But I was going to.
Inhaling through my nose, I took a second to compose myself, closing my eyes. When I opened them again, I met their eyes and demanded one thing:
'What the fuck was that?'In retrospect, that was a really bad way to open up a dialogue between us.
On the other hand, I was pretty worked up.
So when Pietro asked, 'What was what?' I might have overreacted.
'What was what?' I repeated, aghast. I didn't know what to make of anything that just happened. The fight between the Cheka and the Komitet, the flying car, the burning soldiers…what the hell did I just witness? 'Everything! Yours powers, the fight, the Komitet and whatever they are! And when I said kick their ass, throwing a car on top of them was not what I meant!'
'Well, you were not very clear,' Wanda retorted, crossing her arms and scowling. 'At least I did something.'
'That's not —' I started, then realized she had a point and quickly changed tactics, diverting the topic. 'That's not the point! The truck just fell on top of them — It exploded! And then one of them just walked out! God, we almost died! And those agents they just, they just killed —'
I couldn't finish the sentence, the sight of the Cheka soldiers, sorely outmatched, being mowed down by the Crucible agents. The grins they wore as they slaughtered everyone. I shuddered, chills going down my back.
'It is not our fault!' Pietro complained, throwing out his hands. 'You were never this stupid before!'
'Pff — what?' I spluttered, taken aback. 'B-before what? Before I lost my memory? Well, that says enough, doesn't it? I'm not who I was back then, in the Crucible, okay? Whoever you think I was, I'm not that person!'
'But we need you to be!' Pietro said, earnest, desperation in his eyes as he wrung his hands. 'You keep hesitating. You are always afraid.'
'Uh, who wouldn't be?'
'We are afraid, too,' Wanda gave me a disapproving look. 'But we do not let it control us. You have to remember to do the same. It is the only way you will survive.'
'Survive?' I said, an incredulous laugh bursting from my lips. 'This is insane!'
'Do you think the Komitet are just playing games?' Pietro snapped, and I took a step back, cowed. He went on vehemently: 'We are lucky that they still consider us useful, still want to capture and keep us. It will not be good if they do! They kill people, Amelia. And they will kill us, too, if given the order.'
The truth was daunting, but I understood it nonetheless. They'll kill me. There are people in this world who actually want me dead. I had a sharp intake of breath at that, for a second not knowing how to respond.
What do you do when there were people actively trying to kill you?
Even if they weren't going to. Yet.
'N-no,' I admitted, glancing away and feeling a little ashamed. I knew that, I knew to take this seriously, but a part of my mind was still resisting to the bizarre nature of it all. 'I just don't understand! I don't even know what the Cheka are, never mind the Komitet! '
'Cheka? They are secret police,' Pietro said, frowning. 'A Chekist works for the Respublika. They've been in control ever since the New Years' Revolution.'
'Wait, the Soviet Republic?' My mind translated the words instantly, and I had to mentally scramble to keep up with both this new information as well as what I was watching. I could only shake my head, wondering why none of this was gelling with what I already knew, from what they taught in class. 'N-no, that can't be right, Sokovia hasn't been Communist in years, not since the UN intervened…'
'What're you talking about?' Wanda demanded, suddenly angry. The sudden change in tone had me giving her a brief, nervous look. Her expression was concerned (for my sanity?), her teeth bared as she snarled, 'The UN fixed nothing! They sent bombs and then left! There was no one here to stop the Chairman from taking over!'
'But how could no one know? Why had we never heard of this back in America?' Surely I would have known some of this, but it was all news to me. The Soviets haven't been in power even in Russia since the Nineties…
'How would we know?' Pietro gestured to himself, giving me a helpless shrug. I could hear the rising anxiety in his tone, how all this yelling and confusion was starting to get to him. I felt bad, but I was already too far down my own path to do anything about it. 'Wanda and I, we were locked in the Crucible for almost ten years! Ten years! Do you know how long that is, waiting for someone to rescue you, the good guys, but it never happens?'
'Ten years, just waiting,' Wanda said, and her look was sad resentment, of resignation. 'And the world just left us behind, forgotten.'
A short silence fell between us, and it occurred to me that this wasn't just about my earlier failure. No, these were the words that Wanda and Pietro had pent up for a long time coming, and were only now able to vent on someone, someone working from a completely different context from them. Someone easy to get angry at.
Not that I blamed them.
'We were there when the bombs fell,' Pietro continued, his voice low, head bowed in what appeared to be contemplation, but there was a tremor in his voice - trying to hold himself back. 'Stark weaponry. Advanced, you know? Kills you so fast you do not even have time to feel it.'
'It took our parents,' Wanda said. She was able to meet my eyes, but they were filled with tears, and her fists clenched at her side, starting to glow red. Too much emotion. Too much pain. 'First our father, who abandoned us when trouble came too close, and never returned. Does he even know we are still alive? Would he even care?'
'Our mother died in our home,' Pietro continued, wiping at his face, although all I could see had remained dry. He wrinkled his nose before smoothing his expression, when Wanda looked at him; I could appreciate the difficult, nearly painful act to appear strong, no matter what. Was he just embarrassed, like I would be, or did he want to hide it from Wanda? They exchanged one of those inscrutable looks twins always shared, and he opened up one arm to receive Wanda as she came in for a hug, and held her as he continued to speak: 'While our city was being torn apart, the roof of our house collapsed. Maybe it was just all the shaking. Maybe a bomb hit us. Either way. The entire building collapsed on top of us - Wanda and I were lucky. We hid under the bed. But Dai just - she just disappeared in a cloud of dust. We never saw her again.'
'This is just what I have to remember them.' Wanda plucked at her necklaces, holding two out. The Star of David, and a small silver locket. When I stepped closer, she opened the locket, allowing me to see the pictures inside.
Two faces in black-and-white, what looked to be from an old photo. A man and a woman - I saw the familial resemblance in the sharp eyes and pressed-lip smile, but the photos seemed too old to be of their parents. My confusion was done away when Wanda continued: 'Dat gave me this, when I was little. It was all he had left of his parents. Now it is all I have left of him.'
Her pain resonated deep with me, so sharp and unexpected that it took me by surprise. But of course it meant something to me, too. Like her, I knew what it was like to feel abandoned. What it was like to not have a father. I guess I was lucky; I didn't have to go through the pain and loss of watching him leave.
But I couldn't say that. I didn't want to, and I doubted they would appreciate it. So I didn't say anything, just stared at the old faces in the locket, having seared them in my mind.
Pietro continued, drawing my eyes up to his sad, but reserved expression. 'We never got the chance to mourn them. It sounds silly, but when you are hiding under a bed for two days, many thoughts go through your mind. That was one of them.'
'You were trapped for two days?' My words were little more than a breath, astonished, horrified. How old would they have been. Six, seven?
'Yes,' Wanda muttered, her fingers closing around the locket, and it snapped shut. 'All the while staring at a bomb that had fallen only inches away. It did not explode, but we were so afraid to move. Instead of thinking of our parents, we were terrified for our own lives, only able to thi
nk of the writing on the side of the bomb that had killed Dai. A name. Stark.'
She said the name with such venom that I didn't bother clarifying if it was Tony Stark in particular she hated. It was clear enough as it was, and I doubted at this point she wouldn't know. If I asked, it'd only sound like I was making fun of her.
The ire in Wanda's voice appeared in Pietro's expression, as his brow drew together and he spoke derisively, 'Everyone acts like his weapons can solve any problem. That is what the UN did, after all. Dropped the bombs and decided that was all they needed to do. Do not bother coming here, do not ask what happened to the people, to the innocent. Who cares if they die, so long as you can kill a few Soviet invaders?'
It was rather critical, and in the back of my mind, not entirely fair. I really didn't want to be a jerk, but my inner pedant couldn't help but point out: 'But Stark doesn't make weapons any more.'
That earned me double looks of surprise. 'What?' Wanda demanded, as if I'd made a bad joke.
'He doesn't make weapons,' I repeated, then took a deep breath before explaining, 'Not since 2008. When he was...when he was kidnapped? I guess you guys never heard about that.'
'Who kidnapped him?' Pietro smirked, sounding far more amused than I would've liked. He never had any malice in the way he spoke, always had this cool air about him; unlike Wanda, who seemed to carry this seething energy behind her expression at every turn.
'Terrorists. Some guys that call themselves the Ten Rings. But Tony Stark got out, got rid of them.'
'Oh, let me guess,' Wanda drawled, rolling her eyes. 'He blew them up.'
I stared at her, realizing my mistake only too late. Bringing this up hadn't helped at all. 'Uh, yeah. I just made it worse, didn't I?'
'Did you think men could change?' Pietro asked, giving me a look like he almost pitied me for my naivete. It annoyed me a little, but mostly because they were right. 'What is he now, then?'
'Uh. Iron Man.' I winced, not wanting to say it, already knowing how it would sound to them. 'Flying metal suit he uses to fight.'
And just as I expected, Wanda threw back her head and laughed. But it was cold. 'Ha! See, Pietro? Stark can't help himself. He is just another warmonger looking for profit and glory.'
'Like I said,' Pietro shrugged. 'Men do not change. Men like Stark, and men like the Chairman, are the reason the world is what it is. Why we are like this. Why Sokovia is like this. And why no one cares.'
I just scowled. I knew I hadn't made a bit of difference. Actually, I was pretty sure I just made their hate stronger.
Everything I said just seemed like the wrong thing - all this deep-seated anger and pain and hatred. Toxic stuff I was plenty familiar with, but in case you couldn't already tell, not good at handing it. I didn't know what to do now. I wasn't good at this sort of thing, and the twins still felt too unfamiliar to me. I just wanted to fix it, make it better, without too much of a fuss, but I had a feeling that heavy emotions never worked out that easily.
There wasn't much I could say, either. 'I-I'm sorry. You know I am. But I swear, no one knows. Literally, no one knows that Sokovia is like this. The rest of us have no idea because we aren't allowed inside. Sokovia's had closed borders for about as long as you've been trapped here.'
'Closed borders?' Wanda repeated, scowling. She had that sharp, slightly judgemental tone, like she almost didn't believe me.
'Yeah, whoever's running this place now decided they didn't want anyone coming or going,' I said, holding out a hand in gesture to the building, to the country as a whole. I had forced my tone back to something more even, although I was just as surprised as they were that they didn't know. Looks like we all had some catching up to do. 'And there's no one out there that can tell them - the Chairman - no. Sokovia's not part of the UN. We couldn't help you unless the government asked first.'
'Well, that will never happen,' Pietro snorted with a derisive toss of his head. He crossed his arms, fixing me with a similar look to his sister's. 'If you know so much, then how do we fix this?'
'Fix this?' I gaped at him.
'Yes! Sokovia! I will not just sit here and watch my home lay to waste!'
'Look, man, I just woke up in a hospital yesterday!' I shot back, feeling rather put-upon. I was just starting to get my bearings in this strange country, and now he wanted me to help liberate it? 'I don't even know who the Chairman is, or who he works for, or how the hell this place ended up looking like 1984! '
Pietro and Wanda exchanged incredulous glances. Wanda said, 'We thought you already knew that. You had a Cold War with them. Why do you think the Chairman calls his agents the Komitet?'
'What?' It took me a second to parse through what she was saying. When it hit me, it felt like a huge weight had been dropped into my stomach. 'Wait, you don't mean…The KGB?' When she nodded, I added, 'But they were disbanded in 1991! They weren't even a part of Sokovia, they -'
'Came here, when the Soviet Union fell,' Wanda said simply, with a shrug so casual like she was talking about the weather. 'What survived created something new. This State has been decades in the making, and we are only a small part of its success.'
'Wait, so you're saying that the KGB kidnapped me?' I said, throwing out my arms before they fell limp to my sides. This felt like a bad movie, and I had the sinking feeling it was only getting started. 'The KGB turned me into... this?!'
There was no surprise in the twins' gazes, only a grim reality that they had accepted long ago. I felt something hollow open up in my chest as I faced it, too, realizing it was something too big to escape from. Their previous rage had been replaced by something quieter. Broken. And here they were, watching me trying to deny it like some naive idiot who thinks there's been a huge mistake.
But there couldn't be. A secret this big, a power so great, that they couldn't have picked me on accident, at random.
My voice was a little strangled when I asked, '...Why? Who am I to them?'
'Who are you?' Wanda said with a laugh, but it was humorless. It reminded me of the way Astor laughed, but Wanda wasn't laughing at me. At least, I didn't think so. Didn't mean it didn't hurt any less. 'You are asking the wrong questions, Amelia. You do not have a name to them. None of us did. You were not human in their eyes. They made you, like they made Captain America. A Super Soldier.'
'Just another weapon,' Pietro finished quietly. 'Designed to kill.'
Their words were like a slap to the face. My ears rung, my fingers tingling.
'A weapon,' I repeated, a hoarse whisper, my arms hanging limp at my side. My gaze slid from Pietro and Wanda, to the floor at my feet, feeling like I was floating, off-center, dazed. 'I'm a weapon.'
'Amelia —' Wanda raised her hand, reaching out for me, but I flinched away when she touched my arm.
'N-no —' I only shook my head, frantic, voice lodged in my throat. Her hand pulled back, sudden, surprise and worry on her face as I stumbled away from them, the row seating coming up against the back of my knees. I gripped the wooden back of the chair, trying to catch my breath. 'I can't, I mean, I-I can't be…'
I stopped, took a deep breath. 'I need to think.'
And before either of them could stop me, I turned on my heel and swept out of the theater.
Designed to kill.
Hell of a word choice, Pietro.
But was he wrong? It echoed in my head as I paced in that room of mirrors, muttering under my breath, clenching and unclenching my fists. If someone were to walk in at this very moment, they'd probably see a blonde teenager about to have a psychotic break.
What if I did, though? What if I really was losing my mind? It wasn't like the people who made me like this were considering my emotional or mental health, if Wanda and Pietro's account was anything to go by. I wasn't a person to the Crucible. I wasn't even human.
No, no, stay rational, I told myself as I felt another wave of panic about to overwhelm me. I couldn't let myself out of control. Panicking now wouldn't help me.
>
I didn't want anyone to see me like this. Certainly not the twins. They already considered me a liability, not remembering what they wanted me to remember, so I couldn't imagine they'd be pleased to see how much I was breaking up inside. God, I felt so weak.
But what the hell was I supposed to do? How often did a normal person have to deal with this hurricane of emotions, a maelstrom of trauma and old wounds, not quite healed. As if I didn't have my own problems to worry about, I couldn't help but stew over the twins' story, their awful beginning. I thought my childhood was rough, but now all the hospital trips and illnesses seemed like a cakewalk compared to growing up in a war zone. To losing your parents, your home, to bombs? It was nearly an alien concept to Americans, who haven't felt anything like that since 9/11 - and before that, Pearl Harbor. How awful how that would have been, if it had lasted not just a day, but entire years.
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