The footsteps were closing in. To Daisy's ears, the Fenris Twins were tearing toward them at speed. One twin could rip apart molecular structures, the other could manipulate molecules, and when their powers combined, anything in their line of sight could be reduced to dust on the spot.
They barreled straight at Daisy like a pair of bulldozers. Metal, walls, even the mutant prisoners in their path, all of it crumbled to dust in their fury. The two seemed beyond livid, rage boiling off them, utterly indifferent to how many they killed by mistake.
Daisy's eyes narrowed. Credit where it was due, that combo attack was no joke. In a straight fight she'd have to open with an earthquake, exploit the fact that neither twin could fly, and shape the terrain to her advantage. Split the two apart and they'd actually be easy pickings.
Right now, though, it was more trouble than it was worth. The foundations here were built rock-solid, and on top of that she had no interest in brawling with two lunatics.
To Daisy, the Scarlet Witch was moving at a crawl. Wasn't this exactly the moment to count every second? Or was the girl just slow by nature?
She tightened her grip and hauled the witch in against her. Under the woman's startled stare, she slid her left arm behind the crook of her knees, swept her up bridal-style, and in under a third of a second vanished from Twins Base.
With a sharp whoosh, Daisy—her teleportation getting smoother by the day—reappeared, already back at her own villa.
She set down the Scarlet Witch, who had nothing on but that single prison uniform. The witch rubbed hard at her eyes, adjusting to the light here.
Her blonde hair was a tangled mess, like weeds, and from going so long without proper rest it had started to dry out and yellow. Her arms and calves were dotted with countless needle marks. But the thing that drew the eye most was the dark circles under her eyes. Daisy had always assumed, in her mental image of the character, that those circles were makeup added later. Turns out they came from sheer exhaustion, the product of sleepless nights.
Calling her a stunning beauty would've been a stretch. No rest, no grooming, dressed in rags, hair filthy and face grimy; under that template, even great bone structure couldn't shine through.
Daisy knew this firsthand. Was there such a thing as a woman who looked drop-dead gorgeous no matter her state, however bedraggled, elegant in everything she did? Nothing was absolute; in theory, maybe. But she sure wasn't one of them, and neither was the witch standing in front of her.
The Scarlet Witch looked like a refugee. If Daisy stretched her conscience, she could maybe rate the current look a sixty out of a hundred.
"Go play in the woods." As the witch worked to recover her sight and make out her surroundings, Daisy hurried to shoo Tangbao off. Women who could look at a lion without flinching, the way Lorna did, were honestly few and far between these days.
"Where is this?" Weak as she was, and fresh off a teleport, the disorienting jolt of crossing space had her rubbing her head. It took a good while before she could take in where she'd landed.
An enormous house, birdsong and flowers outside the window. Still, she stayed wary. Had she just walked from one cell into another?
"It's me. I'm the one who got you out, remember?" The Scarlet Witch's mental state had been fragile this whole time, and Daisy, worried the woman might blow a skylight into her villa, kept her tone gentle.
"It's you? ...You're so pretty..." Her voice was small and thin, her English pronunciation a little off.
Next to the grimy, disheveled witch, Daisy—closing in on a solid ninety-five out of a hundred—absolutely earned the word "pretty." It was also why both Black Widow and Viper had, independently, recently floated the idea of paying her back in the flesh. Even if it didn't match their usual leanings, a face that good was worth the occasional fling.
Daisy wasn't thinking about any of that nonsense. She figured the woman was just flattering her, plain and simple. She heard compliments like that every day; awkward at first, but by now she was thoroughly used to them.
She was sizing up this woman who might or might not be the Scarlet Witch. Was she really the genuine article?
Daisy couldn't cultivate any magic of her own, but she'd met plenty of sorcerers. This woman gave off a magical signature, though exactly how strong, Daisy couldn't tell.
On top of that, the woman's mental state was a wreck, the kind of exhaustion that builds up over a long, long time. And given that only two days had passed from when Daisy and Viper settled on the plan, and Baron Strucker had no power to see the future, it was unlikely he could've set this trap in advance.
In Daisy's estimation, the odds this woman was the real Scarlet Witch ran as high as eighty percent.
The witch was trembling, but forcing herself to stay on her feet. Daisy spoke first. "Can I call you Wanda? Relax, I'm one of the good guys. You're out of that place now, and those people can't follow us here."
At the mention of the people from Twins Base, Wanda couldn't help glancing back over her shoulder, as if any second now a crowd of them would leap out of thin air and drag her back.
"Come on, let me take you to get washed up, and then you can rest a few days." Viper couldn't teleport. Stealing the Darkhold would take reconnaissance, planning, preparation; no matter how Daisy looked at it, that was several days' work.
The witch held onto her hand and visibly relaxed. She recognized the warmth of that palm; this was the one who'd rescued her. She just hadn't expected her to be this beautiful, and for a moment the witch felt small and shabby by comparison.
Daisy wasn't in the habit of helping other people bathe. People helping her, now that was more like it.
The villa had seven bathrooms, large and small. Daisy had naturally claimed the biggest for herself. The maid and Lorna each had one, and later Elektra took one too. Even Tangbao had a private bathroom, designed specifically for an animal.
Each of these bathrooms was privately held, treated like a personal room, never shared.
Daisy led the witch into one of the unclaimed bathrooms, and ran into a small snag: the woman had no idea how to work modern bathing fixtures.
Watching the witch—battered as she'd been, yet still possessed of quite a figure—stand there helpless, Daisy had no choice but to step in herself: running the water, adjusting the temperature, walking her through how the various fixtures worked, the whole rigmarole.
Once the girl was in, an awkward scene revealed itself. She really was a bit filthy; the once-clear hot water instantly bloomed with a layer of grime.
The witch saw it too. Her face went crimson, and she dropped her head, too embarrassed to speak.
Daisy pretended not to notice, ran through the fixtures one more time, and only then stepped out of the bathroom.
Less than half an hour later, she walked back in. Not out of any improper intent, but because from outside she'd noticed the bathroom had gone silent.
She pushed open the door to find the witch slumped over the edge of the tub, arms and head resting on the rim, fast asleep with those dark circles still under her eyes. Good thing the bathroom held a constant temperature, or she'd surely have gotten sick.
Daisy sighed. She'd brought this one home, so she might as well see it through to the end.
A light flick of her fingers, a touch of gravity manipulation, and she lifted the witch out of the water. Like drying off a roast duck, she let her hover in midair a moment, gave her a couple of shakes, and toweled her off front and back. And off you go!