ATLAS • W. MAXIMOFF

30 - *It Hurts To Remember*

After the excitement of certain death had faded away, the quinjet's residents slowly descended into their thoughts. Some remained unaffected like Tony and Clint who stayed at the cockpit, others were trapped in the personal hells that had been crafted for them. Natasha especially was sat with a numb expression on her face, her eyes showing their true indication of terror at her memories.

"The news is loving you guys." Maria's voice suddenly came from the speakers, causing everyone to slightly shift. "Nobody else is. There's been no official call for Banner's arrest, but it's in the air."

Bruce's face twisted painfully at the reminder of what had happened, wrapping the blanket even tighter around his shoulders to protect himself from phantom attacks.

"Stark Relief Foundation?" Tony inquired.

"Already on the scene. And the sun's unusual activities have thankfully been blamed on a freak solar storm. Completely natural occurrence." Maria sarcastically drawled, but even she couldn't hide the hint of relief Ophelia not being prosecuted.

Ophelia gave a wry smile at Maria's attempts to protect her, whether or not she thought she deserved it was another matter.

"How's the team?"

"Everyone's..." Tony's voice trailed as he watched the lacklustre expressions of his teammates. "We took a hit. We'll shake it off."

Ophelia quickly began tuning out of the conversation as her eyes caught Steve deep in thought. Compared to the rest of them, he looked relatively okay, but it was easy to think the Captain was okay. Ophelia learnt his quirks and habits in the time she knew him, and Steve, more than anyone, hide behind his strengths.

"Captain America, the country's most righteous hero," Steve told her one night as they stood on the tower's balcony. Looking down at the city's vibrancy as they sat on the ledge. "He's still that skinny kid from Brooklyn whose greatest talent was lying to himself, no matter how much he convinces everyone otherwise."

If you looked close enough, if you looked past the shield and stripes, you'd see the shattered remnants of a once optimistic man staring back at you. Jaded by a world that took joy in building him up just to tear him back down.

To her right, leaning against the wall that Ophelia was next to, even Thor was quiet. Clenching and unclenching his fists like a restless veteran who was unable to truly escape the battlefield. Her best friend had been shaken beyond belief. His unbreakable confidence falling apart, and Ophelia had no idea how to put it back together. She didn't even know how to put herself back together.

It would have been funny if it wasn't so depressing; all it took to bring the Avengers to their knees was Wanda Maximoff. Who also happened to be the girl Ophelia was infatuated with.

There is only one thing to describe this terrible situation.

"This is so fucked." Ophelia sighed, earning a grunt of agreement from Thor.

✺

"Where does it hurt?" Pietro frantically asked as he cradled Wanda's face between his hands. Helpless fear coursing through his veins at the expression of persistent agony she had.

Ragged breaths shuddered from Wanda's lips as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying in vain to shut out the waves of pain that seemed to vibrate in her skull. It was everything from a physical throb that itched deep into her brain to a sharp stab that she could only feel in her mind's eye.

The images weren't exactly clear for the Sokovian witch, they passed through her mind faster than she could keep up with.

The world was a shrivelled husk of its former self, the sky burning, the seas burning, everything reduced to ash and dust and brimstone. And at the centre of it all was her. A herald for the end of the world.