Reality's Soldier

Vague memories tore at her waking mind -- memories of dreams come true. Images of a fallen Absorbing Man and the Vision's body -- once so bright, so full of life -- now warped and frigtening. She was swimming in the pool now, trying to shake the doubts she had. Could even this be a dream -- the Vision is once again emotionless, could his physical appearance just be a anifestation of that? What if even her memory of going to sleep was a lie--maybe she'd been knocked unconscious in battle, and the Avengers needed Wonder Man, and she was failing her friends by trying to forget her dreams. She shook it off; and concentrated on getting to one corner of the pool, then the other, the pattern repeating itself until she was absorbed in the rhythm, and not in nagging doubts.

She exited the pool, and a hex dried her off. Pulling on her cloak, she walked down the halls of the mansion, paintings of dead teammates lining the walls. Could one of these people be not dead yet, and while she dreams, the other Avengers can't save that teammate without Wanda's help? Or is the Grim Reaper pulling her strings, trying to claim his own twisted form of justice?

"So many enemies..." she muttered as she made her way to her room. In her life as an Avenger, she'd been through so much -- discovering she was Magneto's daughter, her seemingly ill-fated relationship with the Vision, her confusion over Wonder Man, her twins, her "death" at the hands of Onslaught, and her powers now changing were all too much.

She sat on her bed, trying to decide what to do. Sleep would mean even more dreams -- dreams that could place others in danger. Staying awake meant her own sanity; and her responsibilities to the Avengers --especially the Vision --meant that staying in the right mind was imperative.

Then, she saw it -- the shadowed figure who had haunted her dreams. The Enemy. The Enemy was moving strangely -- man or woman, Wanda couldn't tell, but it was moving its shoulders and jaw in a familiar way...

Laughter.

Wanda shuddered -- The Enemy was laughing at her. Why? What had she done to evoke such a response? Then, the image sharpened -- and she saw The Enemy was not looking at her and laughing, but looking past her and laughing. But at what? Try as she might, Wanda couldn't tell. The only way she could was to once again dream -- but at what cost to others?

"No."

Quietly, Wanda pulled the sheets over her. Despite the fear she was feeling, she knew this was something that had to be dealt with firsthand -- no point in playing the part of victim when she could possibly change her circumstances. If she didn't act now, the dreams could get worse and her fears of harming others by making the wrong decisions would surely come true. Darkness enveloped her, and she surrendered to the icy ebony which cut her to the core.

She was standing now, in full costume. The Enemy stood before her, laughing -- only now, Wanda turned to see at what he was laughing. It was a jumble of images -- Carol crying out for help, the Vision getting smaller and more distant, the twins fading, and Wonder Man looming over all.

"What do you want!?" she cried. The Enemy's only response was that of pointing -- pointing at a new image. Each image multiplied until they surrounded Wanda, trapping her. It was the Avengers, dying at the hands of a different foe every few seconds -- and each time, it was because Wanda had failed. A misspent hex, an underestimation of an enemy, not enough control of her powers -- all resulted in bloody chaos.

"I know the rules!" Wanda was now furious at The Enemy. "What you're showing me is true for every Avenger -- every superhero, even! We have to be perfect in battle, or else...that...happens."

Her mistakes -- real this time, not imaginary -- surrounded her. Dozens of them. While everyone makes them, only on an Avenger do they weigh so heavily -- personal problems can distract, anger, and blind while in battle. And she'd just seen what those mistakes can do, even if it hadn't happened...

Or had it?

In this state of ethereal symbolism, any one of those situations could be playing out, with Wanda none the wiser. Only if she cut loose with her powers, embraced the justice that could be hers, would she escape this perverted plane of reality.

She focused, not creating a hex-bolt, but instead focusing on a trick she'd done before--cutting off people from the source of their energy. Violent ripping sounds came from around The Enemy, and Wanda saw a multicolored blaze erupt from just The Enemy at first, but soon it spread across all the images, tainting them, changing them even more--all her choices, problems, mistakes, relationships, hopes, and fears resounded across the cacophany, revealing themselves.

The Enemy fell, writhing in pain. Wanda now sent a surge of energy through the strange being, as the outline of her tormentor shone in an unbridled fireworks display. She could defeat The Enemy now, without killing it--but a new problem arose.

The Enemy showed Wanda more images--only now she realized something. If she defeated him, what would turn out to be reality? Her dreams had affected reality, so which of these horrific images would end up being the truth? Would her marriage to the Vision had never happened, or would she still be a lackey of her father? Assuming this was even real, of course -- if her batttle was a dream, then she had to defeat The Enemy to wake up -- or what if that trapped her here? Could the dream, however false, be better than the "reality" she'd fought so hard for -- the "reality" that had caused her untold pain and suffering? Especially if the dream, even if it was a lie, could affect reality -- maybe even improve it. Would she be better off if she let The Enemy go, and let life prevail over truth by allowing the unreal to overtake the real -- or could she somehow do both? If both, than she had to do it perfect -- with the images of her mistakes fresh in her head.

If she defeated him, a teammate could be dead -- but if she let the dream continue, said teammate could be alive. Or could she grasp The Enemy's powers, and fix reality herself -- a risky venture. The Enemy was rising now, and charging her -- if she attacked it, and it died, would reality be torn apart, or fixed? If she let it kill her, would reality be restored?

Death was staring her down from every direction, and she had to make a choice...

This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page