Smile

Ein

Her eyes flickered with the dangerous red noted for bringing out fated nightmares as they drifted purposefully from one new recruit to the other, questioning Fury's resolve at bringing in those he ineptly dubbed 'The Avengers' to what was amounting to be simply another superhero pissing contest. They had settled long enough to bring in a criminal who had done very little, according to the witch, yet managed to warrant detention within the large glass prison meant for the angry half of the scientist. They had just been treated to the man's self-declaration of greatness, giving slight to Banner and the rest, before his screen time was cut off to allow the beings to only guess at what he was planning.

"He has an army called the Chitauri..." Said Thor, continuing with information which interested the witch little.

What did interest her was the lack in interrogation of the prisoner. It seemed to suffice amongst the group to play at these guessing games rather than digging at the source of their anarchy. Once the ideas ceased to be tossed around Fury would likely send his favorite negotiator to retrieve the answer; Natasha would have it out after her own witty little game of hunt and peck. Tony Stark joined in the conversation without skipping a beat. The twins had since made peace with the man, though to say they cared for him would be a great stretch. They sufficed to their world, at least for the moment, coexisting with his until this game in particular was over. Wanda gave a roll of her eyes when Stark pointed out, whether for truth or play, one of Fury's crewmen playing a game of Galaga, which she did not care to verify. Pietro, on the other hand, cast a quick glance to the man he had befriended over said game and dearly hoped no occasion would occur to dismiss the man and his plentiful distractions from duty and reality.

"I want to know how he used it to turn two of the sharpest people I know into his own personal flying monkeys." Fury stated with sternness.

Wanda's eyes traveled from the group to her brother, who stood beside her before the table at which she sat. The twins locked eyes and a silent agreement was had between them as though Fury's line was their cue, and they vanished without a word to the group. The others, however, sent many a word after them as they made off, however none would prove able to catch the two as Pietro lifted his sister and, as he does, flashed to Loki's cell.

"Go see what they're up to, if you can get there before they've finished." Fury ordered with irritation to anyone and everyone.

Thor, Cap, Stark and Widow took flight, leaving Banner behind. He had made the intelligent decision not to become too highly involved in matters not involving the location of the Tesseract lest he break his streak. He wandered back to his own little hovel with Fury's only eye watching intently. Those that ventured forth would find themselves too late in preventing—or even witnessing—very much of what the twins had planned. Necessary or not, they would find themselves under a heavy lecture brought about by the scrupulous Captain America, who at that very moment was already forming the lines he would use upon them even though he was sure they would fall upon the ignorant ears of children who would turn to do whatever they wanted anyway, as children are wont to do.

Reaching the cell, Pietro pressed the button to let open the door and rushed he and Wanda through. He set his sister down and, before Loki had even partially turned to view the event, the blurr of a superhuman was on him. Pietro knocked the demigod to the ground and pinned him, taking the leather-clad man in a tight grip from behind while the witch encroached upon his space. Loki hadn't the privilege of asking what was going on, though he could not deny expecting some form of force from his captor long before any were presented, though he would be lying if he said he had expected the force from two children. Before Loki could make protest Wanda was inside his mind. She pushed through, easily enough given its improper lack of expectation and dropped guard, rummaging through with purpose to even the blackest depths in which he could be hiding information. What she found would both satisfy her curiosity and imprint a feeling of unrelenting horror upon her own soul.

Images flashed before her, both in her mind and before her as she stood within Loki's. They came as swiftly as Pietro could run yet maintained their clarity for the intrusive woman's investigation. She saw his sordid past: conflict dominating over loyalty, desire overcoming love, torture erasing memory; all the proper ingredients for making a monster out of a prince. She watched as Loki searched through blind eyes for the approval of a father he forgot loved him, the words 'No, Loki' an etched echo within his mind that did not allow for wounds to heal or reason to rise. She watched him let himself fall, however it was in his mind that the words forced his hand. She saw him with the Chitauri, their leader, and the menacing God-like being which she could not have formed even in her own nightmares. She heard voices she could not identify and words in tongues she did not understand. Here, the images flared and whipped faster as though desperate not to be seen. She saw blood, darkness, and green eyes gleaming through it all with fury and fright. It seemed as though a horror movie had taken the place of the mind in which she occupied with Loki as its star and victim. The Tesseract came in and out of the visions, along with 5 distinct gems which had no explanation, while a battered Earth roamed aside. It was battle-worn, she could tell, yet whether or not it had been conquered was still to be determined. The one constant Wanda took note of was the beautiful, alien world in the far distance which pierced the darkness as a sort of beacon of hope. She saw a grand city, beautiful mountains and landscapes, thriving people, with a grand golden palace at the center of everything; the only beauty in a mind full of fury.

The next thing the witch heard was a dark voice resonating through this movie repeating the same line laced with mocking viciousness... you think you know pain...

And then she saw a man. He was dark haired and clad in a tattered green tunic, dirty black leather pants, and nothing else. His back was to her as he lay, curved partially into a ball with skin as blue as one who had been frozen alive. She gained a moment of calm in this scene and chose to walk around to see his face. Eyes as red as blood stared as though dead to the nothingness before them. Rigid wrinkles gave a rust-colored tarnish to the otherwise-even blue skin which were undoubtedly the remnants of severe burns. The face held a look of pain attempting to be overcome while the body shook as it continued to disobey and succumb to it. This was the face of the prisoner within whose mind she now trespassed. She stared at this pitiful creature as emotions swelled within her, some belonging to her and others not, until she felt she would burst. Around she and the prisoner appeared suddenly, grey alien beings clad in strange robes with the top half of their faces obscured and an extra thumb on each hand. Some sneered in sadistic pleasure while others frowned in disappointment. As they closed in, Loki gave a jagged scream. It was not from pain or anger or fear, to the little witch's surprise, but one of the greatest of sorrows. As the vision faded and Wanda reemerged within her own world, she found that the wail came not from Loki, but from herself.

Wanda stumbled back clumsily, landing upon the glass wall with eyes upon the crumpled man on the floor, her cry echoing within the chamber. Pietro had, at some unknown time, released the God to fumble upon the ground and now stood staring at his twin with wide, worry-filled eyes. Her vision became blurred with the hot tears which came at no authority and whose presence none, not even Wanda, could explain. Her wail faded into silence as she slid down the wall to be seated upon the floor and her body began to shake uncontrollably. Nothing within Loki's mind had she expected to see and none of it she wished to remember; torture, bitterness, and a beauty so seemingly unobtainable that it was simply a suffering rather than repose. How she wished—demanded—that Loki take it all back and reveal it to be part of some grand lie that would once again marry reality to expectation. Yet as she watched the pathetic creature obtain the same pose in which she had last seen him, she felt the tormenting wrench within her heart and soul which put unwelcome truth to this reality.

The next thing she knew was Pietro feeling her face and forehead, clammy and pale, saying words to her she only heard as far away murmurs. Loki's eyes seemed dead, staring into the beyond. His body was still, enhancing the feeling of death about him. Thor was the first one to him. The large Norse man called to his brother with pleas which clouded memories of Loki's transgressions; forgiveness laced the Thunder God's voice as though it were a life preserver to coax Loki from whatever stupor he had found himself within. The other makeshift Avengers walked slowly into the cell with curious, cautious minds at play, though gave a respectful buffer around the brothers. Pietro helped his twin to her feet, her eyes remaining obsessively upon Loki. She felt herself walk with no will of her own while still doing so thoughtlessly. Thor's voice became clearer to her, as the rest of the world followed like that out of a white fog, and she finally managed to make clear, the words he uttered to his younger brother. Trite, trivial, and wavering, they were not words from a mighty God of legends.

"Brother... are you there? Wake up..." he said softly while holding the other's head in his hand.

As Wanda and Pietro reached the door they heard a sharp gasp from behind stop them in their tracks and turn, alert. Loki made the first notion of life since Wanda had invaded and torn apart his mind in her search for answers; he gasped deeply, again, and again before he was allowed to do so more quietly. His body shook, and his head raised itself from the ground to look upon the wicked witch. His eyes were sunken in and shadowed by dark circles, bloodshot and holding a noticeable blue behind them. They both glared and looked without feeling to Wanda. Loki's face was more pale than death, sweat-soaked, with jagged grey lines appearing like ghosts along his neck and over his sallow cheeks. He looked as a monster from the depths of a man's worst nightmares ready to snatch the life of the woman before him with not but the utmost vitriol powering his motives. Wanda felt her blood run cold at the sight of him and yet it would prove as not but a prelude to the horror to follow.

A smile stretched and curled along Loki's agape mouth to show a toothy, callous grin one usually associated only with killers right before they landed another notch to their knife hilt. A stale, dry laugh came next, and the last thing Wanda would see or hear in that hour before darkness overtook her was but a word escaping through brittle, chapped lips belonging to the man of mischief:

"Smile..."

~...Nur sagen Sie sich, es ist nur ein Traum...~