Scarlett War

CHAPTER SEVEN - LIBERATION

Wanda Maximoff - Private

It has been five days since we derailed that train.

Rousseau made us go through the wreckage and find important papers, despite Zussman's complaints. We ended up finding a good amount of items that would be important to the liberation of France.

It was the day after the train, the 21st, that the voice returned, impressed by my attempts to stop it.

And it was here in the long run.

We had taken refuge in a townhouse, high above ground level for extra security reasons. I was alone on the first level, just thinking.

When suddenly, my thoughts were invaded.

This time, it wasn't just a single voice. It was hundreds, maybe thousands, of tiny almost silent voices, that joined together to create a malicious chorus.

I dropped to my knees immediately, grabbing my head. The pain was unbearable, like every centimeter of my brain was being stabbed.

"I can see now, young one, that you are stronger than you look."

I hissed between my teeth, having no choice but to listen to what he, no, they said.

"That train is only the beginning of what I have planned for you."

"Stop," I whispered, with every word becoming another stab to my nervous system. "Please."

"You are dangerous, but that is good. You will become the biggest threat the world has ever seen, Wanda. I will see to it."

Trying to keep quiet, not wanting to alert anyone, I held in my screams as much as I could, feeling like I was melting on the spot, the parasites eating away at me.

"You will succumb to me."

It felt as though all of the parasites were suddenly warped away, ripping the pieces of my brain they were latched onto away with them.

I could not hold in a small shout. My vision was inflicted with a red sheen, almost black. I was not able to describe what I was feeling, but it was of nothing good.

The scarlet cover and the last bits of pain suddenly ended when I heard someone running down the stairs. I stood up as quickly as I could, leaning against the wall for support.

Pierson appeared from the staircase, looking around urgently. His eyes landed on me. "What the hell was that, Private?"

I blinked. "What the hell was what, sir?"

"That scream, it sounded like you were in," he struggled to find the words, "in pain."

I stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out a way to get me out of this.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't know what you're talking about." My voice was as sincere as I could make it, but there was nothing to get past by Pierson.

He paused, looking at me, lips pressed together. I raised an eyebrow slightly, wondering what he would do next.

"I must be going crazy," he mumbled under his breath, heading back up the stairs.

"Going?" I thought aloud quietly.

It was the 25th, now, and we were preparing to take Paris tonight.

I was leaned against a wall, Aiello, and Zussman flanking me. They passed a cigarette back and forth, and unfortunately, I was in the middle of the smoke fest.

I was thinking about tonight, what it would mean. Maybe it would give hope to all the invaded countries that they to would be freed one day.

Including mine.