Once, Wanda asked him, "Don't you want to know what we went through in HYDRA?"
Mavuika thought for a moment and said, "You'll naturally talk about it when you want to."
Wanda asked again, "Aren't you afraid that we might suddenly lose control and deal DMG to you?"
Mavuika smiled. "You won't, and besides, even if you really lose control—"
He glanced at the lavender he was watering.
"—I can handle it."
Wanda was silent for a long time.
She remembered those HYDRA scientists who always wanted to "mine" her past, treat her pain as data, and use her anger as a weapon.
But Mavuika was different; he didn't want to get anything from her, nor was he afraid of what she might bring.
This "indifference" was precisely what made Wanda feel the safest.
Pietro had also let down a lot of his guard against Thor.
At the very beginning, he thought Thor was a simple-minded, brawny braggart who only knew how to solve problems with brute force.
But after spending time together, he found that Thor was actually very smart—not that kind of cunning, calculated smartness, but a more essential wisdom that insighted into the core of things.
Once, Pietro asked him, "Aren't you worried about me at all? I'm so fast, if I want to deal DMG to you—"
Thor interrupted him. "Will you?"
Pietro was stunned for a moment. "...No."
Thor smiled. "Then that settles it."
Pietro asked again, "But how can you be sure I won't? You've only known me for a month."
Thor thought for a moment and said, "Intuition."
Pietro opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but found himself unable to speak.
Thor's logic was very simple, simple to the point of being crude.
But it was precisely this simplicity that left Pietro unable to refute.
A month's time was enough to turn strangers into acquaintances, and acquaintances into friends.
Their gazes had changed, from the initial vigilance, scrutiny, and readiness to flee at any time, to the current relaxation, curiosity, and occasional hint of a smile.
Mavuika took all of this in; some things took time.
That afternoon, with the sunlight just right, Wanda and Pietro sat on the garden bench, Pietro peeling an orange while Wanda was reading a book—that copy of Norse mythology, which she had already read several times.
A black sedan drove over from a distance and parked in front of the Villa's iron gate.
Wanda's ears twitched slightly, and she raised her head to look at that car.
Pietro also stopped what he was doing, his body slightly tensing up; this was the first time they had seen an outsider here in a month.
The car door opened, and two people stepped out of the car.
The first was Tony Stark.
He was wearing a wrinkled black T-shirt and dark blue jeans, and his sneakers were stained with smudges of unknown colors.
His hair was as messy as a bird's nest, the dark circles under his eyes were as thick as smoky eye makeup, and he looked like he hadn't slept for three days.
Then came Bruce Banner.
He wasn't doing much better either; his gray hoodie was as wrinkled as if it had just been fished out of a washing machine, his glasses sat crookedly on the bridge of his nose, his face was stubbled, and his complexion was pale.
Both of them bore heavy dark circles under their eyes, looking travel-worn, like they had just crawled out of ruins.
Tony pushed open the iron gate, walked into the garden, and shouted as he walked, "Mavuika! I'm here! There's good news!"
Wanda's hands clenched abruptly.
She recognized that face.
That name, Tony Stark.
The head of Stark Industries, the arms manufacturer, Iron Man.
Her parents had died precisely under the weapons manufactured by him.
Pietro also recognized him.
His body leaned slightly forward, his muscles tense like a leopard ready to pounce at any moment.
His gaze changed from relaxed to icy, and from icy to murderous intent.
Tony felt that murderous intent, stopped in his tracks, and looked at Wanda and Pietro.
His brow furrowed; he didn't recognize these two young people.
"Hey, kids, who are you? Did I offend you? Why are you looking at me with eyes like that?" he asked.
Wanda stood up, dark red light dancing at her fingertips.
Her voice was low and icy, as if squeezed out from the depths of her throat.
"Tony Stark."
Tony looked at the red light in her hand and then at Pietro's taut face, feeling a bad premonition in his heart.
"You know me?"
"I do." Wanda's voice grew colder.
"The entire World knows you, the head of Stark Industries, the arms manufacturer, the most murderous merchant in the World."
Tony's eyes narrowed slightly; he could hear the hatred in her tone—not the ordinary kind of disgust, but a bone-deep, deeply ingrained hatred.
"I used to make weapons," he said.
"But that was many years ago. In fact, I shut down the weapons division a long time ago."
"So what if you shut it down?" Pietro stood up, walking to Wanda's side. His voice was low and hurried, like a volcano about to erupt.
"Can the DMG caused in the past vanish along with it? Can those people who died under your weapons come back to life?"
Tony was silent.
He knew what these two people were talking about; he knew all too well. In those years, Stark Industries weapons were spread all over the globe, sold to every place with conflict.
His missiles blew up villages, his rifles killed civilians, and his name was engraved on countless people's hatred lists.
He thought closing the weapons division could erase those sins, but now, the two young people standing in front of him were telling him that they couldn't be erased.
"You..." Tony's voice was somewhat hoarse, "Your family—"
"Dead." Wanda interrupted him, her voice devoid of sorrow, filled only with a cold anger that had been suppressed for too long.
"The Sokovia war, Stark Industries missiles."
As Wanda spoke, painful memories flashed continuously in her mind.
Sokovia's streets were shrouded in the flames of war, with collapsed houses everywhere. The pungent smell of gunpowder smoke permeated the air, and her ears were filled with explosions, screams, and children's crying.
She and Pietro hid in the dilapidated Underground Room, shivering, listening to the explosions outside and their parents' shouts, yet feeling completely helpless.
In the end, a missile manufactured by Stark Industries landed near their home. The massive explosion completely destroyed their house, and to protect them, their parents used their own bodies to block the explosion's Impact, leaving them forever.
At that moment, she and Pietro became helpless orphans, forced to struggle for survival amidst the flames of war, facing the threats of hunger, fear, and death every day.
Tony's hands trembled slightly.
Sokovia, he remembered that place. A small country in Eastern Europe plagued by war year-round.
Stark Industries had indeed sold weapons there, those weapons... how many innocent people had his weapons blown to death?
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