A Change Is Gonna Come

[swiftargyros]

Characters: Hank McCoy, Wanda Frank, Pietro Maximoff
Date & Time: September 30th, mid-morning
Setting: NYC
Summary: Those first steps are always a doozy.
Rating: PG-13 but subject to change
Status: Semi-Closed

Comments

[swiftargyros]

Pietro manfully ignored Wanda's multilingual hysterics (as if he'd been the one not using his head and taking advantage of the distraction as a way to escape) and easily caught up with the pair, falling into step beside Hank. He thought it best to give his female compatriot a little space to cool off before she decided to try and one-up the Sentinel. There was no spare time for or point in getting involved in a petty back-and-forth about who had done what.

Even if his plan had been properly thought out.

And even if she had ignored it completely because she was stubborn and far too confident for her own good.

No, Pietro wasn't going to dip into that tangled web. The Serbian squinted down the street and then turned to glance in the other direction, just in case, but there didn't seem to be any other foes about. That had been the same of his first encounter with the robots, he'd been abducted by a single unit that had appeared out of nowhere. It wasn't until he and Wanda had garnered an escape from the containment facility that he'd seen more than one at a time. Perhaps that was how their hierarchy was formed; they sent out scouts, did predatory recon with the caveat of taking hostages if the opportunity arose.

That wasn't exactly a comforting thought.

"We are not tracking them," Pietro chimed in, agreeing with Wanda as they arrived at Hank's car. "Is the opposite way. We are trying to stay away and they are trying to find us. We did not make the best impression the last time we met."

[donotmockme]

The car was the sort you'd expect to see from a man in black, a newer model Lincoln with almost nothing impressive about it to note. Simple interior, boring exterior and a license plate that stank of government issue. It had been his baby back when he was with the CIA, a present to himself to fit in and stop riding his bike whenever necessary to travel. He still rode one of course, but for a trip to and from the city, the old Lincoln was his best bet.

"Last time?" Hank asked briefly, having thrown the excess materials in the trunk before climbing in the driver's seat. He waited for the other two to get in before speaking again, regarding them both with a curious eye.

"Best we wait to talk about that until we get back to the Mansion. Best we wait to talk about most things." He jerked his thumb to the back, indicating the machine parts. "They might be situated with microphones that I missed.

[chaosmagus]

Wanda was rapidly coming to the realisation that if she spent much more time around Pietro alone that things would possibly come to blows at some point. She liked him, she really did, but his mindset was so frustratingly traditional and... and ANTIQUATED that it pissed her off immensely sometimes. She found herself missing HOWARD, of all people, because for all his genius billionaire playboy attitude he didn’t take her for something less or place the blame for something on her head just because she was a woman. He seemed to like that she was intelligent and that she didn’t take his bullshit.

Perhaps she was just fortunate to have impeccable taste in friends. She had gotten Pietro rather unfortunately dumped in her lap, after all. Well, it currently seemed rather unfortunate, anyway, but that was probably just the frustration and injury talking. And they had spent quite a lot of time in each other’s pockets since escaping their cell. That would affect things no matter how much you liked someone. No longer having to do so would probably do wonders.

They arrived at Henry’s car, and as he slid into the driver’s seat Wanda slid into the passager’s seat without giving Pietro a chance. He could ride in the back. She nodded. “Last time,” she confirmed. “But that conversation can wait.” She sank back against the seat and watched somewhat detachedly as blood from her hands pooled and trickled around the robotic components held loosely in her grasp. She would have to clean them off best she could before relinquishing them over to Howard. It hadn’t been the smartest idea to hex it at point blank range, but it had been the best way to ensure that the robot took as much damage as she could feasibly give it.

[swiftargyros]

A little startled, Pietro cast a surreptitious look back at the trunk. It hadn`t even occured to him that there might be recording equipment within the shrapnel but it made sense. There was obviously some kind of information relay system and it made no sense if it was a centralized exchange, one that required the sentinel`s to return to a specific location in order to report. That sort of technology...that required a lot of cash flow to develop and produce. It didn`t bode well for them. A wary sense of trepidation gnawed at Pietro`s gut and he wondered just what kind of threat they were really up against.

Before he could open the door for Wanda, she managed it for herself and slid in next to Hank. Pietro shrugged and eased his lanky frame into the backseat; she was clearly as independent as they came. It turned out to be a fortuitous stroke of luck for the Serbian, for the ample space in the backseat allowed him to stretch his aching frame out. He was fairly sure he had a concussion so sleeping was out of the question, which worked out well since he couldn`t afford to not catalog the direction in which the car was headed just in case they needed to make another getaway.

"Man-shun?" Pietro rolled the unfamiliar syllables around in his mouth, feeling the awkward shape of the word as he tried to decipher a Serbian equivalent. He`d acquired more than enough English to get good at filling in holes in the language barrier but there were still terms which were so foreign that he couldn`t quite place them. It was clear that Hank was referring to his safe place but beyond that, the word was about as descriptive as air to the speedster. Pietro waved it away, moving on to more important matters - or rather, less important ones, since he did not want to risk any vital tidbits being exposed. "Da, the sooner we get there, the better. Vanda is bleeding."

[donotmockme]

There were times that Hank could perceive everything. Have that rare spark of genius in people to see how every piece of the puzzle fit, including several that came from a different box. He could be that sort of man that people refuse to believe exist outside of crime TV shows and detective novels.

This was not one of those times.

So wrapped up in the current components of the machine, and what it could imply- Hank had completely missed the fact that the girl next to him was bleeding, as well as the coppery stench that followed the red. "There should be a first aid kit behind one of the seats, we'll fix the rest when we get there." His eyes were set on the road, and did not give the impression of a man willing to talk as his speedometer rose higher and higher as they hit the highway.

[chaosmagus]

Wanda huffed a tired laugh. She had hoped neither of them would notice, at least not until they got to this Mansion of Henry’s. The capital M was practically audible in his voice; what was this place? Where was he taking them? It didn’t really matter; it was a little late to change their minds, and they did need medical attention. Pietro did, at least. He hit solid metal at a high rate of speed. She was just a little battered. A bit of gauze and she’d be right as rain.

“I’m fine. I’ve had worse.” She wasn’t entirely certain if that was the truth at the moment, between the reaction setting in and the injuries themselves, but it would do to hopefully deflect attention until they were at their destination. “And I’m not the one that hit a robot with his face,” she added, as a little of the worry she’d felt crept into her voice.

Somehow the fact that there was a first aid kit in the car didn’t surprise her. She didn’t concern herself with trying to find it, though. She would be fine until they got where they were going. Curling up more into the passenger seat, Wanda tilted her head and gazed out the window, watching the scenery pass by at increasing speeds as Henry merged onto the motorway.

[swiftargyros]

Bending down made the world spin but there was no other way to rescue the slim metal case emblazoned with a large red cross, jammed snugly beneath the passenger seat. Pietro mumbled a creative string of expletives in a muddled, regional bastardization of his native language as the drumming behind his eyelids went into double tempo. His father would have belly laughed at the sheer ingenuity of the cursing and probably stored it away for his own use later. They were a generous family in that respect, sharing the triumphs of one another.

His long fingers moved with slow deliberation as he unclasped the hinge holding the lid down and lifted it, revealing a neat assortment of basic medical gear. Pietro squinted at the various sundries, prodding at square edges of sterile packs and soft bundles of gauze before he found what he was looking for. He tugged the little antiseptic wipe in it's plastic packet out and leaned forward, tapping Wanda on the shoulder with it.

"Ovde. Biti ljut na mene, a ne glavom," Pietro said, letting the wipe drop onto the girl's lap. Before she could protest he tossed over a sheet of gauze and some tape and then, duty fulfilled, he leaned back and covered his eyes with his hand. Leaning against the door the Serbian could still keep track of the various turns they were making but at least this way he didn't have to contend with the glaring daylight.

[donotmockme]

Hank did not say anything else for the rest of the trip, though he did start to catalog the known features of the newest recruits. There was no doubt that the boy was Serbian, he spoke with too perfect of an accent, and the girl? She may have been, but she didn't carry herself in the same manner as the boy.

They cared about each other's welfare, but not in the manner of lovers- family perhaps? He would have to run some tests, there was no question about that.

Many, many tests.

[chaosmagus]

Wanda glanced back in surprise as something poked her in the shoulder. It was Pietro with an antiseptic wipe. She almost smiled as he dropped it into her lap and followed it with gauze and tape. Rolling her eyes in amusement she gathered the items in her lap. “Нисам љут на тебе, идиоте.,” she told him quietly. “Могли бисте да су постали сами убили, то је све.”

Her fingers were slick against the plastic packet of antiseptic wipes, and it took several long, fumbling moments before she was able to tear it open. Successful at last, she pressed it to the cut disappearing back into her hairline, hissing at the sting.

Henry was rather quiet, and she appreciated it. It gave her a moment to gather herself, and start cataloguing her injuries as well as paying attention to where they were going. She could help but wonder if this was going to end up being a bad idea. It’s just temporary, she reminded herself tiredly.

[swiftargyros]

The upholstery of the Lincoln was cool against the bare patches of Pietro's skin - his palms, the pale stripe of an ankle where his trouser leg had hitched up, the pulse point on his wrist when he let his arm dangle down into the footwell. It was a comforting anchor to the passing scenery, a point of focus that Pietro held onto through the fuzzy maw of his headache. There was a vicious ache in the right side of his face. When he brushed the back of his knuckles against the skin, it felt soft and infused with water, swollen indelicately. It probably looked a picture, too.

"This is a nice automobile," Pietro mumbled, mostly for the sake of keeping his conscience tethered in the moment. He couldn't see the speedometer from here but he estimated that they'd been driving for nearly an hour and at a pace which was frustratingly slow by his standards (which meant they'd most likely been following the posted limit.) There was traffic to consider, of course, but Pietro could hazard that they'd gone perhaps seventy or so kilometers. Had he been up to it, the same journey would have taken him a quarter of the time, running at an easy pace.

Any difficulty that the Serbian was having at keeping his muddled mind straight, however, was soon solved. Within a half hour they Lincoln was cresting onto a road that, while paved, was notably more rural than the highway had been. The lightly forested scenery gave way to rolling fields and then they turned up an asphalt lane that Pietro had assumed was another road but actually turned out to be a drive. It wasn't until they were through a massive, ornate iron gate (it reminded him of the government buildings back in Belgrade and his stomach pinched uncomfortably) and a few miles along that the first glimpse of their destination was caught.

Pietro gaped. This was what a mansion was? Why, it was nothing less than a bloody palata! Certainly not one that would be found in the capital but the stately sprawl of architecture wouldn't have been out of place amongst the fine, provincial estates of the House of Karađorđević.

"Maw!" Pietro clucked, staring in incredulous amusement. "Kakokurac je ovo mesto ostao neprimetan?"