Port Morris, Apex Towers.
Elias POV
"...Let's not do that again," she muttered, her voice shaky but with a certain dark humor.
I let out an incredulous laugh.
"Yeah," I rasped. "Let's not."
I let Wanda out of my grasp. As I tried to sit up, my back protested with a sharp, stinging pain. Looking inward, I realized the skin on my back was shredded, though everything else was fine. I sat up, ignoring the pain.
"You okay...?" Wanda asked, staring at my injured state.
"Yeah... I'm fine," I said, realizing she was staring. My tattered hoodie and shirt, covered in my blood from the landing, barely covered me. I tried moving, finding it a little restrictive. I needed to heal myself, I thought. From the corner of my eye, I spotted a dead pigeon lying on the terrace in our landing path. The same dark urge I'd felt back in Afghanistan flickered in my mind.
I reached for the Codex and pulled. The bird, along with the blood—including mine—and gore splattered across the concrete, dissolved into a rush of biological matter that flowed into me.
I flinched back, suddenly aware of what I had just done.
Shit...
After using the Codex for the past month, I had found there were a couple of ways to use it. Everything I did essentially needed a sacrifice, be it my own body, some other living being, something that had been living a short period ago, or pain. Now I had a certain reserve of biological matter I could sacrifice to use the Codex, absorbed from the dead pigeon.
"Huh..." I heard Wanda hum. My eyes snapped to her, realizing I wasn't alone. I cursed my lack of situational awareness.
"So... ah, about that..." I tried explaining what was probably a very bizarre and horrifying situation she had just witnessed.
"That was pretty cool... so shall we leave if you're good...?" Contrary to what I expected, she didn't freak out. She was right though—we needed to get out of here. We might have been thrown clear of the immediate fight, but the Hulk was still rampaging somewhere nearby.
I closed my eyes and accessed the Codex. This time, I used the fresh biomatter to repair the damage on my back. The skin and flesh knit back together with an uncomfortable crawling sensation, but no blinding pain this time. When I opened my eyes, the wounds were gone without a trace.
I stood and walked with Wanda to the edge of the terrace, leaning over the railing to look down the tower. Chaos filled the streets. The Humvee we'd been thrown in was now a burning wreck on the pavement. A small crowd of people had gathered at a safe distance, staring in shock. Further out, an entire block had gone dark, losing electricity.
"Eli, there's a door there." I looked at the access door at the end of the floor, and both of us walked over. It was locked, but I didn't hesitate. I gripped the handle and twisted hard as the lock snapped with a metallic crunch. We stepped into the stairwell from the roof and started descending. It quickly became clear we were in a mid-rise office tower. The topmost floors were eerily empty; there was no one here.
They had probably evacuated due to the pre-recorded PA system blaring out the evacuation.
Wanda and I shared a quick look and hurried over to the emergency stairwell, guided by the signs on the walls. Just as we reached
the staircase landing, a security guard's voice echoed from somewhere below us: "Is anyone still there?"
"Damn it," I thought in annoyance, "I really shouldn't meet with anyone now. My blood-soaked top would give rise to unneeded questions."
Wanda realized the problem instantly. Without a word, she reached over and tugged at my torn shirt. Before I could stop her, she ripped what remained of it off me, leaving me naked from the waist up.
"Hey, what gives—?!" I hissed, trying to grab her hands without hurting her. I failed.
"Quiet!" she whispered sharply. She bundled the bloody rags in one hand, then shrugged off her own jacket, covering the blood-soaked rags with it, and quickly pulled her T-shirt over her head. I averted my gaze from her generous chest, now only covered by a blue bra, and her soft, lightly muscled belly.
"Wanda!" I exclaimed, "What are you doing!?" She ignored me and continued to dishevel herself.
"That should do it," she whispered, stepping close enough that our bodies nearly touched.
An older security guard rounded the landing a second later. Wanda immediately pressed the bundled shirt against her chest as if trying to cover herself, acting flustered. I caught on fast and played along, like we'd been caught trying to leave due to the emergency interrupting something private.
The guard stopped short, eyes going wide. "Oh Christ, kids... you guys should leave," he muttered, clearly embarrassed. Then his brain caught up with the situation. "You two need to follow the evacuation protocol right now!"
We nodded quickly. I muttered, "We were just doing that."
The guard shook his head and continued down the stairs.
As soon as he was gone, we hurried down nearly twenty floors of emergency stairs. Halfway down, Wanda and I made ourselves more presentable. I tore the sleeves off Wanda's jacket and wore it; it barely fit, but that was enough. We walked out onto the sidewalk. The street was still in chaos; power was out across several blocks, people were staring at the smoke rising from the fight zone, and emergency sirens wailed in the distance. We kept our heads down, moved quickly, and flagged down the first taxi we saw.
"Astoria, Queens. 34th Street," I told the driver.
We rode in silence as the adrenaline in my system finally subsided. I calmly replayed everything that had happened in the last half hour, almost leading to my death. I realized there was nothing I could have done to avoid the situation, and it was handled as best as the fluid circumstances allowed.
Sure, my identity was probably shot to hell, but Wanda and I were alive. Maybe I could have reacted faster or done something differently, but it didn't matter now. I would learn from this experience and get better. Despite everything, I felt a jolt of fear pass through me as I remembered how close I had come to being squashed beneath those hulking fists before Wanda saved me.
I owed her my life, I thought. I glanced at the woman in question, who was looking out the window as we passed through the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge. I didn't know what was going through her head, but my eyes could pick up minute shudders as she breathed, indicating her mental state. Still, I didn't initiate any conversation as we traveled back home, eventually reaching the familiar building. We got out of the taxi and paid the fare. Both of us climbed up three floors and walked inside my apartment.
"Well... home at last," I said, trying to break the ice.
Wanda looked around, then let out a small, tired laugh. "Oh yeah... I just realized something."
I raised an eyebrow.
"I just lost my car," she said, "and all the groceries we bought."
Despite everything, I couldn't help but smile. "You mean Xavier's car." She rolled her eyes and walked inside the apartment. "We'll order takeout," I said. She nodded and went straight to the fridge.
"I wish you had some hard liquor," she grumbled but fished out a couple of beers and handed one to me. As both of us sat on the couch, I didn't waste a moment, opening the can and taking a couple of large gulps of the cold, bittersweet beer.
"So what the hell happened? I'd never seen anything like... that monster," Wanda said. "Believe me, I've seen a lot of things."
"I don't know..." I said slowly, not wanting to say something I had no right knowing. Instead, I raised the TV remote and switched on the TV, quickly navigating to the national news channel.
A female anchor appeared on screen, visibly shaken as she read from the teleprompter.
"We are following breaking news out of New York City. A massive green creature — described by eyewitnesses as some kind of monster — is currently rampaging through the city. It was last spotted near Empire University. There have been nearly one hundred confirmed deaths and hundreds more injuries. The military is actively attempting to contain the creature. We urge all residents to remain indoors and avoid the affected areas..."
"Well, there you have it," I said quietly, muting the TV. "We have monsters now."
Wanda snorted into her beer as I continued, "Our identities are probably screwed."
She gave me a slow nod.
"The people in the know might be busy now," I pointed at the TV, "but they will eventually approach us."
Wanda finished her beer and, after a minute, said, "My father always says to never be afraid to be who you are... but be prudent about who you show yourself to. And to always use your powers if your life is at stake."
She then looked me in the eye. "We didn't do anything wrong."
I gave a slow nod. I couldn't argue against that, even if it was preached by Magneto.
"Regardless, we need to plan for that eventuality," I said, before taking a deep breath and smiling. "So... pizza?"
"A large pepperoni for me," then she smirked, "with pineapple."
I gave her a look but didn't say anything.
Hopefully, there's still delivery...
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, Washington, D.C.
Director Nicholas 'Joseph' Fury.
I stared at the monitor in disbelief at what was happening: the nearly 10-foot green monster that was once a promising academic brawling through Empire University as Ross's men tried and utterly failed to accomplish anything.
The world was changing... No, it already had,I thought, as my fingers traced the patch covering my ruined eye.
The door to my office hissed open. Only agents with the highest clearance could enter, but I still tensed, hand hovering near my pistol. One of my few Level 8 agents stepped inside my room, someone I trusted implicitly. Phil Coulson stepped inside the room, giving me a nod.
"Coulson, give me some good news," I said firmly. He gave me a bland smile.
"New York still stands, sir." I stared at the man, expecting more but receiving nothing. I sighed, feeling a building pain behind my eyes at the situation, then eventually
said, "Report, Agent."
Coulson straightened. "Dr. Banner is being pursued by General Ross and his forces. After the destruction at Port Morris and the continued fighting at Empire University, we've lost visual on the Doctor. Casualty count is... significant."
I clenched my jaw, cursing the reckless general for turning the Big Apple into a war zone.
"You should see this, sir," Coulson said, handing me a tablet.
I took it and pressed play. The footage was blurry, shot from a shaky camera: a man going toe-to-toe with the green monster for several seconds before escaping with a red-haired woman.
I played it again, genuinely surprised.
"What am I looking at, Coulson?"
"We believe both individuals to be enhanced. One is Mr. Elias Calderon. The woman is Wanda Maximoff, daughter of Erik Lehnsherr."
My eye narrowed at the familiar name. I knew exactly what this was about. Still, as I scanned the man's service record and his last deployment in Afghanistan, I couldn't help but feel intrigued.
He reminded me of another soldier.
"Shall I contact him, sir?" Coulson asked.
I stared at the monitor for a moment, then shook my head.
"No, not yet. Get me Agent May."
"Director, due to the evolving situation, we need to relocate to the Carrier. Shall I make the preparations?" Coulson asked.
I nodded, dismissing him.
Evolving situation, indeed.