Marvel : I'm in Westview Town

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London, England

An ancient and magnificent bridge stands over the Thames River, connecting both sides of the city and fueling the development of the bustling metropolis.

In the tallest tower closest to the Thames, an office on the top floor overlooks the lively scene through large glass windows. The ceaseless flow of traffic moves below, a testament to the city's never-ending rhythm.

A set of high-tech detection equipment had been placed in the office earlier, and several S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had come and gone after completing their checks.

Wanda Maximoff stood by the window, gazing down at the view.

She had arrived more than ten minutes ago, preparing for the manifestation of the Elementals.

With a brief glance away from the cityscape, she turned to look at Nick Fury, who sat in a chair behind her.

"What do I need to do?" she asked, her voice steady.

"Just wait until those Elementals show up," Fury replied, his tone unreadable.

As one of the most experienced agents on the planet, there was little that could rattle him. He had faced world-ending threats before and had never once lost his composure.

Even if the apocalypse itself were imminent, Nick Fury would remain as he was—calm, unyielding, and ready.

Wanda, however, felt uneasy.

"Where did that Mysterio guy go?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Waiting in silence was making her restless, and the fact that Vision wasn't here to see any of this made it all the more unbearable.

Before Fury could answer, a deep, vibrating hum echoed through the air.

Hum!!!

A green figure circled the tower above before coming to a stop, hovering outside the glass.

Mysterio.

His helmet, resembling a large, eerie fishbowl, distorted his features as his voice filtered through.

"I'm patrolling the area," he announced. "I'll notify you the moment I have news."

And with that, he soared higher into the sky and vanished beyond sight.

But inside the tower, Wanda's crimson eyes glowed faintly, the red tendrils of her magic flickering for the briefest moment.

Her brows furrowed as a strange sensation rippled through her.

Something wasn't right.

"What is it?"

Fury noticed her reaction immediately. His sharp gaze locked onto her with suspicion.

"Where exactly did you meet Quentin?" Wanda asked, her hesitation apparent.

Fury's expression darkened. "What do you mean?"

She hesitated for a moment longer before finally saying, "I didn't sense any life from him just now. Whoever—or whatever—was floating outside... it wasn't a person. It was like a phantom. A hollow construct without a soul."

Fury's face tightened.

"That's impossible..." he muttered.

But deep down, doubt had already taken root.

He knew Wanda wasn't the type to make baseless claims. She may have had a distaste for authority, but she wouldn't joke about something like this—especially not in the middle of a mission.

"I'm just feeling a little off today," Wanda murmured, rubbing her temple. "Maybe it was my imagination."

Fury said nothing, but the wheels in his mind were already turning.

---

Elsewhere Near the Tower

A glass walkway hung suspended between two buildings.

A man paced back and forth anxiously.

If Nick Fury were here, he would have been stunned.

Because standing there—alive and well—was Quentin Beck.

Mysterio.

But he wasn't wearing his combat suit.

Instead, he wore a high-tech motion capture suit, with a microphone attached to his collar and an earpiece fitted in his ear.

On either side of him, drones hovered silently, their red lights blinking in the dimness.

"Quentin," a voice crackled in his earpiece. "Scarlet Witch might be onto you. The tower's signal dropped for ten seconds just now—I lost audio."

Wilhelm's voice was sharp with concern.

Beck, however, remained unfazed.

"It's fine," he said dismissively. "I already dosed her with the neurotoxin on the plane."

A slow, sinister grin spread across his face.

The only reason he had dared to set the final battle in London was because he had made sure to neutralize Scarlet Witch in advance.

Before Tony Stark's death, he had compiled countermeasures for every Avenger—recorded meticulously in Stark Industries' classified files.

And one of those files contained a solution for Wanda Maximoff.

A specially formulated gas, designed to disrupt her neurons and temporarily render her telepathic abilities useless.

"I'm still worried..." Wilhelm admitted.

"Shut up," Beck snapped, his voice turning cold. "I won't tolerate any failure in the final act. If necessary, I'll blow up that entire tower—no one will survive."

His blue eyes gleamed with something dangerous as he glanced toward the Thames.

His gaze settled on the towering structure of London Bridge.

And then he smiled.

"Ten more minutes," he whispered. "And the show begins."

---

Berlin, Germany – A Five-Star Hotel

A large, luxurious suite sat in eerie silence.

Inside, Finn stood alone in the study, pulling the curtains shut with a flick of his wrist to block out the last rays of the setting sun.

"Now's the perfect time to take care of Agatha," he muttered to himself.

His fingers flexed, and in an instant, his casual attire was replaced with an all-black ensemble. A sleek mask appeared in his hand.

The reason Wanda had left was simple—to let him handle things without interference.

And now, he could finally get rid of the old witch once and for all.

Finn had tolerated Agatha Harkness for far too long.

She knew who he was.

And yet, despite that knowledge, she continued to circle around Wanda—coveting her, manipulating her, sinking her claws into her life.

"Before she comes looking for me, I'll deal with her first," he decided.

The system hadn't clarified how "exposure" worked, so the safest route was to eliminate Agatha before she had the chance to act.

With that thought, Finn prepared to use astral projection, his soul ready to leave his body—

Knock! Knock!!!!

A sharp knocking on the door shattered the silence.

Finn froze.

Who the hell would be visiting at this hour?

Glancing at the clock, he saw it was well past five in the afternoon.

He was certain he hadn't ordered room service.

And he had no friends in Germany.

His eyes narrowed as he cautiously approached the peephole.

The moment he saw who it was, his black attire vanished in an instant, returning to his usual casual clothes.

Because standing outside the door—

Was Agatha Harkness.

Her knuckles rapped against the wood again, and a saccharine voice floated through the door.

"Finn, are you in there?" she cooed. "It's Agnes. I just remembered—Josh asked me to bring you something."

Her tone was warm. Almost motherly.

But Finn wasn't fooled.

Beneath that fake sweetness, he could feel it.

Dark magic.

It crackled in the air around her, restless and coiled tight, ready to strike.

She wasn't here to chat.

No.

She was here for him.

And this time, she wasn't planning on leaving empty-handed.

---

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