London Calling: Wanda

[x-scarletwitch.livejournal.com]

Wanda is besieged by many facets who target not only the chaos she wields but also her background.



Wanda waved tiredly at the man in the shop as she left, pausing once she was outside to lean on the wall so she could rotate her ankle. 'Why do most of my contacts in the city have to be so damned spread out?' she thought and checked her messages. No return calls from Romany yet, which could mean a hundred different things when it came to Pete's sister. But it wasn't like she didn't have anyone else to talk to. There was a small, out of the way bookstore near where she was and the person that ran it was a common contributor to the database that they were building back home. Maybe she would know something.

"Excuse me, madam. May I have a moment of your time?" The voice was firm, authoritative, speaking 'police' before Wanda even looked around to find a young police constable, every inch the London bobby with his cap and hands tucked into his blue flak vest, considering her with a somewhat stern expression.

Frowning slightly, Wanda turned completely around. It wasn't just her time with Snow Valley that made her feel uneasy around police that suddenly just popped up – she'd had her fair share of run ins with the law growing up as well. Sometimes with good reason but other times had been just because the local government still harbored mistrust and dislike towards any gypsy caravans coming through. "Yes, may I help you?" she responded coolly.

"Are you aware that there is a 'no loitering' law in this part of London? A law which you are currently in breach of?" He seemed entirely serious.

It was suddenly very hard not to laugh but she managed it. Barely. "No, no, actually, I did not," she told him, tugging at her clothes. "I do apologize, though, and I will be on my way." Figuring him for a new constable, she shook her head and turned to leave.

"I'm sorry, madam, I can't let you leave yet. I am entitled by law to ask your name and address, and to request identification." He didn't lay a hand on her yet, but gave the impression he would if she didn't stay put.

Now her frown deepened and Wanda stared at him for a moment. "Of course you are," she muttered through her teeth, one hand reaching for her purse while she kept her eyes on the constable. Something felt off – at the very least, it could be construed as harassment. Anything more…"I am in town only on business but I can give you the name of my hotel along with my identification…"

"May I ask what kind of business?" The constable's tone was implacable, his face stony.

Considering his attitude, the less said about Snow Valley the better. "Cambridge University business," Wanda replied curtly as she handed over her identification. "I'm in town on a research project." In its own way, it was true.

He took the passport, glancing down at it, then back up to her face, then back down to the picture again. "I'm afraid, madam," he said at last. "That I am going to have to place you under arrest. You'll have to come with me."

Wanda blinked, clearly startled. Of all the ways that could have gone, being arrested for loitering was not exactly something she had expected. And not something she was going to put up with, either, constable or no. "Then I really do apologize for this," she told him seconds before she slammed her shoulder into him. As he tottered back from the impact, she slipped the passport she'd grabbed from his hands into her back pocket right as she hit the door to the shop she'd just left.

"Marcus, back door?" she called out and made a mental note to send him something special if it fell into her hands as he pointed towards the back of the store. Connections were indeed good things to have.

Behind her came the sound of pursuit, and a voice speaking into a radio. "Pursuing suspect on foot, request backup, corner of..."

She found herself in a little alley out back and took off in a random direction, her long legs eating as much ground as she could cover. Wanda spent the next few minutes dodging in and out of alleys, through pedestrians and back again. Slowing down, she tilted her head as she listened for the sounds of someone running after her. There was nothing but she didn't stop moving. She laughed a little bit, though. "Brother dearest, how times don't change," she muttered.

A heavy hand fell on her shoulder. "You, my darlin', are nicked," said a man's voice in a thick London accent, much like Amanda's when she'd started at the school. The hand belonged to a large, beefy sort of man, with sandy hair grown into luxurious sideburns and wearing an alarmingly dated tan suit. The tips of his collar rested on his shoulders and a pair of brown-tinted sunglasses covered his eyes despite the growing dark.

Pivoting around, Wanda yanked her shoulder out from under the paw of a hand. "Who says that anymore?" she asked, suddenly very pleased that she decided while running to put the contents of her purse in her pockets and ditch the unwieldy thing. Despite the oddness of the situation, and the man's dress, she backed up and looked for a place to run off to. The last thing she needed was to be brought in for striking an officer of the law.

"Oh, resisting arrest, is it?" The man's grin widened, giving him an almost shark-like appearance. "Just adds to the fun, that does. C'mon girlie, let's see what a gyppo like you's got."

Wanda's eyes narrowed and she shot him a rude gesture before dodging to the left – there was another alley that way and if she could get by him, she could outrun the racist bastard before he even knew she was gone.

Except the plainclothes officer - had to be from the talk of arresting her - had anticipated the move, grabbing her by the back of her clothes and flinging her at the nearest wall. His hands were as hard and strong as the cobbles under their feet.

She barely got her hands up in time and even that just meant that her face didn't turn into ground beef from the force of the throw. Stunned, Wanda rolled so that her shoulders were against the wall and stared at the oncoming officer. "Mutant? Has to be, no one's that strong." Talking to herself – she shook her head to clear it even as she was using her own powers. Somewhere above them, a window open and someone cursed as they fumbled and dropped a large pot filled with dirt right out of it, directly above the officer.

"If they're going to arrest me for one thing…" she muttered darkly.

The officer had been approaching her with that shark's grin, hands spread to grab her again. His progress was halted, however, as the large pot landed squarely on his head. There was a crack of terracotta breaking and he went down in a shower of dirt, plants and pieces of pot.

~~

With the odd run-ins with the police, Wanda kept to the shadows of the buildings and sought out short cuts through various alleys. She was unwilling to risk a run in with anyone in authority yet again – those had been some very strange meetings and she was starting to believe that they might tie into the underlying feeling Amanda had been receiving. She glanced around to get her bearings, having been thrown thoroughly off, and realized she was nearing Whitehall and she sighed. She really had gotten well off track.

When she didn't spot anyone that she might want to avoid, she moved out again, wincing slightly. Though she'd stopped her header into the wall, the rest of her body hadn't been so lucky. Her arms had borne the brunt of it and were happy to let her know that they really did not approve.

The area had gotten strangely quiet for London, and the sound of footsteps echoed through the still air. Measured, unhurried, it was like hearing Time literally marching on, inexorably drawing closer.

In an instant, Wanda's heart rate sped up and she pressed herself back against a wall. It struck a chord in her and for a moment, she was back in the web listening to Stevens' talk on and on, being forced to watch as Garrison struggled to stay alive. The fear that he unleashed threatened to work its way back up but she ruthlessly shoved it back down. That was the past, this was now and something strange was going on.

For as much as she'd decided to avoid the main streets, Wanda started edging towards them again. Head cocked as she listened intently, determined not to be taken by surprise again.

The footsteps continued, steady, remorseless. It was hard to pinpoint just where they were coming from, the sound echoing off the buildings around her. The only thing she could tell was that they weren't slowing...and they were getting closer.

With a great force of effort, Wanda made herself stand still as she counted the footsteps. It certainly sounded like just one person but with the echoing effect it was rather hard to tell. Her instincts to move overrode her after a few minutes and she started backing up, convinced now it was just one person – they were placing their feet deliberately, without pause, without hesitation. Unusual and startling, really.

Cautiously, she continued to back away and tried to match her step with the footfalls around her. It was nearly impossible to keep that up for long and she frowned. She was thoroughly convinced now that whatever was happening was tied to Amanda and she reached for her phone…only to have the noise of the footsteps increase a hundredfold until they were echoing sharply in her ears.

Wanda made a break for it then but stopped when she realized that while the noise had increased the speed hadn't stretched to match her gait and they were still closing in. Gritting her teeth, she turned, shoulders squared, and waited. "Maximoffs do not run," she told herself sternly. Unless they had to.

And then they ran very well.

In front, behind, all around her... the echoes were building, heavy booted feet striding remorselessly after her. The sound of every nightmare, every childish terror.

"Oh fuck this," Wanda muttered to herself and gave into her instincts. There was no shame with fleeing especially considering what nearly happened previously.

And of course, that was when it happened. From around the corner she was fleeing towards, a figure stepped out. Tall, burly, dressed in a navy blue overcoat with a number in white on the collar, a tall hat making him seem even larger. "Woman," he intoned, eyes invisible in the shadow cast by the brim of the hat. "Woman, you are a miscreant. You will come with me."

"What on earth are you?" Wanda breathed, stumbling to a complete stop. It was very obvious now that whatever was going on was not baseline human. There was no way that an ordinary police officer could have followed her or gotten that many people to follow her - and the manner in which they found her, their clothing...something was up. She walked backwards as she conjured the rings around her hands. "And you say miscreant like it is a bad thing."

"I am charged with ensuring London's peace. You will come with me." The figure stepped closer, pulling from his back pocket something that looked like a scepter - a rod a one and a half feet long with a round iron ball on the tip. His voice resonated around the narrow street, echoing off the walls full of authority. "If you will not come peaceably, I am permitted to use force."

She winced and resisted the urge to cover her ears. His voice was strong and compelling but almost painful at the same time. Wanda shook her head in part irritation and part self-amusement. Maybe it hurt because she was a "miscreant"? Or did it hurt everyone it came across? She decided that some questions were better left unanswered. She was growing tired of being chased and ultimately played with.

Wanda had previously had her fill of those feeling weeks ago.

The red light around her hands flared along with her temper. "Consider this my declaration of intent of not coming peaceably, then," Wanda spat.

"Very well." The rod rose over his head, the police officer strode forward, swinging at Wanda's head as he came.

She barely managed to duck out of the way, taken back by the speed of the officer. The rod swung with a heavy sounding swoosh that indicated to her exactly how much weight and force were behind that weapon. Wanda danced first backwards and then to the side, coming in for a punch to the kidneys. At least now that she had pegged him as being something more than an official police officer, she could attack with impunity.

There was a grunt as her strike connected, but nothing more than that as the baton reversed its swing. A low arc this time, aimed at her midsection. In the half-light, his features were hard to pick out, seeming to have been carved from the same stone as the buildings around them - rough-featured, sold, almost robotic.

This time it connected. All the air came out of Wanda in a solid, pain filled rush as her body was forced to double over. The force of the blow actually lifted her off her feet and she stumbled back from him when the baton was drawn back. Bile and the remains of her last meal surged up her throat but she swallowed convulsively as she forced herself to straighten. Her ribs and stomach hurt but she didn't think anything was broken.

Leery now, she circled the London man cautiously. "What are you?" she repeated softly, resisting the urge to cradle her ribs.

"I am the Law," came the implacable reply as he turned to continue to face her. The baton rose again, to swing another deadly arc. "I bring order to the city."

"Order...fuck!" Wanda managed to dodge that blow but barely and she stared as it hit the brick wall behind her. It shattered some of the looser stone there and dust flew into the air. "You are not getting in another shot, sunshine," she breathed, darting around behind him. Despite the previous hit, she managed to get around to his back and looped an arm around his throat from behind, tightening sharply.

There was a momentary pause and then the figure jerked forward, lifting Wanda off her feet. Large, strong hands gripped her upper arms, pulling her down and over his head, hurling her down to the ground. "Blasphemy and the swearing of oaths is an offence," he intoned, raising the baton again.

Flat on her back, unable to breathe once more, Wanda stared up at the now slightly blurry figure with something like shock. He shouldn't have been...she gritted her teeth as the baton arced down in a graceful movement. From somewhere deep inside she stirred up the energy and willed her arms to shoot up, catching the baton before it could bash her brains in. The shock of the impact echoed down her already sore arms but she moved past it for now.

"Chaos can never be contained." And with that, the hex blast rolled in waves from her fingers and straight into the baton held between her hands, almost causing it to glow red in response as she strove to destroy the weapon.

The baton shuddered, a deep cracking noise coming from within and then it shattered into pieces. It wasn't all - there was an echoing shudder and sound from the police officer, and then he shattered. The chunks of material that fell on Wanda weren't flesh and blood but stone and metal, as if he had been made of the same substance of the buildings themselves.

For a while, she lay in the remains of the police officer that hadn't been a police officer, staring up into the London sky that peeked out between the two buildings on either side. Wanda turned her head and spat out some rubble and dust in disgust, even as one hand patted down through her pockets. She pulled out the remains of her mobile and stared at it in some dismay - she'd been planning on contacting her team but unless she got to a public phone, that wasn't going to happen.

"...I really don't want to get up right now," she muttered to herself.

~~

The darkness was deepening, the strangely-muffled feel of the city all the more obvious with the absence of light. Streetlights flickered fitfully or glowed with a dull yellow flare that didn't so much as illuminate as highlight the darkness. The streets themselves were a maze, familiar landmarks difficult to find or just plain gone. And always, Wanda was discovering, the sound of footsteps behind her. This time however, they were less sure, less heavy, seeming to almost stumble at times. But again, drawing ever closer.

Wanda leaned against a wall – what wall, she had no idea since she had no idea where she really was anymore; it was as if the city itself had turned against her, seeking to muddle her way – and wrapped an arm around her ribs. She was certain now nothing was broken but that didn't mean there was no pain. Whatever was after her had given her no respite after her last encounter and the footsteps had sounded soon after she had stumbled away from the remains of the fake police officer. Swallowing against the rise of bile in her throat, she made a decision.

These footsteps would probably dog her around London, never tiring, never letting up, while she ran low on energy. Right now, Wanda was in pain but wasn't anywhere close to giving up. If she wasted her effort in trying to outrun her pursuers, she might not be so lucky.

She shoved herself up from the wall and into the middle of the street and the light from the rings around her hands edged the darkness back a bit but not by much. "Let's try something," she murmured, drawing the chaos energy around her and then she let it loose…straight up into the sky that was too dark by far. It would hit nothing and would disperse soon but she was trying to see if a general manipulation would cause a ripple around her, maybe punching through whatever held the city at bay.

The footsteps stopped. Then a light appeared, wavering, weaving from side to side as they resumed, coming closer and closer until a figure revealed itself. Another man, wearing a red vest and holding a lantern aloft on a pole. Through his belt an old-fashioned heavy bell was thrust by the handle, and a scabbard hung from his hip. Under his broad-brimmed hat, his hair hung, long and straggly and not too clean looking.

"You be a stranger to this city, wench," he said, revealed a mouth of missing and yellowing teeth. "London, she doesn't like strangers."

"Does she not?" Wanda asked, taking in his appearance with a glance. She pursed her lips, especially at the sight of the lantern, and thought hard. There was still no solid reason that she could suss out for these attacks but she was starting to sense a pattern. First, the every day bobby, then the one that looked like he had just walked out of a bad 1970's or '80's movie, then the one she had destroyed right after it – and now this character. For some reason, a book she had seen one of the younger members reading popped into her head. "I see…guards, guards, I suppose it is?"

"I'm of the Watch," he replied, standing a little straighter. Compared to his predecessors, there was something more human about him. As if the weight of history gave him a heightened sense of reality. "And it's the task of the Watch to see all strangers banished to outside the city walls."

For a moment, the buildings around them wavered and Wanda staggered backwards as the London walls as they used to be rose up around her. They dwarfed her even though she knew they weren't there, she could see the modern buildings right through them but they were still staggering in their dimensions. Wanda rubbed at her ribs as she straightened and fixed on the man, as she did the walls melted back into obscurity. "And who directs the Watch?" she asked suddenly.

"London directs the Watch." He stepped closer, lantern held in front of him like a weapon. "London speaks, and I listen."

"Well. I suppose London, then, can shove it." Hampered slightly by her ribs and the fact that the Watchman had reach on her did not bode well. But Wanda was exhausted and frustrated, tired of being hunted, and she lunged, trying to duck under the pole and the lantern. She'd learned well the lesson that the men, or constructs perhaps, were hard (or impossible) to hurt but she needed to knock him off balance.

The Watchman flailed at her with the lantern pole, but she'd taken him by surprise so the blow went wide. Casting aside the lantern with the sound of breaking glass and a small 'whoosh' of flame, he drew his sword, jabbing it at her. "Back, woman! No one molests the Watch!"

Wanda barely managed to backpedal enough to get out of the way. Construct or not, she knew that was going to be sharp. Thinking fast, she scrambled to the side and scooped up the pole. With everything being so screwy and topsy-turvy she was reluctant to use her powers directly on him but she had no problem beating him with a weapon.

She eyed the tip of it in sudden alarm. A weapon that was on fire, even. And then his words registered and maybe it was stress of being chased around town by constructs following "London's" orders but she started to laugh. The sound wasn't nearly as sane as she had been hoping. "Maybe more people would if you bathed," she suggested, swinging hard at his head.

He didn't bother retorting, instead blocking the pole with his sword and sweeping it aside, then bringing the blade back in a broad slash. The blade was dull, the antithesis of a movie sword, but the edges gleamed wickedly in the dim light, promising to be extremely sharp.

She hissed in pain as the blade cut through jeans and then cut a rather nasty slash across her thigh. Wanda used the pain and added it to the rage that was building up, using it to fuel her actions and not hinder. Before he could get the sword back up, she swung the pole hard and caught him across the head and shoulders with it.

Oil from the remains of the broken lantern splattered across the guard, soaking his hat and clothes, followed by a flare of flame as the oil caught. Stumbling back from Wanda, he flailed at his burning hair and clothes, dropping the sword with a clang. The bell at his belt, the clapper rattling dully, was the only sound as he beat at the fire that was rapidly consuming him.

Hopping back away from the flame, Wanda tossed the flaming pole away and watched silently as the watchman was engulfed in flame. Despite the fact that he wasn't alive, that he'd been sent after her, this one she felt slightly bad about. Out of the four she'd faced, he'd seemed the most human. Out of sync with the time, perhaps, but human. Her thigh twinged and she winced, reaching down to stop up the flow of blood.

"First, fix that. Second, find a fucking public phone already." Wanda had deep, unsettled feeling that this wasn't just affecting her and she needed to reach one of her team and soon.

For the moment, the darkness had lifted slightly and there were no footsteps echoing her own. The streets were surprisingly deserted but Wanda took that as a good sign for now. She had paused for a moment to rip up some of her shirt and wrap it around her leg - the bleeding slowed but she was limping slightly by the time she found a phone.

She patted the red exterior and sighed. "Not quite a TARDIS, but you'll do," she murmured, "especially if you'll let me get a hold of Amanda."

A few minutes later and Wanda was cursing, hanging up after she left Amanda a message. "Strike one. Remy's next."

Abruptly, the phone started ringing. Across the display, a message began scrolling: 'pick up pick up, pick up...'

Wanda paused, hand hovering over the phone and stared at the message. She grimaced and gingerly picked up the receiver, half convinced that when she did something was going to fly right out of it. The way her day had been going it would not have been that much of a surprise.

"Hello?"

There was a swirl of static, some odd clicks, and then, just as Wanda was about to hang up, a faint voice: "...boss lady?"

"Amanda?" Frowning, she glanced at the display screen on the phone to see what number Amanda was calling from. But after the words 'pick up' had died out, nothing else was showing up. "Where are you calling from?" The strangeness of not only her encounters but also the phone call prompted her to ask as well, "Are you all right?"

"...boss lady? I don't..." Another swirl of static and then Amanda's voice returned, a little stronger. "...where I am. Everything's weird. I..." Another fade. "...don Stone."

Shit. "Amanda, the line is breaking up, I need you to say again." The smell of dust from the St. Mark's suddenly came rushing back, the flash of silver and, later, cradling Mark's broken and bleeding – but alive – body in her arms in the lobby. Wanda pressed a hand against the inside of the phone booth to prevent herself from staggering. "You don't know where you are? And who is Don Stone?"

More static and a sudden electronic squeal, before Amanda spoke again, getting fainter. "London Stone. I..." More crackling. "...the stone and got... ulled in."

"Pulled into…London directs the Watch, London speaks, and I listen." Wanda's sinking feeling returned tenfold as she repeated the words the guard had told her. This was bad, this was very, very bad. "Amanda, listen to me very carefully – where in London are you?"

There was a long silence, so long it seemed Amanda had lost her tenuous connection. Then, ever so faintly: "Everywhere, Wanda. I'm all over London, every part. It's..." Another fade. "...whelming. Can't hold on." There was another high-pitched squeal and then a little stronger: "...careful, boss lady. London's hurt, trying to protect herself. The... 'coats... target." Then the connection dropped out, leaving nothing but dial tone, and a single message scrolling across the call display screen: 'look out behind you'

The last letter of the last word hadn't even disappeared off the screen before the sounds of footsteps echoed sharply around her. Slamming the phone back in its cradle, Wanda took Amanda at her word – literally. Unwilling to go out through the front, she went for the expedient route by simply blasting out the back of the phone booth and diving through now rotting and decayed wood. She nearly turned an ankle when she landed but she pushed off, taking down the street.

Behind her came the sound of pursuit: footsteps again, this time in a slow, almost mechanical jog, accompanied by the jingle of metal and the slap of leather against skin, against cobbles. The footsteps were steady, unhurried, and suggested that her pursuer could keep this pace all night, if necessary.

And while her pursuer could keep the pace all night, Wanda certainly couldn't. Shoving her sweat soaked hair out of her face, she leaned against a light fixture and took a deep breath. Her leg was aching more now and had started bleeding again, soaking right through the tear of shirt she'd used as a bandage. She was going to have to confront it head on and hope she could beat London at her own game.

This time when she called up her powers, she didn't point them at the sky but, instead, at the ground beneath her feet. The fastest way to get her attention, Wanda was willing to bet, was to threaten her very foundation.

As Wanda's hex bolt struck the cobbles, the very buildings around her seemed to groan and tremble. Out of the shadows behind her came her pursuer, a short, stocky man dressed in the armour of a Roman centurion. With a brisk, economic movement he drew his sword, advancing on Wanda with a commanding glint in his eyes. "Pausa, mulier! Londinium audas petere?"

The cut in her leg throbbed at the sight of the sword and Wanda raised a hand, pointing it directly at the Roman. "I have no idea what you just said," she responded evenly, "but I grow tired of London bringing the fight to me. I'm bringing the fight to her if she so spoils for one." Forcing herself to ignore the pain as she put weight on it, she fired off a hex bolt as she moved, going for sheer power instead of subtle.

His eyes widened as the bolt of red light came at him and he dodged, twisting his body to the side to avoid being hit. A large rectangular shield appeared in his hand, and using it to protect his body, he came at Wanda, obviously intending to back her into a corner.

Wanda wasn't making it easy on him. When he ducked the bolt she'd tossed at his head, she'd decided to change tactics. But it meant getting close enough to get to a building without letting him get near, not an easy task. She barely managed to keep ahead of him at that rate as her body slowed down, protesting with each move.

A brief, hard grin flashed across his face as she slowed. "Trade, aliena, et sine dolorem te necabo."

"You, sir, are enjoying this far too…" Her words stopped as her hand found cold, slightly damp wall. Questing fingers dug in deep as she felt along the lines, seeking and searching for exactly the right effect. There, there it was. The building was old and forgotten, the inhabitants having long since given up trying to fix any features that were not immediately important, like heat or lights, and the building radiated decay. Now to get the man…movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and Wanda jerked her head around, cursing and scrambling to get out of the way as he rushed her.

Not fast enough - there was a dull clang as the shield impacted and the centurion shoved her backwards into the building. He might not have been tall - barely to her shoulder - but the man was solid with the weight of two thousand-odd years of history behind him. He pushed harder, intending to injure her enough to deliver the final blow without risking another hex bolt.

She hit the building hard and felt that if it were possible she would have gone straight through the brick and mortar. Maybe if she did, it would have hurt less. For a moment, all she could think about was the crushing, the inability to breathe - until she saw the gleam of the sword in the light as he raised it, the intent clear.

London had unleashed her law, her enforcers, upon the gypsy (thief, murderer, unclean it all but whispered to her) and true to their form they fought like lawmen. So she responded by fighting dirty. A construct it might be, a manifestation from the bowels of London, but it still had the presence of mind to flinch as she reached over the shield and raked at his eyes.


The flinch meant that the pressure from the shield and his body let up and she took her chance, wiggling away even though she knew she left bits of skin from her arms upon it. As she cleared him, she ran her hand along the building, like she was playing a harp, and threw herself to safety as the rumbling above her started.

The centurion didn't even have a chance to scream - looking up, a truly human expression of horror crossed his face before he fell beneath the falling rubble. Dust and plaster clouded the air, masking the sight of him, but when it cleared, there was no doubt he hadn't survived. A tattered edge of red cloak flapped a little from under a beam.

Raising her head from her arms, Wanda slowly pushed herself to her knees and, finally, back onto her feet. Exhaustion dogged her at every step but she forced herself over to the rubble. That had to be it; it had to be the last. London was an old city but one would be hard pressed to dig anything else out before Roman soldiers. Still, she needed to be sure.

Chunks and fragments of building where still trickling down, sliding off the pile, but otherwise, all was still. Until...

A tremor went through the rubble, a lump of plaster rolling down to rest against Wanda's foot. Another shudder, and then debris was cascading down onto the street as a shape rose from beneath it. The height of a man... no, bigger than a man - it kept unfolding and rising, until the shape towered above Wanda almost twenty feet tall.

Even after everything she'd seen in her life, even after this horrible trek through London, Wanda thought she'd seen it all. As she backpedaled in shock, she realized life was no done with the nasty surprises yet. And when she ended up with her back against a building that wasn't there before, she realized suddenly that, of course, there would be two of them, wouldn't there be?

There was a low rumble, as the second giant glowered down at her, its words completely incomprehensible to her, if they were in fact words. The long spear in its hand spoke volumes, however, as it hefted it experimentally. From the pile of rubble, its brother - twin, except for the clothing - shrugged itself free and made several lumbering steps towards her, the ground shaking beneath its heavy tread.

There were two, twenty feet tall giants standing right in front of her - and they were armed. "Fuck London," Wanda spat and turned to run. She didn't get very far before she had to dodge a thrust of a spear and she rolled, desperately studying the lines around her. How did one destroy two giants? There was nothing to drop on their heads unless she happened upon a plane flying low and even then, she was unwilling to do something that drastic even if she could.

The heavy edge of the first giant's shield slammed down, blocking her roll. Black eyes glittered coldly as the broad face turned towards her and another rumble sounded from its barrel chest. The meaning, if not the language, was clear - she was a trespasser and London had had enough.

Shoving back against the shield, she scrambled around, desperately trying to find something. But the buildings, while tall, wouldn't do much damage - not if one had come out of the rubble of the last one, anyway. But the only things around her were cars, buildings and lights...Wanda's eyes gleamed suddenly. Electricity, that was it, now...

"Oh fuck me," she said simply as the sky went dark above her.

Slab-like fingers closed around her waist, lifting her into the air. The giant with the spear held her up to eye level, inspecting her as one would an annoying puppy held by the scruff. Then those fingers began to tighten, squeezing harder and harder.

Wanda managed to wedge her arms between her and the giant, though that wasn't working as well as she had hoped. All the previous injuries flared to life anew as the giant squeezed, obviously intent on simply squishing her to carry out London's orders. Red light spilled out between his fingers as she frantically yanked on the cords around her. They were reddening fast which meant she had to be very, very careful.

The other giant took a step forward but instead of placing his foot on the ground, he stepped right on a lamppost. It punctured his foot and snapped in half but the wires were still alive. Alive and angry as Wanda's powers washed over it.

Sparks erupted and the giant stiffened and jerked, its face working spasmodically. Wanda didn't get to enjoy it, however, as its arms flung back, hands clenching and then opening. Its twin was likewise convulsing, smoke rising from its clothing and the smell of burning meat filling the air.

She couldn't help it, she screamed as she was thrown through the air like a ragdoll. At the height and speed she'd been thrown, the landing was going to go from not just pretty to potentially deadly. Desperate, Wanda gathered the lines to her and pulled hard, forcing them into new configurations, wrapping them around her as she tumbled through the air.

Hitting the side of a building slowed down her momentum and direction, and she now fell straight down - a shop below her had left their awning out and she hit it dead on. It creaked and groaned, finally tearing under her weight and speed but it had done what she needed it to do. When she hit the sidewalk beneath it, Wanda wasn't a smear on the cement. She curled in on herself, unwilling to move, trying to force her senses to recognize the next thing that London was going to send after her.

What was next? A dragon?

The giants stood motionless, then crumbled, collapsing into dust. Silence hung heavy over the scene... and then sound began to bleed in. Sirens, dogs barking, car alarms; ordinary city sounds, if the responses to damage and mayhem could be called 'normal'. It was still dark, but it was the darkness of a city block without power rather than the supernatural dimness of earlier. And then footsteps and an anxious, ordinary voice:

"I say, are you all right, Miss? Lie still, I'll call an ambulance."

When she saw the police uniform, the hat, everything, Wanda flinched away violently but the officer took it in stride, assuming it was from her injuries. His hand on her shoulder was friendly, concerned and human. Every inch the Londoner but in a completely nonthreatening way. She sighed and relaxed, letting herself have a moment, just one moment, to shut down now.

She'd deal with everything after she rested her eyes.