i. four [ w.m. ]

⬇ trigger warning ⬇

death, violence, mild language

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❛ wow... uh- four, then ❜

wanda maximoff

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As Wanda set down the spoon that she used to stir her coffee, you gave her a cheeky grin. She rolled her eyes but returned the gesture with a toothy smile of her own. Along with three other members of the Avengers, the two of you were on a mission in Lagos to try and stop an old enemy from taking innocent lives.

On the radio, Steve Roger's staticky voice sounded in your ear. "All right," he started. "What do you see?"

Simultaneously, you and Wanda began to look around the small cafe that three group members resided in. It was packed with civilians, but you were still able to make out Natasha Romanoff, who sat just a few tables away. To remain as inconspicuous as you could, you raised the coffee cup in your hand to your lips and only scanned the area with your eyes. Wanda, however, didn't think to do the same.

"Standard beat cops," she answered. "Small station. Quiet street-"

"It's a good target," you said, taking notice of an ATM on a nearby corner and seeing if anyone had picked up on it. Luckily, Steve beat you to the punch.

He said, "There's an ATM on the south corner, which means..."

"Cameras." Wanda took a drink of her coffee.

This was a double whammy -- a teaching moment for Wanda and a mission for the rest of the team. When Rogers would trail off or ask a question, he expected Maximoff to be able to answer with confidence. If she struggled for an extended period, you, Natasha, or Sam would step in.

You set down your cup onto the table and scratched your upper lip. "Cross streets are both one-ways," you said.

The redhead across from you met your eye, nodding. "So, compromised escape routes." You grinned.

"Means our guy doesn't care about being seen," Steve continued. "He isn't afraid to make a mess on the way out. You see that Range Rover halfway up the block?"

"Yeah- the red one?" Wanda said, "It's cute."

You snorted amusedly before covering your mouth with your hand and pulling down the bill of your baseball cap. You were about to zip up your hoodie when Natasha said, "It's also bulletproof, which means private security, which means more guns, which means more headaches for somebody. Probably us."

"Most definitely us," you retorted.

Wanda followed your lead, looking at you and saying, "You guys know I can move things with my mind, right?" Her Sokovian accent was heavy, regardless of trying to sound as American as she could. You found it cute how hard she was trying to blend in when she lit up the whole place with a simple look.

"Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature." Natasha looked at the two of you across the cafe, unamused by the puppy-dog look on your face and the cockiness that radiated off of Wanda. The remaining members of the team knew that you had a crush on the woman, only teasing you about it when they knew she wasn't around to hear. They found it hilarious how much you adored having her on missions, regardless of only meeting her a year prior.

Sam Wilson's lovely voice cut through the radio. "Anybody ever tell you you're a little paranoid?"

"Not to my face. Why? Did you hear something?"

You, already knowing that Steve would be the automatic serious-guy on the team, flashed your gaze up to the building that he was inside. "Eyes on the target, folks," he said. "This is the best lead we've had on Rumlow in six months. I don't wanna lose him."

Sam scoffed, "If he sees us inside, that won't be a problem. He kinda hates us."

Brock Rumlow, who was a former STRIKE team field commander and HYDRA infiltrator, was presumed dead after having his betrayal revealed, and later discovered to be alive and thriving. Well, other than the burns covering the entirety of his body.

Noticing a truck pushing its way through the crowded street, you placed a hand to the side of your face and covered your mouth as if you were quieting a cough. "Sam," you said. "See that big-ass garbage truck over there? Tag it, will ya?"

Regardless of not getting an answer, you heard the faintest whistle of Sam's Red Wing as he sent it flying. It was a bird-shaped drone that was provided with a live-feed camera that sent video straight to a screen on Wilson's suit. It flew close to the ground, slipping beneath the garbage truck and giving a warning that the vehicle's weight was at maximum capacity.

"That truck's at max weight," Sam reported. "And the driver's armed."

Wanda looked at you, her eyes wide.

"Oh, my god- it's a battering ram," you said.

Steve's voice cut through your fast-paced thoughts, saying, "Go now. He's not hitting the police."

You shot up from your seat without so much as a second thought, reached for the pistol tucked in the waistband of your jeans, and rushed to the Institute For Infectious Diseases -- where the truck was headed.

Noticing your urgency, Wanda followed after you and made sure to keep her distance as you pushed past the angry citizens that refused to move out of your way even after warning them of your presence. The building was just up the street, and you wanted to get there as soon as you could. Lives were at stake.

The driver of the truck jumped out twenty feet before it ran into the entrance barrier, flipping over its front and knocking down the concrete pillars that surrounded the perimeter. Two other trucks swerved into the open entrance, screeching to a halt and releasing two dozen men armed with weapons and decked out with full-body armor.

Your breath caught in your throat as you hid behind a pillar that was still standing, amidst the chaos, and began shooting at the men who began attacking the facility's guards. Since all of your focus was on the threat, you noticed that they were wearing gas masks.

"I got some guys with weird masks over here! I think they've got some chemical-y kinds of stuff," you reported to the team.

Just as you said those words, however, canisters were shot through the building's windows and began leaking out a greenish gas. The people inside choked on the fog, killing them almost instantly.

You shouted Steve's name as you noticed him literally falling from the sky. The men had begun shooting at him instead of you since they considered him a worse threat, but they underestimated your skills. You stuck the remaining section of your upper body out from the pillar you were behind and fired at the men attacking the super-soldier. Nearly half of them fell to the ground, injured or worse, while Rogers kicked one of them off of the top of a military truck.

Even though Steve was just fifteen feet away from you, his voice still came through the radio in your ear. "Body armor, AR-15s. I make seven hostiles."

Taking out two men on the roof, Sam says, "I make five." But flying in from the distance, Wanda landed right in front of you, stopped a man's bullets in mid-air, and threw his body backward -- to which Sam finished the job by taking him out with the metal of his wings.

"Wow," you whispered, awestruck. But realizing that everyone can hear your voice, you snapped out of it and cleared your throat. "Uh- four, then."