[ 𝟏 ] 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 | 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟

𝟏𝟒.

Our time in Sokovia was nearing its end as the last of the citizens boarded lifeboats bound for the Helicarrier. Once every civilian had evacuated, our mission would finally be complete—we could go home.

Pietro and I positioned ourselves near the departing boats, ensuring no one was left behind. Watching families and friends reunite was bittersweet; though sorrow lingered over leaving their home behind, relief and gratitude shone through. Among the crowd, one face stood out—the young girl from earlier. She was nestled between her parents and little brother, beaming as she waved enthusiastically.

"Miss Banshee!" she called.

A tear welled in my eye as I waved back, watching her boat reach the Helicarrier safely. At that moment, a quiet sense of fulfillment settled over me. Despite the world's fear and mistrust of "enhanced individuals" like myself and the Avengers, seeing thousands of lives saved—especially hers—reminded me why we did this. The world might not have been ready to accept us, but they needed us.

"Stella?" Pietro's voice pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to see him watching me with an unreadable expression. "I still feel like my sister and I have a lot to make up for—to you and the rest of the Avengers." He scratched the back of his head. "By the way, I heard New York City has some fantastic pizza. I was wondering if—"

"If we could grab some pizza?" I cut in with a grin. "Yes, absolutely. I'd love to."

A brief silence fell between us. We were so used to teasing and bickering that a normal conversation felt... weird. Yet, strangely, I found myself enjoying it.

"I can't wait to make fun of you and eat pizza at the same time," Pietro suddenly declared.

"I can't wait to smack you with the entire pie," I shot back. Ah, there it is.

Instead of returning fire with another quip, Pietro simply winked before dashing off to help an elderly couple onto a boat. I rolled my eyes, smiling to myself, and turned back to the evacuation efforts.

For a brief moment, everything felt under control. And then—

"Costel? Costel?!"

A woman's frantic cries cut through the noise. My heart clenched as I scanned the area, spotting a small figure trapped under debris in the distance.

"Oh, crap," I muttered before taking off. "Hey, it's okay! I'm coming!"

"I've got him," Clint's voice came from behind me. He sprinted past, heading straight for the boy. "Get yourself onto a boat, Stell."

I hesitated but ultimately nodded. "Thanks, Clint."

I stepped back, keeping a close watch as Clint pulled the kid free. Just as I turned toward the boats, a deafening rat-tat-tat of gunfire rang out. My stomach dropped like a rock in water.

The Quinjet.

Ultron.

There was no time to think. The gunfire was closing in fast. My pulse pounded as I turned back toward Clint and Costel. They were still out in the open. I had to do something.

Costel's mother was only a few feet away. Clint had a family waiting for him at home. I had to act. Now.

My body tensed as I shut my eyes and screamed, pushing my vocal cords to their limit, hoping the sound waves would slow the bullets or throw them off course. A sharp pain tore through my leg, then my stomach, then my shoulder. The scream died in my throat, leaving me drained. Blood dripped down my arm, soaking into my suit.

But Clint and Costel were still standing.

A breath of relief barely escaped me before I noticed their expressions. They weren't looking at me. Their eyes were fixed on something in front of me.

Pietro.

"You didn't see that coming?" he rasped weakly.

My breath caught.

His body was riddled with bullet wounds. Blood seeped from his clothes, staining the ground beneath him. My stomach twisted, my limbs went weak, and my mind refused to process the scene unfolding before me.

Then he collapsed.

I dropped to my knees beside him. "No, no, no," I whispered, brushing his platinum hair away from his face. "You better not be playing a prank on me. You better not." My voice cracked as tears blurred my vision.

Pietro's dazed expression shifted into something almost regretful. "I guess we can't get pizza," he murmured, lips barely forming the words. "Didn't want to break that promise."

"No. We're still getting that damn pizza," I choked out. "You're gonna be fine."

Tears streamed freely down my face, falling onto his bloodied shirt. My lower lip quivered, hands trembling as I clung to him. I searched his eyes for the usual glint of mischief, for any sign that this wasn't real.

The first time I had been this close to him, he had me pinned against a wall, smirking. Now, he was dying in my arms.

His eyes began to close.

"Hey! Let's think about something positive, okay?" My mind scrambled. "Oh! That girl you have a crush on. Did you get to save her today like I told you to?"

A weak smile flickered across his lips. "I just did."

I froze.

The 'girl from home'—the one he never named—was me.

I had no time to process the weight of his words before his eyes rolled back.

"Pietro!" I sobbed, gripping his shirt. "You can't—"

A wave of dizziness hit me like a truck. I had lost too much blood. My body, no longer under my control, gave out, and I collapsed onto my side.

Darkness crept in, Clint's muffled shouts fading into the background.

The last thing I saw was Pietro, his lifeless gaze staring at the sky.