Chapter Text
Somewhere over Europe, early winter. Before the darkness. Before the stones. It started like a whisper in the upper atmosphere.
An object. Too fast. Too large. Too late to stop by conventional means.
A meteor the size of Manhattan was on a direct collision course with Earth. Governments panicked. Satellites tracked it. No missile would reach it in time.
But someone else would.
Scene One – The Call
On a snowy hilltop near Prague, Wanda Maximoff stares at the burning trail streaking across the sky. Her breath clouds the air. The red glow of her chaos magic pulses slightly beneath her gloves.
“That’s not a star,” she mutters.
Behind her, a voice with an amused tone:
“Depends how you define falling light.”
Mason Jarr appears from a shimmer of green runes, stepping through a glyph like a doorway. His coat ripples in the wind. He holds a thermos. “Hot chocolate?”
“We’re about to be obliterated.”
“So... you don’t want the cocoa?”
Wanda smirks. Just slightly.
Scene Two – Above the World
With a snap of Mason’s fingers and a flick of Wanda’s wrist, they teleport into low orbit, suspended on intersecting magical fields.
Below them, Earth glows.
Above them: the meteor.
Coming faster.
Burning. Screaming through the void.
“It’s beautiful,” Mason murmurs.
“It’s death,” Wanda replies.
“Eh. Could be both.”
She lifts her hands. Red chaos energy flares to life.
Mason does the same. Green sigils spin into orbit around them.
But separately—it isn’t enough. Her power pulls reality. His power binds it. Neither is designed to stop a planetary impact on their own.
Wanda looks over. “What if we combine it?”
Mason raises a brow. “You want to cross the streams?”
“You know that reference?”
“Sweetheart, I have a film night with Wong every other week.”
Scene Three – Christmas Party
They hover side by side, palms raised.
She glows scarlet. He burns emerald.
Their magic begins to spiral around each other. It starts chaotic—red sparks clashing against green lines. But Wanda guides it gently. Mason reshapes it in kind. Together, it synchronizes—like a dance.
A swirling orb forms between them—red and green light merging into a radiant sphere that pulses like a heartbeat.
“This is insane,” Mason says.
“You have a better idea?”
“Not unless we want to call in Thor and ask him to play baseball.”
The sphere erupts, a beam of intertwined energy shooting toward the incoming meteor. It strikes like a divine lance.
The meteor groans, cracks, then shatters — not explosively, but elegantly. Like colored glass breaking in zero gravity. The fragments burn up in the upper atmosphere, painting streaks of red and green light across the sky.
Below, on Earth...
People look up.
They see a light show.
“It’s like Christmas,” someone whispers in a Paris café.
Scene Four – Afterglow
Wanda and Mason float, exhausted, suspended above the world. Their hands still glow faintly. Their matching grins say it all.
“We did it,” Wanda says.
“We stopped a meteor using red and green magic. That’s... ridiculous.”
“It’s festive.”
They bump shoulders.
“So what do we call it?”
“Operation... Meteor Splat?”
“No.”
“Jingle Blam?”
“Worse.”
She smiles and shakes her head.
“Christmas Party.”
“Seriously?”
“Red and green saved the world. It fits.”
“...I hate how much I love that.”
Mason conjures a magical snowflake and lets it drift between them.
From that day forward, anytime Mason and Wanda combined their magic, it shimmered in red and green. Not always by intention. Sometimes in battle. Sometimes in memory.
They never spoke much about that night.
But when the chaos got too heavy, when fate got too cruel, sometimes Wanda would whisper:
“Let’s throw a Christmas Party.”
And Mason would smile.
No matter the season.