A Week of Silence

The days passed in a slow, aching blur, each one indistinguishable from the last. A week had come and gone since the mission at the HYDRA base, yet the weight of uncertainty hung over the Avengers Tower like an oppressive fog. Rin remained unconscious, a silent figure in the medical bay, her breathing steady but shallow, her face eerily still. No one had an answer, no one had a solution. She simply wouldn't wake up.

The atmosphere in the tower had shifted into something fragile, almost ghostly. Conversations had become whispers, as though speaking too loudly might break something irreparable. Footsteps were muted, laughter non-existent. Even FRIDAY's voice seemed softer, as if the AI, too, had recognized the grief that had settled over the tower. Steve had taken to sitting by Rin's bedside when he wasn't training, watching over her with an expression that spoke of guilt and helplessness. Natasha and Bruce poured over scans, searching desperately for an explanation, a thread of logic to grasp onto. Clint had stopped cracking jokes. Even Thor, usually a beacon of thunderous energy, had become quiet, his presence solemn, as if mourning something he couldn't name.

And Tony Stark had become a ghost of himself, locked away in his lab.

......

The only sounds in the dimly lit space were the hum of machinery and the occasional frustrated muttering of a man who refused to surrender to uncertainty. Tony had barely left since the day Rin collapsed. He hardly slept, hardly ate. Every time his body gave in to exhaustion, he would wake up disoriented, sometimes slumped over his desk, other times on the cold floor of the lab, his mind immediately snapping back to the problem at hand. JARVIS and FRIDAY had tried to intervene, to remind him that he was still human, but their words fell on deaf ears.

His focus was fixed on the scepter—the artifact that had caused all of this. The blue glow of its core pulsed hypnotically in its containment field, casting shadows across Tony's gaunt face. He had mapped out its energy readings, compared them against everything they had encountered before—the arc reactor, the Tesseract, the lingering traces of power they had detected in Rin herself. The patterns were all wrong, yet horrifyingly similar. Every time he thought he was close to understanding, the data eluded him, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

Bruce leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching his friend unravel. "Tony, you need to rest."

Tony barely glanced at him, eyes still fixed on the projections hovering in the air before him. "You think I can just stop? Just walk away?"

Bruce exhaled, stepping further into the room. "You're not helping her like this."

Tony finally looked up then, and for a moment, Bruce saw past the sarcasm, past the bravado—to the exhaustion, the raw desperation in his bloodshot eyes. "Tell me, Banner," Tony said quietly. "If this was your best shot at saving someone you cared about, would you stop?"

Bruce had no answer for that.

......

The world outside continued to turn, oblivious to the silence that had swallowed the Avengers Tower. But that silence was shattered when JARVIS spoke, his usually calm voice tinged with something unreadable. "Sir, there is a news report you may wish to see."

The screen flickered to life in the center of the room. The image was bleak—an aerial shot of what had once been a city, now reduced to a barren, empty landscape. The news anchor's voice carried a solemn weight, her words measured, careful, as if speaking too forcefully might make the nightmare even more real.

"Breaking news from Eastern Europe. This is Novi Grad, the capital of Sokovia—though to call it a city now would be a stretch. What you are seeing is the aftermath of a catastrophe that defies all logic. The buildings, the streets, the very soul of this place… simply gone."

The camera zoomed in, capturing the unnatural scars left behind. Twisted patterns marked the ground where foundations had once stood. There was no rubble, no destruction, just an eerie emptiness. A city that should have been filled with life was now nothing more than a silent wasteland.

The news anchor's voice wavered slightly as she continued. "What makes this tragedy all the more unsettling is that there have been no casualties. Not a single body has been found. It is as if the entire population of Novi Grad vanished mere moments before disaster struck. No alarms were raised, no warnings given. They were simply… gone."

The broadcast shifted to show displaced Sokovians, their faces hollow with confusion and fear, their voices cracking as they pleaded for answers. Families searching for loved ones, for any trace of the lives they had been forced to leave behind. The camera lingered on a child holding his mother's hand, his small face pale with fear as he clutched a photograph of a father who no longer existed.

"Authorities remain at a loss," the anchor admitted. "No evacuation effort of this scale has ever been recorded, and with no signs of struggle or panic, the question remains—how? And who is responsible?"

The screen flickered, then cut to a panel of analysts, their expressions grave. "World leaders are demanding answers. Many are turning their attention to the Avengers, given their recent activity in the region. As of now, no official statements have been released."

The news feed faded into silence, but the weight of its words remained, sinking into the room like lead.

The Avengers exchanged glances, unspoken thoughts swirling between them. This wasn't an accident. This wasn't something that could be dismissed as a freak occurrence.

Something had happened in Novi Grad—something impossible, something terrifying.

And worst of all, they had no idea how, or why, or if it would happen again.

...................

Somewhere on the outskirts of Novi Grad, an open grassland stretched endlessly, a vast sea of green that rippled gently in the breeze. The tall grasses swayed, creating soft waves of movement across the expanse, their tips brushing against the clear blue sky above. The air was fresh and cool, carrying the scent of earth and wildflowers that dotted the landscape in patches of color. In the distance, the horizon met the sky in a soft curve, where the land seemed to melt into the atmosphere. The sound of rustling grass and the occasional call of distant birds filled the stillness, giving a sense of peaceful isolation.

A single leaf drifted from a nearby tree, caught in the wind's embrace. As it neared the ground, it seemed to slow unnaturally, hanging in the air as if the world itself had paused. Pietro Maximoff stood still, staring, his mind caught between disbelief and dread. Time had always felt different for him—his perception faster than those around him—but this was something else entirely.

It felt as though everything had stopped, not just slowed to his heightened senses but truly, utterly frozen. And yet, his thoughts were not racing as they usually did. Instead, they had halted, trapped in the weight of his worry.

At the center of this strange stillness, lying motionless in the grass, was his sister, Wanda Maximoff.