A Maximoff in the Multiverse

Prologue

~*~

"We have said goodbye before, so it stands to reason-"
"-we'll say hello again."

~*~

Until a couple of weeks ago, only a handful of people could locate Westview on a map. A quaint little corner in a world where superheroes protected against space invasions and a genocidal titan hailing from the far reaches of space attempted to wipe out half of all known life in the universe, the town was a tight-knit community of families who had lived there for generations; though life was rarely prosperous, people got by, and that was enough.

Everything changed after the Hex. Once a secluded haven from the dangers of the outside world, Westview had become ground zero for the set for a sitcom reality where people were held hostage as puppets to a television show's self-writing script. Any feelings of safety and security shared by the community were perverted, and though no one knew how to feel about finally having been freed, they all confessed to feelings of disgust, fear, and anger when they saw Wanda walking through the streets. After being subjected to her nightmares and forced to act out her storylines, a few of them were willing to admit that they could understand why Wanda clung so desperately to the family she had created. Though they felt her pain, they also sensed her joy in her reunion with Vision and the love she had for her children; many parents felt the same when they were allowed to see their children's faces again for the first time. The FBI established medical tents for the disoriented victims, and anyone who was responsive and able to communicate was quickly pulled aside for questioning. Most people confessed that it was hard to trust in the concept of an Avenger, especially one as unstable as Wanda Maximoff; how were they supposed to feel safe when she was the danger?

~*~

On the other side of town, a glowing, fiery portal opened in front of the property where Wanda's house once stood, and a man clad in blue robes and a red cape stepped through it and onto the street. Taking a quick look around to ensure he was alone, he advanced towards the abandoned plot of land. He shook his head and chuckled under his breath upon seeing her car still parked in the driveway. Before he could help it, he thought that there was little need for a getaway driver when she could fly away from the chaos she had created; chastising himself for his quickness to dismiss her, he recalls the vast losses and suffering that burdened her. The man quickly remembered the paralyzing, all-encompassing fear he felt when he believed he had lost all use of his hands. That car accident was responsible for leading him to Kamar-Taj in the first place, where he would eventually learn to channel extradimensional energy to use his hands during his training in the Mystic Arts. If he could have mended his hands with a mere thought, then he would have amounted to little more than the arrogant, self-centered neurosurgeon that he was before, and he wouldn't have been able to protect against the threats posed by Dormammu and Thanos.

Walking into the bare foundation of the house, Strange closed his eyes in concentration. Spellcasting tended to leave evidence; the working hypothesis was that the best place to learn about Wanda's abilities was to start where she directly created the Hex. However, without the Eye of Agamotto, he had to resort to invoking the principality to detect lingering traces of magical residue. Pointing the palms of his hands outward in front of him, he recited the incantation in his head and felt the magic surge into the mandalas that formed around his wrists, and golden light began to flow forth from his palms. A translucent red haze soon developed where the light shone; limiting the scope of the spell to the property to avoid detection, Strange began to analyze the echos of Wanda's magic. He quickly realized that there were dozens of spells superimposed onto each other, layered so tightly together that it was difficult for him to tell when one started and another ended.

"Where did this come from?" Strange muttered to himself. His voice wobbled a little, betraying his uncertainty. "Time manipulation, spontaneous creation, even just the number of concurrent illusions she had running...this is much more than the telepathy and telekinesis that she relied so much upon before. Why wait until now to use these powers?" He was unnerved, partially because he brutally underestimated Wanda's capabilities, and questions began racing through his head. Are these powers due to her experimentation with the Mind Stone? How was she able to fly under his radar for so long? How much was the Ancient One even aware of her? She should have tripped every mystical safety alarm in Kamar-Taj since her recruitment into the Avengers back in Sokovia, and if she did, why did no one intervene? If the Ancient One did know about her, why wasn't he made aware? How was he supposed to defend Earth from mystical threats if someone with her powers was walking around unchecked?

A flash of red in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he quickly turned to face it. Something seemed to be half-buried under the rubble in the corner of the house, and the ambient red haze was pooling around it. Eyebrows furrowed, he slowly approached, instinctively summoning the Ruby Rings of Raggadorr should he need to defend himself. He reached down and carefully uncovered the objects, dusting them off before giving them a closer inspection. On top was a sheet of paper folded into thirds; opening it revealed a printed image of the land he was on, titled "In the city of Westview, state of New Jersey: Property Deed." Drawn in the middle of the deed was a red heart with a message, reading "To grow old in." The signature was barely legible as it appeared to be smudged by water, but reading the list of grantees below it, Strange read Vision's name; with a pang of sadness, he understood the signature to be "V.," blotted out by what were likely tears. Pulling out the smaller and thicker sheet underneath, he saw the backside of a photograph. He flipped it around, and his heart nearly stopped.

Four different faces smiled at Strange from the picture. Wanda and Vision were readily recognizable, standing in the back with pullovers and smiles that seemed much more genuine than any he'd seen from them before. The couple stood behind two unknown boys that he guessed couldn't have been older than around ten at the time; the boy standing in front of Vision had a cheeky grin, whereas the one in front of Wanda had a more somber smile. Despite the candid serenity of the family portrait, there was an underlying tone of sadness. This was likely one of the last photos they had taken together before Wanda had dismantled the Hex, and Strange wondered if she could sense that her time as a mother wasn't going to last forever.

Sighing, he lifted the detection spell, and the red haze dissipated. He pocketed the deed, and as he moved to do the same with the photograph, he paused. Red energy still radiated across the picture in faint waves; with a closer look, Strange noticed that the edges of the cardstock blurred, almost like static interference on an analog television.

"If this was just another one of Wanda's illusions," he started, "how did it make it out of the Hex?"

So it seemed to Strange that the longer he would remain there, the more questions would arise, and he had no answers for any of them at the moment. The fact that the photograph remained had to mean something significant, at least; a relic of Wanda's magic, it was physical evidence of the reality within the Hex, which meant that it could be further studied. Dissatisfied with his findings, he pocketed the picture as well and began moving back towards the street, donning his Sling Ring. As a sorcerer, he didn't plan on sticking around when the FBI was undoubtedly on their way to patrol the rest of the town; it didn't take a genius to realize that any new developments pertaining to magic would not be met with friendly faces. He opened a portal back to Kamar-Taj and disappeared as a patrol vehicle rounded the corner onto the street.