----
In the Oscorp executive office, the massive screen blazed with the image of fire.
An instant later—
Blackout.
The camera feed from the Vienna International Centre was obliterated by the explosion.
Wanda flinched sharply.
The explosion, the chaos it all mirrored Nigeria.
It hit her like a freight train, dredging up the horror she had buried. Her hands trembled as vivid memories resurfaced.
She could still hear T'Chaka's accusations. She still feels the public's loathing burning into her skin.
Steve immediately caught the change. He saw the telltale signs the glazed look, the rigid posture.
Not again...
"Wanda. Stay with me. Calm down," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the rising static in the room.
After the incident in Lagos, professional evaluations confirmed it: Wanda was suffering from PTSD.
And explosions, especially ones linked to political consequences, were powerful triggers.
But Steve's words were barely reaching her.
In Wanda's mind, she was trapped—replaying the Nigeria blast over and over.
She heard the screams again.
"You murderer!"
"You killed my son!"
"It's your fault! You were supposed to save us!"
The voices swarmed her consciousness, like flies buzzing in her ears, louder and louder, driving her into a desperate panic.
Scarlet light began to shimmer around her.
Her eyes blazed red twin stars of uncontrolled chaos.
The energy around her body intensified, crackling dangerously.
Steve cursed under his breath.
If Wanda lost control here, she could tear Oscorp Tower apart.
I can't let her spiral, he thought. I have to reach her.
But before Steve could move—
A blur darted into the room with a speed even Steve couldn't track.
Before Steve could say anything, the newcomer reached Wanda and placed a hand gently over hers.
"You're okay. It's not your fault," the voice said—low, warm, calm. "You didn't mean for any of it to happen."
The hand radiated a strange, soothing energy. A calming presence that seeped directly into Wanda's core.
Scarlet Witch's raging aura flickered—then dimmed.
Her breathing slowed.
The light faded from her eyes.
The figure was Nolan.
Fresh from his latest experiment, having just unlocked telepathy through the Xavier genome, Nolan had sensed the incoming chaos even before the explosion had fully registered.
Thanks to his enhanced sensory grid, he'd modeled the situation and rushed to intervene.
Recognizing the threat, he made a pit stop at Danny Rand's unconscious form. Using his freshly gained psychic abilities, Nolan quickly extracted the full knowledge of the Iron Fist, especially techniques related to mental stabilization and spiritual calming.
Barely minutes later, he had applied them here.
Between Dragonforce's soothing energy and his new psychic affinity, he enveloped Wanda's mind in a bubble of tranquility.
Slowly, her trembling stopped.
Her body sagged.
And as her knees buckled, Nolan caught her effortlessly.
---
"What… what happened to me?" Wanda asked weakly, blinking up at him.
She caught the strong scent of him warm, alive, and flushed crimson.
Realizing she was cradled in a man's arms, she quickly pulled away.
Nolan released her casually.
"You almost turned my company into a crater," he said lightly.
Wanda bit her lip, mortified.
Meanwhile, Steve, catching his breath, finally recognized Nolan fully.
It had been a while, but he wouldn't mistake him. Not the man who had confiscated his shield.
"Good to see you again, Captain," Nolan said as he dropped into a seat casually.
Wanda quietly sat on the couch, hands folded tight.
Then the darkened screen flickered back to life.
But this time, the scene had shifted.
No longer the Vienna International Centre.
Now, it was a live news broadcast.
Christine Everhart, the anchor from Vanity Fair, appeared onscreen, reporting in front of the smoking ruins.
"Moments ago, a massive terrorist attack struck the Vienna International Centre," she said. "Firefighters are on the scene, attempting to rescue survivors, with assistance from… Iron Man himself."
On the screen, armored suits flew through the smoky sky repulsors spraying freezing agents onto the burning wreckage.
"The FBI and Interpol are now treating the twin explosions as coordinated attacks. Early casualty figures are still being compiled."
Christine's tone darkened.
"This conference was intended to finalize the Sokovia Accords the proposed regulation of enhanced individuals. Notably, Captain America has publicly opposed the Accords, raising speculation about the timing and motivation behind this attack..."
More insinuations.
More fearmongering.
The narrative was already being spun painting Steve and the anti-Accords faction as potential conspirators.
Nolan gave a small, humorless laugh.
"Well," he said, switching off the screen, "news cycle's running at full speed. Now then… what brings Captain America to visit an ordinary civilian like me?"
Steve pulled himself out of the swirling storm in his head.
Focus.
The mission first.
"Last night," Steve said, "Scott Lang, the Ant-Man was captured here."
Nolan's smile sharpened.
"Scott…?" He tilted his head innocently. "I'm not sure I recognize the name."
"The guy who can shrink," Steve clarified tightly.
"Ahhh, right," Nolan said, drawing out the realization. "The industrial saboteur who tried to break into my labs?"
He sipped his tea leisurely.
"I had Norman look into it. Turns out, he's a serial burglar. I was planning to hand him over to the police for attempted corporate espionage."
Steve's jaw tightened.
He knew Nolan was baiting him forcing him into a moral corner.
Would Captain America defend a criminal?
"I'm not here to make excuses," Steve said steadily. "I'm here to ask for his release."
Nolan leaned back, amused.
A rare sight of Captain America swallowing his pride.
"Apology accepted," Nolan said with a grin.
----
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