Scarlet Wars: Series Finale (Part 2: Cancellation Imminent)

Written in collaboration with Cross C

“Vision didn’t come home last night."

The camera zoomed in ever so slightly.

"I just… I’m worried about him, you know?” Wanda told the audience. Sitting in her chair while biting at her nails as the confessional camera stared at her evermore, “Westview, the kids… they were so me and Vis could have a life together. The life that was stolen…” there was a twitch of her eye as she struggled through her own emotions. Some would call it character development, as this was the first time she’d admitted that perhaps the Vision she was in love with wasn’t the Vision. “Could he really have been taken from me again? And… what does that even mean?”

Her mind was swimming in false memories and unfounded emotions.

She was having a hard time figuring out what was real, what she’d made up for the show, and what Mark had placed inside her brain.

“He better get home soon, or else he’s getting a punishment for worrying me! Vis won’t be allowed to watch me with the boys next time!” She pouted, trying to emulate the cutesy wives of the fifties, but quickly crestfalling her face, “...if only there was a lovely homely meal I could entice that boy with to make him come back home faster! Ohh, Vis! Where are you?”

It was a worry, but at least she could feel him in the Hex. He was safe, that much was certain. Wanda was connected to everyone in the Hex from what she could tell. From the janitors performing the cleanup duty around people’s homes to the new wave of government agents that she now controlled. A weaker witch would be spread too thin by this automatic magic, but Wanda was perfectly able to keep complete control.

She sighed. Usually this was where she’d watch some TV to take her mind off things, but right now the only programme was showing her getting railed by Mark, and she wanted to stay worried for Vis a little longer.

Still, the thought of Mark truly did do things to her. Enough for her fingers to spread her pussy lips and start casually fingering herself to his memory as she waited for her husband to return home.

It was unfortunate that Agnes existed. Had she not, then Mark would be free to come over whenever he pleased and fuck her in every position in every room of her house. Wanda could change the reality of Westview so that it would be totally legal for both Mark and Vision to be her husbands. Maybe even Billy and Tommy too. All her boys, taking turns finishing inside her or finding pleasure in watching the others do it. Yet, Agnes existed to stifle that dream. A thorn in her side that might need to be ejected from the show, like that treacherous Geraldine.

It was all so strange. Wanda thought herself a good person, yet so much stood in the way of her happiness. Even with all her power, she was stifled from her true potential by annoyances, like reality itself was conspiring against her.

Like it always had.

Her parents… that bomb… Pietro… and the loss of both Mark and Vision. So much had happened to her it felt truly cruel. Her fingering became angrily paced as she thought of all the power she had but unable to keep those she loved safe. Was it her fault, or something evil antagonising her at every turn?!

Mark had slipped a memory into her brain that she kept coming back to.

“Together, we have the power to reverse the damage Thanos has done to the universe, Wanda,” said Mark of the flashback, standing in one of Dr Strange’s portals as it slowly closed, “Thanos and his ilk may try to alter the whole universe to keep us apart, but I know you’ll find me again. We can save everyone, together. We love each other, Wanda.”

Narratively the flashback made no sense. When would Mark have said it? They’d only just met again in Westview not after the big portal event, and this would either imply that Dr Strange and Mark were friends or something.

But maybe that’s just what Thanos wanted her to think?

How much had reality changed when dealing with a titan who could wipe out half the universe? Were her feelings real, or just a way to slow down the woman that nearly crushed his purple ass solo?

Maybe he wasn’t even alone. His ‘ilk’, as flashback Mark put it, could still be out there. Plotting. Scheming. Using residual power to keep this world in the way they wanted.

Sokovians had been scattered after Ultron, maybe that was Thanos’ doing? Keeping her people spread out, using the time stone to find that the future depended on a united Sokovia and sending Ultron back in time to destroy it? Iron Man had made Ultron… but he’d also used the infinity stones after Thanos so maybe he was part of this too? Yet another lie by Tony Stark. For all she knew, he’d altered the world to make her fall in love with a robot! She just couldn’t be sure, other than knowing that the world out there beyond this town felt cold, empty, and alone.

And in Westview things were the opposite.

It was like her subconscious was telling her how things should be.

She’d started it to save the android she loved, but she’d found she truly thrived in this place once Mark arrived again. A world where everyone could live together in peace, harmony, and hot freaky sex. Wanda had lived through so much pain she believed a world like this impossible. But here, now, with her sexy boys upstairs and her childhood crush next door, maybe it could be real?

Wanda wondered how Mark could help her. What ‘powers’ he was alluding to. Maybe he knew that love–pure, true, complete love–could stop Thanos’ schemes. Her love for Vision drove her here, and her love for Mark put the world right. Both halves of her soul healing thanks to the bonds she’d forged over her lifetime.

It was all bubbling up until her pussy climaxed, hard. That life had to be real, it just had to be. Even if Agnes was there too, she needed to make sure Mark was a part of her life.

Mark. She had to see Mark again.

After floating outside she looked around the empty street, feeling his presence close, “Mark?” She called out, hoping to see him waiting for her. And that she did, standing on his roof, looking up at the morning sky with a big grin on his face, while she raced towards him, “Mark!”

“Well howdy there, Wanda,” He grinned. She didn’t question why he was standing here, “What can I do you for this fine Westviewian morning?”

She pressed her hands close to her heart, still unchanged from the Halloween costume the night prior, “I just needed to say something to you… Je leesoom svet ne báscaow slomiti ba.” Mark rose an eyebrow to her, which she quietly giggled at, “It is Sokovian. Do you remember what that means?”

“'Course I do sweetheart, but remind the audience who don’t speak our special love language, eh?”

She nodded with a warm smile, reaching up and cupping his face while looking longingly into his eyes, “It means ‘A scarlet heart forges a power that will never break’. I feel that power in us, Mark. Our scarlet love, do you feel it too?”

Words formed in her heart that she could not hear, only feel.

You love Mark Williams.

You must keep touching Mark Williams.

He is the most important man in your life, bar none.

“I love you so dearly, Mark.” she said, reaching over and placing her forehead against his own. The forbidden kiss was so close, but she dare not take it in fear that Agnes might be watching. Not knowing she was much closer than she realised.

Mark Williams will DRAIN you of magic and that’s okay.

Wanda felt his hand wrap around her back, like a stalwart and chivalrous hero that made her knees feel so weak. It made everything about her feel that little bit tired, but so safe in his arms.

“And I am just so fond of you, Wanda.” ‘Mark’ whispered in a way that felt sinister to the audience, but so lovingly to Wanda. Their lips barely grazing each other. A moment that felt like it could last absolutely forever as the season finale to her entire life.

Only to be interrupted by a flying latina.

“MARK!”

Wanda looked over to the strange woman flying in from parts unknown. Had she the strength, she may have pushed this new arrival straight out the Hex. But she didn’t, the longer she stayed in Mark’s arms the longer she just wanted to focus on touching him, being with him, resting her eyes on his shoulder. This new busty amazonian was nothing to concern herself with, even if Mark apparently knew her.

“Hello, my dear America Chavez! The oh-so powerful girl from beyond the stars!” beamed the fake Mark, so enamoured by how easy this day was going for them. Reaching a hand forward to the floating latina, “How I’ve missed you and your beautiful chocolate locks!”

“What’s been… what?” America paused. She’d been so excited to see him and embrace him, but America had never heard Mark compliment her hair like that and it stopped her approach. “You doing okay?”

A flash of worry flew over his face, looking briefly between Wanda and America before smiling a little too wide again, “Of course! I’m just elated to see you… uh, bitch?”

America’s eyes were tightly focused. She didn’t understand the full ins-and-outs of what had been happening inside the Hex, all she knew is she hated magic and all things related to magic with a passion. “What’s been happening in here?” asked America, jutting her chin towards the wide eyed Wanda that Mark still held tightly onto, “She didn’t do anything to you, did she?”

“No! I would never hurt Mark!” Wanda quickly insisted, barely able to take her eyes away from that face while truly melting in his arms, “I love him.”

“Ah, gotcha,” America chuckled, relaxing a little at her beau’s abilities, “Another hero of this universe has ‘seen the light’. Shoulda known you would pull it off in the end.”

Mark spat on the floor, strangely still unsure of how to treat the person in this world he’d known the longest, “That’s right! You shoulda known, idiot! Now come over here and kiss your master’s feet!”

“...you sure you’re alright, ese? You aren’t usually this much of a dick.”

Mark paused, taking a second to compose himself for the woman. With a graceful motion, Mark gestured to his body, “As you can see, it’s definitely me, but if you’re unsure of that…” his free hand reached forwards, opening his palm for the woman, “Let our connection do the talking.”

“...I guess…”

Slowly America reached forwards to the outstretched hand.

Mark needed to kill himself.

This was a fact. A fact that his brain was actively fighting against, but not at a rate fast enough. He’d awoken in the middle of nowhere with that thought after spending the night **** in the middle of a field. He had been aiming to speed into a wall, but somehow tripped, missed, knocked himself out, and stayed that way all night. But it wasn't enough to die, and he still needed to kill himself. His super speed body would surely deteriorate and expire before he actually got control of his own mind again.

In some ways this was cosmic karma. A way to rectify the balance of the world after he’d done so much to change it.

Though there was an argument that the power that Agatha would use next would be even worse.

Mark wouldn’t be around to see it though, as he had finally found the perfect place to kill himself.

Skidding to a halt in the middle of the road, Mark knelt down. Awaiting his oncoming extinction with a demented grin.

A humvee that had been carrying S.W.O.R.D. agents thundered towards him, now a burlesque horse drawn carriage of fools that could care less of what was in front of them. Caring only about the lewd actions they performed in the seat of the carriage, even the driver watching only the fun in the backseat with no care of that in front of him. Not even if there was a hypothetical bump in the road.

Mark watched his incoming **** with a thundering heart beat, mirrored by the approaching horses stomping their hooves like a horrifying thunder. Doing all he could to change the order implemented on Ralph’s psyche, but to no avail.

This was it. The **** he should have received from Ororo, or Jean, or the Thing, or Iron Man, or Elena, or America, or the Markandan version of himself, or anyone from this world that had discovered his epic plans. Funny how one’s life flashes before your eyes when the end is nigh.

Regrets may have piled up aplenty, but a strange acceptance hit him as well.

Mark had lived a pretty good crazy life these last few months. Even if was about to be permanently recast in the show, the life of sexy women sucking him off and worshipping him was pretty peak. He really wanted to finish what he started, but couldn’t think of any way out of this. The horses were so close now, and there was just no way he could get out of this.

The last control he could enforce on Ralph was to at least close his eyes and wince before the end…

THWACK!

SLAM!

SCREECH!

“HAHAHAHA!” laughed the wagon of fools, disappearing into the distance with only laughter and the clatter of hooves on concrete.

Mark felt pain.

The back of his head was ringing. His body splayed-

Wait, just the back of his head?

“The hell…?” He grumbled, rubbing his cranium like he’d just been kicked by- “NATASHA!?!”

His saviour lay still.

The girl that had jumped through dimensions to be with at least a version of the man she loved. The girl that had fought Agatha’s control over her to save him. Kicking him away from the horses at the last second, now lay down in the suburban grass in nothing but a mangled maid outfit.

“Nat! Oh fuck, stay with me!” Mark panicked, surveying her body for anything he could do. She’d been slammed hard, barely breathing, bruises everywhere, clearly bleeding internally with red leaking from her mouth, “Why would you do that?!”

The knock had freed both of them of the control that had claimed them. Her eyes looked tired, but a small smile painted her lips. It had been the one order the other Mark had given her, to keep him safe. “COUGH! Sorry boss… l-looks like I’m tapping out here…”

“No you’re not! Stay with me!”

“Woah, gnarly!”

Mark snapped his eyes upwards, seeing one of the gimps that had hit his Natasha had fallen out of the carriage upon the bump, now aiming a phone at the pair of them. “That lady looks like Black Widow! Totally hot~!”

“Call a doctor!” Mark barked.

“I am a doctor, bro~” The gimp chuckled, pointing at his dick covered only by a stethoscope, “And even if I wasn’t, it's pretty obvious she’s so not gonna make it, hombre.”

“DAMMIT!”

Her voice was weak but she was unable to lose the tiny smile, “I-I always dreamt you would look at me like that…”

“Dammit…” Mark repeated, feeling tears run down his face, “This isn’t fair… you were... you were going to be my wife…”

“Hmm... I’d have liked that…” her eyes failed to focus on him, drifting upwards, “Thank you f-for being here with me, M-Mark… in the...”

She breathed out.

And then silence.

“No… no no no! Natasha!” Mark started yelling, trying to feel her hand clasp on his own one last time. “It should have been me! FUCK!”

But she did not respond.

“FUUUCK! FUCK FUCK!”

All the anger and frustration he’d been feeling piled on in Mark’s psyche. He’d lost so much, always struggling to survive, compared to Markanda Mark he was an eternal failure. It wasn’t fair. She deserved to live, dammit! Natasha should live! She! Should-!

“LIVE!”

“GASP!”

All eyes were wide at what had just happened.

Mark had brought Natasha back from ****.

She rose in his lap and clasped at him, gasping for air, confused, scared, but alive. The bond they’d shared weaving its way into her psyche to order her to 'live' with all its commanding authority. It was forcing her body to heal, stitching her up beyond what should be medically possible, doing exactly as Mark had ordered. Natasha was going to live.

And everyone on the gimp’s live stream had watched.

“LIVE!”

“What the hell was that?”

Mark’s roar had echoed out through the Hex. A call of pure life that had everyone a little shaken at the power he’d exuded. All those that were somewhat connected to Mark had heard it like a megaphone had screamed it into their ears.

And it had happened right when America’s hand was mere millimetres from fake Mark’s fingertips.

“Doesn’t matter. Come give me a big smooch!” he reached forward, trying to bridge the gap but America swiped the opportunity away at the last second. Briefly losing his balance on the rooftop as Wanda’s body limply rested on him.

“...” America quietly glared at the hugging pair, “What’s my dad’s name?”

The man on the roof looked visibly panicked, sweating as he tried to come up with an answer, “Uhh… Mexico?”

“Farsante! You aren’t Mark!” America instantly snapped, “Mark loved fucking my two moms too much to ever forget about them! Who the hell are you?!”

For a moment this faker looked like she was trying to figure out a way around this revelation but quickly gave up the goat. “I… ah, fuck it. Fine, I’m not Mark. Oh Daisy?” ‘He’ called out, “Subdue the latina then bring her to me.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

America hadn’t seen the bodyguard dressed as a maid standing watch at the front door on her way in. She certainly felt her though as a powerful earthquake slammed into her back and pushed her a couple blocks away. The agent known as Quake using her powers to push herself off the ground and pursue the priority target for her mistress.

Fake Mark was a little annoyed that he hadn’t been able to get both sets of powers as easily as he’d hoped. Had it not been for that strange yell, he’d have been able to use the mind control abilities to **** her to stay attached to him like-

“You’re not Mark?”

His eyes bulged a little as he realised he’d fucked up. Her face growing angrier with every second and bizarrely growing in power yet again despite his draining.

Trying to schmooze his way to victory, he placed a hand on her cheek, “Of course I am, Wanda~ Let’s forget all that nonsense and just focus on each other.”

For a moment it looked like she agreed. Reaching up to place her own hand on his cheek to mirror his actions.

Then Wanda pressed a thumb against his forehead, and yelled, “Reveal yourself!”

In an instant, Agatha Harkness was ejected from Mark’s body, falling off the roof and landing like a discarded ragdoll on the cement, hard. The husk of Mark hunched over due to the sudden mental absence. Had it not been for Wanda magically lowering it to the grass below it would have had a similar fall to the indigo witch.

With an annoyed hiss, Agatha slowly picked herself off the floor, “Gah! You… hmph. You finally figured it out, eh Wanda?”

“Where is Mark?!”

Despite Wanda’s anger, Agatha simply dusted herself off, “‘Vere ist Mark’? That accent! So inconsistent!” She laughed, casually waving off Wanda’s hands growing ever more red, “He’s dead, honey. Brain dead at least. His body–and the part you actually love–is right over there. Let me hop on right back inside and we can get back to doing the upright charleston chew all night long~”

“No!” Wanda barked, “He is not dead! I feel him inside Westview still through our connection!”

Agatha frowned, “Hmm. Little slimeball managed to survive, eh? That explains the yell just now. Oh well! Guess we’ll have to do this the old fashioned way!”

As her hands glowed darker in violent violet hue, Wanda readied herself to fight, “Who are you?! What do you want?!””

“Oh honey, you really are the character most behind on the plot, arentcha?” she mocked, “Name’s Agatha Harkness, and I’m a witch. A real witch. One who studied magic without any cheating backroom Sokovian mind stone advancements like some people. ‘Course, I can acknowledge that you are the stronger of the two of us. That pissbaby Mark called you ‘The Scarlet Witch’. That’s a title that’s supposed to be a myth, a being that can create and change the fabric of reality. A story that witches tell to put fear in other witches.”

“Mark… he called me that?”

“Right! You don’t even know that guy’s from another universe!” said Agatha, “Sorry babe. Whatever nonsense he shoved into your head is all lies. Guy’s a mind controller, and not even a very good one. Not like you. Didn’t believe the SW title at first, but the kinda spells you have going on… making families fuck on the other side of town! Magic on autopilot. Sexy stuff too, Slut Witch.”

Wanda’s magic flared at that, “Liar. You will leave this town. Now.”

“Ooh, so scary~ how could I of ‘purple’ ever defeat the perfect ‘red’ magic!” Agatha dramatically waned placing her hand to her forehead like she was about to faint… only for that hand to suddenly change in colour. “Oh, that’s right. I already drained quite the powerup from my dear neighbor, didn’t I?”

Wanda’s eyes widened at the sight of her two hands each with a different colour as Agatha rose from the ground.

“I wanted to do this the easy way, Wanda. Let you drift off in the arms of your fake lover while a proper witch got the power you clearly can’t wield properly. But if you want me to pin you down and take it all, then I’ll certainly play the villain role this episode! HYAH!”

Her magic shot forward–though Wanda managed to react in time with a counter beam–colliding in the middle of the street like the programme had changed to an anime all of a sudden.

America was still reeling from the first hit, not an “airborne earthquake” so much as a focused concussive punch that turned the air into a brick. She didn’t have time to dodge the second.

It caught her mid-breath and turned her into a wrecking ball. She tore through clapboard, drywall, and splintering studs, skipping through two houses before tumbling out onto the street and skidding on hard concrete.

If she was at full strength, this flat-assed dimensional Quake would be a dot in the upper atmosphere before she could blink.

But America wasn’t at full strength. Not even close.

The reason for that was Monica. Holding her while she shorted out, while reality tried to rewrite her body in real time, while the Hex chewed through definitions and decided what a person was allowed to be. America had poured her inter-dimensional “store” into that moment like throwing your own blood into a fire, using raw multiverse juice to keep Monica anchored and, more selfishly, to keep herself from getting overwritten right alongside her.

Now the tank was low.

The portals she relied on were struggling to form here, like the universe was making her fight through mud just to tear a seam. When she slammed her fist down, she only got a sharp star-spark instead of a clean, hungry hole.

America really hated magic.

A boot came down where her head had been. The street jumped. America rolled and still caught the follow-up kick across her ribs, the kind of clean, efficient strike you learned from people who got paid to break bodies. It launched her upward.

America tried to buy altitude just to reset, to breathe, to think.

Daisy didn’t let her.

The half-Chinese American shot after her with a concussive push under her own feet, gauntlets buzzing as they shaped the vibration into controlled ****. The rest of her looked like someone had dressed a killer for a filthy joke. A black maid bodice cut low enough to show a hard line of cleavage on a smaller, athletic C-cup chest, white ruffles framing skin that should not be exposed in a street fight. A tiny skirt and apron flashed as she moved, the hem kicking up with every burst of speed. Thigh-high stockings hugged strong legs, garters biting into her thighs. The whole outfit bounced and fluttered around her like it wanted attention, even while her face gave nothing.

America, by comparison, was all thick Latina power, H-cup weight riding high and heavy, curves built like a battering ram. She looked like she belonged in the center of every gaze in the room. Daisy looked like she’d been made to distract a man right before she broke his neck.

She rolled out of the way of a quake powered foot stomp just in time, but failed to dodge the follow up kick from the agent, sending her skyward. She began flying upwards to catch her bearings, but Daisy used her powers to send herself hurtling at mach speed towards America. Spinning around in the air and coating herself in earthquake energy to create an overpowered bullet of pure power.

“GAHH!” America yelled, crashing to the ground once more after so many blows in a row. “Fuck… I ain’t gonna be done in by a fucking earthquake maid!”

Daisy said nothing, just running towards America’s slowly rising form. The only thing on her brain was to take down the target like her mistress requested. Using all her S.H.I.E.L.D. training and powers to do exactly that, she cared not for mercy or nuance, only the orders in her head.

They collided in the center of the street. Hands locked. America tried to bully forward on raw strength.

Instant regret.

The moment her fingers closed around Daisy’s, vibration surged up America’s forearms, through the joints, into the bones. Not pain like a punch. Pain like your whole skeleton being used as a tuning fork. Her teeth rattled. Her vision shimmered. Her tits jiggled violently under torn fabric as the tremor tried to unmake her from the inside out.

America gritted her teeth and stayed planted anyway. Her durability held. Her strength started to win the push, slowly, inch by ugly inch. Daisy’s eyelids fluttered, then lifted, surprise finally cracking through the blank obedience for half a heartbeat when America’s grip tightened hard enough to actually threaten.

Daisy tried to break contact by turning the vibration sharper, trying to make America’s hands fail. America just dug in and held on.

All the frustration that Daisy couldn’t touch, failing to save Mark, failing to punch into the Hex clean, surrounded by lust-tainted idiots who looked at reality like it was a joke, boiled up in America’s chest like molten sugar.

She snarled and twisted her hips.

She used Daisy’s locked hands like a lever, yanked her off balance, and threw her. Hard. Daisy went flying down the street, skimming above rooftops, arms snapping out to stabilize.

Even from here, America could see Daisy correcting mid-air. A concussive pulse under her feet, another at her side, subtle little blasts that turned flailing into controlled flight. She’d be back in a second.

But America used all those emotions that Daisy couldn’t access to slam her hand into the air.

A star portal opened directly in front of America, linking the sky behind Daisy–whose body hadn’t stopped flying from America’s throw–to send her crashing into America’s arms. She then used the speed of Daisy’s body to piledrive her directly into the concrete.

It was a massive blow, but Quake was still peeling herself out of the ground to take down the Latina.

America cracked her knuckles, grinning at her ability to create portals that matter once again. “Now we got a fight, bitch.”

“Mark Williams. Natasha Romanova. It seems you are both still alive.”

Both were still too stunned to properly respond, holding each other tightly in their arms while turning to the voice from above.

Vision floated down like an angel from above. Landing silently beside the huddled mass before crouching down to their level. He turned briefly, shutting down the man who was livestreaming them with a quick bolt from his forehead.

“Yeah… right back at you,” said Mark, still rubbing his Widow’s back, but head glancing over to the sounds of magic missiles and earthquakes, “What’s happening out there, dude?”

“Wanda is fighting with Agatha Harkness, America Chavez is fighting with Daisy Johnson. It seems the final battle for Westview’s future is upon us.”

“I… fuck, what do I do?” asked Mark, genuine worry in his tone, “I need my body back, but I have no fucking clue how to make it happen. Should I just run away? I don’t want to leave America, but I was nearly killed last time I even tried to beat that bitch witch…”

“I believe I may be able to be of assistance."

Then Mark’s face was grabbed from both sides and turned forcibly towards Vision.

“W-what?! What’s happening?!”

“Leave him alone…” Natasha weakly protested, still recovering from **** and only able to place a hand on Vision’s arm.

“Do not be alarmed,” Vision spoke in a calming manner, even as the body he held still panicked, “Mark. I wish to speak to you one last time.”

“Y-you’re gonna kill me?! I thought we were cool! Fuck! Y-you can keep Wanda! Just-!”

“It is not you who is dying, Mark. I am.”

“I-! …huh?”

There was a sadness to his smile that made Mark shut up for once, Vision letting out a long exhale as he gazed into Mark’s eyes, “Since we last met I have pondered my existence, and discovered I am just an extension of Wanda’s will. A figment of imagination long passed. A fictional facsimile rebound boyfriend made from her powers driven through the grief of my ****. Love preserving through her thoughts alone.”

Mark frowned, still not loving the **** grip the robot man had on his face, “Okay? So?”

“So I request something of you Mark Williams. I have the power of the mind stone–it is perhaps the only part of me still mirroring my original as Wanda and I shared that power–and I hope that doing you this favour… in reuniting body and soul, that you would follow through with this request. It is a human adage, but I must have your word if I am to continue.”

Mark and Vision shared a moment where they stared into each other’s eyes. Mark wasn’t one for moments of sincerity, but he could feel the android’s plea calling out to even his rotten soul. With a small nod, Mark felt he could rise to whatever challenge this request may entail, “I’ll do it… but do you really have to die for this? I thought you were cool.”

“The power of this fake mind stone is fleeting, and I’d rather use the rest of my power to ensure you complete my final directive.”

Vision gave a soft smile as the light of his forehead grew in power. Encompassing Mark’s whole world until all he could see was bright white. Hearing the final words inside his mind.

“Please keep Wanda safe and happy.”

Mark smiled back, taking two attempts but managing to place a sympathetic hand on his new friend’s shoulder, “Alright, when she’s mine I’ll fuck her extra hard for you, bud.”

“...wait, what?”

Then Vision died.

Agatha’s magic sent Wanda flying backwards, crashing through the front door of a nearby home and landing on their stairway.

Anger flared in Wanda’s glowing eyes. Her own magic sending the now disconnected door directly towards her enemy at breakneck speed. Yet–as with most of Wanda’s attacks–Agatha was ready for it. A quick spell splitting the oncoming wooden slab in twain, like a samurai cutting a bullet but broader.

It wasn’t the only item Wanda was slinging from inside the home. Splitting apart the nearby shoe rack into a swarm of splinters. But Agatha blocked it with the left half of the door. Disconnecting roof tiles from all the houses in the area to create projectiles from all angles. Not a single one reached Agatha, who collected the tiles and created a massive golem from the roof tiles. Wanda countering the spell with her own summonable: a hydra-like-dragon, made from twisting the nearby lamp posts into one being.

The tile golem and the lamp dragon collided hard. Fire breathing from the lamp’s ‘mouths’ yet failing to burn the golem, all while clumped titanic fists began wrestling and tearing at the dragon’s many necks.

Agatha wasn’t done with just the monolith melee. Wanda was standing in the empty doorway where she’d landed, concentrating on her dragon spell. It was ruined when Agatha pinched her fingers together, making a spell that squeezed the walls around Wanda and **** her to push back lest be crushed.

“You can’t win, Wanda!” her rival haughtily taunted, “Decades upon centuries of experience means I can’t be beaten by some two-bit whore that just does magic as a hobby!” She increased her pinching, forcing Wanda to wince in pain as the walls clamped down around her, “Sidenote: Shockingly easy to turn you into a freaky incestuous pervert!”

As Wanda snarled, she could only watch on as her lamp dragon was destroyed by the tile golem. Wrecked metal falling limply to the ground as she still pushed back against the walls.

It felt like hope was fading fast. No matter what Wanda tried, Agatha just knew exactly how to counter it. Even attempts to enter her mind using the mind stone was completely ignored. Using her hex powers against Wanda was proving too strong for her to defeat.

Now Agatha slowly approached–ready to drain Wanda of her magic–golem looming over her like a monolithic bodyguard.

Then the golem exploded.

“Huh?!” Agatha snapped her head around, breaking the concentration on Wanda’s containment and letting her fall forwards onto the house’s porch. Agatha’s eyes looked around, trying to figure out what had happened to her spell, “Who dares?!”

“I do.”

A second beam struck Agatha’s body, sending her flying back across the empty street.

Wanda whirled toward the source… and froze, stunned.

Hovering high in the air above a house on the other side of the street was… Geraldine? Except not the Geraldine she remembered, not the sitcom neighbor, not even the slutty dickgirl trying to steal her man.

This one hovered on a pillar of propulsion centered between her legs, riding her huge white cock like a witch’s broom. Her thighs hung loose, boots swaying lightly, while both hands gripped the rigid base of her shaft like a mounted energy cannon. There was an electric blue glow from inside the hole at the center of her cockhead.

Even as she watched the woman she’d ejected from the Hex, shifted her hovering, pitching her body and directing the end of her dick at the fallen violet witch.

“Wanda! Press the advantage!” Monica ordered.

She didn’t need to be told twice–not knowing why this woman had returned nor how she was firing lasers from her dick but needing neither piece of information to attack–and she leapt to the sky to send a wave of red magic crashing down onto Agatha’s fallen form.

Agatha barely managed to throw up a shield, purple magic sparking under the barrage. She cursed and began to chant, waving her hand curled into a particularly shaped claw-like arrangement as she cast a necromancy spell she hadn’t needed to use for decades. A wave of indigo **** magic rippled along the ruined street, the asphalt cracking open as skeletal hands and demon limbs clawed free. In seconds, a riot of monsters filled the area.

But Monica’s entire fighting style was built around this. Her body wasn’t just superhuman, it was a weapon system. Every time she flew, every time she leaned forward and took hold, it was the same dance of controls she’d mastered years ago. The lift field under her ass and the thrust from her cannon let her pull any maneuver in the book, but the real advantage wasn’t agility or even raw power. It was integration. Her gun WAS her. She didn’t have to aim a hand or mess with a device. Just a thought, a clench, and her cock snapped from stun to artillery in the space of a heartbeat.

A HUD in her mind’s eye: power settings, ammo load, thermal warnings. All of it mapped to nerves and muscles she’d once used for nothing but pissing and pleasure. That was the beauty of a biological cannon: No reloading, no disarming, no power pack for some villain to destroy. If she wanted, she could fire nonlethal, little blue bolts that hit like beanbags. Or dial it up for clean-through shots or even full plasma bursts that would reduce a tank to vapor. She could feel the yield right in her nuts, her cockhead would glow and every shot left her tingling, but never spent unless she let it.

She grinned as she lined up the first pack of Agatha’s undead, no need to hold back at all, “Let’s show these fuckers why this Captain is always packing.”

The veins along her shaft bulged and her cock glowed blinding white-blue at the tip. With a guttural grunt, Monica squeezed, channeling a pulse of energy from her core straight through her cock and out in a roaring, tightly focused beam.

It tore furrows through the asphalt of the street as her hips rolled and turned in the air, vaporizing skeletons and demons in joblots as she walked the blue beam through their ranks as easy as pissing her name in the snow.

The army was no match for the combined might of two overpowered heroes. There was barely enough time for Agatha to stand up. Skeletons were blown apart, minotaurs were morphed by Wanda into harmless cucks, a succubus trying to fly up to Monica caught a full cock-burst to the chest disintegrating her, and a demon dog was transformed into a harmless puppy named Sparky.

Agatha tried to create a new shield, but between the two they were just too strong and relentless to stop. She was hit by Wanda’s magic, then a beam, then magic, beam, over and over again. All her defences were being pierced by the combined female fury.

“Oh come on! 2-v-1?! Fuck this!” She hissed, wrapping herself in purple magic to teleport away.

Agatha breathed a slight sigh of relief as she stood in her quiet sanctum.

A safe space. Far away from Wanda’s influence, she could recollect herself and come up with a new plan here. Even just the slice of hex she’d snagged would be enough to create infinite-

“Nuh-uh, loco bitch.”

Agatha hadn’t expected a star shaped wormhole to open up directly behind her. She hadn’t expected to be yanked from her sanctum by overwhelming strength and tossed back into the fight she’d just escaped from. More energy and magic colliding with her before exploding in combined energies.

“GRAAHHH!” She screamed, falling onto the street once more in absolute pain.

America may still have been fighting Quake, but with her powers returning she had enough time to keep the other witch in the area. Which meant even escape would prove to be incredibly difficult for Agatha, and she was feeling that frustration boil.

Which meant she had to go all out.

Agatha tried to fight back as hard as she could. She created a sheet wall of pure magic in front of her to block the two from looking at her, then started rapidly poking at it. Each poke sending a dagger of energy hurtling straight towards Wanda and Monica. A rain of arrows nearly impossible to dodge and slicing into their bodies to sting.

Wanda was quick to generate her own wall, blocking all the daggers. Monica was just as quick to improv with the tools in front of her, slamming herself into the rear of Wanda’s wall cock first and flying forwards with all her might. Wanda and Agatha’s magic shattering against each other and leaving Monica hovering just above Agatha, blue white energy crackling along the shaft of her dick.

Agatha scrambled backward, muttering another incantation, but Monica was already reaching for the row of buttons on the piece of her retracted Barrel Shroud just to the left of her cock. With a smooth hiss, the armored pods between her thighs twisted and folded away like prenanite Stark Iron Man Tech to reveal Monica’s big, sweat-slick white nuts, heavy and ready, swinging free beneath her.

“I don’t know who you are, but I know a bad bitch when I see one. Settle down, and we can handle this like adults.” she dipped lower, grinning as she let her balls drop right down onto Agatha’s upturned face. The witch barely had time to snarl before Monica’s massive sack smothered her, engulfing her chin, mouth, and nose, the heat and weight pressing her into the asphalt.

A muffled and enraged roar came out, “Get the HELL off me!”

Agatha tried to zap upward, launching a spike of raw violet magic straight into Monica’s groin, but the blast just surged harmlessly into those dense, energy, fed balls. Her cumtanks soaked up the power like solar panels, a satisfied hum rolling through her as the excess magic was absorbed and metabolized for more firepower.

Monica smirked, keeping her balls pressed firmly against Agatha’s mouth, “Sorry. There’s no way anyone’s going to be taking me down until I see Carol again.”

After tasting the tang of space stone and sweat, Agatha had had enough. This idiot wasn’t the only one with phasing magic, fading into the floor beneath the surprised Monica. She only had a second to dodge as Agatha rose from the earth with purple scythe in hand and swiped at the miscoloured-dick-girl.

Wanda piled on the attacks, sending bolts cascading forwards that Agatha blocked with swipes of her scythe.

It was all too much for her though. Monica did a sweeping kick, knocking her back as Wanda sent the scythe flying. No matter what Agatha tried she was just outmatched by sheer strength and numbers.

“Stupid fucking bitches…” she hissed, slowly picking herself off the ground, “You’re all fighting for a man that wants to do way worse shit than me! He-!” Her hand pointed to the Mark husk on the ground.

A hail-mary plan formed in her head.

“You know what? Fuck you all! If you can’t bend at the knee to me, I’ll just have to kill your favourite toy instead!”

Monica snarled, her reaction instantaneous. “Not on my watch, bitch.” She whipped her hips around, leveling her heavy cock like a turret directly at Agatha’s back. Her cumtanks flared, spinning up the plasma reaction to lethal levels. Not wanting to kill was one thing, but ending this mad threat once and for all was paramount. She could deal with her feelings about that later.

But before she could fire, a heavy weight slammed into her back. Another succubus latched onto her shoulders, leathery wings beating to throw off her aim.

“Get off!” Monica shouted, bucking in the air, trying to shake the demon loose.

That was the distraction the second one needed.

It dropped from the sky directly in front of her. Monica saw the flash of fangs and opened jaw and instinctively tightened her core, ready to simply blow the demon’s head off the moment it touched her. If this thing thought it could suck her off in the middle of a firefight, it was going to eat a face full of star-power.

The demon sank onto her. Hot, wet suction engulfed the entire length of her cock in a single, skilled plunge, taking her all the way to the balls.

Monica gritted her teeth, fighting the pleasure spike that zipped up her spine. Bad move, she thought, locking her focus on the trigger-reflex in her nuts. Eat jizz-laser, asshole.

She looked down.

She froze.

The succubus wasn't there. Instead, kneeling in the air before her, cheeks hollowed out around Monica’s thick white shaft, blue eyes looking up with a familiar, cocky glint… was Carol.

The blonde hair was perfect. The Kree suit was unzipped just enough. And the look in her eyes, that exact mix of challenge and adoration Monica had craved since… forever- was devastating.

“Carol?” Monica gasped, the name strangling in her throat.

Her cumtanks, which had been seconds away from discharging a lethal blast of plasma, sputtered and stalled. Her brain slammed the emergency brakes. The logic part of her mind screamed It’s a trick! Shoot it! but her body refused. She couldn't do it. She couldn't pull the trigger and blow Carol Danvers’ beautiful head apart, even if it was a lie.

The succubus, sensing the hesitation, moaned around the meat in its mouth and swirled its tongue, milking the stunned hero. The sensation of that hot throat combined with the visual of Captain Marvel worshipping her cock short-circuited Monica completely. She just hovered there, gasping, dick throbbing helpless and hard in the illusion’s mouth, unable to fire, unable to move.

She dashed forwards, a magical dagger forming in her hand as she readied her strike.

“MARK!” Wanda screamed, quickly rushing towards him too while wrapping his body in a protective crimson cocoon. “LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

Agatha would not.

If she couldn’t have her win–if she was doomed to fall here–the least she could do is kill the man that had been the center of her failure.

Using magic, Wanda dragged his body skyward, away from the oncoming Agatha. It wasn’t enough, as she flew close behind the flying Mark as they both glided over streets and rooftops. Slowly beginning to catch up, Agatha reached her arm upwards to deliver a stab directly into the cocoon. Wanda had to make Mark dodge, pushing him down to the ground once more.

They all landed in the center of the town square. Mark’s body lying in a grassy circle surrounded by benches and being watched over by the nearby grand town hall.

Wanda and Agatha were kneeling over him, locked in an eternal wrestling match over his body. All their powers pushing against each other as Agatha’s knife slowly got closer to Mark’s neck. Wanda was pouring everything she had into keeping this witch away from Mark, but her magic were still feeling drained from earlier.

Focusing so much of her power on protecting Mark, Wanda’s Hex magic began to fail.

The street of people that had been safely stored in their homes were now walking bleary eyed onto the sidewalks. Confused to find so many memories on top of memories, and seeing two witches in a **** grip fight over a ragdolled corpse.

“Please! I can’t lose Mark! Not him too!”

“Shut up! You’re so fucking stupid!”

With one final magical push, Agatha shoved Wanda away just far enough to get full reign of her arms again.

Her hand went up, readying her deadly strike. And with a wicked grin Agatha roared, “DIE!”

“NO!” Wanda screamed.

But just as Agatha was about to bring her knife down… just as she was about to end his life once and for all…

Mark’s eyes opened.

He glared at her

In Agatha’s head there was only one word.

‘Fuck’.

Mark’s hands darted upwards before either could react. One thumb hooking inside Agatha’s cheek, and the other hand cupping Wanda’s chin.

And all it took was one word. Roared out with all the righteous fury that had been building in Mark’s heart for days now.

“MINE!”

His.

All of them were his.

And when the author writes ‘all of them’, he means all.

Mark’s powers were based on connections. He had that connection physically with both witches right now. But what avid readers may have realised, is that Wanda’s magic–the Hex that so many were currently inside–also connected her to all those around them as well. That connection just spread like invisible threads across all the magic that Wanda touched, and by proxy Mark touched now too.

In short: With one word, everyone inside the Hex right now belonged to Mark.

The citizens around Mark all stared wide eyed at him. Unable to even quantify their new found desire to serve this fantastic individual in front of them. One going so far as to begin streaming the event to the world through his iPhone, wanting the world to see his new master in all his glory. They were his.

Wanda cooed softly at his touch, nuzzling at the hand that cupped her face. She was now and forever, his.

Agatha’s knife dropped to the ground and faded to nothingness. Her mouth suckling on the thumb he kept in her, licking it lewdly as she was his.

Others from around the town began pouring in to see their new master. The ‘burlesque workers’, the television advertisement salesmen, the city council, Monica, Daisy, Darcy, even Ralph Bohner zoomed in.

Those that were already his appeared too. America carried Natasha’s weak body in her arms as they looked around, admiring the incredible feat that Mark had pulled off.

It was all just so quiet. All eyes were on Mark as he slowly stood in the exact center of a huge mass of bodies.

“Everyone’s looking at me,” he said.

America smiled at him, “I think they’re waiting to hear you speak, Mark.”

“They’re all listening,” said Natasha, quietly. Gesturing a small nod towards the man streaming the event. “Everyone.”

Mark took a long deep breath. Feeling the eyes of so many could feel suffocating for some. A lot was riding on his ability to sound like a leader. For a brief moment he tried to remember the other kinds of leaders he’d seen for inspiration. Cyclops, Reed, Captain America… and Markandan Mark.

Knowing what he needed for true confidence, Mark did the one thing he knew would turn heads no matter what.

Mark stripped.