"Pietro! It is your turn to set the table!" The ten-year-old, Wanda, yelled up the stairs. Her twin brother had the job of setting the table tonight, but he always tried to get away with it.

"I am coming, Wanda. I just had to finish the maths homework. You know you are better at maths than me," the blond-haired boy explained while bounding down the stairs. "Besides, I always set the table when it is my turn." Wanda rolled her eyes and went to help her mom bring in the food they had made together.

"Mama! What can I bring in?" She walked into the kitchen, the aroma of the food immediately hitting her nose. With her mouth watering, she looked at the food her mother had made, taste testing a few of the different items.

"Wanda! You are worse than your brother! Wait to eat until everybody is at the table."

"But it tastes sooo good!" Wanda exclaimed, carrying a few of the dishes to the, now set, table. As soon as she placed the dishes down, her brother instantly dived into the food.

"Pietro! You better not be eating yet!"

As the Maximoff family sat down to enjoy their meal, conversations filled the air. The twins, who were sitting next to each other, always tried to outdo the other and earn the attention of their parents. Their mom and dad always sat back and watched their children banter, intervening when the two of them started to fight. This was the family's favorite part of the day, being able to sit down after a long day and spend quality time together.

The twins were getting into a heated argument over which one had done a better job on the history quiz when it was interrupted by a loud explosion noise. The Maximoff's each gave each other a look of confusion before another explosion went off, and it had sounded closer. Before one of them could question what the noise was, a bomb had fallen through the roof, exploding on impact and sending the siblings flying backward.

"Wanda! Papa! Mama!" Pietro screamed out to his family. He tried to lift himself, but quickly realized he could not; a large piece of the wall had fallen onto his leg. Supporting his upper body, he glanced to the straight ahead of him, noticing his parents. Pietro's breath caught in his throat. A huge piece of the wall had fallen, where only his mother's head could be seen. Blood was dripping down her face, creating a small pool underneath her. "Mama?" Pietro called out softly, not believing his eyes. He scanned over to his father, noticing almost the same fate had reached him. His eyes started to prickle, but he pushed his tears back, knowing crying would not do any good now. He needed to find his sister.

Determined now, Pietro tried again to get out from under the huge chunk of wall. Gritting his teeth, he gradually lifted the chunk of the wall off of his leg. While sitting up, Pietro took in all of the rubble. Their dining room was completely destroyed, Pietro did not even recognize anything in the room. He quickly glanced around the room, trying to spot his sister while not looking at his parents. He noticed his sister a few feet away, lying under some rubble. Pietro swiftly stood up, before falling back to the ground with a cry of pain.

"Pietro," Wanda called up in scarcely a whisper. She coughed hard before calling out again, this time louder. "Pietro? Are you okay?" A sharp pain shot through her stomach when she tried to lift herself.

"Wanda, do not move, I will come to you." Pietro slowly lifted himself, crawling to where his sister was lying. As he neared her, he was able to make out more of what had happened to Wanda, his face losing color instantly.

Along with a ton of debris, a long piece of wood had somehow lodged itself into her leg. Blood was slowly oozing out of the wound, creating a small puddle underneath her. Pietro began carefully removing as much as the rubble on top of his sister he could. "Wanda, I need you to stay still. Moving will make it much worse. We will get out of this, I promise." She nodded slowly, the pain finally showing itself.

"Pietro.. What happened to Mama and Papa?" Wanda questioned, afraid to know the answer.

Before Pietro could answer, a loud crash echoed through the room, followed by an explosion. Pietro instantly grabbed Wanda's hand, squeezing hard. The joint noises gradually came closer, and each time the explosion hit, the twins winced, while Pietro moved closer to his sister, wanting to protect her from the blast that was sure to come. Soon enough, a bomb fell through the hole in the roof. Pietro curled tightly, covering her body as much as he could, to try to take most of the blow. Both twins froze in their spots for what felt like hours, waiting. After a few minutes, Pietro cautiously uncurled himself from around his younger sister and looked around.

Lying right in the middle of the room, where their table used to be, was a fully intact bomb. The oddly shaped bomb had the words "Stark Industries" on the side, with a line going across the top.

"It is not going off..." Pietro said softly as if just the sound of his voice could make the bomb explode. He sat up more, wincing when his leg gave a protest of pain. He made a move towards it, but Wanda held him back.

"No, do not. It might go off… Please just stay with me." Wanda urged him. A hush fell on them again, the only noise that could be heard was their labored breathing and the noises from the outside. They both tried to focus on each other, and not the horrendous sounds that they could hear. Screams and cries filled the air, along with more of the dreaded explosion noises, which thankfully seemed to be moving further away. Wanda shivered when she heard many of the cries dwindle and stop completely. Wanda suddenly remembered the question she had asked before the un-explosive bomb had landed in their ruined dining room.

"Pietro? What about Mama and Papa?"

Pietro looked away, at the place where their parents lay, dead. He was grateful his sister could not see what had become of their parents. He looked back at his sister, and slowly shook his head. Wanda's eyes filled with tears, her heart-shattering. How could this happen? Why would someone do this? She let her upper body fall to the floor and let out all of her pain. Pietro, wanting, no, needing to stay strong, stroked his twin sister's hair, lying down next to her. Wanda looked up at him, tears streaming against her cheeks. Pietro moved closer to pull her into a hug, both children, now orphans, cried their sorrows to each other.

Time had passed, and their crying had calmed down with only a few stray tears falling down their faces. The twins had not moved from where they had laid down. Pietro slowly sat up, deciding that he needed to assess what had happened to them more closely.

It was obvious Pietro's leg was broken, and bruises littered his body. He had a large cut on his head, but the blood that had been dripping there before was now dried up. He, if they were ever getting rescued, was going to make it. He looked more intently at his sister. The piece of wood was deep in her thigh, angled slightly upward. The pool of blood had gotten significantly larger since he had last looked, and her face looked deathly pale. I need to get the piece of wood out of her leg. It is probably causing her more pain. But then again, I do not want to put her in more pain than she already is. But this needs to be done. I need some cloth. Thinking fast, he lifted his shirt up and off his body.

"Wanda, I am going to pull the wood out of your leg. I need you to be as still as you can. I'm sorry." Pietro took a grip of the wood and pulled it out. Wanda cried out in pain, gripping around her leg, tears streaming down her face.

"I am sorry, I am so sorry Wanda. I am so sorry," Pietro repeated, wishing he was the one who had to go through this. Wishing that this never even happened, that they were still sitting at the table, fighting over insignificant things. Pietro wished that his only concern was if he was going to get a better grade on the history grade than Wanda, not if she was even going to make it through the night. He gritted his teeth and pushed a little harder on the wound, praying they would be alright.

When his shirt grew heavy, and wouldn't be able to hold any more blood, he drew it away from the wound. While he had been trying to stop the blood, her face had grown increasingly pallor; Pietro grew worried.

He looked around him, hoping to find another cloth to tie around her leg, but the long table cloth was the only one in sight. He pushed himself a few feet forward, grabbing an edge, before tugging. He ripped a piece off and turned back to his sister. He tied the cloth around her leg, hoping that would staunch the bleeding for a bit. Pietro's eyes grew heavy, and he laid down next to his sister, whose eyes were also closing. He reached a hand up and stroked her hair, praying this wouldn't be the last night he had with her. The twins fell into a fitful sleep; imagines of blood, rubble, and Stark filled their minds with nightmares.

When morning came, it was oddly calm. The dust had finally settled, and Death had taken his time, sweeping through the night and keeping wounded souls for himself. The sun had made its sluggish way up through the sky, illuminating the destruction to the world. Men and women took their time, walking among the rubble, making sure their eyes searched thoroughly. Not many wounded had been found, just victims. But they didn't give up; their search had just started. Only a small part of the damaged area had been searched. But they all refused to give up until every lost home was searched.