Rochade - A Game of Intrigue
Twofold Bind
Chapter 9
Twofold Bind
Fun fact: Getting things clean was the hardest part of the whole job.
Pepper sighed, sitting at her desk in the Avengers Tower and checking her appointments she would have in the morrow. Although she should have retired already for the night, now that this building was actually in use, she had been busy with arrangements for the Tower. Tony had insisted that only approved personnel would have access, but he had failed to think about the practical aspects of how less than ten people were supposed to keep a 35 story building clean.
Even now that most of the cleaning process was automatized, it still meant that there had to be engineering personnel, which were hard to come by if it meant that they were to supervise and maintain floor cleaning. Not only did she need that kind of qualified personnel in the laboratories of Stark Industries, she had also had to pay higher wages for undignifying work. To make things worse, Tony had insisted that only trusted and approved personnel with routine combat training in the case of invasion was in place, which narrowed the pool of qualified personnel even further. In the end, she had been so desperate that she had gotten in touch with Maria Hill, her new contact in S.H.I.E.L.D. after Phil’s demise, to get that kind of work done. Tony wasn’t amused, but then again, he had set the almost impossible standards. Now, she had a staff full of S.H.I.E.L.D.-Agents on “leave of absence for undefined time” to keep the carpet vacuumed.
But she should look at the bright side: Most of these agents were thrilled fanboys and -girls; so they were very enthusiastic and productive for the time being. She had to keep that up. Memo: Buy more expensive coffee for enhanced staff efficiency.
That reminded her that she didn’t like the girl sitting on the front desk down on the ground floor. What was her name again? Indries Mooji? Whatever. She would have forgotten that name by this time tomorrow.
“Uh .. hello?”
When Pepper looked up, she saw a young woman standing in the doorway of her office. She head brown eyes, long, dark hair and wore black-framed glasses. She wore a bit too much make-up while her clothes were more legére. Her voice was squeaky and her broad grin just a tiny bit sheepish.
“Hello … you are with Jane Foster’s crew, aren’t you?” Pepper asked, searching for the name of this person in her memories. “Darcy, wasn’t it?”
Darcy’s smile broadened even more, while she seated herself unabashedly at Pepper’s table. “It’s nice to be recognized for a change. I was just exploring the tower. I think I need better walking boots.” She propped her chin on her palm, leaning with her elbows on the desk. “What are you doing here?”
“Working.” Pepper was half in a mind to shoo that girl away, than she decided that she welcomed the company. “Crunching numbers, keeping things clean, doing the paperwork nobody wants to do …”
“You’re the Girl Friday.” Darcy grinned. “I sorta do the same thing, you know, being an intern.”
The Girl Friday. That was a term Pepper hadn’t heard for quite some time, but she had outgrown this role now. She was no secretary anymore, she was Tony’s equal in everything but superheroing. Leaning back in her chair, she allowed herself to reminisce about the time when she was just a Tony’s personal assistant in the company who had to use pepper spray to make a calculation error known before it could blow up a meeting. That was rather violent and she abhorred it, but at that time, it was a question of money and accuracy. And nobody ever accused her of being inaccurate in her work.
“You forgot to keep an eye on the competition.” She smiled, still remembering those times fondly when things were simple and tidy.
“How does the competition look, then?” Darcy asked, but Pepper was pretty sure that she only asked because she had nothing better to do and wanted to keep the conversation going.
“Like Justin Hammer. He’s a prick, but now he just covers his losses. Strange thing though, he has stopped trying to buy shares of Stark Industries.” How he had managed to buy himself out of prison after he had hired a known criminal and murderer to let that man unleash combat drones on the guests of an expo, she still didn’t know. Sometimes, having money was enough, it seemed. Justin Hammer proved it. But now that she mentioned it, it was rather odd for Hammer to just leave the matter be when he was so hell-bent on humiliating Tony Stark. “A penny for his thoughts.” She wondered, since him doing nothing all of a sudden meant that he had a new strategy, but she had no idea what that might be.
“That’s easy.” Darcy fluted, pulling out her phone. “Got his private e-mail address?”
As the matter of fact, Pepper did. Hammer, even after all this time, still tried to hit on Pepper every time he saw her and thus, she had his e-mail for private matters many times over. But did that girl just imply to hack Justin Hammer’s e-mail account? He was one of the most profilic figures of the business world, and she deluded herself that his account was even close to hackable?
Well, savviness wasn’t Hammer’s strongest suit. Perhaps it was possible and worth a try. “You can do that?” She asked, just to make sure.
“Yup. I got an app for that.” Darcy said as if she was just asked if she had not forgotten to buy eggs.
What were the chances? As the more mature and sensible person in this room, It was Pepper’s holy duty to remind that girl that hacking into other people’s accounts was wrong, that privacy was to be respected and that she was a law-abiding person. Then she should scold the girl and sent her on her way.
Pepper wordlessly produced his address from her handbag. “Ok, I’ll cover the tracks and you see what you can do.”
“Sure.” Darcy fluted in response, and it took only a short time before she giggled. “His password was love123. What an idiot.”
Pepper reminded herself to change her personal password as soon as possible before she and Darcy, both excited and with wide grins on their faces, started rummaging through Justin Hammer’s private messages.
The first mail was apparently from one of his friends, just casual talk. The second mail was a case for the junk folder, which was a favour they graciously did for Hammer. The third one however made Pepper’s brow furrow.
“What’s up?” Darcy asked, chewing on her lower lip. “That guy is a big business-mojo-something, so he has to play with the stock market.”
“Yes.” Pepper answered, reading further. “But he’s moving funds around for seemingly nonsensical projects and he tips one of his friends off that Stark Industries is going to collapse within the year. What the hell?” She shook her head. “Why would he say something like that? Perhaps his friend isn’t a friend and Hammer just plays him … ”
“ … or he knows something you don’t know.” Darcy continued. Following Pepper’s scrutinizing glance, she added a semi-meek “Just saying.”.
Pepper sighed heavily. “Looks like he has hired some muscle in the industrial espionage area. How does one counter that is apparently already done?” She talked more to herself than to Darcy, whom she had to thank that she was now aware of the problem. Industrial espionage was always a factor in the business and there were always measures in place to counter this. But why did Justin Hammer delude himself that Stark Industries, one of the most successful corporations in the world, would collapse within a year’s time? She clicked through the mails and found the name of an informant in this espionage-game, one that apparently fed Justin Hammer his information.
Who was the Spymaster?
Tony Stark had a peculiar definition of ‘guest bedroom’, which turned out to be bigger than any apartment Wanda had ever lived in, aside from the house where she was a guest of Agatha’s. Having been a poor student most of her adult life or sharing a home with her family, she wasn’t really used to that much space of her own, even if it was only a temporary living situation.
It wasn’t a cozy or comfortable place, but elegant in design; geometric figures were the architect’s inspiration, while the furniture and carpet held shades of black and grey in varying degrees. There was something cold and reserved to these rooms, but the bed was soft and clean, so it had everything Wanda could possibly wish for. Furthermore, there was even a fully stocked and furnished kitchen. She was safe and cared for in this place, and yet she had the feeling of getting lost in these large, spacious rooms.
“Dreaming again?” Steve asked, a gentle smile on his face while he looked up from the cooking pot. He had visited a few times now, staying for a few minutes as if to make sure Wanda was in good health. She suspected that Clint had set him up to this, since this was exactly the thing he would do. The first morning, Wanda had been in a dark mood and didn’t want to get out of bed. So, Clint had dragged her by the feet into the shower, literally. His tough approach worked, and she felt herself getting out of bed and to work in the Tower’s laboratory easier day by day. To be completely honest, a gorgeous and caring young man checking every now and then was a very good incentive as well. This evening, he had decided to stay so they could cook dinner together. Or rather, he would cook dinner and she assisted and did the dishes so that it at least the work would be allocated equally.
“Maybe.” She replied, as nothing better came to her mind. Thousands of possible answers, and she chose the most boring. Now that the word was out, she couldn’t take it back, so she decided to change the subject. “How’s the stew?”
“What do you think? How are you?” He jokingly asked the cooking pot before he concluded. “Happy and bubbling.”
Wanda smiled while she took the next chopping board to wash it. “That’s the good thing about stew. It’s easily amused. That’s why our ancestors when they first figured out how to use a stick had stew for dinner.” She heard Steve stepping away from the stove, but her eyes were transfixed on her dishes. “I’m still amazed that you can cook anyway. I can only warm things up. If it were up to me, I could live eating pasta and packet soups. Real cooking is simply beyond me. How did you learn that?”
“Learning by doing. It was just me and my mother for a long time, and she had the firm opinion that any child of hers had to be able to take care of himself.” She heard him say in the background, but it sounded rehearsed, like his mind was on something else. “Some things never change through time. Stew, for example.”
That wasn’t quite correct. There were a lot more spices now that he could choose from, which he did with care, but in the end, the recipe for stew was an universal matter: snip everything into a pot, boil it in broth and voilá, stew done. So, some things did stay the same.
“Considering what you have missed in your time in the ice, cooking must be something very familiar.” Smiling to herself, she started to wash the next dish. “I mean, you have so much pop culture to take in: You missed David Bowie, Queen and Christopher Walken in all his glory, not to mention movies. They weren’t considered a piece of art in your time, but nowadays, art via film is a quite accepted and appreciated.”
“Yes.” He replied from the background, his amused smile audible. “We weren’t quite sure that film would ever be something more than cheap entertainment.” That was the same thing that was said about video games nowadays. Movies like ‘Citizen Cane’ or ‘Dead Poet’s Society’ were proof enough in the argument that film was a medium to be taken seriously, one that had a place in modern art. On day, video games and animation movies would have proved themselves as a medium of art as well. Times changed, and so did art, the ultimate expression of culture.
“Seriously, I know that you time is scarce, but there are some things to take in catching up about the last decades. It has had so much impact on the world, even wizards can’t ignore it anymore. One of my colleagues for example used ABBA-songs to fuel her spells.” Every sorcerer chose for himself how he expressed his magic. Wanda herself was a rather traditional case, using materials and symbols like a typical english wizard would do. But it was not unheard of to sing and dance to cast the own spells. The only thing one had to worry about was looking ridiculous. But in the end, it wasn’t that much of a stretch; whether one drew a circle and started chanting, called upon the might of Greyskull or singing ‘Take a chance on me’ to ensorcel someone, one was sure to draw funny looks. “When you have the time, you should watch a few movies like ‘Chinatown’, ‘Blade Runner’, all the ‘Matrix’ movies, ‘Twilight Zone’ …” She gasped, just realizing something. “... and Doctor Who! Dear me, there are fifty years of Doctor Who just waiting to be discovered by Steve Rogers.”
She could practically hear him arch both eyebrows doubtfully, but wasn’t deterred in her scheming how to best show Steve Rogers a series about a sad man in a box. “Personally, I’m a fan of Ten, so I think you should start with a few episodes of the new series. Or perhaps the vintage old ones? I also like Three and Six very much, and they had their moments …”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, you will in time.” Wanda concluded happily, her mind already working to chose a few best-of-episodes to really get her point across. After all, the Captain’s time was scarce, and she had to make the best of it.
He most likely wasn’t really convinced and she heard him turning around, then changing the subject with a question. “Who’s that?”
Turning around, Wanda saw what he meant. He pointed at the only thing that gave the apartment a personal touch and an indication at all that a person was living there: The picture she saw when Agent Coulson first had opened her files. It was a rather recent picture of her surviving family, and she had asked Steve to procure a copy if possible, which he had done without questioning up until now.
She dried her hands and stepped closer to the shelf where she had placed the picture. “My family.” Her voice held a strange undertone of regret and sorrow, although she had aspired to keep it neutral. She even let out a short, bitter laugh. “Yes, that’s the evil Magneto in the flesh.” She pointed and the older man with grey hair. All of them in the Lehnsherr family tree looked very much alike: Statuesque but wiry build, almond-shaped and light-colored eyes, lean faces, smooth features, slightly pronounced cheekbones, slender hips. The men could also pride themselves with a strong jaw.
“Evil is a strong word.” Steve said, his eyes never leaving the picture.
“I don’t think anybody thinks himself evil at all, even if he or she is guilty of the acts of a villain.” She nodded, as if her words needed additional affirmation. “Nobody thinks themselves evil. They think themselves right. My father is a very good example of that. What he has done in the past is detailed in your files, and some of these things are undoubtedly true.” She paused. “Unless it’s about murdering presidents; that wasn’t him. Anyway, he did all this because he thought he would protect his people. He genuinely thinks that if he doesn’t act first, his people will be destroyed. The worst thing is that he is proven right time and time again.”
“And what do you think?” Roger’s question was quiet and intense, and she wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t judge her if he sensed that she would gloss over the truth or outright lie.
It was a little uncomfortable, and the words only came out slowly, as if afraid. “Once, I believed him. Then, I thought him wrong. Today, I think that there is no right answer, just opinions.” She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what to think anymore. I only know that as a father, he’s strict, demanding, but kind. If you call him a criminal and dangerous, you would be right as well.”
“So in the end, he’s your father and that’s that?” He gave her an opaque look. “What does he say to that opinion?”
Again, Wanda had to laugh bitterly. “He detests everything noncommittal. He thinks that I have betrayed him and hasn’t spoken to me in many years.”
“But you love him anyway?”
“Very much.” Her voice was now nothing but a whisper. It was astounding how much that hurt even after all these years. Her father hadn’t even tried to contact her after he had tried to break her out of S.H.I.E.L.D.s custody. After Wanda had explained to him that she had surrendered herself and wasn’t about to break her word, he just had wordlessly left, cold fury in his eyes. To this day, he had not forgiven her this betrayal, and in a way, he was right. Wanda had abandoned his cause, but she had never stopped loving him. That was a thing he couldn’t or wouldn’t understand.
“He knows.” Steve finally said after a long pause, his expression compassionate and knowing. Something about his demeanor made Wanda think that he might have had a hard time to figure that out as well. It was just him and his mother, so he had been an only child while the father was missing. Since he came from an era of war, it was not unthinkable that his father might have fallen. Loss like that brought up the same questions Wanda had asked herself. ‘Why has he left me alone? Am I not important enough? Doesn’t he know that I love and need him?’. Any child left alone by its father asked itself those questions, and Steve had found his answer. “Every parent knows somehow.” Then why did she feel like crying anyway?
He must have sensed it, because he quickly changed subjects. “Who’s the girl?”
“Lorna.” Wanda replied with a throaty voice, still gathering herself. “Lorna Dane. She’s my half-sister. Don’t be fooled; that brown hair is dyed. In reality, it’s green.” She could see that he was still at a loss for words, so she just continued babbling. “She’s a sweet and devoted girl. The man beside her is called Pietro.” She pointed at the young man with his white-greyish hair, his eyes bright with laughter. “He is actually my twin.” He was still silent, staring at the picture of her family, so she started with a question, hoping not to overstep any boundaries. “I understand that you are an only child …”
“Yes.” He replied, as if suddenly woken from a dream, only reluctantly turning his gaze from the picture. “Yes. Sorry, I can’t imagine what it must be to have a twin. One hears the strangest stories about it …”
“Some of them are true.” Wanda tried to smile, but it was a sad excuse for one. “Pietro and I haven’t spoken for a long time either, but growing up with him was never being alone. He wasn’t like a shadow, he was like a part of life, always there, always caring.” What kind of stupid conflict had tore them apart, she kept to herself. Instead, she focused on the good times they had and didn’t stop talking in hopes of taking the conversation into happier levels. “I even remember when we started speaking. We were raised bilingual - Romanian and German - , and we took it upon ourselves to add our own secret language to it.”
This time, Steve seemed to shake off his tristesse and started smiling, broad and genuine. “Really? It must be useful, having your own language to talk to each other.”
She shook her head. “I’ve forgotten most of the words. Twin speak of this kind is mostly a simplification of existing words. For example, my name was simplified from Wanda to Ana.”
“And Pietro?”
Wanda smiled, feeling how even the shadow of her brother within this conversation lifted her spirits. “That, my curious friend, is a secret for the ages. Alas, I am sworn to take my name for him to the grave.”
“Aaaw, darn it. I had hoped to get some dirt on your brother.”
“Not today, sir.”
He gave her a look that was hard to interpret, something between measuring and appreciating. Then, he briefly touched her shoulder and nodded towards the kitchen. “Come on then, Ana. We still have dinner. I hope you are hungry.”
Hearing this name spoken to her after decades was somewhat strange, but it wasn’t an unwelcome sound. It felt warm; it felt right.
Twofold Bind
Fun fact: Getting things clean was the hardest part of the whole job.
Pepper sighed, sitting at her desk in the Avengers Tower and checking her appointments she would have in the morrow. Although she should have retired already for the night, now that this building was actually in use, she had been busy with arrangements for the Tower. Tony had insisted that only approved personnel would have access, but he had failed to think about the practical aspects of how less than ten people were supposed to keep a 35 story building clean.
Even now that most of the cleaning process was automatized, it still meant that there had to be engineering personnel, which were hard to come by if it meant that they were to supervise and maintain floor cleaning. Not only did she need that kind of qualified personnel in the laboratories of Stark Industries, she had also had to pay higher wages for undignifying work. To make things worse, Tony had insisted that only trusted and approved personnel with routine combat training in the case of invasion was in place, which narrowed the pool of qualified personnel even further. In the end, she had been so desperate that she had gotten in touch with Maria Hill, her new contact in S.H.I.E.L.D. after Phil’s demise, to get that kind of work done. Tony wasn’t amused, but then again, he had set the almost impossible standards. Now, she had a staff full of S.H.I.E.L.D.-Agents on “leave of absence for undefined time” to keep the carpet vacuumed.
But she should look at the bright side: Most of these agents were thrilled fanboys and -girls; so they were very enthusiastic and productive for the time being. She had to keep that up. Memo: Buy more expensive coffee for enhanced staff efficiency.
That reminded her that she didn’t like the girl sitting on the front desk down on the ground floor. What was her name again? Indries Mooji? Whatever. She would have forgotten that name by this time tomorrow.
“Uh .. hello?”
When Pepper looked up, she saw a young woman standing in the doorway of her office. She head brown eyes, long, dark hair and wore black-framed glasses. She wore a bit too much make-up while her clothes were more legére. Her voice was squeaky and her broad grin just a tiny bit sheepish.
“Hello … you are with Jane Foster’s crew, aren’t you?” Pepper asked, searching for the name of this person in her memories. “Darcy, wasn’t it?”
Darcy’s smile broadened even more, while she seated herself unabashedly at Pepper’s table. “It’s nice to be recognized for a change. I was just exploring the tower. I think I need better walking boots.” She propped her chin on her palm, leaning with her elbows on the desk. “What are you doing here?”
“Working.” Pepper was half in a mind to shoo that girl away, than she decided that she welcomed the company. “Crunching numbers, keeping things clean, doing the paperwork nobody wants to do …”
“You’re the Girl Friday.” Darcy grinned. “I sorta do the same thing, you know, being an intern.”
The Girl Friday. That was a term Pepper hadn’t heard for quite some time, but she had outgrown this role now. She was no secretary anymore, she was Tony’s equal in everything but superheroing. Leaning back in her chair, she allowed herself to reminisce about the time when she was just a Tony’s personal assistant in the company who had to use pepper spray to make a calculation error known before it could blow up a meeting. That was rather violent and she abhorred it, but at that time, it was a question of money and accuracy. And nobody ever accused her of being inaccurate in her work.
“You forgot to keep an eye on the competition.” She smiled, still remembering those times fondly when things were simple and tidy.
“How does the competition look, then?” Darcy asked, but Pepper was pretty sure that she only asked because she had nothing better to do and wanted to keep the conversation going.
“Like Justin Hammer. He’s a prick, but now he just covers his losses. Strange thing though, he has stopped trying to buy shares of Stark Industries.” How he had managed to buy himself out of prison after he had hired a known criminal and murderer to let that man unleash combat drones on the guests of an expo, she still didn’t know. Sometimes, having money was enough, it seemed. Justin Hammer proved it. But now that she mentioned it, it was rather odd for Hammer to just leave the matter be when he was so hell-bent on humiliating Tony Stark. “A penny for his thoughts.” She wondered, since him doing nothing all of a sudden meant that he had a new strategy, but she had no idea what that might be.
“That’s easy.” Darcy fluted, pulling out her phone. “Got his private e-mail address?”
As the matter of fact, Pepper did. Hammer, even after all this time, still tried to hit on Pepper every time he saw her and thus, she had his e-mail for private matters many times over. But did that girl just imply to hack Justin Hammer’s e-mail account? He was one of the most profilic figures of the business world, and she deluded herself that his account was even close to hackable?
Well, savviness wasn’t Hammer’s strongest suit. Perhaps it was possible and worth a try. “You can do that?” She asked, just to make sure.
“Yup. I got an app for that.” Darcy said as if she was just asked if she had not forgotten to buy eggs.
What were the chances? As the more mature and sensible person in this room, It was Pepper’s holy duty to remind that girl that hacking into other people’s accounts was wrong, that privacy was to be respected and that she was a law-abiding person. Then she should scold the girl and sent her on her way.
Pepper wordlessly produced his address from her handbag. “Ok, I’ll cover the tracks and you see what you can do.”
“Sure.” Darcy fluted in response, and it took only a short time before she giggled. “His password was love123. What an idiot.”
Pepper reminded herself to change her personal password as soon as possible before she and Darcy, both excited and with wide grins on their faces, started rummaging through Justin Hammer’s private messages.
The first mail was apparently from one of his friends, just casual talk. The second mail was a case for the junk folder, which was a favour they graciously did for Hammer. The third one however made Pepper’s brow furrow.
“What’s up?” Darcy asked, chewing on her lower lip. “That guy is a big business-mojo-something, so he has to play with the stock market.”
“Yes.” Pepper answered, reading further. “But he’s moving funds around for seemingly nonsensical projects and he tips one of his friends off that Stark Industries is going to collapse within the year. What the hell?” She shook her head. “Why would he say something like that? Perhaps his friend isn’t a friend and Hammer just plays him … ”
“ … or he knows something you don’t know.” Darcy continued. Following Pepper’s scrutinizing glance, she added a semi-meek “Just saying.”.
Pepper sighed heavily. “Looks like he has hired some muscle in the industrial espionage area. How does one counter that is apparently already done?” She talked more to herself than to Darcy, whom she had to thank that she was now aware of the problem. Industrial espionage was always a factor in the business and there were always measures in place to counter this. But why did Justin Hammer delude himself that Stark Industries, one of the most successful corporations in the world, would collapse within a year’s time? She clicked through the mails and found the name of an informant in this espionage-game, one that apparently fed Justin Hammer his information.
Who was the Spymaster?
Tony Stark had a peculiar definition of ‘guest bedroom’, which turned out to be bigger than any apartment Wanda had ever lived in, aside from the house where she was a guest of Agatha’s. Having been a poor student most of her adult life or sharing a home with her family, she wasn’t really used to that much space of her own, even if it was only a temporary living situation.
It wasn’t a cozy or comfortable place, but elegant in design; geometric figures were the architect’s inspiration, while the furniture and carpet held shades of black and grey in varying degrees. There was something cold and reserved to these rooms, but the bed was soft and clean, so it had everything Wanda could possibly wish for. Furthermore, there was even a fully stocked and furnished kitchen. She was safe and cared for in this place, and yet she had the feeling of getting lost in these large, spacious rooms.
“Dreaming again?” Steve asked, a gentle smile on his face while he looked up from the cooking pot. He had visited a few times now, staying for a few minutes as if to make sure Wanda was in good health. She suspected that Clint had set him up to this, since this was exactly the thing he would do. The first morning, Wanda had been in a dark mood and didn’t want to get out of bed. So, Clint had dragged her by the feet into the shower, literally. His tough approach worked, and she felt herself getting out of bed and to work in the Tower’s laboratory easier day by day. To be completely honest, a gorgeous and caring young man checking every now and then was a very good incentive as well. This evening, he had decided to stay so they could cook dinner together. Or rather, he would cook dinner and she assisted and did the dishes so that it at least the work would be allocated equally.
“Maybe.” She replied, as nothing better came to her mind. Thousands of possible answers, and she chose the most boring. Now that the word was out, she couldn’t take it back, so she decided to change the subject. “How’s the stew?”
“What do you think? How are you?” He jokingly asked the cooking pot before he concluded. “Happy and bubbling.”
Wanda smiled while she took the next chopping board to wash it. “That’s the good thing about stew. It’s easily amused. That’s why our ancestors when they first figured out how to use a stick had stew for dinner.” She heard Steve stepping away from the stove, but her eyes were transfixed on her dishes. “I’m still amazed that you can cook anyway. I can only warm things up. If it were up to me, I could live eating pasta and packet soups. Real cooking is simply beyond me. How did you learn that?”
“Learning by doing. It was just me and my mother for a long time, and she had the firm opinion that any child of hers had to be able to take care of himself.” She heard him say in the background, but it sounded rehearsed, like his mind was on something else. “Some things never change through time. Stew, for example.”
That wasn’t quite correct. There were a lot more spices now that he could choose from, which he did with care, but in the end, the recipe for stew was an universal matter: snip everything into a pot, boil it in broth and voilá, stew done. So, some things did stay the same.
“Considering what you have missed in your time in the ice, cooking must be something very familiar.” Smiling to herself, she started to wash the next dish. “I mean, you have so much pop culture to take in: You missed David Bowie, Queen and Christopher Walken in all his glory, not to mention movies. They weren’t considered a piece of art in your time, but nowadays, art via film is a quite accepted and appreciated.”
“Yes.” He replied from the background, his amused smile audible. “We weren’t quite sure that film would ever be something more than cheap entertainment.” That was the same thing that was said about video games nowadays. Movies like ‘Citizen Cane’ or ‘Dead Poet’s Society’ were proof enough in the argument that film was a medium to be taken seriously, one that had a place in modern art. On day, video games and animation movies would have proved themselves as a medium of art as well. Times changed, and so did art, the ultimate expression of culture.
“Seriously, I know that you time is scarce, but there are some things to take in catching up about the last decades. It has had so much impact on the world, even wizards can’t ignore it anymore. One of my colleagues for example used ABBA-songs to fuel her spells.” Every sorcerer chose for himself how he expressed his magic. Wanda herself was a rather traditional case, using materials and symbols like a typical english wizard would do. But it was not unheard of to sing and dance to cast the own spells. The only thing one had to worry about was looking ridiculous. But in the end, it wasn’t that much of a stretch; whether one drew a circle and started chanting, called upon the might of Greyskull or singing ‘Take a chance on me’ to ensorcel someone, one was sure to draw funny looks. “When you have the time, you should watch a few movies like ‘Chinatown’, ‘Blade Runner’, all the ‘Matrix’ movies, ‘Twilight Zone’ …” She gasped, just realizing something. “... and Doctor Who! Dear me, there are fifty years of Doctor Who just waiting to be discovered by Steve Rogers.”
She could practically hear him arch both eyebrows doubtfully, but wasn’t deterred in her scheming how to best show Steve Rogers a series about a sad man in a box. “Personally, I’m a fan of Ten, so I think you should start with a few episodes of the new series. Or perhaps the vintage old ones? I also like Three and Six very much, and they had their moments …”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, you will in time.” Wanda concluded happily, her mind already working to chose a few best-of-episodes to really get her point across. After all, the Captain’s time was scarce, and she had to make the best of it.
He most likely wasn’t really convinced and she heard him turning around, then changing the subject with a question. “Who’s that?”
Turning around, Wanda saw what he meant. He pointed at the only thing that gave the apartment a personal touch and an indication at all that a person was living there: The picture she saw when Agent Coulson first had opened her files. It was a rather recent picture of her surviving family, and she had asked Steve to procure a copy if possible, which he had done without questioning up until now.
She dried her hands and stepped closer to the shelf where she had placed the picture. “My family.” Her voice held a strange undertone of regret and sorrow, although she had aspired to keep it neutral. She even let out a short, bitter laugh. “Yes, that’s the evil Magneto in the flesh.” She pointed and the older man with grey hair. All of them in the Lehnsherr family tree looked very much alike: Statuesque but wiry build, almond-shaped and light-colored eyes, lean faces, smooth features, slightly pronounced cheekbones, slender hips. The men could also pride themselves with a strong jaw.
“Evil is a strong word.” Steve said, his eyes never leaving the picture.
“I don’t think anybody thinks himself evil at all, even if he or she is guilty of the acts of a villain.” She nodded, as if her words needed additional affirmation. “Nobody thinks themselves evil. They think themselves right. My father is a very good example of that. What he has done in the past is detailed in your files, and some of these things are undoubtedly true.” She paused. “Unless it’s about murdering presidents; that wasn’t him. Anyway, he did all this because he thought he would protect his people. He genuinely thinks that if he doesn’t act first, his people will be destroyed. The worst thing is that he is proven right time and time again.”
“And what do you think?” Roger’s question was quiet and intense, and she wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t judge her if he sensed that she would gloss over the truth or outright lie.
It was a little uncomfortable, and the words only came out slowly, as if afraid. “Once, I believed him. Then, I thought him wrong. Today, I think that there is no right answer, just opinions.” She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what to think anymore. I only know that as a father, he’s strict, demanding, but kind. If you call him a criminal and dangerous, you would be right as well.”
“So in the end, he’s your father and that’s that?” He gave her an opaque look. “What does he say to that opinion?”
Again, Wanda had to laugh bitterly. “He detests everything noncommittal. He thinks that I have betrayed him and hasn’t spoken to me in many years.”
“But you love him anyway?”
“Very much.” Her voice was now nothing but a whisper. It was astounding how much that hurt even after all these years. Her father hadn’t even tried to contact her after he had tried to break her out of S.H.I.E.L.D.s custody. After Wanda had explained to him that she had surrendered herself and wasn’t about to break her word, he just had wordlessly left, cold fury in his eyes. To this day, he had not forgiven her this betrayal, and in a way, he was right. Wanda had abandoned his cause, but she had never stopped loving him. That was a thing he couldn’t or wouldn’t understand.
“He knows.” Steve finally said after a long pause, his expression compassionate and knowing. Something about his demeanor made Wanda think that he might have had a hard time to figure that out as well. It was just him and his mother, so he had been an only child while the father was missing. Since he came from an era of war, it was not unthinkable that his father might have fallen. Loss like that brought up the same questions Wanda had asked herself. ‘Why has he left me alone? Am I not important enough? Doesn’t he know that I love and need him?’. Any child left alone by its father asked itself those questions, and Steve had found his answer. “Every parent knows somehow.” Then why did she feel like crying anyway?
He must have sensed it, because he quickly changed subjects. “Who’s the girl?”
“Lorna.” Wanda replied with a throaty voice, still gathering herself. “Lorna Dane. She’s my half-sister. Don’t be fooled; that brown hair is dyed. In reality, it’s green.” She could see that he was still at a loss for words, so she just continued babbling. “She’s a sweet and devoted girl. The man beside her is called Pietro.” She pointed at the young man with his white-greyish hair, his eyes bright with laughter. “He is actually my twin.” He was still silent, staring at the picture of her family, so she started with a question, hoping not to overstep any boundaries. “I understand that you are an only child …”
“Yes.” He replied, as if suddenly woken from a dream, only reluctantly turning his gaze from the picture. “Yes. Sorry, I can’t imagine what it must be to have a twin. One hears the strangest stories about it …”
“Some of them are true.” Wanda tried to smile, but it was a sad excuse for one. “Pietro and I haven’t spoken for a long time either, but growing up with him was never being alone. He wasn’t like a shadow, he was like a part of life, always there, always caring.” What kind of stupid conflict had tore them apart, she kept to herself. Instead, she focused on the good times they had and didn’t stop talking in hopes of taking the conversation into happier levels. “I even remember when we started speaking. We were raised bilingual - Romanian and German - , and we took it upon ourselves to add our own secret language to it.”
This time, Steve seemed to shake off his tristesse and started smiling, broad and genuine. “Really? It must be useful, having your own language to talk to each other.”
She shook her head. “I’ve forgotten most of the words. Twin speak of this kind is mostly a simplification of existing words. For example, my name was simplified from Wanda to Ana.”
“And Pietro?”
Wanda smiled, feeling how even the shadow of her brother within this conversation lifted her spirits. “That, my curious friend, is a secret for the ages. Alas, I am sworn to take my name for him to the grave.”
“Aaaw, darn it. I had hoped to get some dirt on your brother.”
“Not today, sir.”
He gave her a look that was hard to interpret, something between measuring and appreciating. Then, he briefly touched her shoulder and nodded towards the kitchen. “Come on then, Ana. We still have dinner. I hope you are hungry.”
Hearing this name spoken to her after decades was somewhat strange, but it wasn’t an unwelcome sound. It felt warm; it felt right.
11/27/13