Wanda Maximoff.
That was the name Alex Carter pulled from the fractured memories of the body he now inhabited.
The family upstairs had a pair of twins a son and a daughter. The little girl was called Wanda. As for the boy's name?
Alex winced. He had completely forgotten.
He glanced at a half-burnt calendar still clinging to the wall. The year: 2006.
Combine that with the memories swirling in his head, and the crying from upstairs could only belong to one person: the Scarlet Witch herself, still just a child.
Of course, the only reason Alex knew this was because, in his past life, he had been a perpetually broke webnovelist who binged Marvel movies for "research." He had watched those films so many times that Wanda's backstory was etched into his brain.
Not that he'd ever admit he also rewatched certain scenes purely for her… presence.
Marvel Comics had been around since 1939. Apart from Stan Lee the eternal final boss lurking in cameos the company had gone through countless generations of writers and editors, from boardroom suits to janitors.
Every new creative team tossed out chunks of canon like yesterday's garbage. With thousands of writers came ten times as many rewrites. What one person built, the next would gleefully demolish.
The Marvel Universe thrived on retcons. Consistency was optional; drama was mandatory.
Wanda Maximoff's own character had been rewritten so many times it was almost a running joke. Add in the constant tug-of-war over licensing rights, and even Stan Lee himself would have struggled to say which version of reality Alex had just landed in.
But here, in war-torn Sokovia, with a ten-year-old Wanda sobbing upstairs? That narrowed it down. This had to be the Marvel Cinematic Universe.
A small wave of relief steadied him.
Sure, the MCU was still a hellscape packed with aliens, mad gods, and homicidal robots. But compared to the comics where some fourth-wall-breaking maniac might erase you with a snarky quip this was practically safe.
At least Deadpool wasn't about to crawl out of the rubble.
"Wanda? Is that you?" Alex called up toward the jagged hole in the ceiling.
The gunfire outside was deafening, so he had to shout.
"Uuuh… uhh…"
The sobbing didn't stop. Ten-year-old Wanda was too lost in grief to hear him.
"Jack? Jack, is that you? You're not dead?"
That voice wasn't Wanda's. It was her brother.
Alex's eyelid twitched. Excuse me? What kind of greeting was that "You're not dead"? Kids these days had no filter.
Still, at least someone was listening.
Pietro Maximoff. Wanda's twin brother. One day, he'd grow up to be Quicksilver, sprinting fast enough to rival that red-suited kid from across the multiverse.
Unfortunately, Pietro's story in the movies was… short-lived.
Alex couldn't help but snort. In theory, Quicksilver was faster than bullets. In practice, the studio's budget couldn't keep up, so they killed him off with machine-gun fire.
A speedster outpaced by hot lead Marvel fans had never forgiven that punchline.
But Alex wasn't laughing now.
The Maximoffs had been tenants here for years. Wanda and Pietro knew the landlord's son his body's former self well enough to nod hello in the halls. Nothing more than casual acquaintances. After all, Alex's current body had been eighteen. He had better things to do than babysit ten-year-old brats.
"Jack, what about our parents?" Pietro's voice cracked as he yelled from above.
Alex glanced at the mangled corpses downstairs. Even Wolverine would have had trouble pulling himself back together from that mess.
"Uh… your parents aren't doing so well," he muttered.
There was no way to sugarcoat that.
The moment his words reached them, Pietro's shaky bravado crumbled. The boy burst into tears, his sobs joining Wanda's.
Alex dragged a hand over his face. Two grieving children crying their lungs out in a collapsing building was the last thing he needed. But leaving them alone wasn't an option either.
He looked up at the hole. The third floor wasn't too high. If he stacked some furniture, he could climb.
It wasn't about heroism or about Wanda's future as one of the most powerful beings alive. She was ten. He wasn't some creep willing to risk divine wrath for the sake of a kid.
The real reason was simpler: in the movie's timeline, the twins had survived this exact attack. If Alex stuck with them, his odds of survival skyrocketed.
The missile wedged in the wall upstairs? He remembered clearly. It was a dud.
The safest place in Sokovia right now was right beside those twins.
Dragging a broken chair into position, Alex stacked it on the rubble and climbed. His arms strained, but this body eighteen years old, lean from regular exercise made it possible. If he'd been stuck in his old, overworked thirty-something shell, he'd still be flailing on the floor.
After a clumsy scramble, he hauled himself into the third-floor apartment.
The crying grew louder. He followed the sound to a table shoved into the corner. Beneath it, the twins huddled, clutching each other.
Alex blinked. "Seriously? Hiding under a table? Did you two really think a wooden desk could stop a missile?"
This wasn't a cartoon. This was Sokovia.
"Jack!" Pietro's tear-streaked face lit up with desperate relief when he spotted him.
For all his bravado, Pietro was still just a ten-year-old boy. Losing his parents in an instant had gutted him. Now, finally, a familiar face appeared someone he could cling to.
"Don't be scared," Alex said, forcing a reassuring smile. He knelt, shoved aside the bricks blocking the desk, and reached for their hands.
"Come on. Crawl out of there."
He tugged gently, dragging them from their flimsy shelter.
Wanda's whole body trembled. She collapsed against the floor, still sobbing uncontrollably. Pietro fared a little better, but his wide eyes darted helplessly around the ruined room.
They were kids just kids. No one could expect calm or composure from them now.
Alex was about to speak again, maybe crack a joke to ease their fear, when something sharp sliced through his mind.
A voice. Mechanical, toneless, echoing directly inside his skull.
[System Notice: Host has made contact with World Node character Wanda Maximoff. Transmission authority unlocked. First transfer begins in ten minutes.]
Alex froze.
Then, despite the devastation around him, he actually smiled.
Finally. His golden finger had arrived.