I woke up to see sunlight streaming through the cheap orange plastic of the tent. The sleeping bag beside me was empty, so I assumed that Bucky had already left the tent. The morning air was brisk, and I was reluctant to exit my sleeping bag. I was traveling across the country with Captain America, Hawkeye, Ant-Man,the Winter Soldier (who no longer had Winter Soldier implants in his brain) and the Falcon. The captain wanted to establish a new Avengers organization called the West Coast Avengers- I guess he wasn't optimistic about the future of his friendship with Stark, or perhaps he still had a conflict with him as I did. But in any case, Steve wanted to found his own group of Avengers on the West Coast, specifically L.A. I wished we could just fly there. But the captain does not have the resources of Tony Stark, unfortunately.
Finally I mustered the energy to extricate myself from my sleeping bag and get dressed in a warm black coat and torn olive-colored jeans. I exited my tent. It must have been eight, eight-thirty, so everyone else was up and eating, except Scott, who was probably still snoring in his tent.
"Hey, Wanda," Cap greeted me, looking sullen. "Loki just appeared."
"Who is Loki?" I asked.
"A psychotic evil-doer," responded Clint drily. Apparently Loki was not his favorite person.
"He tried to take over the world," added Steve. "But after his plan failed, I thought Thor brought him back to Asgard and he was punished."
"Guess not," said Sam. "What do we do about it?"
"Nothing, I guess," replied Steve. "He appeared when I woke up, right in front of me, and told me that it was 'time for a little mischief'."
"That's not concerning," said Clint.
"Why does that mean we can't do anything?" I remembered vaguely that Loki was an evil god in Norse mythology, that he was supposed to start Ragnarok.
"Because he disappeared."
"He'll come back," replied Sam optimistically. "Right?"
"I don't know why you're hoping that happens," said Clint sarcastically, "but stop."
"Sam's right," said Cap. "We're safer if we know where Loki is, than if we don't know where he is, why he's here, or what he's planning to do."
Bucky just looked confused. "Wait, who's Loki?" I settled beside him, resting my head on his metal shoulder.
Clint gave him a scathing look. "An evil man in evil clothes who's apparently come back to do a few more tricks. As though the first time wasn't enough."
"What did Loki do to you?" I asked, it being clear that Clint had a personal problem with the trickster god.
"Remember when I told you that I had already been through the mind control thing, that I wasn't a fan?"
"He controlled your mind." I paused. "I like this guy already."
"He's evil, Wanda," Steve reminded me, smiling nonetheless.
Bucky shrugged, his new metal arm flexing with the motion. "Whatever. When the trouble comes, it comes. No sense worrying." The arm had been a gift from T'Challa, the king of Wakanda. It still had a star on the shoulder, but now it was white instead of red, possibly to indicate his affiliation with Captain America.
Scott came out of the blue plastic tent that he shared with Sam, yawning and stretching. He was very unshaven, and smelled like a pig that had rolled in AXE body spray. I didn't know which was worse: the pig part, or the AXE part. It was a sharp contrast with Bucky, who always smelled like maple syrup(weird, I know), or with Cap, who smelled like lemon shampoo. It is difficult to shower while you're camping, but you couldn't not shower, right? Especially when there are people like Steve or Bucky around.
"What's going on?" asked Scott, suddenly realizing that he was being stared at.
"Loki's back," said Clint. "Also, you smell terrible. Though I'm sure you would be attractive to a vulture prostitute."
"Thank… you?" replied Scott, uncertain.
"Not a compliment," I told him, wrinkling my nose.
"I thought girls liked this stuff," he protested.
"We do not."
"Good to know," he muttered, getting a half-eaten protein bar from the bag. "Aw, man! Peanut butter?"
"What's wrong with peanut butter?" asked Bucky. "It's the stuff of my childhood. Though I have to admit, it tastes much better now."
"Peanut butter existed when you were a kid?" asked Sam.
"Yes. It was invented in 1895."
"Huh."
"Well, I don't like it," replied Scott childishly.
"You must make PB&J's for your daughter," insisted Clint. "How can you not?"
"Well, yeah, but I don't eat them. Also, I don't exactly have custody of her, so…"
"That's nice. How are we going to deal with… um…" Cap trailed off as three figures appeared out of nowhere in a cloud of black mist. One was female, with dark curly hair and a pissed-off expression. The second had tan skin and an old-fashioned moustache, and the third was...
"Pietro," I gasped, looking at my brother's face, the real one, for the first time in two years. My heart almost stopped, I swear it did. But after that it swelled, and I ran to him, embracing him, smelling his cat-like scent and crying. I couldn't stop crying.
"Hey, Wanda. It's OK," said Pietro, smiling into my hair. "I'm here now."
"I missed you so so much," I exclaimed, my voice muffled by his shirt. He was wearing the same shirt he had been when he died, but it was not stained with blood. In fact, he looked and felt remarkably alive. His muscles were just as warm and comforting as I remembered them.
In the background I heard Cap say, "Peggy? Howard?" I didn't know who these Peggy and Howard people were and I didn't care. I had my brother back, and the whole rest of the world was shut out.