They went over the plan twice on the drive to the Pentagon.
Hank would use a device to distract the people monitoring the cameras, Heather, Logan, and Charles would make their way through the halls while Pietro would steal a pair of keys and run to the location of Erik's cell. And Wanda would stay in the car.
It was truly a sign that she had raised her kids right when both of them questioned whether or not this was a bad thing to do. It made her feel a little proud - and also a little ashamed of herself when she explained that while yes, this was all very illegal and a very bad thing, it was for a - old friend and it was going to help save a lot of people (at least she hoped).
She didn't want to think about Pietro having to run through a heavily guarded (and heavily armed) area or the fact that the man he was saving was his terrorist father. Her kids were going to have to be face to face with him and - and the truth was going to come out. Either Erik would do the math or her kids would ask one too many questions; it didn't matter how much she kicked or screamed in this battle, she had lost already.
She thought about telling the twins quickly but she didn't know what to say or even the proper way to approach the situation, so Heather kept her mouth closed.
When they reached the Pentagon, Wanda changed her mind.
"I wanna go with Pietro," she whined, "I don't want him to be alone." Heather let out a sigh, kneeling down and looking up into Wanda's eyes. "Baby, Pietro's going to be fine."
"I don't wanna be alone," she corrected, suddenly looking rather timid and nervous, and - and Heather had to remind herself that the twins were only 8 and they were asking a lot of them. She almost wanted to cry at the sight of her usually loud and fearless girl looking so - terrified. Heather wrapped her arms tightly around her and regretted dragging her babies into this mess.
"She can come with me," a voice came from behind her.
Heather pulled away from Wanda, looking at Hank in shock. "Are you sure?"
Hank nodded. "It'll be safe - " He stopped, before correcting himself, " - Well, the safest." Heather glanced back at her daughter, asking, "Would you like to go with Hank?"
Wanda nodded wildly, before rushing out of her mother's arms to stand by Hank. Heather turned her attention to Pietro and the worry began to overcome her. She quickly gave him one final hug, knowing that they needed to continue the plan, but also knowing that something - anything - could go wrong and if it did, she wanted her son to know she loved him.
She just hoped it didn't come to that.
"Built in 1943, the Pentagon is the world's largest office buildings, housing more than 25,000 employees stretched out over six million square feet."
Wanda hated tours.
She didn't hate museums or historial places like this one, she just hated when someone dragged her around and made her listen to a bunch of boring facts. It didn't make it any better that they were on a mission - in fact, it made it worse.
Of all places to hide a bad guy, that had to choose here? Not some cool lair with sharks like the bad guys on television?
Wanda shook her head, trying to stop her nervous rambling, and felt her mother squeeze her hand. Oh no. She knew what this meant. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Uncle Charles and Logan leave the group and - a flare of panic - her mom glanced at her and flashed a reassuring smile, before joining them.
Part of Wanda wanted to stop and start crying for her mom. It wasn't like she didn't like or trust her uncle Hank, she really did - she'd missed him after all this time - but she wanted her mom, she wanted her hugs and her smiles and her reassuring 'it'll be okay's. Her's, for some reason, were always the best.
The other part took control, though.
"Stop being a baby," she thought to herself, "If you get upset, your powers will start up again and bad things will happen."
She shivered at the thought of how strong her powers could get if she lost control, especially in a place with so many people (she thought about how big Randy's eyes got after he was hit, how he backed away from her when she tried to come closer, the fear in his eyes when she reached out for him) and reached for Hank's hand, holding it nervously.
Things always seemed so slow for Pietro when he ran.
The elevator dragged itself open at the speed of a turtle and each step the man took onto it seemed to last 10 seconds each. For a moment, Pietro was concerned he was going to crash into the man's back but he luckily swerved last minute, coming to stand near the buttons of the elevator.
Now that he wasn't running, everything went back to normal.
The man blinked a few times, before he glanced back at Pietro and - he couldn't help it. He gave the man a grin before - remembering the science project he had done - he grabbed the duct tape out of his pocket. The man was twice his size and weight, but Pietro was smaller and quicker, and within a few seconds, the man secured to the wall of the elevator.
Pietro stepped back and examined his handy work, rather proud of how well it worked out.
When the elevator doors finally opened, Pietro hid behind one of the walls and peeked out. With one glance outside, he realized how difficult the plan had just become. The walls of the hallway were lined with guards - and Pietro pressed his back against the wall trying not to panic.
He could try and run as fast as he could past them and hope it worked, or he could try on the guard's outfit and - no, that wouldn't work, the outfit would be too big and they'd be able to tell that he was a kid. The first option he decided quickly - before he turned to the duct taped guard and whispered, "Wish me luck."
Pietro paused once the doors of the dark room closed. He listened closely for any yells or footsteps and, when he didn't hear any, he let out a whoop of excitement - forgetting momentarily that he needed to be quiet.
His eyes were drawn towards the big glass windows in the ground, the only light source in the whole room. The brightness of the room below his feet made his eyes hurt, but he still slowly made his way to kneel beside it.
The room was white and bare of anything - besides a gray sleeping cot and a sleeping man. The man's uniform was gray, not like the orange ones Pietro had been in the movies, and with the way he was laying - hands folded, face so peaceful - he could have sworn the man was dead.
Staring at the man, Pietro began to wonder what he had done to go to prison - not just that, what he had done to become the only prisoner in the Pentagon. He knew he wasn't supposed to question it (though when his mom had said that, she'd looked so conflicted) but he couldn't help it. Something about this man - Pietro couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe it was just him being super curious or some weird coincidence, but something about him seemed almost familar and Pietro wanted to know why. He just wanted to know.
Raising his fist, Pietro knocked on the thick glass. It took a few tries but finally, the man's eyes fluttered open and caught Pietro's gaze. The man looked dazed at first, blinking a few times - like he thought Pietro was some sort of dream - but when he didn't disappear, he started to look downright bewildered.
Pietro tried to sign for him to move against the wall, even yelling "Mind the glass," but the man didn't listen - in fact, he did the opposite, walking towards the center to stare at the boy more.
He sighed, not wanting the man to get seriously hurt by glass, but Pietro needed to hurry. So he pressed his palms against the window panes and squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel the glass shaking violently underneath his hands and before he knew it, the sound of glass shattering filled the room. His eyes flew open, just as the alarms started to go off.
Pietro started to panic.
He knew what he needed to do, he knew where he needed to go, he knew he was faster than all of them - he was faster than a bullet. But he was 8 and breaking a bad man out of prison and people were going to kill him - oh god, people were going to try to kill him and they weren't going to care that he was a kid or that he wanted to be a football captain when he grew up or that he loved Scooby-Doo.
They didn't care because all they were going to see was a criminal.
He jumped when the man jumped and grabbed the edge of the cell, climbing out of it. "In three seconds," the man spoke and Pietro had no idea what kind of accent he had - but it was cool, "Those doors are going to open and twenty guards will be here to shoot us."
Pietro gulped at that. "I know," he tried to keep a confident tone, "That's what I'm waiting for."
He ran to the man's side and - he panicked again. The man was a giant compared to him - atleast two feet taller and much bulkier than Pietro, he realized quickly that this plan had just become a little more difficult. He bit his lip, eyes darting around as he tried to figure out a solution, before he threw his arms around the man.
The man stiffened. "What are you doing?"
"Just trust me," Pietro took a deep breathe, preparing himself to run. "Um, can you - can you put your hand behind your head? I really don't want you getting whiplash."
"What?"
"Whiplash."
Just then, the doors opened, exposing light and several armed officers and - it was now or never. Pietro held on tightly and he did what he did best - he ran.
It took them barely two seconds to get to the elevator.
Once the door had closed, the man - Erik, Erik, that's what Uncle Charles had called him - leaned against the wall, looking rather pale. Pietro, on the other hand, felt amazing - he felt the rush he usually felt from running, but also a new sensation. Like he could rob a bank.
Though he knew his mom would probably ground him until death if he did.
Glancing at Erik, he assured him, "Don't worry, it'll pass. It happens to everyone." He nodded then, still facing away from Pietro and - and the curiousity from before was starting the bubble up again. He tried to take stay quiet, but he wanted - no, needed - to know.
"You must've done something serious," Pietro questioned, trying to sound as innocent as possible, "What you do?" Silence, then he tried once more. "What you do?" Again - more silence. A little frustrated from lack of answers, he asked, "Why did they have you in there?"
"For killing the President."
Pietro's eyes widened. A murderer? They'd set a murderer free? He wondered briefly if stopping the elevator and running Erik back to his cell would be such a bad idea. After all, how was he supposed to save a much of people if he killed someone?
"But," he continued, stopping Pietro's train of thought, "The only thing I'm guilty of, it's fighting for people like us."
"How? Do you know karake?"
"I don't know karake. But I know crazy."
The sprinklers in the kitchen sent the staff scurrying.
Heather wiped the water from her eyes and face, as she tried to avoid the fleeing employees and listen to Charles' mindless ramble at the same time. "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, this is a Code Red situation. We are evacuating the entire floor... so that my associates and I... can, uh, secure the prison."
The elevator towards the prison was in her sights, but so were two guards. One of them spoke up in a deep voice. "Who are you?"
"We're special operations, CB... FB-CID," Charles continued, and Heather wanted nothing more than to slam her face into one of the stainless steel counters, "Perhaps you didn't hear me when I first spoke... but it is imperative that you understand... we're in a complete lockdown situation. We have to get you to the third floor - "
With that, Logan attacked the two men, taking both down without too much of fight. Heather stared at the man in surprise, just as he turned back to Charles. "Oh, I'm sorry," he snapped, "Were you finished?"
Charles looked a little shaken by that, before he quickly went to the men's sides, digging in their pockets until he discovered the key for the elevator. "I'm sorry," Charles responded, "I'm just not very good with violence."
It was at that moment that the doors opened to reveal - Pietro and Erik.
"Charles?"
Within a second, Erik was on the ground and Charles was nursing a bruised hand. Heather stared at the two in shock, as her son rushed to her side. Her arm wrapped around Pietro's shoulder, pulling him a little closer, and while she was overjoyed to see him (and see that he was fine), her attention mainly remained on the fight before her.
"Good to see you too, old friend," Erik retorted, wiping the side of his mouth, before nodding towards Charles' legs, "And walking."
"No thanks to you."
"You're the last person in the world I expected to see today."
"Believe me - I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to," Charles nearly growled, "If we get you out of here, we do it my way. No killing." Erik smugly gestured to his head. "No helmet. I couldn't disobey you even if I wanted." Charles suddenly moved closer to Erik, snapping, "I'm never getting inside of that head again. I need your word, Erik."
After a moment, Erik nodded.
Before his gaze left Charles' face and met Heather's.
Something about it changed just then. He suddenly looked more surprised and - if possible, a little gentler. "Heather?" he questioned and before Heather could respond or even let out the breath she was holding, she heard a sudden "Nobody move! Hold it right there!".
Charles and Erik left the elevator, coming to stand near Logan, Pietro, and Heather, as they all faced a large amount of armed guards. Heather tighted her grip on Pietro and the panic began to set in.
"Charles," Erik called.
"Don't move. Hands up, or we will shoot!"
"Freeze them, Charles."
"I can't," the man almost sounded in tears and after a moment, everything metal in the room began to shake violently and - and Heather could hear the gun shots and part of her wondered if this was the end, if her son's short life would end here, if her own would end, and what Wanda would face as an orphan.
But everything happened so fast.
Suddenly, the guards were collapsing and the bullets - the bullets missed them and her arms were empty. A quick glance ahead of her, however, revealed Pietro removing his headphones from his ears, a big grin on his face, and Heather had never felt more proud of her son.
"Thanks, kid," Logan ruffled Pietro's hair, as they all began to rush through the door.
Hank and Wanda were already in the car by the time they reached it.
Heather nearly shoved her son into the backseat with his sister, before cramming herself inside. Erik found himself in the front seat beside Logan and Hank, and it was only after they had began driving away that he glanced behind him.
"Who are the children?"
Heather - oh god, she couldn't do this, she couldn't, not in front of all of them, not in a metal vehicle. She felt Wanda's little hand hold her's a little tighter and Heather wanted to puke. "None of your goddamn business," Charles suddenly answered, much to Heather's shock, "Now shut up and turn around."
Today (June 14th) is officially the 1 year anniversary of Not About Angels.
So, once again, big thank yous to everyone who has read/liked/favorited/commented/reviewed. You guys are sometimes the only things that make me get off my lazy ass and write.
Off topic of my writing, I rarely talk about things like this during chapters but it has affected me deeply: Please keep your thoughts with the people who were killed and hurt in the Orlando nightclub shooting.
Thank you. xx
