Chapter 26: Wanda Maximoff
The outskirts of Sokovia.
Amidst the shattered remains of what was once a thriving neighborhood, a single house stood—broken, battered, yet oddly majestic. Unlike the surrounding ruins that had been reduced to near-flat ground, this dilapidated structure clung stubbornly to its skeleton. Its broken windows and cracked walls whispered of the past, of memories lost and battles fought. It was as if fate itself—no, Lady Luck—had chosen to spare this home while everything else had crumbled.
Even maybe more powerful force then fate is protecting this land.
And within its fractured walls, in the remnants of what was once a bedroom, a boy slept.
His silver hair was messy and unkempt, his face peaceful—almost too peaceful for someone in such a place. He slept deeply, curled in a worn-out blanket, oblivious to the chaos beyond.
Until the shaking began.
"Ugh…"
With a groan, the boy's brows furrowed as he was forcibly yanked from his slumber. He blinked slowly, groggily, trying to make sense of the blurry figure hovering over him. His vision focused—and the face of his sister came into view.
A very, very angry face.
"Wanda…?"
He barely managed to speak, his voice still thick with sleep.
But before he could ask what was happening, a voice rang out like a thunderclap.
"You lazy piece of shit!" she yelled, loud enough to almost rupture his eardrums. "Do you even know what time it is?! If I have to sleep hungry again because of you, I swear, I'll eat you instead!"
"W-What…?"
Her yelling snapped him back to reality. Pietro's eyes widened as her words sank in.
Oh no.
That's right.
He was supposed to pick up the relief food today. Their only real source of sustenance these days.
"Shit—!" He scrambled out of the blanket, panicked and rushing to get dressed.
But before he could even reach the door—
BANG.
The rusted entrance burst open with a loud crash.
Both siblings turned, startled.
Standing in the doorway was a man dressed in a cheap-looking black suit. Though it wasn't expensive, it was still an unusual sight in this part of town—especially in a place like this. His body was bloated, a massive belly stretching his coat's buttons to their limit. His skin was greasy, his teeth yellow, and what remained of his hair clung desperately to his bald scalp. Despite looking no older than thirty, his sickly appearance made him pass for sixty.
And then, in a voice disturbingly thin and high-pitched for his grotesque form, he spoke.
"You know," he said, smiling, "if you just sleep with me, your life would become very easy. You wouldn't have to worry about food every day like now, little Wanda."
Pietro's hands clenched into fists.
Alexei.
The disgusting son of the local gang leader.
For the past three months, this man had been a persistent, loathsome presence, appearing time and again to harass Wanda with his vile propositions. Pietro knew, with a detached, grim practicality, that Alexei, despite his repulsive ugliness, represented her best, perhaps only, chance. With his powerful background and undeniable wealth, a life as Alexei's lover, however abhorrent, would be countless times better than her current squalor. Everything would be... perfect, if only the bastard wasn't completely insane
This man was a monster.
He had killed his previous two wife with his bare hands.
There was no world in which Pietro would ever let him near his sister ever.
Wanda stepped forward, her voice strained but firm.
"Alexei. How many times do I have to tell you? I don't like you. Leave us alone, pls."
Alexei's expression twisted.
The smile disappeared.
"You bitch. You think you have options? You think you can just say no to me?" he sneered. "I already gave you too much time. If you won't come willingly, then I'll just take you by force."
Before Wanda could react, he grabbed her wrist.
"Let go—!"
She struggled, panic flashing in her eyes.
But then—
CRACK.
A sickening thump echoed in the room.
Alexei dropped like a sack of meat, clutching his head in agony.
Pietro stood there, panting, a worn-out baseball bat in his hand. His eyes burned with rage.
"Y-You bastard…"
The fat man rolled on the ground, groaning, blood trickling from his scalp. He looked up in disbelief.
"You… you know what you've done?" he hissed. "My father knows I'm here. You're dead. Your sister is dead.
If you kill yourself to apologized now, Maybe I'll keep her as my pet—"
CRUNCH.
The second blow landed clean.
Right on the head.
Before he could finish his vile threat, the bat descended with brutal, unhesitating force. It connected directly with his head, a sickening thud echoing in the confined space, utterly mashing his skull. Alexei fell again, this time limp, his eyes wide and vacant, staring up at nothing in disbelieving horror. He couldn't believe it. He, Alexei, would die like this, by the hand of a mere street rat.
Dead.
The bat slipped from Pietro's hands and fell with a hollow thud.
His breathing was uneven. His hands trembled. The weight of what he had done began to crash into him all at once.
Wanda stared in horror.
"P-Pietro… what did you do…?"
"I… he…"
His words were lost.
Then—
THUMP THUMP THUMP.
Five men stormed into the broken home, their weapons drawn.
For a moment, they froze—staring at the scene before them in stunned silence.
That was all the time Wanda needed.
She grabbed her brother's arm.
"Come on!"
"Wha—?"
"Just move!"
Dragging the shell-shocked Pietro behind her, she raced to the broken window and leapt out without hesitation. It was only a one-story fall, but enough to hurt.
Luckily, the recent rain had softened the ground, and they landed without serious injury.
"Wanda… I—"
"Snap out of it!"
SLAP.
Her palm met his cheek with a sharp crack.
"You can feel guilty later—if we survive this!"
Behind them, the five men gave chase, their angry shouts echoing across the broken streets.