Author's note:
Hey there! Thanks for taking time out to read my story! :D I really appreciate it. If you guys have any suggestions, comments, or anything to say then please let me know down below! :)
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Marvel or anything related to it, and I do NOT write this story for ANY profit, and strictly for entertainment purposes.
This story takes place after Avengers 2 (the movie "Age of Ultron"), and it also takes place after Captain America 3: Civil War.
That all being said... Please enjoy the story :)
The dark streets of New York glistened as a light trickle of rain poured down from above. The city never really did sleep, considering that for being three in the morning, the city was anything but quiet. There was constant traffic and late-night pedestrians. Among those pedestrians, stood a young woman, in a dark maroon overcoat, holding a black umbrella over her head. She stood at the corner of a street, tapping her foot impatiently and checking her watch. People passing by her quickly, helping her blend in. Wanda's eyes reflected the moonlight, holding herself up strongly as footsteps approached slowly behind her.
"Would you like to hear a joke?" came a familiar voice from behind her.
She chuckled, and agreed without needing to turn around.
"Two toasters are sitting on a counter." the voice says, revealing Vision now joining her underneath the umbrella, "One toaster turns to the other, and says: 'Do you ever feel empty inside?' The other toaster replies: 'Oh my God! A talking toaster!'" Vision smiled.
Wanda paused for a moment, trying to keep her cool… And then lost it, by bursting out laughing. "I get it! It's because you're the toaster, right?"
Vision took a step back, flabbergasted. He was not a toaster? He was clearly something much more. Could she not see that?
She continued to laugh, and he gave in, choosing not taking her comment seriously.
"Yes, very funny." he agreed in a monotone voice, "Although, I did not ask you to come all the way here to listen to my joke." He sighed, "I have something that I thought you may be interested in."
As she slowly recovered from her laughter outbreak, a newspaper settled in his hand. She raised an eyebrow as he handed it towards her.
She opened it up suspiciously, to read the headline: 'Sokovia riots still want justice! Suspected gathering this Friday! Lock your doors!'
"I don't get it." Wanda sighed, "Why do you show me this? It's just another stupid, and mad crowd angry for what we've done…" she gasped, "What I've done…"
"Many more lives would have been lost if you were not there Wanda. That makes you a hero" he argued, but knowing that it wouldn't help, he continued: "I want you to look closer here," he whispered, pointing at the cover photo.
They both leaned in, focusing on a small figure in the background. His chin was sharp, his hair messy and blond, and he wore a hoodie a size too small for him.
"There's no way. No. Impossible." Wanda argued, pain filling her voice.
"There's only one way to be certain. I thought it may be something… You and I may want to see for ourselves?"
Her face widened, "V! Do you know how dangerous that would be?! We would have to attend the riot just to look around! It's probably not even him!"
"Probably?" Vision echoed.
Wanda threw the newspaper against her face, somehow hoping it would help her come to her senses. "It cannot be. He died. You and I both saw it?! Yes?! EVERYONE saw it!" her voice now fluctuated with anger, yet she knew deep down inside that if there was a chance it was him… She had to know.
Vision watched her and patiently waited, knowing that she would eventually convince herself to go.
"It will be dangerous," she said.
"Yes. It will be."
"But what if we-"
"If we do get to any point of trouble, then I can-"
"You can what? Contact Stark? I can't V. If either Stark or Steve ever found out that we had met up…"
A long pause followed.
The silence was only slowly convincing her.
"Should I purchase the travel tickets?" she asked, breaking the silence.
"I already have bought them. The plane leaves late tomorrow night."
"Good." she breathed, looking back at the newspaper. She knew it was probably foolish, but she had to know for sure. She looked one last time at the figure, and prayed that it really was who she thought it was.
She prayed that it really was her brother Pietro.
