Everyone's being so angsty about it I thought that Fundy being fed on the floor as atoddler just implied that he hated being secured in a high chair because it was restricting and would climb on the table or flop around if he was put in a regular seat So first time single father Wilbur went "y'know what fine what do you want" and what Fundy wanted was to crawl around and have a blast during mealtime

While Wanda Maximoff’s show WandaVision plays on, those on the outside have no choice but to watch the broadcast and strategize on how to move forward. Ever since the Scarlet Witch crashed a debriefing meeting in the city and took a few Avengers back to a glitching Westview with her, everyone has known that time is rapidly running out. That included Monica Rambeau, who was on a desperate mission to get through the Hex barrier one way or another.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

CAROL: The red tinged barrier shot up so high into the sky Carol couldn't see above it. As she used one hand to cover her eyes and block out the sun, she wondered idly how much force it would take to hit it from the top -- if maybe it was weaker there than on the edges. But considering Wanda, Carol figured she'd either slingshot back out with a threatening force or get swallowed up and rearranged into someone new and different. Neither outcome made her feel particularly confident, so her boots stayed planted on the ground as the team set up shop behind her. Military grade tents were surrounded by armed trucks and one larger truck in particular that contained their only current method for breaking through the wall. The sinking feeling in her gut told her that nothing man made was getting through that barrier, but Monica had made the call and Carol was tired of arguing with her. With a sigh, she turned away from the barrier and walked back over towards the table set up with the monitoring system, their only access to the happenings inside. Circling the table, she went to stand behind a man with a set of headphones covering his ears and she asked for an update, her eyes momentarily darting back towards the barrier as he lowered the headphones. "It seems they're setting up a party." he said, tone flat and straight to the point, but it rose a little as he pointed towards the screen and made a few taps on his keyboard. "But look here," Carol took a vacant seat and leaned in, following his finger to watch a lamp flicker into different shapes and forms as it sat on the end table, morphing and changing. "Rambeau," Carol said, voice clipped, to get her attention. "There appears to be something going on with Maximoff's powers."

CLINT: Clint rocked back on his heels, his hands digging further into his pockets as he felt the telltale warning of rain prickle against his skin. He was getting antsy, stuck on the wrong side of the battle, people they needed trapped inside, held hostage by someone he'd easily called a friend in the past. It all felt unreal, but that didn't mean he didn't show up when called. He adjusted the holster that fit snuggly across his chest even if it was useless in this type of scenario. He just remembered the last time he faced a barrier that stretched into the sky and what stood behind it and the weapons strapped to his body kept him in a solid state of mind. "Starting to crack?" he asked, inferring even if he couldn't see the monitor Danvers was perched in front of. "Took long enough."

SCOTT: Scott stood by idly, posture similar to Clint’s the tenseness in his shoulders increased. Reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, he watched as closely as he could, eyes flicking between multiple screens so quickly and so erratically it began to dredge up a headache. “I don’t know if ‘starting to crack’ is what we need right now, man,” he vaguely addressed Clint, “Wanda’s powers don’t bode well with ‘starting to crack’.”

MONICA: It was good to see Goodner again, no pun intended. They went way back even if Monica preferred to keep her personal relations close to her chest. Everyone knew her connection to Carol -- and look how well that had turned out. The two women had their heads bowed towards one another as Goodner updated her, but upon hearing Carol speak Monica excused herself with a small smile. “--What’s that?” She asked, eyes turning to the screen. A frown settling over her face, Monica tapped the monitor and shook her head. “When she gave birth -- when I was Geraldine -- something like this happened. She made a painting of a stork flap around the house. But that was the stress of labor. Something’s bothering her to that extent then. Which means, we may not have much time.”

JESSICA: Never one to miss the fun twice, Jessica had taken to sitting cross legged on the table behind Clint’s chair. She really, in all honesty, was there to make sure Monica and Carol didn’t come to blows. Not that Carol listened to Jessica, but, hey. She tried. “I’d say we’re past starting,” she tsked, chin rested on the top of Clint’s head. “And more on complete meltdown. I have a toddler. I know how this goes. It isn’t pretty. The difference with Gerry is that when he throws his toys it doesn’t matter. They’re plastic. Wanda’s using people here.”

CLINT: "So we need to get people in there now." Clint's hands instinctively flexed where he was gripping his biceps as his arms sat folded across his chest. "Before it all goes to shit."

SCOTT: “Forgive me if this sounds a bit redundant, but haven’t we tried that already? The more people we send in, the more we risk Wanda losing complete control. I mean— am I off base here or what?” Scott asked, looking for someone more knowledgeable on the situation to confirm or deny his assumption.

CAROL: "If we're looking at a meltdown situation, especially with Hayward planning his advances, we might be able to save some people if we can get in. Even if that breaks the foundation, staying on the outside is doing nothing." Carol responded, still watching the screen and following the objects as they shifted and changed eras.

MONICA: “This is a nightmare.” Monica dragged her hand over her face. “Before Darcy got lost, she intercepted a transmission. Hayward wasn’t disassembling Vision. He was rebuilding him to make a weapon and it didn’t work until Wanda got his body. I think she needs to know that.”

PIETRO: He let most of them talk among themselves for a good while, opting to listen for once instead. After the last conversation he’d had with his sister, he wouldn’t say he was at ease with the situation, but the nerves were less raw. Moving to stand near Monica, he met her gaze. “You still want to go in?”

MONICA: At this point, she had nearly gnawed a hole in her bottom lip. It was better than biting her nails, at least. Maria had broken her of that habit quickly with some terrible homemade concoction she had lathered her daughters fingers in. “I have to.” Monica confirmed. “What was Wanda like when you saw her last?”

NATASHA: While the others talked, Natasha had taken to standing and staring quietly at the monitors. Sam, Bucky -- even her sister, smiling more than Natasha knew she’d ever see her smile again. No sign of Steve yet but he was sure to be nearby. “All these glitches, all these errors. Have any of them happened to someone alive?”

PIETRO: Pietro shifted some, rolling his shoulders. “She’s different than when she came to that meeting. She’s not totally willing to give up Westview just yet, but there’s hope. She’s giving up certain aspects of the denial—notice a certain terrible version of myself hasn’t been around. I don’t mean Tommy.” Though the jab was amusing, it just didnt pack the same punch without his nephew around to hear it.

SCOTT: Watching reality shift and warp around them on the screens in the subtlest of ways, Scott couldn’t help but think about what he’d have done if he were one of the ones sucked into the Hex. The answer was a resounding ‘who knows’ - and he could only ponder if the others felt just as lacking in confidence. He turned to Natasha after she asked a question that was surely on all of their minds, “Let’s hope not.”

JESSICA: “--Jesus,” Jessica’s tailbone was getting stiff from the table but she couldn’t look away from the broadcast. “Is someone writing this or are they all improv?”

CAROL: The monitors were set up to keep track of Wanda and also keep track of the time square show Wanda had set up. Carol watched with intent as the scenes shifted across their varying teammates, settling briefly on Sam and James as they chatted. The corner of her lip quirked at the man Wanda had turned him in to - a complete caricature of the man Carol knew. It would almost be annoying if Carol wasn't already so furious with Wanda for this entire set up.

JESSICA: She just bit back a laugh and covered her mouth. It was bad bad.

MONICA: “Hey, hey, hey --” Monica shot upright in her chair. “Vision is back. He’s back but -- where’s Darcy? He’s dressed like an Avenger still. He shouldn’t remember that.”

CAROL: “We haven’t gotten a bead on Darcy since she went in.” Carol admitted reluctantly, voice just above a murmur. Carol wanted to answer Monica’s question buried within her statement, but she didn’t have an answer. She just chewed on her bottom lip as she watched the screen, watched as reality slipped from Wanda’s grasp, morphing and changing. “We have the Rover.” She said after another minute of watching the screen, voice directed at Monica. “It’s a stupid idea but it’s worth a shot.”

MONICA: God, Darcy. She was an adult and highly capable but a part of Monica felt guilty. Maybe she had grown up with a skewed perception of heroes and what that meant. She had seen one as a little girl and decided she would be one for her mother as well. Now, Monica realized it wasn’t about being the hero. It was doing the right thing when it scared the hell out of you. “I trust Goodner.” Even though she hadn’t asked for Carol’s approval it was nice to partially have. “And I trust their stats. I’m going to change.” Shooting Jimmy a quick smile, Monica excused herself. When she reappeared it was in the astronaut’s suit, white bulky gear slowing her movements. “All goes well, I make a path straight towards Wanda.”

CAROL: "And if it all goes to shit?" Carol asked, having removed herself from the chair to stand by the large truck that was having its door lowered into a ramp. Inside, the SWORD Rover was being slowly removed, the large tires digging tracks into the earth. "Trust only goes so far. If you get sucked in again, Wanda might just very well kill you." she added, tone dipping as she inspected the vehicle. "I'm not trying to change your mind, I know I won't, but I wish we knew more before sending you in."

MONICA: “Honestly, I don’t have anything left.” For as much as she wanted to look strong in front of her aunt, Monica couldn’t keep the sadness out of her voice. “I don’t. Not since I woke up from the Blip. But I have this. Maybe Wanda tries to kill me. Maybe she gets it right. I wish I knew, but my mom taught me a lot about taking risks. She’d never have founded S.W.O.R.D. if she wasn’t willing to put it all on the line.” Monica tugged the hood and helmet over her head. “But maybe Wanda doesn’t kill me and I’ll wave to the metaphoric camera.”

SCOTT: Scott let out a slow sigh, glancing at Monica with admiration and underlying worry, muttering under his breath, “Bravest person I know.”

CAROL: Carol looked over towards her, donning the SWORD suit that was supposed to keep her protected; about to enter a rover that was supposed to be able to sustain the onslaught of Wanda's magic. Carol's fingers dug into her palms as she redirected her attention, watching the team do final checks. "Yeah. Yeah, I get that." She said, voice softer than it had been. "If you don't come back from this, Rambeau, I'm punching a hole straight through that barrier and putting Wanda down myself." She knew, deep down, the threat couldn't hold heat because Carol wasn't confident she could do it, but goddamnit, she would try. She would beat at that wall until it caved and then she would deal with the woman who had caused all these issues.

MONICA: Starting to walk backwards, Monica shook her head with a tired chuckle. “Yeah, Danvers? I wanna see you try. I’ll get your man back. Darcy, Wanda, Vision. I’m going to fix this.” She met Goodner by the rover and reached out to squeeze the Major’s hand with her gloved ones. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” She left her standing there as she climbed into the vehicle and began flipping all the proper switches. Jimmy and Goodner were checking the connection and counting her down and then Monica was moving straight towards the Hex. As the rover gained speed she sucked in a breath a second before contact. Instead of sailing through as promised the rover hit the barrier. Hard. Monica shoved the throttle down, determined to push her way inside. There was a terrible grinding sound and the static of the hex that together formed a disorienting cacophony of discordant sounds. Destabilizing --- that was Goodner. Jimmy was correcting her. What was he saying? The floor beneath the pedal flickered red and Monica shoved her leg upwards to avoid it. No, it was being rewritten. Monica made the realization at the same time as Jimmy. She heard them call for her to abort but she couldn’t bring herself to eject. She said she had it. She had to get it. Folding her body to escape the red flicker of Wanda’s magic, Monica let out a frustrated grunt before undoing the locks and flinging the top of the hatch open. Her escape was messy. She fell, bouncing off the side before landing flat on her back. The rover - now a flatbed - flipped and rolled over. Someone was calling for a medevac but Monica just stared at the stars for a moment as she stared up at the sky. Then she was on her feet, head shaking as she stared at Jimmy, Carol and the others across the expanse of the field.

CAROL: Carol was already halfway across the field, the medevac close behind but she was faster than them. "Goddamnit!" she shouted, frustrated into the air around her. Her eyes shot towards the barrier, how it shimmered and shook, like the invasion had just pissed it off. "Rambeau, fall back, now." she hoped her voice carried loud enough across the field, because Monica was still just staring at her, not moving.

MONICA: She knew. She knew what she had to do. It was what she always had to do. Major Goodner’s rover had seemed like such a perfect, easy option. Of course it hadn’t worked. Standing there feeling as if she had been stripped bare, Monica heard Carol’s words bounce around her ears but she wasn’t listening. She was just looking at Jimmy, knowing that he also knew what had to happen.

JIMMY: “Monica, no!” Woo shouted from across the field. He knew exactly what she was about to do and sure enough, no sooner did the agent get the words out did Monica start running for the barrier. “MONICA!!” he screamed after her, jogging two steps just to grind to a halt. There was no way he’d get to her, she was gonna run straight into the barrier — again.

MONICA: What was identity? Identity (noun): the fact of being who or what a person or thing is. But what, then, composed ones self? Monica had always felt like she knew who she was. A precocious child Mrs. Lewis would chuckle as she left the house after a day of babysitting while Maria was at work, patting Monica’s mother lightly on the shoulder. Dreams bigger than her hair. Starry eyed. It didn’t matter. The second Monica knew what she wanted her mind was set and she would work her ass off. Maria Rambeau had kissed the stars and seen space. Her daughter would settle for nothing less. Valedictorian. Deans List. Top recruit. Monica closed her eyes and saw cosmos and the path she would need to take them. Joining S.W.O.R.D. didn’t come exclusively from the fact that her mother had founded it. S.H.I.E.L.D. was gone by the time she had reached a point where she could enlist as an agent and S.W.O.R.D. felt familiar. It was home. Now, in Maria’s absence, Monica wanted to cling to it even more and it physically ached when she saw the bare bones that Hayward had reduce it to. Hayward, who had always seemed like a decent guy even if his jokes just bordered on too self-involved. That, however, was irrelevant. The only thing relevant was the identity of one Monica Rambeau and how her self was currently being torn apart. She had entered Wanda’s Hex before, sucked right through the crimson and spit out as someone else altogether. That was before. Before Wanda had thrown her from town and caused her cells to metastasize. Before Monica had realized that hollow ache she had filled with drive was confirmation that she had nothing left to lose and therefore had to be the one to try. She was Monica Rambeau, daughter of Maria Rambeau. She would not lose herself to Wanda fucking Maximoff again. Her identity was her own even if it stretched both in front and behind her. There was Geraldine in her life 60′s dress. Geraldine in her bulletproof 70′s pantsuits. Monica in her S.W.O.R.D. windbreaker they day she had touched the barrier. A Monica in white trailing behind, parts of herself not yet actualized. Her childhood form never materialized. In so many ways Monica still was that girl. Your mom’s lucky, it was Carol’s voice, back when Monica had looked at her and saw everything she could ever want to be. When they handed out kids they gave her the toughest one. She was right. Monica was tough as hell, even if Maria wasn’t there to see it. She was tough with or without Carol’s validation. Where she had once been pushing on the Hex she was now completely submersed. She hadn’t realized she had been screaming or that her jaw ached from where her teeth were grinding into one another. Maybe I could fly up and meet you halfway. Halfway. Half --- A hazy glow covering her eyes, it was a primal scream that was ripped from Monica’s chest as she hit the inner edge of the Hex. Maria, dead. Her mother, gone. What was left? It was easier to give in, to let go. The boat was filling with water and Wanda would provide a liferaft. Wanda would --- Silence. Monica sucked in a breath, mind reeling from the narrowly avoided mental invasion. She blinked to clear her vision... what was wrong with her sight? She had seen Westview before. It was bright and boring. Now red and purple wavelengths rippled in the sky as everything pulsed. Westview was alive. Blinking again, the haze faded away and the colors slowly blurred back to normal. Unhooking her helmet so she could peel off her suit, Wanda broke into a sprint towards the town. She needed to find Wanda. They were running out of time.

FOR MORE, READ THE WESTVIEW BARBECUE CHAT.