Kapitel 2: Chapter 2: Crafting

The rhythmic clang of metal against metal echoed through the dimly lit room, each strike deliberate and forceful.

Pietro wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, his face set in determined concentration. He had been at it for hours, hammering away at the molten metal he'd salvaged from the wreckage of a Chitauri ship. The YouTube tutorial he'd quickly watched had given him enough guidance, but the work was still painstaking.

He lifted the blade he'd been working on and examined it closely. A sigh of frustration escaped his lips—it wasn't right. Again. The weapon was far from perfect, a flawed reflection of the precision he demanded of himsel.

Setting the blade aside, he grabbed a towel and wiped his face, the weight of failure pressing down on him. His eyes drifted to the far side of the room, where Wanda lay slumped over a table, fast asleep.

Her soft, rhythmic breathing was a reminder of the rare moments of peace they shared.

A faint smile tugged at Pietro's lips as he crossed the room, carefully draping a blanket over her shoulders. She murmured in her sleep, something unintelligible, and he watched her for a moment longer before turning back to his chaotic workshop.

Tools and unfinished projects littered the space, a stark reminder of the monumental task ahead. Still, despite the frustration, he was lucky to have found what he needed to even attempt this.

"After this, I'll make some armor," he muttered to himself, though he knew it wouldn't be easy. No matter how fast he was, a single mistake could mean death. The thought gnawed at him.

In the corner, Loki's scepter sat untouched, radiating a dangerous energy. Pietro had yet to decide what to do with it.

Three days passed.

On the cluttered workbench, two short swords rested in their scabbards, gleaming in the faint light. Pietro ran his fingers along the smooth hilts, feeling a quiet satisfaction. At least the swords were finished.

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The armor, however, remained a failure. Frustrated, he hurled his hammer across the room with superhuman speed. It struck the wall with a loud crack, sending chunks of concrete flying.

Wanda, startled by the noise, entered the room. "What happened?" she asked, concern lacing her voice.

"I'm done with the armor," Pietro muttered. "Just grab the Kevlar. We're leaving."

She gave him a small nod and walked toward the armory. No argument, no questions. They had fallen into a rhythm over the past few days—silent understanding and unspoken trust.

Pietro picked up the scepter and followed her, its weight familiar in his grip. By the time they met again in the main hall, both were dressed in black combat gear, Kevlar snug beneath their clothes. The Hydra insignias had been torn off, remnants of a past allegiance now cast aside.

Together, they stood ready, a quiet resolve between them. Pietro adjusted the custom belt Wanda had designed, which held his new swords securely at his back. His grip tightened around the scepter, a silent vow to protect what mattered most.

...

A black Hummer trudged through the snow, its tires crunching over the icy terrain as it moved toward a distant horizon.

Pietro's hands were steady on the wheel, his focus locked on the road ahead, while Wanda sat beside him in the passenger seat, quiet and contemplative.

The back of the vehicle was crammed with supplies, enough to keep them going for the foreseeable future.

"Where are we going?" Wanda broke the silence, curiosity evident in her voice.

"Nepal," Pietro replied simply. "When we reach the border, I'll need you to use your mind tricks."

Wanda raised an eyebrow but didn't press him further. She knew he'd explain when he was ready, and there was no point pushing now. "Why Nepal?"

"I need to find something," Pietro answered vaguely, his tone giving nothing away.

"You and your cryptic plans," Wanda sighed, though there was a hint of playful exasperation in her voice.

Pietro chuckled lightly, the sound barely audible over the engine's hum. But Wanda wasn't about to let him off so easily. She turned to face him, her expression serious. "Pietro, what's going on? You've been... different. What aren't you telling me?"

Pietro hesitated for a moment before responding. "I can see the future," he said, his voice quiet but firm.

Wanda blinked, momentarily taken aback. "What? How?"

"The scepter," Pietro clarified. "It... showed me things. Things we need to prepare for."

"Invasion?" Wanda asked, her concern deepening.

"Not yet. But it's coming," he said, his gaze fixed on the road. "We need to get stronger. That's why we're going to Nepal."

Wanda was quiet for a moment, processing the gravity of what he'd just said. "How long have you been able to do this?" she finally asked.

"Since the day I... dealt with Hydra," Pietro said, his tone darkening with the memory.

Wanda looked at him sharply. "Why did you do it, Pietro? Why did you kill them all?"

Pietro's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Because they deserved it," he replied, his voice hard. "And because they were the ones who killed our parents. Not Stark."

Wanda's eyes widened in shock. "What? But Stark Industries made the rocket—"

"Hydra launched it," Pietro interrupted, his voice bitter. "They were the ones responsible, not Stark."

The revelation hit Wanda like a punch to the gut. All this time, they had been working for the people who had taken everything from them. "Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded, her anger bubbling up.

"I didn't want to weigh you down with it," Pietro said, glancing at her briefly. "I knew you'd find out when you were ready."

Wanda stared at him, frustration mixing with a deep sense of betrayal. She smacked his arm lightly, more in frustration than anything. "You're impossible."

Pietro chuckled again, the tension easing slightly. "I know."

Meanwhile, the Avengers had arrived at Hydra's research base in Sokovia, only to be met with eerie silence. The base, once teeming with life, was now a graveyard. Bloodstains marked the walls, dark and dried, telling the story of the violence that had taken place there.

"This is bad," Natasha murmured, her eyes scanning the area.

The rest of the team moved cautiously, unease settling over them. Something wasn't right.

"I don't like this," Tony said through the comms. "Looks like a trap."

Thor gripped Mjolnir a little tighter. "I agree. We should be on guard."

Tony flew up toward the main research facility, his armor cutting through the air with ease. As he approached, he noticed a shimmering barrier still surrounding the building.

A quick EMP blast took care of it, and he descended into the heart of the complex. The sight that met him turned his stomach—blood and bodies strewn across the floor.

"Cap, you need to see this," Tony said, his voice tense.

The team gathered inside, their expressions grim as they took in the carnage.

"What could've done this?" Steve muttered, his brow furrowed.

Bruce scanned the area, his mind racing. "Could be an experiment gone wrong."

Tony's helmet retracted as he worked at a computer terminal, downloading whatever data he could find. As the security footage played back, the truth became painfully clear—a silver blur, and then death.

"Jarvis, find me everything on these two," Tony ordered, his voice cold.

The names Pietro and Wanda Maximoff flashed across the screen, a stark reminder of the dangerous enemies they now faced. But as Tony dug deeper into the files, one detail stood out—the truth about the Maximoff's parents.

Stark rockets had killed them, but Hydra had pulled the trigger.

Tony felt the weight of guilt settle on him. "Jarvis, get me everything. We need to know what we're dealing with."

With the data secured, the Avengers regrouped, their mission now clearer than ever. The Maximoffs were no longer allies—they were a threat. And stopping them would be no small task.