"Move." Wanda spoke sternly, trying to get to America and get the life she was desperate for. The others had been killed by the witch, it was only you and Captain Marvel standing as the deceased bodies of your fellow illuminati surrounded you. "It's not her!" Captain Marvel yelled as she was held down by Wanda's crimson magic with one hand. She was fueled with the Darkhold's spells and was taken over by the temptations.

Wanda was a very familiar face, you stood there like a deer in headlights as you looked at her robot-oil-splattered face from when she was breaking them apart earlier, sharp green eyed with determination and anger.

It's not her.. she's not.. it's not Wanda. It's not Wanda. At least not the one you know... or knew.

Wanda had no idea who you were, not this Wanda at least. To her you were just another little obstacle she could so easily get rid of.