The Unthinkable

Montreal, Quebec, Canada

Wanda's heart always broke whenever she found herself looking into the pained and frightened faces of the innocent people she protected. It was the one part of the job she hated the most; these people were always caught in the middle, and they always lost the most whenever some villain decided he or she wanted to try to take over the city/country/world. It never failed. When the dust settled, theirs were always the lives that were torn to shambles, when they had little, if anything, to do with the conflict.

There was very little more she could do to prevent property damage outside of what she was already doing. Still, that was no excuse not to strive to get better, faster, and more efficient. That, Tony often said, was what separated them from the other heroes, that they not only were the best, but they always strove to get even better.

Wanda didn't know about them being the best. When she was in the Brotherhood, the X-Men often proved themselves extremely competent. In many ways, even more so than the Avengers. That, of course, may have been Tony's pride speaking for him.

She sighed and extinguished a fire blazing around an overturned car. "Don't worry, you'll be out in a moment," she reassured the people trapped inside. As she carefully worked on prying the doors open, she felt a brief, small ping of magic somewhere nearby. It was so small, she very nearly missed it. Her first thought was Thor, but it didn't feel like his usual signature.

Could it be the sorcerer Thor and I felt a few days ago?

An unexpected kiss on the cheek from one of the little girls she saved from the car interrupted her train of thought. She chuckled and ruffled the child's hair.

As she pulled the last of the passengers out and pointed them to safety, it dawned on her that she hadn't seen her brother in the last five minutes. In past missions, she always felt the sudden gust of wind caused by him running past her. It was his way of letting her know he was alright, a habit they formed all the way back in their Brotherhood days. For that to have not happened in the last five minutes immediately made her anxious.

She turned to search for him, in case he needed help. A second later, she found herself on the ground, a sharp pain radiating around her nose. "Ugh. What?" Something evidently hit her in the face. Perhaps a piece of debris lodged loose from Thor's battle with Abomination. She looked in that direction, only to find that the two were fighting three blocks away; certainly too far to send debris in her direction. Which means there must be someone else here working with Abomination.

The only problem with that theory was why would this person wait until now to make themselves known. Obviously, she was vulnerable when alone, and Pietro could be caught off-guard. That had to have been why she hadn't seen him. He must have been in trouble!

She tried to call out to him, but two more blows to her face sent her spiraling to the ground with a hard thud. "What the hell is going on?!" She struggled to her feet, and shuddered at the sight and feel of warm crimson blood dripping onto the trembling ground beneath her. She hadn't been expecting a fight, at least not against someone she couldn't even see. Regardless, whoever it was wasn't going to have an easy time.

Her hands glowed as she charged a pair of hex bolts. "Show yourself, coward!" The only reply was the welcomed gust of wind of her brother running past her. He skidded to a stop and turned to face her. "There you are, brother. I was worried sick about you." He didn't reply. "Well, we have another villain to concern ourselves with. I think whoever it is has superspeed or can turn invisible, so be on guard."

Again, he said nothing in reply. In fact, it didn't even appear that he heard a word she said. Also, he made no note – concerned or otherwise – of the blood that was dripping down the front of her face. She knew that he noticed, because he had been staring at her since he arrived. It was an intense stare that she had never seen from him before. It was almost frightening. It made her nervous.

Something wasn't right.

"Pietro, what's the matter?" He answered by wrapping his hand firmly around her neck. She choked out a strangled gasp and fought both his vice-like grip and her own shock. "What are you doing?" she gasped out.

"What does it look like?" he answered with his usual brashness. "In case it isn't obvious, this is me killing you."

Her eyes grew to saucers. It couldn't... no, this was some kind of a sick joke. Yes, a terribly timed one, but a joke nonetheless. She hoped, prayed that Pietro would quickly burst into laughter and let her go before going on to tend to her bleeding nose. This hope was shattered when he hurled her into a wall behind her.

"Why? Why are... you doing this?" She looked into his eyes. They were empty, devoid of any of the emotion that she had come to expect from him. They were also green, supernaturally so.

She could feel it. She could feel that something had tampered with his mind, his soul. Something or someone had twisted him into something so unrecognizable, it was like she was reading a completely different person.

She could also feel magic pouring off of him like a bitter cloud of smoke. It felt the same as the small ping she felt earlier, and was exactly the same as the magic she felt in New York days ago. It was the sorcerer! "I don't know what that sorcerer did to you, but please, you have to let me help you." Her pleas went unanswered. "Pietro!"

Four jagged pieces of glass appeared in her sides. She screamed out in pain and fell to her knees. "Please! I don't want to hurt you!" she shrieked. Merely speaking took more strength than she had to spare, but it was all she could do. To fight her own brother was unthinkable. She didn't even want to consider it.

"You'll be dead long before that becomes a concern," he uttered coldly. Despite the resolve in his words, he hesitated briefly before stalking toward her.

"Not today!" She pushed him away with telekinesis before firing a concentrated hex bolt at him. "You may look and sound like Pietro, but I will not allow you to impersonate him any longer!" Because it had to have been some kind of doppelganger or illusion, or perhaps a shapeshifter.

The bolt struck true. "Your speed has been cut to a fraction. Give up!"

"Has it?" he whispered in her ear from behind her.

She gasped and jumped forward. "No, impossible!"

"Hmph. You should know that mutant abilities don't work on siblings. Or, have you disregarded that your neck should have been broken a thousand times over."

Any hope that the man standing before her was a pale copy was instantly dashed to pieces. It really was Pietro seeking to kill her, and her heart crumbled. "What has happened to you?" A blow to the chest cracked her diaphragm in half, possibly piercing one or both lungs. She fell back and struck the ground hard, and didn't move.

"It's simple, really," he stated as he walked toward her. An iron pipe appeared in his hand. "She has finally freed me from your bondage. I have a new mistress now, Wanda, and she tells me that you have to go. So, go you shall."

Wanda wanted to reply, but blood was filling her lungs by the second, making it very difficult to breath steadily, much less talk. Her trembling hand reached up for her brother, hoping against hope that there was any other explanation than the truth.

He smacked her hand away. With a sneer so evil, she couldn't bear to keep her eyes open, he raised the pipe over his head. "Goodbye, sister. Say hello to Agatha for me." He attempted to plunge it down into her chest, but it didn't budge. "Huh?"

Thor snatched the pipe away from him and swung his hammer. It hit nothing but air as Pietro dashed away to safety. "What have you done?" he demanded in scarily calm voice.

"What does it look like?" he replied snappishly.

"DO NOT PLAY GAMES WITH ME!" Thor roared. "Your sister, your lone flesh and blood 'pon this planet lies in a pool of her own blood! Blood shed by your very hand! Have you naught an explanation for this betrayal?!"

Pietro held Thor's gaze passively for several long moments. Every second he wasted was another second that slipped through Wanda's dying fingers, Thor realized. If Pietro was planning on killing Wanda right then and there, he would have done so by then.

It was then that he realized that he had been staring at an afterimage. Pietro had long since left. Gone without a trace. "Damn it all." Thor felt the same magical signature that Wanda felt, only it was much fresher than it was in New York. Fresh enough for him to recognize it. "It cannot be," he muttered to himself. He shook his head and turned his attention to more pressing matters. He turned to look Wanda over, only to see that her eyes were closed and she wasn't moving.

Panic rose in his chest as he checked for a pulse, as Jane had taught him years ago. He found one, albeit weak. "Captain," he spoke into the comm, "bring the quinjet down. We must depart to the nearest SHIELD facility with all haste."

=Okay, but we can't leave until the cleanup crew arrives. Fury's orders.=

"To Hel with Fury's orders! Scarlet Witch is gravely injured and needed medical attention this very instant!"

There was a soft whimper from her end, which coaxed a sigh from Thor. =R-roger that. I'm radioing the helicarrier to get medical ready.=

"My thanks, Captain." Thor hooked his hammer to his belt and gently scooped Wanda into his arm. Warm blood dripped from her wounds and smeared onto his forearms. It wasn't the first time he had an ally's blood on his hands; unfortunately, it wouldn't be the last. Why, Pietro?

The soft whine of the jet's engines as it descended carefully a few yards away from him snapped his burning gaze free from the prone witch. "Il y aura une équipe qui arrivera sous peu pour aider les blessés et la destruction de," he informed an incoming officer. "Je m'excuse abondamment, mais nous devons partir à la fois."

{There will be a team arriving shortly to aid with the injured and the destruction about. I apologize profusely, but we must depart at once.}

With that, he boarded the jet without another word.