After leaving the Ancient One, I already knew exactly where I wanted to go. It's time—time to free Wanda.
Originally, I planned for Viper to handle the job once she took control of Hydra but now? Especially after reading through Wanda's memories? No. This is something I have to do myself.
She and her brother already possess their powers. Leaving her trapped in that glorified torture lab would only prolong her suffering.
Worse, she might escape on her own—or get herself killed in the attempt. That would be tragically inconvenient.
Wanda, like Jean, has potential that could erupt into Multiversal power thanks to the Chaos Magic flowing through her.
So long as she isn't prematurely snuffed out, she's destined for cosmic-level greatness.
Pietro, with proper training and the right gear from me, could easily become a one-man army capable of turning planetary battlefields into smear campaigns. Granted, he was made to look like a joke—shot to death by bullets.
Bullets.
As if speedsters didn't come with basic bullet-dodging installed by default. But I suppose that's what the Chinese call sacrificing the bloodline for Mana.
His untimely demise did help accelerate Wanda's journey into Chaos Magic. Had it not been for Vision's saccharine romance subplot, we probably would've seen the Scarlet Witch emerge much earlier—and far more terrifying.
But there's no need to drag out this farce any longer. Under my guidance, she'll awaken to her power far earlier.
Just picture it: the Phoenix Force on my left, the Scarlet Witch—stronger than elder gods—on my right. That image alone could make a Watcher sweat.
So I skipped the whole infiltration cliché and appeared directly in the room she was kept in. No dramatic hallway fight scenes, no spy thriller theatrics.
I simply read the surface thoughts of everyone in the base, determined the Hydra personnel nearby, then popped their souls like overripe grapes under psychic pressure. Neat. Clean. Efficient.
Really, why bother with doors, bullets, and shouting when you can end the battle before it even begins?
I didn't give anyone a chance to process what was happening. By the time the last soul slipped out of their soon-to-be-forgotten bodies, it was already over. Wanda, still asleep in the middle of it all, hadn't noticed a thing. Couldn't resist teasing her.
"Arise, sleeping beauty. The kingdom awaits."
She jolted awake from whatever trauma-colored dream Hydra had her swimming in. Guess being trained as a weapon has its perks—instant reflexes among them.
From what I saw in her memories, they were conditioned like soldiers. You so much as breathe wrong, and they're on their feet.
She stared at me, likely trying to determine whether she was dreaming, hallucinating, or finally losing her mind. I couldn't blame her.
Everyone she's seen here has been either a soldier in full uniform, a scientist in sterile white, or a fellow lab rat in prisoner garb—just like her. And of course, it's 'sleep time.'
Staring at the collar locked around her neck, I already knew what I needed. I'd seen it before in her memories—the little device required to disable it.
And thanks to skimming through the surface thoughts of every poor soul in this base, I knew exactly where it was.
So, I teleported the remote control into my hand. Simple in theory, but in practice? Risky. One wrong calculation and the thing could vanish into the void. Space is a bitch like that.
While Wanda's undercooked brain cells were still trying to process reality—bless her—I'd already pressed the button.
Clang!
The collar hit the floor with all the grace of a dropped manacle. Funny how it took that sound to snap her out of her daze.
"You're free. From now on, you're under my protection," I said, laying down the law like a benevolent tyrant. After all, Wanda's just a traumatized little ticking time bomb.
Trying to talk her into following me would take days, maybe weeks. Easier to drag her along first, let her process the 'Stockholm' later.
I couldn't help but remember this one old story from my past life—some mutant fanfic where the MC was captured in the same base as Wanda, Pietro and many mutants. He freed them, and somehow they all became one big dysfunctional family. It was cute.
I intended to do something similar here, minus probably the hiding arcs.
There were barely fifteen mutants still alive in this hellhole—mortality rate was impressive, even by Hydra standards. In Wanda's 'group,. only she and Pietro were still breathing. The others? Toast.
So what's left are the ones with actual potential. You know—powers Hydra didn't write off as complete garbage.
Each of them had their own little room—sorry, ward—to make it feel 'realistic.' With Wanda trailing me like a confused duckling, I took my sweet time opening each one and gathering the survivors.
Once they were all assembled, I stood before them like the answer to a prayer they didn't know they made.
"I'm Hela, Queen of Hel. Some of you might've heard of me in myths. Some of you may not. Doesn't matter. I came to Earth with a goal—and while I'm at it, I'm recruiting."
"I'll give you a place to stay. Seven days. When I return to my kingdom, those who wish to come with me are welcome. I swear on my crown, you'll never again endure the kind of pain and degradation these peoples put you through."
"In my realm, all are equal—mutants, humans, aliens, men, women, gods, and whatever in-between."
They stared at me like I'd just offered them free Wi-Fi in the apocalypse. Honestly, the disbelief was delicious.
It was the kind of shock you'd feel if you were scrolling through bad fanfics on your lunch break and suddenly got a notification saying $100 million had hit your bank account. You'd double check for hallucinations too.
As for that place I mentioned?
The X-Mansion, obviously. I mean, is there a better temporary halfway house for confused young mutants? Sure, I personally can't stand the bald telepath, but letting him babysit for a week won't kill me.
If, after all that, they still choose to stay behind… well, that just means they were never meant for my beautiful kingdom of chaos to begin with.
With a casual flick, I opened a clean, simple portal using the Space Stone—just a neat little hole in reality unlike my entrance in Kamar Taj.
The others followed me, partly out of hope, mostly out of fear. I could hear it in their thoughts: Don't piss off the scary woman with the black lipstick and the dead eyes.
Smart kids.
In the X-Mansion, I didn't sense anyone apart Xavier himself, then I expanded my sense to all around the world before finding the X-Men apparently taking Scott to hospital, tsk, the poor guy survived.
At the X-Mansion, I didn't sense anyone around except Charles Xavier himself. I expanded my awareness across the globe—and eventually located the X-Men carting Scott off to the hospital. Tsk.
The poor bastard survived. Good luck for him because he didn't deserve to die, at least not before my 'revege'.
Charles soon emerged in his wheelchair, rolling out with the grace of a man trying very hard not to shit himself in front of a goddess.
Out of respect for his fragile pride—or maybe just for my own amusement—I refrained from opening a portal directly into his lap.
I was also secretly hoping he'd make the gutsy mistake of trying to read my mind. Unfortunately, Charles is a 'dove,' not a hawk. And doves don't peck at death—they just coo nervously from a safe distance.
"Hey Charles, seems you're enjoying yourself?" I asked, casual as a funeral dirge. After our brief chat through Jean, there was no need for formalities. Death doesn't do etiquette—it does inevitability.
Charles, of course, looked like someone had just told him the afterlife had a paperwork queue. It wasn't just because I'd hijacked Jean's body like a cosmic Uber—no, it was the pressure. The kind that bends men, even ones with psychic shields.
He's one of the few who truly understands what's going on beneath the surface, which is tragic, really. Like the old saying goes: the more you know, the more you wish you'd stuck to cartoons and denial.
Eventually, he found his voice. "Hello, Queen Hela. And no, I'm not enjoying myself. I'm waiting for the kids to come back… though I'm not sure if I'm being presumptuous."
Polite of him. Better than that Tony Stark, if I ever actually meet that guy, I doubt there'll be a second meeting. Mostly because he won't survive the first.
Honestly, the Illuminati as a whole are one bad haircut away from a Darwin Award.
"These are some mutants I picked up along the way," I said, motioning to the group behind me. "They'll stay here for a week. If they decide to stay longer, great. If not, that's their problem."
Then I pointed to Wanda and Pietro. "These two, however, are mine. Try anything—anything at all—and I'll know. I can watch you 24/7, Charles. Doesn't matter where you are. And if I catch you meddling... You're dead" I smiled coldly.
Simple perks of being over 5000 years old and allergic to bullshit.
I didn't wait for a reply. I had no intention of playing diplomat or holding hands while they all processed their 'feelings. And so, I Vanished, Again.
.....
You guys deserve this for making my day