stepping into the room. “Um, Vision, was it? I know we haven’t officially met, but yea. A dick sent me here to spy on you guys, but I’m looking for a bit of help. Not sure I really know what I need to break in and out of a secure facility and all that.”

[damn-and-blast-it]

Valentine’s Day (Wanda & Vision) 14 February 2016

“I saw some girl scouts selling cookies a couple blocks away.  I told them I’d come back when I had cash with me. I think you should come, too. They’d like to meet another Avenger.” Wanda smiled sadly.  She could see what he was trying to do for her. Someone must have told him she wasn’t leaving her suite even to eat meals.  He thought getting her outside for someone else’s sake would motivate her.

But, sadly, he was mistaken.  “I can’t go outside, Vision.  Not today.” He’d thought to come see her on Valentine’s Day, which was very thoughtful, but asking her to come out for some air was an entirely different matter.  Her face had healed, and her hands were doing considerably better.  Even her bad leg could handle a little weight, if not all of hers.  But that was only the half of it.  

In the month since she’d started using extra-cellular matrix to regrow her tissue where it had been burned away, she couldn’t stop sweating.  And not only was it constant, but she smelled terrible, like the pigs from which the matrix was taken.  She couldn’t stand to be outside, lest someone notice, and she’d been showering so much, lately, that her skin was badly chapped and dehydrated.

What was the use of having powers to change probability and alter reality if she couldn’t leave her house?  

“I think they’d be more disappointed not to meet you.”  He laid a hand on her shoulder.  “It’s cold outside.”  

“We’ll meet them when I don’t have pig bladder stuck to my thigh, okay?”  She traced a finger over the faint scar on her cheek that separated the old tissue from the new.  

“Wanda,” he knelt by her chair.  She wished he wouldn’t come so close when she was like this.  Wanda wished she were in a better mood to have him over.  “When was the last time you left this room?”  

“A couple of days ago,” she answered, truthfully.  In the middle of the night, she’d been hungry and had gone to the downstairs kitchen.  Other than that, she stayed in her tower suite.  

“Are you punishing yourself?”

Anger welled up for a moment, but Wanda didn’t say any of the dozen things that had come to mind.  It was anger that ought to be directed at another man who didn’t exist anymore.  “No.”

“You look beautiful.”  

“Thank you.”  

“And if you just put on perfume, nobody would notice the smell.”  Wanda frowned and turned her head, but Vision gripped her hand.  “It’s cold, nobody will notice in the cold, and you’ll make those girls’ day.”  

Wanda was about to refuse again when she stopped herself.  He was trying so hard to make things better, and Valentine’s Day was as much for him as it was for her.  “Let me take a shower first,” she finally agreed.  

--

It was cold.  Not as cold as Switzerland, but it was cold.  They were lucky it was only a two block walk from Jan’s house to the garage where a bunch of little first and second grade girls were huddled around a space heater with cookie boxes on display.  At the sight of the two colorful costumed heroes, they seemed to forget both their cold and their mission to sell cookies.  “Jenny, Jenny, it’s the Scarlet Witch, I told you he’d come back!” A woman, who looked like she was probably one of the girls’ mothers, smiled.

“We were supposed to wrap up at two, but they insisted we wait for you to come see them.”  Wanda and Vision had left the house at 2:10; they’d had a lot of faith to wait so long.

“We’re here,” she replied.  Immediately, the little girls began to invade the personal space bubble she’d wanted to keep, tugging at her gloves and ducking under both their capes.  

“Can you show us how you fly?”

“Can you hex a boy at school for me?”

“Why do you have crutches?  Was it a bad guy?”

“What’s wrong with your face?” After a twinge, Wanda realized that one had been for Vision.  

“How does your mask stay up?”

“Do you want to buy some Girl Scout Cookies?” asked one girl who hadn’t forgotten her mission.  

“I showed you how I fly last time I was here, remember?” Vision replied to the eager little blonde girl, with glasses and pig tail braids.  “By reducing my molecular density, I can fly the same way I can reach through these boxes,” he reached out to the display, “and take a cookie.”  He handed the fudgy cookie to the brown-vested girl who had asked him. Wanda smiled.  

“I suppose we’ll be buying that box.  What else do you recommend?”

“Those are Samoas,” explained the girl with brown curly hair, not unlike Wanda’s own, when it had time to dry.

“Thin Mints are the most popular, but I like Tagalongs,” announced the girl with a dark complexion and even darker freckles.  

In the end, they bought one of each of the twelve kinds, except for the sugar-free brownies.  

--

“Battle Star Galactica?” Wanda asked when they were safely back in her bedroom.  The fresh air had done her more good than she’d immediately realized.  Her suite smelled vaguely of illness and medicine.  

“I don’t know if I’m where you are, given the rate you had been watching,” he replied, doubtfully.  “I could download the episodes I’ve missed…”

“Don’t be silly, I haven’t watched without you.  Even if it was the hardest thing about you being away.”  She tore open the package of mostly-eaten Samoas. The girls had all wanted a cookie after Vision had given one away, and though Jenny had insisted the box was complimentary, they’d paid for it all the same.  

“Your willpower is incredible.”  He sorted out the DVD player before joining Wanda and taking a seat.

“Thanks for taking me out today, Vision.  I really needed that.”  She rested her head on his shoulder, and they both fell into stunned silence as the episode played.  

[susanstorm-richards]

The Birth of Evil| Susan, Cassie, Hank, Vision, Bruce, and Betty|

Most of the furniture in the biology lab had been pushed against the walls in order to accommodate Ultron’s full height. Two work tables in the center of the room supported the robot’s lifeless metal corpse, blank eyes staring up at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. It was a little unnerving to see the empty shell just lying there. She half expected its fingers to twitch or its mouth to open, but they never did.

Using human brain patterns to craft an artificial mind was an ingenious concept, and one that Hank had clearly put a lot of thought into. He’d done the same with Vision, only to a lesser extent. This time, they were creating a mind from scratch, rather than just filling in the gaps. If he had found a way to replicate Asgardian technology, there was no telling the scientific progress that could be made. Being involved in the process was more than a little exciting.

“There’s coffee and tea over there if anyone wants any before we get started.” Sue gestured to a table over by the far wall. “It’s probably best if you don’t have any though, Hank. The caffeine might affect the readings.” She smiled as she approached her colleague, clipboard in hand. The various electrodes placed along his scalp to monitor his brain activity all appeared to still be the correct position. The large monitor above his head showed that there were no irregularities in his brain patterns either.

“How are you holding up?” She could only imagine what he was thinking right now. This was his project, but his insistence on being the Guinea pig left him pretty much immobile. If he was anything like Reed he must have been going stir crazy.

Her gaze wandered to baby Henry, still quietly sleeping a few feet away.  When Hank first brought him she’d been concerned about some of the materials in the lab, but her worry was apparently unnecessary. Vision hadn’t left Henry’s side once since he’d gotten there and the baby seemed more than content in his arms. Sue gave the android a friendly smile as the locked eyes, only to watch as he quickly looked away. “He really is good with Henry.” She murmured, crossing her arms over her chest.

He was so tentative; the way he acted around others now, like one wrong move would break them. He’d tried to kill her and Hank only a few months ago. His guilt was understandable, she’d been angry with him for a while herself. Still, he hadn’t been himself when he attacked them; he was someone else.  It was unfair to blame Vision for the actions of another. The fantastic four had their own fair share of mind control. It was a violating experience, one she’d never wish on anyone else. She hadn’t known him well before, but she hoped he would return to himself with time.

[damn-and-blast-it]

All Alone with the Memory | Wanda | 22 November 2015

Wanda hadn’t realized just how little Vision had packed until now, as all of their combined belongings sat in large boxes along the wall, waiting to be brought to their new home.  Of course she’d known it was significantly less than she’d packed, but even so, less than a third of the boxes read “Vision.”  One box among them was smaller, and clearly had been put together even before they’d packed up the rest of their things.  It was plain, but made of wood.  

There was still no word from Vision.  Still no reason to fear the worst, but not exactly any reason not to, either.  And, essentially, still nothing tangible she could do in the meantime.  

The move had, naturally, been delayed for the time being.  Everyone who had any business in the matter had become occupied with the data wipe fiasco.  

Whatever was in the box must be especially precious, if he’d kept it all this time.  She wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen it before now.  Wanda picked it up, and, though it wasn’t large, placed it on the bed, creasing the unmade duvet.  When Wanda folded back the cardboard lids, she saw that there was hardly anything in there.  

Ticket stubs from The Kind and I on top.  It was one of the first shows they’d ever seen.  A piece of yellow cloth, like the stuff his cape was made from.  Wanda pulled them out and set them aside.  A photograph of her from last summer.  It wasn’t flattering, she appeared to be eating something, but she was laughing hard at something.  Why had he kept this one?  Or any at all, if he had photographic memory?  There was a credit card bill from forever ago.  That was even stranger.  She looked at the contents, but the list looked mundane.  Sharpie pens, a house plant, and some other odds and ends.  She placed it in the growing pile.  

There was a lock of brown hair.  Wanda brought her hand to her own wild locks, wondering if he’d taken a snip without her noticing.  But the hair, held together by tape, was fine and straight.  It wasn’t hair at all, she realized, but fur.  He’d taken a clipping of a cat or dog at some point.  She ran her finger tip along the soft fur and lay it down with the rest.  

There was only one thing left.  A copy of The Bicentennial Man.  Wanda turned it over.  The book was thin.  She flipped through it.  The pages weren’t particularly well-worn. He hadn’t read it too many times.  He probably could have downloaded the story straight to his mind’s eye if he wanted.  So  why a physical copy?  Wanda sat down on the bed and flipped through it.  There was a note inside the front cover.  

To Vision,

You were inspired by this book, so it seemed fitting for you to have my copy.  

Hank

Had she read this one?  Wanda didn’t think so.  Maybe she’d read I Robot.  

Apparently this story meant something to him.  With nothing better or more productive to do, Wanda leaned against her pillows and kicked her feet up.  

Andrew Martin said, "Thank you," and took the seat offered him. He didn't look driven to the last resort, but he had been. He didn't, actually, look anything, for there was a smooth blankness, to his face, except for the sadness one imagined one saw in his eyes.

[damn-and-blast-it]

Movie Night (Wanda, Vision & Clint) 16 June 2015

It was once in a blue moon that Wanda and Vision were the only ones home in the evening and able to have the main living room and tv to themselves.  On a usual day, there would have been argument about who had been there first, what they could all agree on watching, if there should really be a poker game in stead of a movie, and if they wanted any privacy at all they had to relocate to one of their private rooms.

But tonight, against all odds, the mansion was quiet.  And Wanda and Vision were free to dim the lights all the way down, share a bowl of popcorn, and click through Netflix for something to watch together.  “The Fall?  A bedridden patient (Lee Pace) captivates a hospitalized girl (Catinca Untaru) with a fantastic tale involving heroes, mystics and villains on a desert island.”  That looked promising.  She clicked to the next option.  “All is Lost?  Alone on a boat in the middle of the ocean, a man struggles to stay afloat as the forces of nature threaten to sink him to the bottom.  There’s next-to-no dialogue, it poses more questions than provides answers, and it’s just Robert Redford trying to MacGyver his way back to safety the whole time. It’s also a terrific display of subtle storytelling and it’s hard to turn away once things start hitting the fan. Might take a bit to embrace the silence, but it is one hell of a survival story.”  That looked good, too.  It sounded more existential than what she usually watched, but very interesting in terms of the themes it explored.  It was so interesting to see what a person was capable of when pushed to their limits.  

She flicked past the movies about people she knew personally until she got to the Guardians of the Galaxy documentary.  Mockumentary?  Clearly the filming hadn’t taken place in space, but they told a true story.  “Or what about this one?  It got 91% on Rotten Tomatoes.  Brash space adventurer Peter Quill (Chris Pratt) finds himself the quarry of relentless bounty hunters after he steals an orb coveted by Ronan, a powerful villain.  I would watch that.”  They all looked good was the problem.  She would watch any one of them.  She changed the way she was sitting so she leaned in against Vision.  She ate a hand full of popcorn from the bowl on the table.  “What do you think?  I can’t decide.”

[damn-and-blast-it]

Bulletproof Picasso (Wanda & Vision) 18 May 2015

Am I made of paper 'Cause I tear so easily?

Wanda adjusted her earrings so that they poked out from under the scarf she wore around her hair. As an Avenger, she didn’t have much of a chance to wear her nice evening clothes.  If she was expected to make a public appearance it was in her costume, if she was practicing she wore tight-fitted training clothing or her costume, and if she stayed in there was no reason to get dressed up.  But on a date, she could wear something a little nicer.

Wanda studied her appearance for a moment in the mirror, deciding if anything needed to be changed. Her unruly hair was pulled back under red and gold scarf.  She ran her fingers through it, twisting it so that the curls might stay in place. Then turned this way and that to see that the red translucent blouse over her red tank still paired well with her black jeans and boots.  Then she hesitated over the earrings.  They were pretty, but they were large, and with the scarf made her almost look like a street-side fortune teller.  She frowned and took them off.  She would have to find another way to wear them.  Wanda replaced them in her jewelry box and rearranged her hair one more time.

Wanda took the tickets for Promises, Promises from her mirror and placed them both in her purse.  The play was about a man and his series of workplace romances as the girl he fancied cried her heart out over another man.  It was not a play to make you laugh and feel happy, but to make you weep and wonder.  But not every night could be spent laughing.  Sometimes one just needed some context in which to think.  Wanda left her apartment for the main living room to meet Vision. He was already there.  Even when she was on time, she’d spent far more time than he did in getting ready.  Such were the benefits of being able to change one’s appearance at will.  Rather than his usual face, he wore that of a handsome ginger man.  “I like the new look,” she remarked as she strode up to him.  She stood on her tip toes to kiss him.  No matter how different he looked, his kisses were all the same.  That was nice.  “Are you ready to go?” Wanda asked.

[man-in-the-ant-hill]

Dad, what’s ‘dead’? (Vision & Hank) 25 May 2015

Hank’s eyes had been glued to the monitor for at least a half hour in silence, taking careful notes on the cellular divisions he saw on the screen.  From what he’d seen so far, the body wasn’t creating any new mitochondria as the cells divided, and each time they ended up with fewer.  That on its own wouldn’t be enough to account for the loss in energy.  There must be something more finite going on.  He ran his finger along the control panel, slowly zooming in on the specimen.

This was taking too long. He could feel the tiredness creep in on him again, but Hank would have really liked to have finished this before his next nap.  They were getting longer.  An hour or two used to be enough to revive him for another few hours of work, but now he kept oversleeping the alarms he set for himself, or was simply too groggy to work.  At least Vision wasn’t affected by SBD, and didn’t need to sleep anyway.  He’d done more, so far, that anyone else on the team of researchers.

“Vision, can you come over here a minute?”  He’d tasked the android reading files on related cases, something an A.I. could do many times faster than any human, in order to see if there was any kind of precedent to this disease on record.  But right now, the analysis seemed more important.  “I’d like to show you what I’m doing—it’s not too hard if you know what to look for.”  He reached over and pulled out a swivel chair for Vision to sit on.  

He zoomed out so Vision could see the sample they were working with.  “This is a small sample of muscle tissue, taken from…” he checked the slide label, “Clea.”  He zoomed in a little, “You can see these lines?  They’re the cellular membrane of each cell, which holds everything inside. The dot is the nucleus, which tells the cell what to do and how to do it.  But I’m looking at the mitochondria right now.  It’s smaller, and reddish, you see?”  He pointed to the little red dots.  “The problem is there aren’t enough, and the ones that remain aren’t working the way they should.  They create ATP energy for the cell.  Well, supposed to.”  He could tell by Vision’s glances his way, the android was worried about him, and it was hard to break the news to him.  “I’d like you to watch this process while I take a nap, and let me know what you observe when I come back.”