Eminent Silence

by Tristan Carey

  Thinking about it now, it didn't surprise me that the KGB had plucked up Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, as they had plucked me; two lost kids with little to no protection, who couldn't defend themselves, who felt powerless and alone.

  And look what the KGB did. Made them strong. Made them two of the most powerful people on this Earth.

  And let the pain fester until it dug too deep, irreversible.

  I didn't ask, but I'd be kidding myself if neither Wanda nor Pietro wanted revenge. On the Chairman, on Stark. On everyone?

  And why wouldn't they. It was them against the world.

  What do I do? What could I do, that would mean anything?

  Despite myself, a burst of laughter left my lips, startling and deranged. Here I was, a Super Soldier trained by the KGB, and this was probably the millionth time since waking up in the hospital I felt as useless and weak as I had before they took me. On the inside, I was still Little Mia, the sullen but soft-hearted girl who couldn't do anything for herself.

  I didn't want to be her anymore. I never wanted to be her, but I settled because what choice did I have then? Before, I thought what I lacked in physical strength, I made up for in internal fortitude. Was I just kidding myself? Was I ever as strong as I wanted to believe I was?

  Strong enough to get through this?

  Back and forth, back and forth. My footsteps filled the empty room, rhythmic and only slightly soothing. My reflection followed me, tossing her head, hair too short, legs too long.

  And that's when it occurred to me. No one was going to help me this time. There was no 9-1-1 here, no good police or FBI, there was no Peter with the spare inhaler to save me at the last moment. If I was going to die, then I would die.

  The only person who could get me out of this was myself.

  I paused in my pacing, staring at my reflection. This realization was both powerful and terrifying at once. Terrifying, because I had never been on my own like this before, how uncertain everything was, how fast and easy everything could go wrong, and no one to rescue me if they did. If I made a mistake, it would be on me. The incident between the Cheka and the Komitet had been partly my fault, and I couldn't be stupid enough to let it happen again.

  But it was powerful, because - for the first time in my life - I had complete and utter control over my own fate.

  I didn't have anyone else. Just this stranger in the mirror. A girl who could run. A girl who could fight.

  Me.

  The girl in the mirror stared back, gray eyes wide. Wide shoulders, strong legs, powerful lungs, a beating heart that wasn't killing me. The Mia of yesterday couldn't do what I needed to do.

  Maybe I was designed to kill, just as the Crucible intended. Maybe the twins had a point, the old Mia was too weak to rely on. Maybe both were right, and I wasn't good enough either way.

  But no one was going to tell me who I was.

  No more mistakes. No more slip-ups. My hand clenching, I raised it and slammed it at my face.

  Glass cracked and shattered under my knuckles, and my reflection fractured, splitting in every direction. A thousand shimmering pieces. I wasn't going to let them tell me who I am.

  Who I needed right now wasn't either the weapon or the girl.

  And I knew what I had to do.

  Five minutes later, I strode back into the theater hall. Pietro and Wanda were talking quietly to each other, eating food that they must have taken while I was busy thinking. But they stopped what they were doing to look up at me, first surprised, then expressions turning scrutinizing when they saw my face and, I suppose, noticed something different. Pietro tilted his head and asked, 'Amelia? Are you okay?'

  'Y-yes,' I came to a stop in front of them, clenching my fists and steeling my nerves, remembering my goal. Don't stutter, don't falter. The choice was already made and I was going to see this through. This was only the first step. 'I know what I'm going to do now.'

  They stood slowly, exchanging looks of concern. I knew my next words were going to be judged, so I had to pick them carefully.

  But there was only one way to say it. I took a deep breath, met their eyes, and set my jaw. 'I'm getting the hell out of Sokovia.''Leave Sokovia?' Wanda gaped at me as I strode past her, going for the radio.

  'You mean,' Pietro stood up as the same time, holding his bandaged hand close to his chest. Guess Wanda applied some First Aid while I was busy giving myself a pep talk. 'You are going to America?'

  'Yes,' I said, pausing to face them. Here came the part — I kept my voice firm, to hide my worry, self-consciousness. I averted my gaze, because it was easier, and started fiddling with the tuning dials of the radio as I said, 'I'm not going to wait for someone to save me, and I'm not staying in Sokovia. I'm getting out of here, one way or another.'

  Pietro tilted his head, curious. I couldn't tell if he was impressed or skeptical. 'And what makes you speak like this?'

  'I don't know,' I could only shrug, glancing back to study the radio dials, feeling self-conscious. It helped to find the right words when I wasn't watching their faces. 'It just seems like the smart thing to do. I mean, you guys were right. I can't be who I was before. Just because the Crucible...created me, doesn't mean I'm going to let them control me.'

  I had come to the conclusion that I couldn't think myself weak anymore. Not just in the physical sense, but mentally as well. And I was taken aback by how hard it was just to do that.

  It seems counter-intuitive, to want to feel weak – no one likes the idea of not being able to defend themselves, of being at a disadvantage, of being oppressed in some way or another. No one wants to be a victim. But the thought itself, deciding to be weak, was still so seductive. I've lived my whole life thinking myself as a victim, of it being me against the world. It's so easy to think that way, and now I get why it was so hard to pull out of it.

  Because seeing myself as a victim — of chance, of fate, of biology, of society, of evil Communists, of whatever — was basically absolving myself of any responsibility I had for myself or my choices. I could be a total bitch to Mom or Peter or anyone, and not feel bad about it because I was convinced about being seen as 'less' by them — but the only person who saw me as lesser was myself.

  That just meant I blamed everyone, including my own friends and family, of things that weren't even their fault, that they weren't even guilty of. Essentially, I gave myself a get-out-of-jail-free card every time I failed. To not even bother trying at all. It wasn't just my previous condition that made me that way; I couldn't use that excuse anymore, and I shouldn't have used it then.

  And I can't fall into that again. I wasn't going to survive if I did. The Crucible, the Chairman, his agents, won't give a shit if I'm a 'victim' or not. They were going to kill me either way.

  Now all I could think about was the massive apology I'd have to give to Mom and Peter when I finally got back.

  Already, it's making me cringe, but deep down, I was honestly looking forward to it. If I got the chance to apologize, that meant I lived long enough to make it home. And being home again was all I wanted. If apologizing for the rest of my life to them meant it would happen, then so be it.

  'And right now,' I finished. 'all I have to do is figure out the best way how.'

  'Oh, we will let you know,' Wanda said with a smirk, crossing her arms. She seemed amused that I couldn't get the radio to work.

  I blinked at her, surprised, as she walked up next to me and peered over the radio — it had clearly been brought here by someone else; the twins, maybe? Over twenty years old, the radio was hardly state of the art, and I was having a hell of a time trying to get anything besides white noise out of it. 'Um, what do you mean?'

  'Well, you don't think you are getting out of Sokovia alive by yourself, do you?' Wanda glanced at me and raised a skeptical eyebrow. Inaudible chatter was starting to come through as the continued to play with the radio.

  'You want to help?' I asked, looking between her and Pietro, who had co
me up behind his sister. 'Guys, I can't ask you to —'

  'You do not have to ask!' Pietro laughed, shaking his head. Sharing another amused look with Wanda, he added, 'It is simple. We will go with you to America!'

  'But it's so far away,' I pointed out, not quite able to comprehend what they were doing. I hadn't thought of asking the because I didn't think it was fair. 'And Sokovia is your home.'

  'And it is,' Wanda assured, but a sadness fell across her face. She sighed, bowed her head, hair falling into her face. 'But Sokovia has changed since we last remember it, and it is no longer safe for us here. Not when the Crucible is so close.'

  'We will come back, eventually,' Pietro said with a slight shrug of the shoulders. 'We will come back and help fix Sokovia. But we have been trapped for so long…I want to see what the world has become.'

  'Well, it won't be easy.' I said, a last ditch attempt to dissuade them. I wasn't even sure why — maybe I was afraid of the responsibility. If anything when wrong, if anything happened to them, it'd be my fault.

  But Wanda just gave a roll of her eyes. 'Please. Nothing I have ever known has been easy.'

  'We made it this far, no?' Pietro held up his arms, that lazy, self-assured smile on his face again. I still couldn't tell if it was bravado or not, or if everything that had happened recently was really so simple or easy. I had the itching feeling he was just trying to butter me up when he added, 'You brought us home, so we will bring you home. It is, what you call it, ohana.'

  Well, it he was trying to butter me up, it worked. A grinned bloomed across my face, surprised and delighted. The pedant in me wanted to correct the meaning of ohana — then I realized Pietro wasn't wrong at all. This was family. This was what family did for each other. It struck me deep, filling that hole in my chest that had been empty ever since I heard Peter's voice over the phone. That missing thing, lost and found.

  I guess my expression was everything they needed to know about my opinion on the matter, because Wanda said, 'If you start crying again, I am going to hit you.'

  'What? I'm not crying!'

  'No, but you were going to,' Wanda shot back, then stood up, clapping her hands together, jerking her chin at the radio. 'Works now. What did you want it for? Music?'

  'Thanks.' I said, leaning over to turn up the volume dial. 'But no, information.'

  'Information?' Pietro said, coming to crouch down next to me. The radio, sitting on an armrest, had a long series of extension cords running off and into the darkness of the theatre. 'About what, Sokovia?'

  'Let's just say my little stunt this morning is probably going to have some negative side effects,' I said, which was probably an understatement. Thankfully, Wanda had found a news station and the current song, a Russian folk song I'd never heard of, was starting to fade out.

  Still, he appreciated my attempt at humor and chuckled. The speakers started to filter out a male voice, announcing first the basic news:

  'It is three'o'five PM, October 3oth, and here in Novi Grad the State has just issued another statement about the incident that occurred earlier this morning. They assure the public that the situation is under control, and investigations into the suspects are already underway —'

  'Which means they have no idea what happened,' Wanda interjected with a snort.

  'The State assures the public that this morning's incident is unrelated to the recent bombings, orchestrated by the Sokovian Underground. The Chairman promises that the Undergound will be vanquished before the anniversary of the New Year's Revolution, and says there will be a great celebration of historic proportions, once Sokovia is finally free from terror. On to other news: the weekly import from Yugoslavia has finally come in, after a recent snowfall caused an avalanche to block the tracks in the Black Diamond mountain range. The train will be coming in two days to Novi Grad to deposit the goods before departing immediately. The State assures the public that they have no fear of shortages, and that the delay has caused only minimal problems, which have been rendered unnoticeable to the public due to the State's hard efforts. Remember, the State loves you, and serves you. And now for better news! The Russian Prime Minister Krovopuskov will be visiting Sokovia in two weeks for a meeting with our glorious Chairman and the General Serov, to discuss treaties that will be of mutual benefit to both countries, as well as celebrate our illustrious Slavic heritage.'

  Pietro sniffed. 'They just want to kiss up to the Russians. The Chairman is powerful, but no one has an army as large and formidable as Russia. He is gaining power even faster than we realized…'

  Unfortunately, that was a non-issue at the moment. I could only shake my head. 'Right now, we have other things to worry about. Getting out of Sokovia is our first priority. All this conspiracy stuff is going to have to wait. Maybe when we get out, we can tell the U.N., and once they know, Russia will think twice before dealing with the Chairman.'

  'Like they will listen to us.' Wanda muttered, scowling. 'We are just children to them. Stupid, annoying children who know nothing of the world. They will not care.'

  'They might,' I said again, emphasizing the word. Wanda's negativity was almost toxic, and I partly wanted to agree with her, that the U.N. Leaders weren't going to take the word of ragtag group of runaway teenagers. But I couldn't let it break my confidence, or my hope. 'There's a way to do it right, I'm sure. But like I said, I can't worry about it right now. I'm sorry.'

  'No, it is fine,' Wanda inhaled deeply through her nose, before sighing, her shoulders deflating. She sunk down next to Pietro, dropping her forehead onto his shoulder. 'A world like this, it is easy to forget that there are people like you. People who still care.'

  'You are trying.' Pietro added. 'You are helping us. Right now, that is all we need.'

  The next two days were precious, most of which I spent planning. There was definitely something happening in Novi Grad - the twins didn't want me leaving the theatre, because of the incident, but I heard all I needed to hear from them each time they came back.

  'The streets are getting tighter every hour,' Pietro said the next evening, coming home with dinner - potato chips and cans of tuna. 'It's getting dark out but people are still outside. Waving signs. They know the State is lying to them.'

  'It is because they have no more patience,' Wanda replied, keeping up next to him. She carried the goods while he zipped in and out. Throwing a bag of chips at me, sitting in one of the seats and surrounded by yellow notepaper, she added, 'The bombings by the Sokovian Underground have hurt more civilians than they've helped, and the State has done nothing to stop them. I do not know how the Underground does it, how they can get away with it, but I wish they knew how to focus their efforts better. Perhaps we can actually liberate Sokovia if we all unite. The only thing the Underground has achieved is making the people distrust both them and the State.'

  'Do you think the State will be able to calm them down?' I asked, glancing down at my notes. Getting out of the city meant actually having a way out. If something else happened, something bad caused by either upset civilians or the Underground, then that was just going to turn the State's eyes on us all the sharper. 'It sounds like the Underground is trying to provoke an uprising.'

  'They probably are,' Pietro shrugged, sitting down next to me and on top of a bunch of paper. It crunched under him, but he didn't seem to notice my irritated look. 'But the State has crushed rebellions before. Many, innocent civilians, men, women, children — die each time. Now the people know better.'

  But Wanda, toeing a piece a paper on the floor around to read my notes, remained oddly silent. Pietro and I shared a glance, before looking back at her. I asked, 'Is something wrong, Wanda?'

  Her head jolted up, and she smiled at us, but hesitated before she said, 'N-no, I'm fine.'

  As someone who always used the phrase 'I'm fine', I knew she wasn't. I frowned slightly, unsure how to broach the topic, and in a moment of clarity I suddenly understood Peter's frustration with me, that night of the fight. Wanda
said it once and already I couldn't decipher what it meant; I could only imagine what it must've been for Peter, who heard that phrase over and over in his life, knowing something was wrong, but never knowing what until it was too late.

  I couldn't let that happen again. So I said, 'It's okay if you tell us. If something's wrong, I want to know. Before it gets worse.'

  Wanda bit her lip, glancing away for a moment. I probably had that look on my face every time Peter tried to talk to me about the doctors. How did he put up with me for long? How was he so patient? I could barely stand it.

  Then she said. 'Will it work? Your plan?'

  I blinked at her. Next to me, Pietro spoke, sounding as surprised as I felt. 'You have a plan, Amelia?'

  'Y-yes,' I stammered, tapping my pencil on the legal pad in my lap. Wanda was still looking at my notes. Did she already know what I was doing? 'At least, it should. I want to leave within the month, at the latest. It'll give us enough time to prepare. Lay low for a little bit, get the State off our trail. And the Komitet, too. That woman...Brandt...she freaks me out. I don't like her, or any of her goons. Not when they can just turn into lava monsters or whatever. They scare me more than anything right now.'