𝑾𝑰𝑪𝑲𝑬𝑫 𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑴𝑺 ━━ 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜

26 The Accords

The quiet hum of the television filled Wanda's room, the glow casting shadows across the walls. Wanda Maximoff sat cross-legged on her bed, her crimson fingers twisting nervously in her lap as she watched the news unfold before her. The headline scrolling across the bottom of the screen read: "Avengers Under Fire: Lagos Incident Sparks International Outrage."

The voice of the news anchor carried an accusatory edge.

"Eleven Wakandans were among those killed during a confrontation between the Avengers and a group of mercenaries in Lagos, Nigeria, last month," the anchor announced, the words piercing Wanda's already heavy heart. "The traditionally reclusive Wakandans were on an outreach mission in Lagos when the attack occurred."

The screen cut to King T'Chaka, his dignified face heavy with disappointment, his words measured but filled with an unmistakable weight of grief.

"Our people's blood is spilled on foreign soil," he declared solemnly, the depth of his voice carrying the full magnitude of the loss. "Not only because of the actions of criminals but by the indifference of those pledged to stop them. Victory at the expense of the innocent is no victory at all."

As his words echoed, another voice rang out—one of sharp defiance and unwavering support. The camera cut to Medusa, her fiery hair a striking contrast against the backdrop of the crowded streets of Wakanda. She stood alone, though the anger in her eyes made it clear she was not merely standing in solidarity; she was pledging her own allegiance to the cause.

Behind her, the growing storm of outrage was palpable—Wakandans gathered in protest, their hands raised in a clenched fist salute. Medusa's face was cold, her gaze locked with the camera as she spoke with a force that reverberated across the continent.

"We will not turn a blind eye to this injustice," she announced, her voice carrying like thunder across the screen. "The Avengers may have acted with what they believed to be noble intentions, but they have done more harm than good. I stand with the Wakandan people, and we will not be silenced by those who see us as mere collateral damage."

She paused for a moment, her fiery locks shifting as if they too were stirred by the gravity of her words. "I will not sit idly by while our brothers and sisters are sacrificed for a so-called greater good. The world needs to understand: this is not just about the loss of life, this is about the sanctity of our people, the very heart of Wakanda. They will feel the weight of our pain, and we will make them listen."

Wanda swallowed hard, her chest tightening. The words echoed in her head, mingling with the images of the explosion—the chaos, the screams, the lives she couldn't save. She reached for the remote, hesitating as the broadcast continued.

From the other room, Steve Rogers had been watching the same news report on his laptop. At the sound of T'Chaka's voice, he abruptly closed it, but the voices of the anchors lingered, drifting through the compound like ghosts.

"They are operating outside and above international law," the second anchor said grimly. "Because that's the reality if we don't respond to acts like these. What legal authority does an enhanced individual like Wanda Maximoff have to operate in Nigeria—"

Steve turned the corner, following the faint sound until he stood in Wanda's doorway. Her room felt heavy, the air thick with her silent turmoil. Her eyes were glued to the screen, her body taut as though bracing for impact.

With a click, the TV went dark. Wanda blinked, startled, and turned to see Steve holding the remote. He set it down quietly and leaned against the door frame, his face softened by concern.