Disclaimer: I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit. I also do not own Fury's beginning quote.
Summary: Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.
Author's Note: Hey, guys! Thanks for your reviews, follows, and favorites, they mean a lot to me! I won't keep you much longer from this chapter! Let's see what Peter ends up getting himself into, and what sort of fun that Fennhoff has in mind for Clint, Wanda, and Scott while they look for Tony, shall we? References made to Ant-Man, Age of Ultron, and Civil War ahead. Enjoy!
Chapter 20- Funhouse
Peter's breath caught in his chest as he watched the man who'd haunted his nightmares ever since that fateful day casually looking around the crowded diner. By all appearances, he was looking for an empty seat. But deep down, the teen knew he was looking for him. He had to be. He just knew it, his senses had been telling him so ever since he'd first seen him the night of the homecoming disaster.
How did he find him…?
"Dude, what's up with you?" Ned asked, nudging his arm.
Michelle arched an eyebrow. "Seriously, you're acting really weird, Peter," she added.
But Peter just chuckled, the sound not even quite half-hearted, as he attempted a smile and turned back to glance at his friends. "Nothing, I'm fine," he muttered. "It's, uh… boy, it's crowded in here, huh? Loud. Say, how's your food?"
Ned shook his head slightly while Michelle set her fork down and leaned forward on the table. "Seriously, Peter, what's going on?"
But the web-slinger hardly heard her question. Red flags were being raised all over his senses, he felt as though something sharp was piercing the back of his neck, tapping into his spine…
He slowly turned to look over her shoulder, seeing the dark-haired man was staring right at him. And despite how his pulse was racing and his palms were sweating, he stared right back at him, unblinking. Not standing down.
He couldn't… not again. Not when he had more people he cared about with him.
He couldn't lose them, too.
The man smirked before turning, walking back out of the diner.
The teen tensed, perched on the edge of his chair. There had been a challenge in that man's stare. If he were to follow, it could be some sort of trap. And he was on his own, the rest of the Avengers were at the Tower, working on locating Tony. So they could all bring him home.
But they'd be pissed if he ran into this alone…
The Tower wasn't too far away… someone from the team could probably join him in a few minutes to figure out what was going on…
But they needed to pool all their resources to find Tony. His mentor was in more immediate danger than he was. There was more at stake if they couldn't find any leads. There was a race against time to find him, that much was obvious even though no one had told him so…
But what if he didn't follow?
There was a bad feeling blooming in his chest. But what could he do? He should be able to take care of this without anyone else having to get involved. No matter how impossible it all was. That way, no one would have to take any valuable time away from tracking down the billionaire. He was an Avenger, after all. Well… unofficially, but still. He was a part of the team. He could do this. Hopefully.
Besides, he had to find out what was going on. He had to find out how the man who had killed his uncle was still walking around when he had died shortly after the attempted robbery…
He had to follow.
"Earth to Peter?" Michelle prompted, tapping the table in front of him for emphasis.
"Yeah, you're way out in outer space, dude…" Ned added.
Peter turned back to his two friends. "Sorry, guys, I'll be right back," he said, quickly rising to his feet. "I have to, uh… I have to make a phone call…"
Ned and Michelle exchanged disbelieving glances. "Peter-!" the former began, ending with a sigh since the teen in question was already making his way through the loud, crowded room and heading toward the door.
Peter frowned as he politely edged his way past a young couple with a crying baby, feeling bad about leaving the other two behind with just a lame explanation that they probably didn't even believe. Ned would probably understand it, once he later told him the truth, since he was his guy in the chair, and it was Avenger business. Probably. But Michelle…
He sighed. Michelle was cool. But Liz obviously hadn't been able to get past his odd behavior when it came to the responsibilities he'd taken on as the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. After how he'd acted these past few minutes, he wouldn't blame her if she couldn't, either. Oh, well. That was the superhero life. He wouldn't be able to keep everyone. Though he supposed losing her friendship this way was preferable to watching her not want anything to do with them after Ned asked her if she wanted to help them build their Lego Millennium Falcon, or something. She may have put up with them for this long, but that was likely asking too much.
The web-slinger finally made it through the bustling crowd and pushed open the door. The cool night breeze swept over him as he stepped outside, trying to catch his breath as he looked up and down the sidewalk. Aside from normal traffic and happily talking people walking by, he didn't see anything out of the ordinary.
Had this strange man already left, thinking he wouldn't follow…?
Peter took a few steps away from the front door of the diner, his senses still on high alert. The hairs on his arms were still standing on end, the poking feeling on the back of his neck returned…
And a pair of sturdy hands grabbed him roughly from the shadows of the diner's alley.
"So, I found a couple of these lying around, y'all. We'll have to get some more for all of us when we actually face this guy, but they should be helpful, I think. Y'all said this Fennhoff guy uses a hallucinogenic gas, right?"
Natasha glanced over her shoulder from where she was seated on one of the couches in the penthouse, watching as Sam approached where she and Vision had camped out to set up their technology hub. Rhodey had left a little while before to meet with a couple police officers he did trust to ask them to keep an eye out for anything suspicious, the same ones he'd consulted about keeping the fact that Tony was actually alive a secret for now. She noticed he was holding a few white masks that medical personnel often utilized. She arched an eyebrow.
"I don't wanna know why Stark had those lying around, but yeah, those will be helpful," she said, turning her attention back to the laptop in front of her, which she was using to tap into the security feed of the old energy drink warehouse and former Hydra base that Clint had given her the address for. Currently, both the interior and the exterior seemed quiet. Nothing out of the ordinary. But still, she hoped that their three teammates would be in and out quickly. There was something about all of this that unsettled her. "That gas is one of Fennhoff's primary weapons. If we can neutralize that, even better."
"That's what I thought." Sam sat down in one of the chairs nearby with a sigh, checking his tablet that was streaming the live feed of footage Redwing was getting as it followed Clint, Scott, and Wanda's car. It was a little gritty and was lagging just a bit due to the distance, but it was good enough to see. "I think they're getting close to that warehouse… It looks like the area."
"All right. Almost show time." Natasha kept her calm, her collected, mask in place. She had to. She couldn't let those cracks start showing when there was nothing to cause them other than her own mind.
And her own dealings with the mad doctor. She knew all too well how his mind worked, how he'd gotten into her mind, also. She couldn't rest until he was put away- or brought down- for good this time.
The assassin then glanced over at where Vision was standing in front of one of Tony's expensive digital computer screens, which he'd set up to display a detailed map of New York City and some of the surrounding areas. His red brow was furrowed as he studied it, the Stone in the center of his forehead glowing ever so slightly as glowing lines stretched across the map marking streets and various locations. The harbor was illuminating brightest- the point of origin.
"How's it going, Vision?" she asked. She knew it was likely too soon for a lead, but she had to ask. If anything, to feel as though they were making any progress at all in their search. And to distract herself from the pesky worry that had burrowed deep in her gut.
The android hummed quietly, his sharp blue eyes not leaving the wide screen. "It will take me some more time to collect some more data to add in and take into account, as well as to distinguish any potential patters, in order to narrow down some of the more likely areas that Fennhoff could have taken Mr. Stark to," he explained. "Though it is my opinion that they would take him to a less populated area since with someone of such high regard and recognizability, they would risk being discovered should Mr. Stark manage to escape. I am integrating population ratios now."
Escape. That was nearly impossible. Fennhoff never left any room for error. "Maybe somewhere more upstate, then?" she suggested. "Away from the city?"
"That's possible," Sam conceded, rubbing his tired eyes. He sighed. "But if this guy wants Steve, too, wouldn't he stick around a bit closer?"
"Maybe," Natasha agreed. "Or he could have stashed Tony away somewhere further away while he hunts Steve. It's true that he usually has more than one base of operation at a time. Less chance of losing everything if he gets discovered."
Sam mumbled a couple choice curses under his breath. "Is there any way… I don't know, any way to track Tony, or something of his, specifically?"
"Not that I've found yet," Vision told him. "His phone was likely destroyed in the explosion, as was his suit. Mr. Stark did have devices implanted into his arms in order to call suits to him from anywhere, which I could have tracked, but something must be blocking the frequency."
No room for error. Fennhoff was thorough.
Natasha sighed as she flipped between a few different screens on the laptop, each showing various security feeds she'd managed to hack into around the city. Street corners, long and empty roads, bustling buildings. So far, nothing that jumped out at her that was suspicious in any way.
Footsteps drew closer, and Maria appeared as she walked over to the chair Sam was slouching in. "All right, guys, I'm headed out to D.C.," she said when he and Natasha glanced up at her. The android appeared oblivious to her presence. "I bought you both some coffee since it seems like it's going to be a long night…"
Sam sat up straighter with a grin. "Oh, girl, you get me," he muttered, taking the Styrofoam cup she offered him from the tray she carried. "You are a lifesaver."
Maria returned the smile before she turned to Natasha and offered her the second steaming mug.
"Just set it on the counter, and I'll grab it shortly."
"All right." Maria looked at the large, glowing map before she sighed. "Best of luck… Let me know if you or Clint find anything."
"Will do," Natasha replied. "Let us know if you turn up anything in D.C."
"I will." Maria gave the group one more hopeful smile before she wandered over to the counter and set the coffee down. Sam rose to his feet and joined her as she headed toward the elevators.
"Are you sure you don't want anyone to come with you?" he wondered quietly.
Maria pushed the down arrow button, glancing over at him as she waited. "Are you offering?"
Sam shrugged with a slight smirk. "If you want me to," he replied, taking a sip of his coffee.
The agent smiled. "Thanks, but I should really do this one alone," she told him.
"Right." Sam stuck his free hand in the pocket of his jeans. "Super secret mission for Steve, I forgot."
"More to protect his privacy in a sensitive matter." The elevator dinged, and Maria took a deep breath as the doors slid open. "But… maybe next time I have an assignment out of town, I'll take you up on that offer."
Sam grinned with a slight nod. "All right, girl, I'll take that. Though if you need any help with anything, hit us up."
"I will." Maria returned the look before she stepped into the elevator, turning to look back at him with a small wave before the doors closed behind her. Sam let out a quiet breath before he returned to his spot on the chair. He glanced at the tablet as he took another sip of his coffee, and his brow furrowed.
"Hey, Nat, I think they arrived at the warehouse."
"Come in, Nat. We're here."
Natasha flipped the screen back to the exterior footage of the warehouse as the archer's quiet voice resonated through the comm piece in her ear, seeing the black, unregistered car that Clint, Scott, and Wanda had been using when they'd been on the run was parked not too far away from the abandoned building. Three people who she knew to be their teammates in question were slowly and cautiously making their way toward the door.
"What the hell?"
The assassin glanced up at Sam's sound of frustration. "What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.
Sam met her gaze from where he'd been glaring at his tablet screen. "Redwing's footage isn't working," he answered.
Natasha leaned closer. "Is it too far away to pick up?"
"No, he's still within range." Sam shook his head. "But it's not coming in… It's almost like something is jamming the feed. There's nothing."
No room for error…
Natasha quickly turned back to her laptop. The security footage seemed to still be working fine. She watched as Clint held the door open for Scott and Wanda to step in first before he walked in after, the door closing behind them. But all of her senses were on high alert.
Something was wrong.
She was about to switch to the interior feed when she froze. There had been slight movement at one of the dark second story windows. It was so small that she was surprised she caught it, she briefly thought she may have even imagined it, but it caused her blood to run cold.
It wasn't possible for any of their teammates to get up to the second level that quickly.
She immediately switched to the interior feed, quickly scrolling through the upper floor views. But there was nothing. It was empty.
But yet…
"There's someone else there," she whispered.
Sam looked back up at her mid sip, confused. He swallowed before he frowned. "What?"
"They're not alone." Natasha continued to go through the second floor rooms on the security footage, but no matter how many times she looked, there was no one.
"Are you sure?" Sam got to his feet before sitting on the couch next to her to get a look at the screen. His eyes were wide.
The assassin didn't answer, not exactly sure what she thought or what she'd seen. But her heart was racing, her dread growing.
No room for error.
She reached up to the comm piece in her ear, her voice steady despite her pounding heart.
Because she also couldn't see their three teammates in the feed.
"Clint. Come in, Clint..."
Scott stared down at the photograph he always kept on him, having to squint a little in the limited light of passing streetlamps. Though he didn't need light. It was an image he'd committed to memory.
Wanda glanced over at him curiously from where she was sitting next to him in the backseat of Clint's car as he silently drove, leaning over a little to try and see what he was holding. "May I?" she asked.
The ex-con looked up at her, surprised, before he nodded. "Yeah, sure. Here."
"Thanks." Wanda carefully took the photograph, noticing the worn crease marks from the many times it'd been folded. She brought it closer to see better, a small smile forming on her face when she saw the little girl with long, light brown hair holding a rather ugly stuffed rabbit grinning back at the camera. A couple of her baby teeth were missing.
"She's beautiful. Is she your daughter? She has your face. Your smile."
Scott chuckled with a smile, taking the picture back from her when she offered it. "Thank you. Yeah, that's Cassie," he told her. "That was taken when I crashed her eighth birthday party. I hadn't been out of prison long, I didn't have much money since I'd just lost my job at Baskin Robbins, and that… that was all I could give my little girl for her birthday. I hadn't seen her in three years, and that was the best I could do. I hated it. But for whatever reason, she loves that thing. Honestly, I think she was just happy to see me, and that's it. But, uh… she gave me this picture after taking it from her mom, my ex-wife, after I stopped this crazy guy from getting her."
Wanda's gaze faltered. "And now…"
"Now, I'm a criminal on the run." Scott sighed as he carefully folded the photograph and tucked it into his suit. "Who knows when I'll see my peanut again? If ever. Her mom and her guy may not even want me to see her after this. They're kind and understanding people, but… well, he's a cop, and this isn't a good look. If you know what I mean."
Not knowing what to say since she didn't know what the right thing would be, Wanda reached over and set her hand on top of his. The ex-con never should have joined them on the run, as Clint shouldn't have. They both had families and people they loved that they were sacrificing the chance to ever see again by being with them. They didn't deserve that. They'd only been in this position in the first place because they had been willing to help Steve Rogers when he'd asked them to.
Scott glanced back up at her and gave her a weak smile in return. "Thanks, kiddo."
They only drove for a few more minutes before Clint switched off the headlights, bringing the car to a slow standstill in an empty gravel parking lot. The warehouse- a tall, two-story building with colorful graffiti and some shattered windows- loomed before them, dark and lifeless.
"All right, we're here," the archer muttered, taking the keys out of the ignition. "I know it's just recon to make sure we didn't miss anything the last time, but be on your guard, anyway. It wouldn't surprise me if a nasty thing or two was left behind in Hydra's rush to escape."
"Wonderful," Scott said, trying to keep his tone light as he leaned over to grab his helmet resting on the floor by his feet. "This place looks exactly like I would have pictured a shady organization to be hiding out in. Talk about creepy."
Wanda hesitated for a brief moment, taking a deep breath to ensure that the energy that ran through her veins was under control before she stepped out of the car. Scott followed her, his helmet under his arm.
But Clint lingered behind, holding the untraceable flip phone in his palm. It felt heavy. He sighed, his brow furrowing. It was just a recon mission, he reminded himself. He'd called Laura before the three of them had left for the city after he'd touched base with Natasha about what had happened to Tony, to tell her he loved her and the kids. He always did when he'd be walking into danger, just in case he wouldn't get another chance. Now wasn't one of those times.
And yet… with Fennhoff…
He grit his teeth, pocketing the device when he saw that Scott and Wanda were patiently waiting for him before he stepped out of the car. He grabbed his retractable bow and quiver of arrows from the passenger seat, securing the latter across his dark tank top as he made his way toward his teammates.
He would call his wife later. After this mission if his mind still wasn't at ease. If he needed her voice, and the voices of his children, to come back down to earth and return to himself. And he would call her again when they tracked the mad doctor down, before they went in to get Tony and bring him home, because there were no guarantees with Fennhoff.
He left no room for error.
Scott arched an eyebrow when Clint approached him, eyeing the toned muscles in his arms. "Just recon?" he asked, nodding to his weapons.
Clint smirked. "Never hurts to be prepared," he answered. "Let's go. Carefully now."
The three began to cautiously cross the parking lot, senses on high alert as they made their way toward the door. Everything seemed quiet, but the archer knew well that it could either be a very good or a very bad sign.
"Come in, Nat. We're here," he muttered in just above a whisper for the benefit of who was listening through his comm piece as they approached the building. With a quick glance around, he reached out and tried the door. Just as he expected, it wouldn't budge. Most likely barricaded from the inside.
"I've got it." Wanda stepped closer, a thin tendril of scarlet energy wrapping around her slender finger before it shot out and slipped through the slim crack between the door and doorframe. A moment passed before it opened a few inches with a quiet groan.
Clint held a cautious hand up as he waited for a moment to see if there were any other noises he could pick up. Other than the few bumps and creaks that came along with an older building that hadn't been well cared for in quite some time, there was nothing.
"Good work." He then reached out and pulled it open the rest of the way, poking his head inside to see nothing but the shadows of the hallways waiting for them. He ushered Scott and Wanda in ahead of him, taking one more glance around the empty parking lot before he stepped inside himself, allowing the door to close behind them with a long creak.
The space was lit only by a few bare bulbs scattered about that must have still been powered by some sort of generator and the traces of moonlight that was filtering in through the many windows high up on the wall. Shattered glass, empty cans and bottles, food wrappers, cigarette butts, and rusty nails, among other miscellaneous litter, covered the floor.
"The place has certainly been well kept. It's got a… homey charm about it," Scott quipped with raised eyebrows. His nerves were evident. "I feel like it's gonna be like looking for a needle in a haystack to find anything of importance here…"
Wanda hid her smile as Clint sighed. "All right. We're looking for anything that seems out of place. Anything that wouldn't have been produced here or left by anyone who might have stayed here for a bit." He nudged an empty salt and vinegar chip bag with his boot for emphasis. "You both have your comms. If you need anything or if for some reason you need backup, call immediately."
The archer paused, glancing both ways down the hall. "Wanda, I want you to go that way," he said, pointing to the right. "It leads to the production room and assembly line, straight shot. That all right?"
"Got it." Wanda nodded once, a faint spark of crimson ringing her irises.
Clint smiled slightly before turning to their third teammate. "Lang, you go left," he added. "It leads down to a basement and storage area. I'll follow you for a bit, there's another hall that branches off this one that leads to the offices upstairs, which I'll take. Sound good?"
"Not really, but let's go!" Scott grinned, though it looked more like a grimace, as he flashed the other man a thumb's up.
"Okay, then, let's move out," Clint said. "Remember, stay on your guard and call if you see anything suspicious or need help." He watched as Wanda began to take the right path, heading for the production room, before looking back at Scott. "Let's get going."
"Right behind you," Scott muttered. He waited for Clint to start taking the left path before he followed after him, tightening his hold on his helmet as he eyed the patterned shadows on the wall and floors warily.
"So… do you really think we're going to find something here?" the ex-con asked to the archer's back. "That you guys could have missed something last time, or that something like that could still be here despite all the foot traffic?"
"It's possible," Clint answered quietly, taking calculated steps as to not disturb as much as possible as his sharp gaze scanned everything ahead of him. Not likely, he added to himself, but he refrained from sharing it with the clearly anxious other man. "It was a little hectic last time we were here. There were still some Hydra agents waiting for us when we came, and we may not have been as thorough as we could have been in our efforts to apprehend them in all the chaos. Fennhoff is thorough, so it's imperative we are, too. If there's a chance that something was missed or left behind that could give us a clue as to where he and Tony could be now, it's worth a look. It's a place to start, anyway."
"Yeah. I get it," Scott muttered, his tone faltering slightly. "Though it would have been better if they picked a… I don't know… cheerier place for their operations."
At this, Clint allowed himself a small smile. "I know."
Soon, they reached the spot where two hallways met. Clint slowed to a stop, Scott following suit. "Okay, keep going straight, and you'll reach another hallway," the former instructed. "Right's a dead end. Left will bring you to the stairwell that will bring you down to the basement and storage area."
"Right. Gotcha." Scott chuckled. "You do know it's the basement that serial killers and stuff usually hide in, right?"
Clint arched an eyebrow, glancing down at the helmet in the other man's arms. "You've got your suit," he said, unfazed. "You'll be fine. But you've also got your comm if you happen to come across any serial killers."
The ex-con gave him another thumb's up. "Of course I'll be fine," he replied. Vibrato, if Clint were honest. "I'll just, uh… I'll let you know if I find anything in the creepy basement."
"All right. Good luck." The archer watched as the other man slowly kept making his way down the hall while starting to whistle quietly to himself, shaking his head slightly before he started off down the adjacent passage. The hall became darker with each step, since even though there were still a few bulbs to guide his way, he was losing the windows. He spotted a couple dead vending machines up ahead to his right, more shattered glass surrounding them, and he knew the stairwell leading up to the second floor would be right across from them. He personally hadn't had a close look at the rooms up there the last time he'd been at the warehouse, and he was anxious to get a good look around.
But then, he stopped when a crackle came through his comm. He frowned as he tried to make out what the familiar disjointed voice was saying.
"Clint... in Clint…"
"Nat?" he said, his eyes narrowing. "Nat, you're breaking up, I can't really hear you…"
Further down the hallway, Scott continued to quietly whistle a cheerful tune to himself in effort to try to forget where he was. He briefly paused in the middle of it when he saw the adjacent hallway the other man had mentioned up ahead in the dim lighting.
"Oh, yeah. Great idea to sign up for this, Lang… Volunteer to help explore the creepy abandoned warehouse because you can fit into small spaces…" he grumbled, trudging over to the hallway that was waiting for him. "That's probably why you got the basement in the scavenger hunt lottery… You can look in all the nooks and crannies down there… where all the bad dudes probably hid all the bodies… Wonderful. Great idea, Lang… I'm never doing this again… Not even if Captain America himself asked me…"
The ex-con stopped when he reached the hall, glancing to the left. There it was. The stairwell that led down to the basement, just where the archer said it would be. On the other side of the door, he could see through the narrow window that the single bulb there was flickering.
"Great! That's not a horror movie set up at all." Scott shook his head slightly before he chanced a glance to the right, even though Clint had said it was a dead end. And that's all it was. Nothing but shadows.
Scott rolled out his neck and shoulders. "All right, Lang. You got this. You are Ant-Man. You are an Avenger." He narrowed his eyes. "Sorta. You're helping the Avengers. And-!" He stopped mid-sentence when a quiet shuffling came from the shadows of the dead end.
He wasn't alone.
"Okay… I don't wanna hurt you, but I'll do whatever I have to," he announced with confidence. Or so he tried. "You don't wanna mess with me. I swear to-!"
Then, something small and furry moved and jumped out of the shadows, and Scott stumbled back a couple steps with a panicked scream.
"Lang!" Clint's voice drifted over from further down the hall, concerned. He must not have made it upstairs yet. "You all right?"
Scott took a moment to catch his breath and will his racing heart to slow, glaring at the large calico cat that was blinking back at him innocently. "Seriously?!" he hissed at the feline. He then cleared his throat and looked in the direction of where the archer's voice had come from. "Yeah, all good! Just a, uh… just a stray!"
No response.
The ex-con let out a long breath as he shook his head, returning his attention to the cat. "Way to go," he muttered. "What are you doing, sneaking around here, anyway?"
The cat just hissed quietly back at him, causing Scott to jump slightly, before disappearing back into the shadows.
"Of course." Scott took one last deep breath before he turned to face the door that would bring him down to the basement and storage area. He tightened his hold on his helmet.
"All right. Show time."
The stairwell was cold when he stepped into it, so much so that he could see faint wisps of his breath in front of his face in the flickering light. He slowly descended the steps, his gloved hand brushing the icy metal railing. "There's no way it should be this cold in here, even if the heat were off…" he mumbled to himself as he continued toward another door he could now see that he knew had to lead into the basement itself. "Hey, Clint? Wanda? Is it cold by you guys? Like, see your breath cold?"
"No," Wanda's slightly distorted voice answered. "Not really."
"There's a freezer down there," Clint explained. "For storage."
Scott sighed. "Then someone must have left it open, because it's freezing down here," he said as he approached the door. "About to go inside now."
"Let us know," Clint replied.
"All right, Lang, let's go." The ex-con pushed open the door, a loud creak echoing around the deserted space, and slowly stepped inside.
Sure, he'd entered empty places without permission before. Maybe taken a thing or two that didn't belong to him. He used to be a petty thief, after all. A cat burglar. But only from people who deserved it. Still, he'd always felt a little trepidation whenever he'd stepped into someone's property when he hadn't been invited, never knowing if there was some extra security snare he hadn't considered, or if the owner had gotten a dog recently, or they forgot something and returned home to get it unexpectedly. There had always been that risk.
But this? This was the first time he'd ever felt like he shouldn't be there. He didn't know what it was, but something was telling him to get the hell out of there while he still had the chance. Which was weird, since this building hadn't belonged to anyone in particular for quite some time. It must have been the ghosts of Hydra that still lingered within the walls that were fueling his overactive imagination.
Yeah, that was more than likely it.
Still, Scott lingered in the doorway for a minute longer than necessary, his gaze sweeping the room. The basement wasn't overly larger, really. Mainly filled with piles of cardboard boxes, either assembled or flat, scattered around the floor which had probably been used for shipping and distribution purposes. Other miscellaneous tools and work items and promotional fliers were also found among the boxes, as well as more litter like had been found by the entrance. He shook his head slightly in disapproval. Though it was hard to see everything because there was only a single bare bulb hanging from the center of the room, casting the corners in heavy shadow. Adjacent to the doorway was another metal door, and through what he could see of the narrow window, that was the freezer.
It was open a crack.
"Okay… weird." He then set his helmet on a low table next to the door that had a rolling chair with it before he turned his attention back to the room before him. "All right, so… anything out of place or suspicious. Shouldn't be too hard… Freezer last, though. Don't like that…"
Scott began toward the center of the basement where the light was best, starting to go through the boxes there. He wasn't too surprised to see that so far, they were empty. There most likely wasn't going to be anything down here, he realized. He didn't know much about Hydra, but he did know that they weren't stupid. And this Fennhoff guy sounded especially criminally methodical. Just his luck he'd be the first one he'd have to deal with…
Though if there were going to be any metaphorical bodies in the basement, they were gonna be in the freezer.
It was when he started going through a couple more of the boxes to avoid looking in said creepy freezer when he felt it. His arms were tired and his legs were shaking a bit, like his muscles were getting weaker. Which was weird, since he hadn't exerted that much energy. He blinked a few times when he felt a bit lightheaded as his vision danced in front of him. He took a step back, taking a couple deep breaths and leaning forward to rest on his knees as he tried to regain himself. Maybe there wasn't anything malicious down here, but it was possible there was something else, possibly something that was left too long that he was having an adverse reaction to…
Yeah, that was possible.
Regardless, Scott reached for the comm in his ear. "Hey, guys… I'm feeling a little weird…"
"Weird how?" Clint's response was immediate.
"I dunno, man… lightheaded, weak…" The ex-con coughed into the crook of his arm as he looked around again. There seemed to be a fine mist settling around the room. "Maybe there's a… a gas leak…?"
"Hold tight. I'll bet here soon," the archer assured him.
"No, no, I'll be fi…" But Scott trailed off when he realized that it wasn't a gas leak. Whatever mist was filtering into the room was coming in through the vents.
Something was wrong.
"Okay… I need to get out of here…" He stumbled back a few steps, falling to the hard floor when he tripped over another cardboard box he hadn't seen behind him. He winded as the air left his lungs when he landed on his back, muttering a couple choice curses under his breath as he pushed himself up on one arm. His gaze landed on the box he'd bumped into, seeing it had tipped over with his momentum. He was about to push himself to his feet and get out as quickly as he could, but he paused when he saw there was something in the box, and his breath caught in his chest when he recognized the long, ripped ears and the ratted gray fur of the stuffed rabbit immediately.
It was the last minute gift he'd been able to scrounge up that he'd given Cassie for her eighth birthday.
His mind nearly crashed to a halt.
How the hell had that gotten there…?
"Daddy?"
The ex-con's heart nearly stopped when he heard the high-pitched voice that he loved more than any other in the world not too far away, seemingly from behind a pile of boxes, though the worst part was the fear in it.
"P-peanut…?" Scott scrambled to his feet, nearly falling over again in his haste to find her and his lack of balance. His movements were sluggish, but he pushed forward toward that voice. He had to get to her… She needed him… "Cassie!"
"Daddy!"
"Cassie!" Scott stumbled into one of the piles of boxes he hadn't gotten to yet, his jerky steps unable to avoid it, as he dropped hard to a knee. Gritting his teeth, he shoved the rest of the boxes aside in his desperation to find his little girl. "Peanut, where are you?"
"Daddy! I'm scared…"
His heart raced as he frantically looked around the darkened basement, not seeing any sign of her. His voice broke as he called out her name yet again. He had to…
Wait. Hadn't Clint and Cap said something about a hallucinogenic gas that this Fennhoff guy used…? This wasn't real… Cassie couldn't be here… She had no reason to be in this abandoned warehouse, alone, in the middle of the night. He couldn't find her because she wasn't there. None of this was real. It was the gas that was causing him to imagine that he was hearing her…
His breath quickened. But that meant that Fennhoff could have been there, messing with them… even though he wasn't supposed to be there… He had to warn the others.
But as Scott reached for the comm piece in his ear, he paused and closed his eyes tightly when a pressure began to build up behind them. He covered his head with his hands, a quiet whimper breaking through his lips. He thought he could hear indistinct voices crackling through his earpiece, but he couldn't make out what they were saying.
"Daddy!"
Not real… not real…
But her voice tugged at his heart anyway, and the ex-con's eyes betrayed him as they flew open despite his wishes. He stopped breathing when he saw he was no longer crouched on the cold floor of the creepy basement of an old energy drink warehouse. Instead, he appeared to be in a warmly lit bedroom- one with pink wallpaper and fluffy stuffed animals galore.
A little girl's room.
Cassie's room.
It wasn't possible… none of this was possible…
Somewhere in the distance… the house next door, maybe… no, somewhere else in the warehouse, he reminded himself… an anguished scream rang out as the foundations of the house… no, the warehouse, he had to remember… shook slightly, causing him to nearly lose his balance. The couple lamps around the room… no, the bare bulb in the basement, he had to get it right and not play into it… flickered, causing shadows to dance around him. With each short burst of light, he could faintly see the cold walls and cardboard boxes of the warehouse. It was disorienting.
But that scream, that cry of despair, of pain… it sounded hauntingly familiar…
"Wanda!" Scott grit his teeth as their younger companion's scream broke through his ear piece, crackling loudly. "Clint!" he yelled, hoping the archer could hear him. "Clint, I'm fine! Get to Wanda!" She sounded like she was in a much worse position than he was, and he hoped the other man could reach her faster.
"On it." While Clint's voice was steady, there was something else there. He sounded unsettled, which frankly freaked him out.
But not as much as knowing that Fennhoff had been lying in wait for them.
Then, he froze when he heard a quiet creak over the chaos in his comm from off to his right. He slowly looked over, seeing Cassie's closet door… no, the freezer door.. had opened a bit further, and heavy footsteps, like someone wearing boots, hurried across the basement and down the stairs to the living room… no, up the stairs to the main level of the warehouse… toward Wanda and Clint…
"Guys! There's someone else in here!" he shouted. He cursed heatedly when he got no response, unsure if either of them had heard him.
The door… he had to get to the door…
And his helmet. His heart jolted when he remembered he'd brought that with him. Maybe it could help to filter out the gas and help him to get his head on straight to help the others.
The only problem was, he had no idea where he'd set it when he'd entered Cassie's room.
The ex-con let out a frustrated sound. No, he wasn't in his daughter's bedroom. He was in an old energy drink warehouse in the freezing basement… and he'd set his helmet on a table near the front door when he'd walked in.
Scott pushed himself to his feet, his left knee that had slammed into the hard floor pounding a little. He turned around, facing the bedroom door that led out to the second story landing. He shook his head a little and squinted, sometimes able to see the door of the basement that led out to the cold stairwell as the lights continued to flicker. And his helmet, sitting on the table right where he'd thought it'd be. He held his hands out in front of him, limping forward carefully as he made his way toward it.
But he paused briefly when he saw that bars had appeared in the doorway. Cold, unforgiving, metal bars. Cassie's room had become a prison cell… He was trapped…
No… no possible… not possible…
"Daddy!"
The ex-con set his jaw as he did his best to ignore the panicked voice. It wasn't real… He forced himself to take a few more steps forward. Cassie wasn't there with him. He just had to keep looking straight ahead, one foot in front of the other, and…
"Daddy! Help me, please!"
His heart betrayed him. The fear in his daughter's voice… real or not… caused him to stop and quickly turn back around, looking everywhere for the little girl. "Cassie!" he called. "Where are you?"
No… he couldn't play into his hallucinations…
But what if…?
"Over here, Daddy!" Cassie sounded on the verge of frantic. "I'm scared… I don't know what's happening…"
"I'm coming, Peanut! It's okay!" Scott stumbled forward, pushing his way through a couple more piles of toys on the floor as he tried to find where her voice was coming from. "Cassie!"
"Daddy!"
There. He finally caught sight of her, her face pale and her eyes wide as she peeked out at him from inside her closet. Her dark hair was held back by a pink ribbon, revealing her pale face. Her fingers were gripping the door so tightly they were turning white, and his heard sped up when he saw the pure fear in her features.
"Cassie!" Scott tripped in his haste to get to her, wincing when her fuzzy carpet was harder than he'd expected. He pushed himself up on his arms to look back at her. She was trembling. "Cassie, what's wrong?"
Instead of answering, she looked down at something that was secured around her waist. His breath caught in his chest when he recognized the shining circular device. A regulator? He searched for his on his own suit, but he couldn't seem to find it…
"Peanut, how did you get that?" he asked, trying to keep his tone level as he started to push himself to his feet. "You know that isn't a toy."
Cassie looked back up at him, tears in her eyes. "He gave it to me… He said I could be just like you…"
He? "Who gave it to you?" A cold chill ran down the ex-con's spine. The man who'd left her room…? He hadn't gotten a good look at him… hadn't even seen if he was as man… but he didn't think he'd recognized them…
Could it have been Cross again? But how…?
A fainter cry of pain came from the comm in his ear, causing him to briefly hesitate. Clint…?
But Cassie didn't answer. Instead, she looked back down at the device. "I think something's wrong with it…" she mumbled.
Scott froze. Something Hank Pym had told him, seeming so long ago now, came back to him then. A warning that if the regulator got damaged… he'd end up in subatomic space… trapped there forever… lost without being able to find a way back…
Some quick thinking on his part had allowed him to come back from the quantum realm. But Hank's wife, Janet, who had shrunk that small nearly thirty years before, hadn't… She'd remained lost in the quantum realm…
He had to get that regulator off of Cassie.
"What do you mean something's wrong with it?" he pressed anxiously, no longer caring how his voice shook. "Cassie-!"
But he paused when the regulator began to spark, causing the little girl to shriek. "Daddy!"
"Cassie!" Scott got to his feet and stumbled forward. "Look at me… Peanut, look at me!"
She did as she was told, tears rolling down her cheeks.
"I'm going to get it off, okay?" he assured her. "I promise. Let me take a look at it."
But Cassie wasn't calmed. "Daddy, help me! Get it off! Take it off! Please, Da-!"
Then, the regulator started to rapidly blink as more sparks emitted from it. Cassie screamed, and in the next moment, she quickly shrank in size until she disappeared.
The ex-con came to an abrupt halt, his heart stopping as his body ran cold. No… she couldn't be…
"Cassie!"
Scott made it to the closet, pushing on the door that was heavier than he expected as he finally got it all the way open with a loud creak. Cold air rushed at him. But he took cautious steps forward anyway, finding he carpeted floor to be a little slick as he nearly fell, even though he knew, deep down, that she wasn't there anymore…
The damage had been done. She'd gone too small…
No. There had to be a way to find her, to bring her back from that place… There had to be.
"Cassie! Oh, God… No, no, no… Cassie!" Scott screamed, tears rushing to his eyes as he dropped to his knees, frantically scratching at the carpeted floor… which felt icy beneath his gloved fingers… to try to find any trace of his daughter. Nothing. "Come back! Stay with me! Oh, God no, Cassie! Cassie!"
But it was no use. He couldn't feel her, he couldn't hear her…
She was gone.
"Cassie!"
The production room was quiet as Wanda made her way toward it. She stepped through the door that led into the room that overlooked the assembly line, filled with computer monitors that had long since not been in use. She approached the desks to check all the drawers and compartments to see if, by chance, anything had been left behind. Empty. Nothing. She the approached the control panel, trying a few buttons and switches to see if she could get into any of the computer systems. Nothing responded to her touch. Everything had been shut down. Not that she thought there would be anything to be found there, anyway. Fennhoff was much too smart to not wipe everything.
Wanda then wandered over to the wide window, looking down at the assembly line below her. All of the machines were still and silent, the skeletal system that had once supported the warehouse in its use. Now it felt like a graveyard. She was grateful for Clint and Scott's quiet voices in her ear, even with the latter's freak out over a cat.
Hesitating only briefly, Wanda crossed the small room and pushed open the door that led to the larger space. There was a chill, she noticed, as she descended the metal staircase, her steps echoing loudly around her. She heard the ex-con ask if it was unusually cold, his voice a bit distorted now.
"No. Not really," she muttered in answer as she came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. She wandered to the right, not really knowing where to start looking as she caught sight of a towering metal door, opened about a quarter of the way. She bent over a little to look under it, seeing it was a spacious garage and loading bay area where shipments of the energy drinks were prepared to be sent off. It would be easy enough to fit under it- she could even lift it further if she wanted to- but she'd save that for after she scoped out the rest of the room.
Wanda lightly trailed her slender fingers over the still conveyer belt on the assembly line next to her as she slowly walked across the vast room, each step echoing around the empty, high-ceilinged space. She was alone, no one had used this warehouse for anything in quite some time aside from squatters, but she still just couldn't shake the feeling that there was someone else in this room with her, just beyond the corner of her eye wherever she looked. That someone was haunting her every step. That someone was watching her every move…
Focus. She had to stay focused. It was just the closest she'd been to the mad doctor's lingering presence than she had in a long time. And it still managed to get under her skin and chill her very bones.
Maybe she should have listened to Vision and stayed behind. This was a place that wasn't meant for her. But she couldn't question that now. She was there, and she had a job she was expected to do. After all, she was familiar with the inner workings of Hydra. If anyone were able to pick up on anything that they had left behind in their haste to escape, it should be her.
Scott's voice crackled through her comm again, even more distorted than it had been before, though louder than when he had just been muttering to himself to calm himself down.
"Hey, guys… I'm feeling a little weird…"
"Weird how?"
Wanda paused, frowning as she listened to the ex-con describe his symptoms- lightheadedness and weakness- and question if it could be a gas leak. "Are you all right?" she asked, just as Clint said he'd come to get him, his voice fading in and out. But she didn't get a response as Scott instead tried to say he was fine until his voice trailed off. She wondered for a moment if he'd even heard her before concern about what had made him stop speaking took its place. Was her ear piece having issues, or was there something else to be concerned about…?
Either way, she couldn't ignore the dread pooling in her stomach.
"Scott…? What's wrong?"
Nothing.
It was then that Wanda noticed that her hands were shaking. She squeezed them into tight fists in effort to stop them, but the sensation traveled up her arms until her whole body was beginning to tremble. The muscles in her legs felt weak as she took a couple steps forward, and she reached out and held onto the assembly line to keep from falling. She took a few deep, shaking breaths to try to compose herself and clear her head, blinking a few times when her vision began to tilt. Maybe there was a gas leak somewhere in the warehouse after all…
"Guys…? Can you hear me…?" She detested how weak her voice sounded.
"Wanda?" Clint. "You're barely coming in… What's wrong?"
The archer's voice was even more distorted than it had been before. Wanda swallowed hard before attempting to answer. "I'm feeling weird, too…" she managed.
She only received static and indiscernible words in return, and she cursed under her breath. He probably hadn't even heard her.
But then, another voice managed to make it through the white noise of her comm. Scott. A panicked yell. A name.
Cassie.
His daughter…?
Wanda's brow furrowed. Why would she be there…?
Then, she gasped when she heard heavy footsteps on the metallic stairs that led down to the assembly line, and she quickly whirled around with wide eyes, nearly losing her balance. No one was there.
But she did see the door at the top finish closing.
Someone else was in there with them.
Her heart began to race, heat spreading through her fingers. She took a deep breath and held it, attempting to keep her powers under control. She tilted her head back, about to start counting down from ten, but she froze when she noticed a fine, white mist was seeping in through the vents.
That had to be what was causing her symptoms.
Scarlet energy began to wind around her hands as she prepared to try and dispel whatever gas it was. But her heart stopped as all breath left her body when a quiet, familiar, kind voice fell on her ears.
"Hello, my dear."
That voice… almost grandfatherly, meant to disarm. But still one that would sometimes sneak its way into her darkest nightmares.
"No…" Wanda shook her head, attempting to clear it of that voice, as she squeezed her eyes shut. Her breathing quickened as the crimson light around her hands intensified. "No… no, you're not supposed to be here…"
She thought she could make out Clint's worried voice in her ear, but it was hard to tell over all the crackling in her comm.
But his voice came in stronger.
"Ah, but it was you who strayed, my dear. Not I."
"No…" As much as she didn't want to see that face that was imprinted in her mind's eye, Wanda forced her eyes to open so she could prove to herself that she was imagining all of this. The mist she'd seen must have been the doctor's hallucinogenic gas- meaning someone was really in there with them- and she knew it was too late to try to dispel it. It was already in her system. And that's all his voice was. In her head. It had always been his greatest weapon.
But there he was. Not five feet in front of her. Leaning on a cane for support. Smiling at her. He looked no different from when she had last seen him in Sokovia.
"It is good to have you back, my dear," Fennhoff murmured. His voice was almost kind. Almost.
Wanda's eyes narrowed. "I am not back," she hissed. "I never will be back."
Fennhoff tsked quietly, taking a couple slow steps forward. He seemed undeterred when she stood on the offensive, her energy ready to strike. "That is what he said, also."
She briefly hesitated. He? "Who…?" she asked quietly, not certain if she really wanted to know.
At this, the doctor stopped. His smiled broadened. "Why, your dear brother, of course," he answered brightly. "I knew as soon as we had him back in the fold, you would be soon to follow."
Pietro? Wanda's heart stopped. There was no way… It was impossible… She shook her head as her breath hitched, closing her eyes tightly. "No… there's no way… he's dead…"
Fennhoff inclined his head. A menacing gleam appeared in his eye. "Are you certain about that, dear?"
Her legs nearly gave out beneath her as her body trembled. A couple tears escaped from her eyes as energy crackled around her hands. Overhead, the lights flickered in time to its building pulse. "No… he can't be…" Her sentence trailed off as she shook her head again. "It's a trick. Pietro's dead… I'd know if he were alive. I would feel it… feel him… And I can't… I haven't since…"
But the doctor just chuckled. He started to advance toward her again. "What if he didn't want you to know he was alive?" he posed.
Wanda's breath caught. "He… he wouldn't do that…" But even to her, the protest sounded weak.
"Would he not?" Fennhoff continued. "What if he did not want you to know what he's been involved in since you abandoned him?"
Her blood ran cold. "I didn't abandon Pietro," she spat. "He died in Sokovia. I felt it. He-!"
"He resents you for that, you know." The doctor's voice was cold, cruel, as he drew nearer to her. The tap of his cane echoed loudly around the vast space, but it was something she could hardly hear over her pounding heart. "You weren't there when he needed you to be… I was."
"Stop it!" Wanda sank to her knees, her shoulders shaking as a quiet sob escaped from her. "Stop lying! Pietro wouldn't join you… He would die first… As would I."
Fennhoff chuckled, the sound full of pity, as he stopped directly in front of her. "He didn't have much of a choice. We had to force his hand," he murmured. He reached a wrinkled hand out toward her. "Now, come back with me, my dear."
"No!" An anguished scream ripped from Wanda's throat. "You liar!" She threw her hands out in front of her, the scarlet light pulsing around them shooting out at the doctor. The room around her seemed to shake with the intensity of the blast, and she curled in on herself with another scream as broken glass rained down around her from the ceiling. The overhead lights above her had shattered from the force of the crackling energy in her blood.
For a long moment, she remained kneeling on the hard floor among the shards in a circle of darkness. Her body shook with sobs as another pained cry escaped from her, tears streaming down her face. It was exactly as she and Vision had feared. Fennhoff wanted her back. She didn't know for what, but it couldn't have been good. What plan could he possibly have had for her? He already had Pietro…
The thought of her twin brought her racing thoughts to an abrupt halt. The doctor had to have been lying, there was no other possibility. Pietro was dead. She had felt his heart stop, she had felt his life leave his body. It had taken her a long time to accept that reality, that she would have to live the rest of her days with only half of her soul intact. But finding whatever it was that she had with Vision, she felt as though she finally had come to accept it. She finally felt as though she could move on and live without Pietro.
But yet, even then, she could have sworn she felt a second, fainter heart beating against her own. Offering comfort. Her ghost pain, her phantom limb…
The concerned but distorted voices of Clint and Scott in her ear piece brought her back down to earth. She was surprised that burst of energy hadn't short-circuited it. Wanda took a deep, shaking breath, her tears slowing, as she straightened up and opened her eyes. The lights that remined in the room flickered around her. The room was empty, aside from her. There was no sign that Fennhoff had even been there.
Of course there wasn't. Because he hadn't been there.
She let out a quiet, nervous chuckle, inwardly cursing herself. Her confrontation with the doctor, his lies about her brother… It had all been in her head. And she had played right into the illusion. The hallucinogenic gas Fennhoff had always used had settled deep in her system. She had to get out of there. She had to warn the others that someone else was in the warehouse with them, that someone had unleased that gas…
"Wanda… can you… me?"
"Y-yes," she murmured in response to the archer's concerned voice. She pushed herself to her feet, finding that her legs still shook. "But you're breaking up…"
"Are… all right?"
Was she? She was shaken, feeling weak. But she was physically unharmed. "Yes," Wanda answered. "I'm fine now… But listen, Clint. I-!"
She was stopped when Scott's voice broke through then, though his frantic words weren't directed at them. He was anxiously calling out for his daughter. It was with a sinking feeling she realized the ex-con must have been exposed to the hallucinogenic, too. She set her jaw.
It had been an ambush from the start.
"Listen, Clint… If you can hear me, someone else is in here with us. They're working with Fennhoff. They're using the hallucinogenic gas. We have to get out of here now!"
Static. Wanda sighed with frustration. But before she could say or do anything else, Clint's voice managed to break through.
"Stay… Wanda… coming to you…"
But then, her blood ran cold when she heard his cry of pain. "Clint? Clint!"
No answer. All she could hear over distortion in her comm was Scott still crying Cassie's name.
Something was really wrong.
"Clint!"
She couldn't stay and wait. She had to go find the archer and ex-con and get them out.
Wanda turned to make her way back to the metallic staircase that would take her away from the assembly line, but she hesitated when she could no longer find them. She quickly looked around her, but as the lights continued to flicker, she saw that the room around her was shifting. In some moments, it was the abandoned production room while in others, it was a much smaller space with cold and unforgiving concrete walls, a metallic door with a small barred window toward the top across from her. A thin cot with a single pillow and ragged blanket was behind her as a single bare bulb flickered overhead.
Her heart nearly stopped. It was her containment room in Strucker's base in Sokovia…
No… she couldn't be back there… it was the gas… just the gas…
… it was just the gas…
"Vis… help me…" she whispered, her breath shaking. Would he hear her? Would he feel that she was in trouble? Like Pietro always had?
"Please…"
But then, Wanda shook her head, attempting to clear it. She wasn't trapped there, not again. It was just Fennhoff's tricks, playing with her mind. Getting to her. She had to remember that none of this was real. Mind manipulation was her thing; she could beat this. She just had to remain focused to be able to see clearly. She was still in the warehouse. The stairs that would let her escape were somewhere in front of her. All she had to do was find them. She held her hands out before her, taking slow, cautious steps forward as she searched for her way out.
"Wanda…?"
She immediately stopped at the weak, quiet voice that pierced straight through her heart, closing her eyes against the tears that pricked them. No… no real not real not real not…
"… Wanda…"
Her breath shuddered as she slowly turned around to where the voice was coming from as though compelled, slowly opening her eyes. A broken sob escaped through her lips before she covered her mouth as a couple tears trailed down her cheeks when she saw the other teen lying on the cot. His eyes were tired as he looked back at her, his face pale beneath the dark stubble that lined his chin. His nearly all white hair was a mess around his face. A brief tremor ran through his thin frame, and she thought she could almost see his ribs through the material of his thin shirt.
It wasn't her containment room she had found herself in.
None of this was real… she had to keep telling herself that. But yet… there he was, not three feet away from her… so close she could almost touch him… after those few long years…
"… Pietro…" she breathed.
What could be confusion crossed Pietro's face. "What… what are you… doing here…?" It must have been her mind playing tricks on her that made her hear the underlying accusation.
"Oh, Pietro…" Wanda took a couple steps closer, but she stopped when he flinched away from her. He had never done that before. "What… what's wrong?"
Her twin shook his head, his breathing harsh, as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. "No… stay back…"
Wanda frowned. All in her head… it was all in her head… But her heart still wavered. Fear was something she had never seen on his face before. Not when he looked at her…
"It's me, Pietro…" Her voice shook with every word. "It's Wanda… Don't you recognize me…?"
When she took another step forward, Pietro scooted back against the wall. "Stop… you… you think I don't know… what you've done…?"
A pang of sorrow gripped her heart with icy fingers as Fennhoff's words echoed through her mind.
"He resents you for that, you know…"
Tears lined her eyes and threatened to fall. "Pietro… I didn't leave you," she murmured. "I would never leave you… I didn't know…"
Her sentence trailed off when a dark look passed over her brother's face as his eyes narrowed. She suddenly felt cold. Before he'd died, he'd never raised his voice at her or been angry with her… They'd had too much of an understanding, had been through too much, for that.
This look scared her.
… It's not real… none of this is real…
… It can't be real…
… Pietro wouldn't…
Wanda reached a trembling hand out toward him. "Pietro, please… let me explain…"
"Don't touch me!" Pietro's sudden sharp voice caused her to yank her hand back as though she'd been burned. "I don't need you hurting me again… Not after what you've done…"
Again? Her throat felt like it was closing up as a couple tears fell from her eyes. Of course… back when they had first been gaining their abilities. She hadn't been able to control the newfound energy running through her body, not completely. Pietro had gotten too close to try to calm her down…
She shut her eyes. His scream of pain still sometimes haunted her. He had never blamed her, even though she had done plenty of that herself as she tore herself apart, and even though he had healed quickly without a scratch, it had been an invisible scar she had always been able to see on him since it had been caused by her hand.
Scarlet energy flared from her hands, winding up her arms. No. She was in control now… She wouldn't hurt him again, he had to see that… She was in control…
"You've killed people, Wanda… You've killed children." Each word her twin spoke cut deeper and deeper. Because they were true. The death and devastation she had inadvertently caused in Lagos… the reason that people, her own brother, feared and despised her… refused to leave her. It was a guilt she knew she'd bear for the rest of her life.
"At least I died helping to protect a child," Pietro continued fiercely. Cruelly. "But you? You've become exactly what they were trying to turn us into."
Her breath hitched. "Please… no… don't say it…"
Pietro's eyes narrowed as more darkness marred his face. "You're a monster."
A monster. That had been how she'd seen herself, ever since her creation. A monster, an abnormality, one that people were right to fear. But hearing Pietro say it… to hear he viewed her that way, too… IT had been foolish to hope and believe that she was becoming something else when the Avengers had offered her a home. She was dangerous. She didn't know how to be anything else. She was nothing more than a weapon of mass destruction. A killer. A monster.
Wanda's eyes slowly fluttered open, noticing that sparks of energy were crackling all round her body now. But a sob escaped from her when she saw that Pietro was now lying completely still on the cot, crimson bleeding through his blue shirt and his empty eyes staring straight through here. Even though they were unseeing, there was still an accusation there.
His voice resonated in her mind. "You even killed me…"
Her fault… This was all her fault…
She had lost him a second time. Because of her.
"Pietro!"
Wanda dropped to her knees beside the cot as the agonized cry broke through her lips, sobs shaking her slender frame. She studied his wan, blank face, and his empty eyes, unable to bring herself to touch him. Her heart felt like it had stopped beating along with his, her lungs struggled to take another breath…
Scarlet energy flew out in all directions from her as she screamed as loudly as she could, hardly noticing or caring that the bulb above her head shattered and cast the small containment room into darkness while the base's very foundation trembled beneath her. Her comm fizzled before dying, the metallic pieces falling out of her ear. The thought that more bursts like this of her power could collapse the place briefly crossed her mind, but it didn't matter.
Pietro was dead. She was dead. And the people who remained within these walls were the monsters that had turned her into one of their own.
A monster.
Sure. She could be the monster they wanted her to be.
And they would only live a short time to regret it.
"… Wa-Wanda…"
The soft voice broke through the rage and sorrow and crackling energy. It was weak, she was surprised she'd even been able to hear it over all the noise in her soul, but she would know it anywhere. The pressure in her chest eased, allowing her to be able to take another breath. A warmth formed next to her heart, making another beat possible. Her body still trembled with the power she was unleashing, but a feeling of calm, of peace, she hadn't felt since that day in Sokovia fell over her, wrapping around her securely. Her fingers slowly stopped shaking, but the energy remained.
"… Wanda… please… stop this now…"
She took a deep, shuddering breath as a couple more tears escaped from her eyes. "… P-Pietro…?" she gasped out. She didn't want to get her hopes up after he'd called her what she'd always called herself, but there was kindness in his voice, not hate. She foolishly clung to it.
A few flickers of images quickly flashed through her mind.
Pietro was sitting on the hard stone floor in the corner of a small, dim, cold room, shivering in the plain gray shirt that was too big for him and gray pants…
A chain and shackle was around his ankle, some sort of metallic collar around his neck…
His frame had always been thin, but he was on the verge of emaciated, his face pale with dark shadows under his exhausted, pained eyes…
He gasped quietly for breath, the sound shuddering as he released whatever air he could get…
His face and hands and arms were marred with bruises and scars…
"… Wanda…"
She gasped as the warehouse production room swam back into focus, most of the flickering lights now dark. She was lying curled up on the cold floor, her breathing ragged and her body weak. More tears rushed to her eyes when she attempted to make sense of what she'd just seen. It had looked a little different, but she was pretty sure it had been Strucker's base when they'd been kept there… when they'd had the experiments run on them… The gas was still messing with her… She had to get out… but she didn't feel like she could move with the crimson still crackling around her.
Not real not real not real not real not real…
But yet… it was as though her brother's memory was trying to protect her from the worst of the hallucinogenic's effects… Even though he was no longer with her, he was still somehow looking out for her…
"… Wanda… please…"
Her eyes slowly drifted closed. If she tried, she could almost feel his heart beating against hers, in time with hers. Just like it had always used to. She could almost feel his arms around her, sheltering her. She could almost feel his head resting lightly against hers, comforting her…
If only it were real. If only he were alive…
"Yes, Pietro… I hear you," she whispered. She didn't care that this was all a hallucination induced by Fennhoff. She'd play into it. This Pietro felt more like her brother than the last…
"… No, Wanda… You must not stay… you must leave… before it is too late… Wanda, please…"
Pietro flinched as the door to the small room opened…
Rough hands grabbed him, unchaining him before pulling him to his feet and shoving him toward the door, causing him to stumble…
He was shoved toward and strapped with a bit more force than necessary to a cold metal table, his breathing quick…
Some sort of metal device encircled his head as a long, thin needle was inserted into the crook of his arm…
Fear.
"… Wanda… I'm sorry…"
A cry of pain broke through Pietro's lips as he fought against his restraints… the very life being drained from him…
And then nothing. Nothing but empty blackness. He was gone.
"Pietro!"
Wanda sat up with a scream, a faint pain coursing through her body. Her eyes snapped open as tears streamed down her cheeks as she quickly looked around her, seeing that the room around her was once again alternating from the abandoned warehouse to Strucker's base in Sokovia with each flicker of light.
She couldn't get the experiments they'd been forced to endure out of her mind…
None of this was real… it was in her head…
All of this… the pain, the fear… felt much too real…
She squinted at the hallucinogenic gas seeping into the room through the vents high above her head, the scarlet energy pulsing around her shaking frame in time with her racing heart. The foundation beneath her trembled.
A quiet laugh reached her ears, causing her blood to run cold.
That's right, you bastard… I'm the monster you made me into…
She slowly turned to her right, her eyes narrowed with energy burning around her irises, to see that Fennhoff was watching her, a knowing smile on his face.
He reached a hand out to her.
You are not ready for me…
The same energy ringing her eyes burst around her fingers.
And all she could see was crimson.
Tony's eyes were wide as he watched the dark-haired man… Scott, he believed his name was… stumbling around the basement on the security footage of the old television set. He appeared to be calling out for someone, but he couldn't hear who. He couldn't get a good angle to try to read his lips, either. But ever since the gas had been released into the room by someone he hadn't been able to see clearly, it was obvious he'd been frantically trying to find someone. The desperation in his movements unnerved him. He couldn't even imagine what he was seeing…
The feed then switched to Wanda in what appeared to be the production room, and the billionaire's breath hitched when he could clearly see the anguish and rage in her scream. Energy crackled around her body, causing some of the lights to flicker before shattering as the image darkened. His gaze faltered as he let out a shaky breath. He had some idea of past traumas that the gas she'd been exposed to could possibly drag up… and dread filled him when he realized she had the power to bring the place down if she were to get worked up enough.
"Please… stop this…" he murmured, raising his gaze to where Fennhoff was watching the feed with a small smile set into his aged features. "Please… no more…"
"Oh, Mr. Stark." The doctor tsked quietly with a brief shake of his head as he turned to look at his prisoner. "What happens with them now is out of my hands. You are familiar with what effects the hallucinogenic has. I cannot prevent them from experiencing what they fear the most. As you can see, it has already taken effect."
Tony swore with frustration under his breath, clenching his jaw as he turned back to the television. Dread pooled in his stomach as he watched Scott crawling toward another door in the basement while Wanda screamed again as more crimson energy radiated from her.
This was his fault… They had only been looking for him, and now…
He had to do something.
But he also knew there wasn't much he could do while trapped in his own hell…
Although… Fennhoff had made him an offer in exchange for…
Suddenly, the feed cut out as a black screen replaced the grainy images. Tony's heart nearly stopped as he reached a panicked hand out toward the television. "Wait, no… What the hell did you do?!"
But Fennhoff simply laughed. The billionaire glared back at him before something on the screen caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He quickly turned back to the television to see the feed had been replaced with one of Clint.
His blood ran cold. The archer was hurrying down a hallway toward what he thought looked like a stairwell, his bow in hand. "Please… no…"
A wide grin spread across the mad doctor's face. "Just relax and enjoy the show, Mr. Stark," he replied. "Things are just about to pick up."
Tony's heart pounded in his ears as he kept his gaze fixated on Clint, hardly daring to breathe. His friend was the one Fennhoff was after… he could still save him.
Couldn't he…?
He took a deep breath, clenching his fists while tears pricked his eyes as he prepared to say the words he'd been practicing in his head, the ones that he had always known he would rather give his own life than to say aloud and actually mean. But as he watched the archer cautiously look around him as he shouted anxiously into what must have been his comm, he knew he had no choice.
"Fennhoff."
"Hmm?" The doctor's tone was light, almost pleasant, in its curiosity.
Tony swore heatedly, clenching his teeth as he squeezed his eyes shut. He had to just do it…
Pepper… Rhodey… Peter… Steve… I'm sorry…
A beat passed before he took a deep breath and raised his weary, defeated hazel gaze to the old man. "Okay," he said, managing to keep his voice steady. As much as he knew he was going to regret speaking the next words aloud, he was pleased for that small favor. "All right… You win."
Fennhoff inclined his head. What appeared to be delight flickered in his eyes. "Do I now?" he wondered. "How is that?"
The billionaire steeled himself, every muscle taut. He took a couple more quick, deep breaths. "Yes," he muttered, his tone just as tense. He stared his captor directly in the eye. "I… I've thought about your offer, and… I accept." He paused when the doctor's smile returned. There was something unsettling about it. He swallowed hard, preparing himself. "I'll join Hydra. I'll join you. But you have to let Clint get the others out. And you can't harm him."
For a moment, it appeared that Fennhoff was actually mulling over his words as he worked his bottom lip between his teeth, gazing at the television thoughtfully. He absently twirled the gold band around his finger. Tony forced himself to look away from its hypnotic pull.
But then, the doctor laughed, and his captive's heart sank. "I appreciate your most generous offer, Mr. Stark," he told him. "This is most welcome news. And I must say, it is a pleasure to hear you speak those words. Your father once made this offer, also."
"Wh… what?" Tony was only able to stare back at him in disbelief. Howard had offered to join Hydra? That was impossible… He wouldn't believe that about his father… He couldn't believe that… There was no reason his father would have joined them… none…
"It is astounding how one's core values and beliefs can change given the situation. Such as both you and Howard offering to join the very organization you both valiantly swore you would rather face death before joining." He paused, a malicious gleam appearing in his eyes. "But much like with your father, I am afraid I will have to decline."
Tony's breath left him as his heart nearly stopped in horror. "But… you… you said if I-!"
"Oh, I am fully aware of what I said, Mr. Stark." Fennhoff grinned, his enjoyment at his helplessness making Tony sick. "But I am afraid you are too late. That offer has passed. I would advise you to remember your words here for the next time an offer comes to you, for it will be the last one I will give you to freely join with me. Is that understood?"
However, the billionaire was unable to answer as he turned back to the television, his body trembling. His ragged breathing came quickly in time with his racing heart as he watched Clint cautiously continue toward the stairwell leading down to the first level, pausing a few steps down as he responded to something he heard through his comm.
Clint… I'm sorry… I tried…
"Please, don't do this." Though even as the words left his mouth, Tony knew they were landing on deaf ears. But he felt compelled to do something to help the archer… even though it would amount to nothing.
Fennhoff made a quiet sound of pity as he reached out and set a wrinkled, yet unexpectedly strong, hand on his shoulder. The billionaire wanted to flinch away, yet found that he couldn't. It was a gesture to keep him in place rather than to console.
How…?
"Perhaps, Mr. Stark, you will make a better choice next time," the old man murmured. "Perhaps no more shall have to die."
Tony clenched his jaw tightly to force back a scathing retort, and he closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to form. His fists resting on his lap were shaking, itching to either smash the television screen or break his captor's face. Both were equally satisfying options.
But he felt trapped, unable to do either.
Clint… forgive me…
"Ah!"
It was the doctor's sound of enjoyment, of excitement, that caused the billionaire's eyes to snap open, his stomach still churning. His eyes widened in fear when he saw the second figure striding down the darkened hallway, his heart thundering in his ears when he saw whoever… or whatever… it was making their way straight toward Clint.
No…
"Please…"
But Fennhoff only grinned, seeming not to even hear his near silent plea.
"Checkmate."
Author's Note: Doesn't sound like anyone's in good shape... Though there may have been a couple clues in here as to important story points later on! Anyway, Clint's section was going to be at the end here, but I cut it for a couple reasons. One, the chapter was getting long, and two, what Clint sees while under the influence of the gas is crucial to the rest of the story. So I figured that his story here should be told in full, and it'll likely be its own chapter with the ramifications it'll have as we move forward. It's almost finished on my end, so it should be up soon! As always, thanks for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. Thanks, guys! Until next time!