Univrsal Marchant :MCU /Arrowverse

Chapter 9: The Scarlet Witch's Echo and the Reality Warping Seed

My next jump was to Sokovia. Post-Ultron. The scars of battle were still fresh, the city a ghost of its former self. This was a place of immense tragedy, and a nexus of raw, untamed power. Wanda Maximoff. She was struggling, isolated, her grief amplifying her already terrifying abilities. This was a delicate operation. No jokes. No Pop-Tarts. Just… empathy.

I focused on the desolate, crumbling landscape, the lingering echoes of pain and destruction. The familiar warp, and I landed amidst the rubble, the air heavy with a palpable sense of loss. The silence was deafening, broken only by the wind whistling through broken buildings.

"Alright, Adam. This isn't a game. This is a girl who's lost everything, and her powers are directly tied to that pain. Approach with caution. And genuine compassion. Don't be the guy who just wants a power-up. Be the guy who understands."

I found her in the ruins of what looked like a small apartment building, sitting amidst the debris, her shoulders hunched. Her red energy, faint but unmistakable, pulsed around her, a chaotic aura of grief and uncontrolled power. She looked utterly broken.

I approached slowly, making sure my footsteps were soft, non-threatening. My Assassin's Stealth made me almost silent. When I was a few feet away, I stopped.

"Wanda?" I said softly, my voice gentle, devoid of any sarcasm. "Wanda Maximoff?"

Her head snapped up, eyes wide, red energy flaring around her hands. She looked terrified, and dangerous. "Who are you? How did you find me?"

"My name's Adam," I said, raising my hands in a placating gesture. "And I'm not here to hurt you. Or to experiment on you. Or to recruit you for some super-secret organization. I'm just… here. Because I understand."

Her eyes narrowed, filled with suspicion. "Understand what?"

"Loss," I said, my voice quiet. "The kind that rips a hole in your chest and leaves you feeling hollow. The kind that makes you question everything. I've been there. Not like you, not with… this," I gestured vaguely at the shimmering red energy, "but I know what it's like to lose everything in a blink. To feel utterly alone."

Her gaze softened, just a fraction. The red energy around her hands flickered, dimming slightly. "You… you know loss?"

"More than you can imagine," I said, a genuine sadness in my voice. "I died. My whole life, gone. My world, my family, my friends… all gone. So yeah, I get it. Not the same, but the feeling… the feeling's universal."

I sat down slowly on a piece of rubble a few feet from her, not too close, giving her space. "And I know what it's like to have power you don't understand. Power that feels like it's going to consume you. Power that feels like a curse, not a gift."

She looked at me, really looked at me, her eyes searching. "You… you have powers?"

"A few," I admitted. "Acquired through… unconventional means. But they're nothing compared to yours. Yours is… raw. Primal. It's tied to who you are, to your emotions. And right now, those emotions are… overwhelming."

She looked down at her hands, the red energy pulsing erratically. "I… I can't control it. It just… happens. When I'm angry. When I'm sad. When I miss… him." Her voice cracked on the last word.

INITIATING BROKERAGE PROTOCOL. TARGET: WANDA MAXIMOFF. RESOURCE: REALITY WARPING POTENTIAL. OFFERED: REALITY WARPING SEED. COST: UNDERSTANDING OF GRIEF AND MANIFESTATION.

"This is it. The big one. The one that's going to hit me right in the feels. Symbiotic Nature of Grief and Power Manifestation. This is going to be a therapy session for my soul."

"I know," I said softly, my gaze empathetic. "And that's why I'm here. I can't take away your pain, Wanda. No one can. But I can offer you… a different kind of understanding. A conceptual blueprint of how your power works. Not to control it, not yet, but to understand its roots. To understand how your grief, your emotions, are connected to this incredible, terrifying ability."

She looked up, a flicker of hope mixed with profound weariness in her eyes. "A blueprint? What… what would it cost?"

"It would cost me… a shared understanding of your pain," I said, honestly. "Of the connection between your grief and your power. It's not something you lose. It's something I gain. An empathy. A deeper insight into how emotions can literally reshape reality."

She was silent for a long moment, her gaze fixed on mine. She was searching for a lie, for a trick. But there was only sincerity. My own experiences with loss, amplified by the System's impending transfer, created a powerful, undeniable resonance between us.

ACCEPTANCE OF BROKERAGE CONFIRMED. COST PAID: UNDERSTANDING OF GRIEF AND MANIFESTATION. REALITY WARPING SEED ACQUIRED. TP AWARDED: COSMIC.

A wave of profound, aching sadness washed over me. It wasn't my own grief, but an echo of hers. The raw, searing pain of losing Pietro, the crushing weight of being alone, the terror of a power that felt like it was tearing her apart from the inside. It was overwhelming, a torrent of emotion that threatened to drown me. My adaptable body, usually so good at integrating new skills, struggled with the sheer emotional intensity of this "cost."

For a split second, the rubble around us shimmered. A broken toy car on the ground suddenly looked whole, then snapped back to broken. A faint, almost imperceptible ripple distorted the air. It was the "Reality Warping Seed," a nascent, unstable manifestation of the conceptual blueprint I had just acquired.

I gasped, a sharp intake of breath, clutching my head as the emotional wave subsided, leaving behind a deep, empathetic ache.

Wanda watched me, her eyes wide. She had felt it too, the tremor in reality, the echo of her own pain in me. A connection.

"You… you felt it," she whispered, her voice filled with a strange mix of fear and wonder.

"Yeah," I managed, my voice a little hoarse. "Yeah, I felt it. Your pain. Your power. It's… immense, Wanda. And it's not a curse. It's just… untamed. But you have the potential to do incredible things. You just need to learn how to… guide it. To heal."

She looked at me, a single tear tracing a path through the dust on her cheek. For the first time, in a long time, she didn't look so alone.

"Thank you, Adam," she whispered.

"You're welcome, Wanda. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go find a quiet corner to process the sheer emotional baggage I just acquired. And maybe try not to accidentally turn my apartment into a sitcom set."