The Ghost [Marvel | Steve Rogers]

Chapter 29

Novi Grad, Sokovia

Spring 2015

It might be spring, but there was still a definite winter-like chill in the air.

But Pietro didn't feel the cold. Not really. He was used to it. Besides, his Enhancement helped keep him toasty, both with the slightly higher than normal body temperature and the fact that it was relatively easy to warm up when you could move faster than the eye could perceive.

Another bonus was evident in the bags he had set down on the ledge behind him and the items he was producing out of said bags for the small group gathering around him.

He'd used to do the same thing before the Experiments. Then, though, he'd had to be a lot more careful. He hadn't had superspeed on his side then, only his wits. He'd made do of course, and had actually gotten quite good, but there had still been several close calls.

Now? He hadn't gotten within miles of a close call. It was great.

It was also much less fun.

It had been thrilling at first, breaking in wherever he wanted with no one the wiser. But that thrill had faded fast.

More than that, as much as he enjoyed getting away with the sorts of things his new abilities let him do, Pietro was more than a little unsatisfied just handing out things that he'd picked up for a handful of their neighbours in a quiet corner of the market square. Sure, these people needed the items he'd picked up on his 'errands'—things he'd overheard them saying they'd needed, like the older gentleman he'd heard talking to his daughter about how his insurance wasn't going to cover his heart medication this month or things they'd told him they needed in passing when he spoke to them last—and Pietro couldn't help the feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment that came from handing out new shoes and coats and food to the small group.

What was unsatisfying about it was that it was all he was currently using his new powers for. He was back to doing, well, what he'd been doing before he and Wanda had met Strucker.

And it felt like a waste.

He wanted to really do something with his abilities, to make a real difference...and to take the justice he and Wanda had craved from the moment the first shell had hit their building when they were children. It felt like a waste to just be running around fixing little problems. Not that the little problems weren't important too. It still irked him that their prime opportunity had been allowed to pass by. He was still upset with Wanda about that. She claimed she had good reason, but he still wasn't convinced.

Withholding an impatient sigh and pasting a smile back on his face, he turned back to the bag he was pulling the goods he'd collected from. As he did, he happened to catch a glimpse of Nina where she sat nearby. Once she'd realized what it was he was doing in the market square not far from the building they'd stayed in the night before, the slight blonde had offered to help, her eyes taking on a slight sparkle as she kept him company and helped him sort through the bags as the people he'd collected for appeared.

But it had quickly become obvious that she was in no condition to be on her feet, and it had finally taken Wanda and Pietro both to convince her she needed to rest.

She still looked bad. Even with the shawl and thick blanket Wanda had wrapped around her when she'd come out with them, Nina looked positively chilled in the cool evening air, and her shadowed eyes and fevered cheeks only seemed to be getting worse.

Neither of them had any idea how much longer it was going to go on for either, how long it would be before she began to genuinely improve...he refused to believe it would be anything but when. But that stage for him and Wanda had been a blur of fevers and aches and dullness when they'd gone through it, and neither of them had felt any desire to learn how much time they'd lost as a result. So they hadn't had a real answer for themselves or Nina when she'd asked. She just...well, nothing was changing. She wasn't getting markedly worse, but she wasn't getting better, either.