Chapter 3 – Wanda

January 9, 2014, 4:30 a.m.

The twins had arrived early – a shockingly uncommon feat, Wanda reflected, for someone whose brother could run faster than the speed of sound. Hopelessly jet lagged from the seven-hour time difference between DC and Afghanistan, they decided not to stay in their hotel. Wanda and Pietro had been briefed that this American capitol could be dangerous – but really, who in this sad city could be as dangerous as they were? They wandered aimlessly in the night, young and unafraid.

There was a special smell in a city this early, Wanda thought. Cold and empty. A stinging rain was falling, and she turned up the collar of her coat. To her left, a marquee sign proclaimed "Georgetown" - half the lights burned out. She had a sudden apocalyptic feeling, a dreamlike impression that everyone in the city had died except for her and her brother, two ghosts adrift. Or was it a foreboding? She shivered. Pietro blurred out from beside her and a moment later reappeared with two cups of convenience store coffee.

"Where did you get those?" She asked, not taking the cup he held out to her.

"The man was practically asleep on his feet," Pietro said. "I don't think he even noticed."

"Did you pay him?"

Pietro rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Mom. I left the money in his pocket like a good boy."

Wanda replied with a flat stare.

"I swear! Just take it – God! See if I do anything nice for you again."

Wanda smiled as she took the cup, holding it up to her face so she could smell the steam. Such little things seemed almost unbearably poignant to her. Walking in an unfamiliar city. The warmth of the cup soaking through her gloves. Her brother's mind a comfortable presence bumping up against her own. She could almost pretend that she was free to go wherever she wanted. She looked up and sighed, the cloud of her breath rising into the pre-dawn darkness.

They had reached the waterfront, and they turned to walk along the river. The early morning sounds were soft – their footsteps on the concrete, the lapping of the water, the almost imperceptible hiss of the rain. Wanda sipped her coffee. The sweetness of the creamer failed to cover the bitterness of the burnt grounds.

A sound...no a shard of thought. Wanda turned. There, on the steps leading up from the walk, a shapeless bundle, an old sleeping bag.

No. An old man.

"What?" Pietro said.

She was already moving toward the stairs. Pietro blurred to get there before her, but she held up a hand to keep him back. The man looked up at them, in his eyes no hope, no fear. Empty resignation. She'd seen that look before, oh yes. After the bombs fell in Novo Grad.

She crouched in front of the man and handed him her coffee cup, folding her hands around his own as he held it. She met his eyes, and he started as if she'd shocked him. After a few moments, he smiled.

Wanda stood up and straightened her skirt before walking on. Pietro was beside her. She felt his question in the air between them.

"Even sad people have some happy memories," she said softly. He took her hand.

Ahead of them, suddenly, the Triskelion loomed out of the dark. They both stopped walking to stare at it. In spite of its lights she saw it as a hulking shadow. Pietro handed her his coffee and she took a sip, handing it back. It was time to see Pierce.

Hello gentle readers! It's a cold, gray afternoon here in Colroado. I hope you are snug and warm wherever you are reading.

In this chapter we meet some characters who are new to this story. Honestly, I'm as surprised to see them as you are. They butted in rather late in the writing process and they've been stealing scenes ever since. I hope you have fun getting to know them. As always, I look forward to hearing what you think.