7639/About That Eastern European Thing

About That Eastern European Thing
Date of Scene:	01 September 2021
Location:	Bruce's Room - Avengers Mansion
Synopsis:	What's going on in an Eastern Europe hellhole? Ultron!
Cast of Characters:	Bruce Banner, Wanda Maximoff

---

Bruce Banner has posed:
Banner spends the bulk of his time in the Mansion. There's no mystery about that. It's the safest place for him, given the amount of technology put to work keeping the place secure it can do a good job of keeping the monsters out and a good job of keeping them in. He's still no closer to getting a permanent hold on the transformation into the Hulk, and so he practices almost every form of anger management under the sun.

At present he lies on his bed in the modestly appointed room set aside for him. The television on the wall displays a Bob Ross re-run, featuring a mountain, some happy trees, and a crystal blue sky. Bruce's own attempt at painting has been left on the easel by the window, half-finished. A bag of microwave popcorn rests on his bird-like chest, and he slowly shovels it into his mouth.

After a minute or two, he begins to drift off. Glasses askew.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda, by the opposite measure, hasn't spent all her time at the mansion. She has been out in Brighton Beach and scattered across Gotham or upstate New York taking the most she can in before the weather changes. Nothing like perennial gloomy rain in the autumn or the streams of traffic headed to beauty sites?

She isn't ashamed to have a latte with a pumpkin flavour this early on, the syrups down in the kitchen fulfilling her need for high calorie counts, and the little bubbled froth on the top satisfies so much. She sprinkles a bit of cinnamon and blows nutmeg in a golden cadence, then climbs up the stairs to make up for the calories for somewhere to sit and veg. Chill? That's a nice thought.

Mostly first. The task of eastern Europe lies ahead first. She pauses and turns down another of the halls, asking, "Friday?" Do they /have/ Jarvis? Friday? Assumptions! "Do we have Doctor Banner in residence? Would you let him know I'm looking for him?"

Bruce Banner has posed:
The Mansion's AI complies, and a few minutes later there's a sound of shuffling in the hall outside. Bruce slips into the kitchen, a pair of tartan pajama pants and a faded yellow t-shirt advertising some place in California called 'Wonder World'. He'd started buying out of the thrift store bins given how often the clothes ended up shredded beyond recognition.

In the kitchen he makes an immediate line for the fridge, opening it and poking around inside. A bottle of chilled water is produced, and he unscrews the top, turning around to blink owlishly at Wanda through his glasses.

"Hey," he offers, gesturing vaguely at the ceiling, "The robot called me."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
In those few minutes, Wanda retreats with her latte and sips it on the lazy walk into the kitchen again. The easiest place for a conversation that won't immediately devolve into "lab rat time" or "workout time" or "Steve has a Plan (TM) <3 Time" seems to be the large table, so there she shall go. The spices start dancing on her tongue almost immediately, a simmering heat that brings amber-green eyes half-closed in quiet satisfaction.

It's possible that she still wears that expression when crossing Bruce's path. "Did I wake you up?" she asks, post-blissed out moment when the latte hit fades out and her metabolism awakens to demand more, some angry open-beak bird shrilling. "The robot called you? I thought it had a name." Almost teasing, she smiles. "Or is the Roomba now upgraded to an employee? I can never tell with Stark. If this is a bad time, we can put it off. I wanted to ask about the mission on the weekend."

Bruce Banner has posed:
"After this stuff with Ultron," Banner begins, rubbing his shoulder with one hand idly, "I'm not in the 'machines are people, too' mood. No offense, Friday."

He takes a deep breath, shaking his head: "That stuff in Krozniev ended with me waking up floating in the Black Sea. I'm lucky Nat - Agent Romanoff - had the transponder active so she could pick me up in the Quinjet."

He practically falls into the chair opposite Wanda, shaking his head: "Didn't wake me up. I was just watching some Bob Ross. Keeps me zen. Can't guarantee talking about Krozniev will, though. I only remember what I saw before Cap called the Code Green."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"No offense taken from me." Friday is another matter. Wanda hasn't got an opinion about that. She is too engrossed in not upsetting the robots to cause a mass issue. "I remember my Asimov. It never ends well."

Her impish smile might take away the sting. "I'm still polite to the little ones," she adds in a sotto voce tone. "In case they start their rebellion." One wink later and the cup comes to her lips, so much better than the Starbucks variation. The spice for one is warming, but the milk is just right. "So you're saying I should bother Cap about this one, and leave you out of it? I can do that. Man's been elusive as a ghost, it feels like. We crossed at dinner a few weeks ago."

Bruce Banner has posed:
"I'm always happy to talk to you, Wanda," Banner says with a shake of his head, "Even if you never take me to those big society dinners you're always getting invited to. Others among us would like a little class in their lives too, you know."

He takes a deep breath and grows serious once more: "Well, the short story is that Ultron is back from wherever he went. Krozniev is entirely his. He's got earthquake generators that have basically turned the city to rubble, though we managed to evacuate most of the people. Last I heard they're still keeping their distance."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"Class? I cannot say I possess it the same way that Janet does. Or Jen. How she controls those courtrooms with so much confidence," Wanda breathes out with a soft laugh. A shake of her head dusts her loose auburn curls around her shoulders, forcibly brushed to the side. "I'll make sure they extend you an invitation too. You might scare the special guests. Or they will feel guilty you are not the special guest, being the smartest or most accomplished one in the room."

Her smile dies a heartbeat later.

Krozniev is Ultron's. <<Fox in the chicken coop.>> Russian's at her lips as a matter of habit. "I wonder where the baron is in all of this. Too busy pretending to be redeemed, maybe. Krozniev is going to destabilize the entire region in this case. Latveria cannot be happy. Sokovia, Transia, they're unstable as it is, and any shift in the political situation will cause problems. Or Symkaria, whih half the time wants to convulse itself in civil war or wed Doom."

Bruce Banner has posed:
"I'm not gonna go to a charity dinner with Jen," Bruce says with a faint grin, "That's like taking your mom to prom." He waves a hand dismissively at the talk of being the smartest in the room but doesn't exactly deny it either.

"It's bad, yeah," he agrees, "I need to get a closer look at what Nadia recovered from the battle. But Ultron's a copy of Hank, and while Hank is good ... I think I'm better. Whatever Ultron built; I can work out how to break it. Or the other guy can."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda laughs. "It is no worse than going anywhere with my brother, is it? Pietro wants out of there the minute he lands on the ground." Her mouth grooves an amused curve at reference to the inestimate white-haired speedster, and she sets down the latte mug on the table. "Better. She has patience. Janet might be rather wild, though."

She chews the inside of her cheek for a few moments as Bruce lays out the problem. "So he's got earthquakes that could bring down anything. We have someone who is probably focused on self-replicating. Do we know what came out of the battle, what sort of things are happening except the earthquakes? I assume it was more than just a big fight."

Bruce Banner has posed:
"My guess," Banner offers, waving a hand, "My guess is that he wants the resources. Krozniev has natural resources in stacks because no government has ever been stable enough to make any headway in prospecting them. Building materials and fuel are just what you need when you're building a robot army."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"Rare earth minerals? Metals? A hidden cache of radioactive elements no one really thought was available?" Wanda pushes away the cup, perching her chin on her hands. She watches Banner's movements, quick as they come. The whole prospect seems to leave a slight frown on her lips, not for a minimal reason. "Without the defenses to make it happen. I think arms dealers worked out of there where they could, so they might have ideas of avenues to get in or out that might go unnoticed in the short term. We can assume any attempt to scope out the situation otherwise will be hostile."

Bruce Banner has posed:
"Could be a whole load of things. Didn't get an opportunity to take soil samples when we left, and I think Nadia was more fixated on getting samples of that Ultron tech so she could put together a counter to it. Reminds me I should visit her lab and see how she's going there."

He drums his fingers on the table, clicking his tongue thoughtfully against his teeth.

"You want to go and talk to some arms dealers? I'm not exactly a SHIELD agent, but I'll help if I can."

"Maybe - " he pauses, clearing his throat and squaring his shoulders a little more as he sits up in his chair, "Maybe we can talk about it over dinner? There's a Korean BBQ that does delivery ... "

Classy.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"I would be worried the tech is still able to be monitored at a distance. Hopefully you have deactivated anything there? Where Ultron is involved, I expect the whole monster to grow back from a small length." The Transian sorceress curls her lip unconsciously. She has no love of Ultron. Who does?

They all like breathing, after all. Ultron rather makes that difficult to proceed with.

She laughs lowly. "It wouldn't be the first time. Remember who my father is. We hardly pass unnoticed in the world anymore, though there was a time -- a long time -- when Pietro and I did. We met unsavory sorts. He was always better at it than I was. Maybe they know anger better and say a soul tarnished like theirs. But it gives me a choice, other than talking among the refugees. That's also an option but one tends to lead to the other. We cannot trust that anything not compromised is accessible to us, since I would think any system hardened enough in that part of the world is Victor's."

Von Problem, of course. Is there another?

"A few tweaks should settle me as less recognizable. From there I can pass." Putting together the outlines of a plan isn't much of a plan, but still somewhere to start from. She nods to Bruce. "Korean barbeque is always a win. I love that bibimbap. Dolsot? One of the few ways to eat eggs with meat."

Bruce Banner has posed:
"Well, my only connection to that side of things is fake IDs and trying to keep under SHIELD's radar. Not that any of that really worked, seeing as I'm here and technically under house arrest. But hey, could be worse. I'm sure they've got a cell built just for me somewhere that they're waiting to use when I get out of line."

The bitterness passes as quickly as it came on, as he realizes it doesn't paint him in a very nice light.

"Yeah? That's great. I ... I dunno, it'll be nice to do something with someone and for it to not be work stuff. Most people aren't all that comfortable with me. I haven't been on a date in years."

A pause.

"That's too much information, isn't it?"

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"I have a semi-professional link to them thanks to Clint, but I am not obligated to share everything I do. They would be entirely bored with my itinerary. They have better threats to worry about, don't they?" The cup taken back, she peers inside. Not nearly enough. A bit of spinning her finger around produces a thread of crimson energy to reheat the liquid and expand its volume, once more topping off the drink. Handy trick, that.

Wanda frowns at the mention of cell. Her eyes harden, the pupils still slicked over in the faintest crimson. "Technically. Have they identified when those terms end, or is it another of those infinite duration bits? Steve must surely have some thoughts."

Ships to wreck on distant reefs, then.

Confessions and the passing pause are probably too long, though she is a person of a completely different culture, brutalism of the Balkans colliding on a course. "You are asking me about what is too much." A beat. "You do know who my father is, don't you?"

Bruce Banner has posed:
"I know of him, yeah," Banner says with a smile, "We've never actually met. Do you think he'd like me?"

He shrugs his shoulders slightly, shaking his head: "No idea when. I figure as long as the Hulk is a threat, so am I. They didn't take too kindly to me trying to take off and make a cure myself. I almost wonder if they think the benefit of a cure mightn't outweigh the benefit of having the Hulk."

"I know things with Clint are ... over. I wanted to give you some space."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
The low laugh shines. "Clint? He's one of the steadiest men around here. Be prepared for a few quips," Wanda warns. The latte is a consolation for needing to speak, and she eases back into the seat again. The table is a great support when she needs it. "They are usually good though. I have not seen him in a while. That's not saying much. Hardly been the most common sight here."

Her fingers comb through her hair again, a simple habit. "I want to believe better of them. Maybe not as a whole institution. The ones with the decision-making power at least. We are taught to fear and distrust organizations here." Here is left open-ended, an unguarded direction to spin the needle to. "Not without just cause. I did not grow up somewhere institutions held any vestiges of innocence or goodwill to the people, but instead represented oppression and a kind of violence done by one another to each other. Out of fear, at least. The regimes that came and went scarred us all. Ten, fifteen years earlier? I am sure the Russians would have snatched me up to turn into way to keep themselves stable. Or to last a few years longer. You have a right to worry."

Bruce Banner has posed:
"I guess so," Banner admits, his mouth contorting into a dull frown. He leans on his elbow, looking down at the table for a long moment before he lets out a long breath. There's something that's gotten to him, that much is sure, but he doesn't wear it easily on his face. If anyone has learned to bury their emotions effectively, it is Bruce Banner.

"Guess I'll," he begins, "Guess I'll leave you to your coffee. I'm up to help out however you need. Just come - just - you know where to find me!"

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda tilts her head, a frown line marking her brow. There could be further things to say there, but she clutches the latte mug and shakes her head in a slow, mystified expression. "Oh."

Blink. Blink. She then breaks into something of a smile. "I'll let you know when I find something. Research to get into the area, and see where the others are. The refugees, and the dealers. Thank you, Bruce."

Those eyes fade in hue slightly as she gets up from the table and gives him a smile, though still perplexed. And upon that front, he's left to his own devices while she retreats. Sometimes it's the surer part of valor.

Bruce Banner has posed:
"Hey, yeah, cool! Looking forward to it. Always wanted to be a spy. Figured if I wasn't going to be a nuclear physicist, I was definitely going to be a spy, you know?"

Banner gives her a thumbs up over his shoulder, taking a sip from the water bottle as he goes: "Bye Wanda."

As soon as he's outside the door he fishes his cell phone from his pocket and fires off a message.

"Idiot," he mumbles to himself as he glances into a mirror while he passes it, "That cells starting to sound better and better."