driftfleet | "My mind's like a deadly disease..."

Who: Wanda Maximoff
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Starstruck
When: Now

Broadcast - Text

[Wanda's presence, both in the Fleet's comms and aboard its vessels, has dwindled, slowly but surely, over the course of the past month. There was period of time, around the beginning of the month, when she couldn't be found or reached at all--save for by Misty, Vision and Pietro. More perceptive fleet members might recall that her disappearance occurred around the time that rumors of a dragon and its rider terrorizing Solrius were circulating about. However, she did pop back up a little while later, seemingly as though nothing was wrong. However, those that know her well may have picked up the subtle tells that there was something she was not saying. Something that she was trying to bury. And so, she became more and more scarce around the Fleet. At least, until now...]

What do you think happens after death?

[The message is short and simple. Anyone familiar with the festivities of the month of October, perhaps this is simply her way of trying to get into the spirit of things?]

Starstruck - Action

[Friends and shipmates of Wanda's, if they want to go looking for her, will find her either holed up in her bunkroom aboard the Starstruck, or in a corner of the ship's kitchen or shuttle bay at times she thinks no one would typically wander in. By the look on her face, it is clear something is troubling her.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Sam can't tell from the other side of this screen, but this conversation was starting to bring back something that Wanda had been without for what felt like a while now -- humor. There's a small smile on her face that is slowly growing warmer.]

So how exactly do you make a living then?

Oh, you know. Credit card fraud, hustling pool.

Normal, everyday ways of making money.

Your father teach you those as well or are they a self-developed skill set?

[Sam doesn't know it, but he's talking to a former pickpocket and thief. Growing up with little means to provide for one's self, Pietro and Wanda both picked up skills that enabled them to survive.]

Little bit of both.

My dad couldn't use a computer to save his life. Technology didn't work with him, but I had a knack for it. He drove me crazy just trying to teach him how to use e-mails.

So not really a profession with legitimate pay, no notoriety, and it requires a certain talent for illegal activities.

Why do it?

At first? Because I had to.

But, um. I like helping people, I guess. Keeping them safe.

Safer than my family, anyway, you know? Someone needs to look out for people who can't defend themselves.

[There's a small pause as Wanda takes a moment to think over Sam's words.]

I do know.

[Another pause. This one a little longer before her next message appears on the screen.]

Does it ever feel futile? There's so much death that happens everyday. So many lives lost that couldn't be protected. How do you keep going? Doing what you do?

I drag myself through the dark 'til my legs work, and keep going forward.

Even if you can't save everything, you save something. It's worth it.

[It's all quiet on Wanda's side again. Sam's words having rekindled a memory of her's. A scene of the young girl sitting on the edge of a bed. The TV blaring its charges against her. "What sort of authority does an enhanced individual like Wanda Maximoff have to operate in Lagos?" The TV cutting off as Steve Rodgers walks over to join her. A shared responsibility between the two, a shared guilt. "This job..." he'd said, "Try to save as many people as we can. Sometimes that doesn't mean everyone. If we can't find a way to live with that, then maybe next time no one gets saved."]

You may have a point there.

Thank you.

We have been chatting this whole time, and I do not even know your name.

Sam Winchester's the name.

And it's no problem at all. We're all in this together, better or worse.

All in this together.

Wanda. Wanda Maximoff is my name.

Nice to meet you, Sam.

Likewise, Wanda.

Let me know if you ever need to talk again. I'm a good listener, promise.

I will.

Thank you, Sam.

"My mind's like a deadly disease..."

text

text

text

text

text

text

text

text

text

text

text

text

text