The door creaked open.
As soon as they stepped inside, Yuumi floated off Pietro Maximoff's shoulder, a fish clamped in her mouth, and drifted straight toward Wanda Maximoff.
Wanda's eyes lit up.
She happily scooped Yuumi into her arms and gently scratched under her chin.
"Yuumi, are you hurt?"
"Awoo."
Yuumi swallowed the fish whole in one gulp, then licked her paws with a satisfied expression.
"Don't worry about me. I don't get attacked in the mental realm."
"Boss, I brought these back."
Pietro dragged a heavy sack into the room and dropped it onto the floor.
The rope loosened—
And a pile of firearms spilled out.
After each encounter, Pietro made it a habit to collect the weapons left behind by the "terrorists."
After all—
The Holy Guns Adrian created were single-use.
Once fired, they were destroyed.
Adrian never objected.
On the contrary—
It was profitable.
Every time he gave Pietro one weapon—
He got back ten.
All of them went straight into his system storage as reserves.
But—
After so many failed operations…
Those "terrorists" were bound to grow impatient.
The truth was simple.
Even with Yuumi's support—
Pietro wasn't particularly strong.
At best, he was still below the level of Captain America in terms of combat experience and raw capability.
In fact—
It would be more accurate to say:
Pietro wasn't protecting Yuumi.
Yuumi was carrying Pietro.
Without her enhancements—
Speed amplification
Rapid healing
Auto-tracking magic attacks
—
He wouldn't have lasted a single encounter.
Because those so-called "terrorists"…
Were not amateurs.
They were trained, coordinated soldiers.
Adrian casually picked up two guns from the pile.
A flash of radiant light—
And a surge of dark flame—
Intertwined in his hands.
When the glow faded—
Two weapons remained.
One white.
One black.
"Take them," Adrian said, tossing the guns to Pietro.
"You probably won't need them much longer."
"Thanks, boss!"
Pietro caught them with excitement.
But then—
His expression shifted.
"…Wait."
"Why?"
"…Are we leaving?"
"More or less."
Adrian didn't elaborate.
Instead, he crouched and continued rummaging through the sack—
Eventually pulling out a plastic supermarket bag.
Inside—
Frozen food.
"Wanda, go start a fire."
"We're eating."
Adrian let out a quiet sigh.
None of them knew how to cook properly.
So for now—
Convenience food would have to do.
"Okay!"
Wanda nodded obediently, grabbed a box of matches, and ran outside.
Lunch was simple.
Sausages.
Mashed potatoes.
Dumplings.
Bread.
Soup.
Yuumi got her own special treatment—
Cooked fish.
Covered in tomato sauce.
The three of them—and one cat—
Sat together inside the cabin.
Eating.
Listening to the radio.
Passing time.
"…So, Mr. Owen, what do you think about the city's new hero—the Silver Musketeer?"
A reporter's voice suddenly came through the speaker.
Pietro froze mid-bite.
His eyes lit up.
Anticipation.
Excitement.
This was it.
Recognition.
Gratitude.
Admiration.
"I don't know how to evaluate him," the man on the radio said.
"But last time he 'stopped' those terrorists…"
"My café windows were completely shattered."
Pietro blinked.
"…Huh?"
"Madam, what about you?"
Another voice followed.
A woman this time—
Angry.
Emotional.
"He's a warmonger! A menace!"
"…Just three days ago, his fight killed my Thor!"
The reporter hesitated.
"…I'm sorry—Thor is your…?"
"My dog!"
The woman's voice broke with grief.
"I raised him like my own child!"
"And now he's gone!"
"The Silver Musketeer should take responsibility!"
"…."
The reporter fell silent.
Pietro stood there—
Completely stunned.
"…That's… my fault too?"
"Pete…"
Wanda looked at him, worry filling her eyes.
"It's fine."
Adrian reached out and gently patted her head.
His tone was calm.
Almost unsurprised.
The interviews continued.
At first—
A few voices defended Pietro.
But gradually—
The tone shifted.
Compensation.
Accountability.
Punishment.
"As expected…"
Adrian stepped forward and switched off the radio.
"…a field of leeks."
A few days ago—
After learning about Sokovia's situation from Wanda—
And observing the pattern of these so-called "attacks"—
He had already pieced it together.
Those "terrorists"—
Were nothing more than forces under Hydra.
More specifically—
Troops tied to the hidden operations of Baron Wolfgang von Strucker.
If Hydra could infiltrate S.H.I.E.L.D.…
Even manipulate members of the World Security Council—
Then controlling a small, unstable nation like Sokovia—
Was trivial.
The attacks.
The robberies.
The chaos.
All of it—
A performance.
A self-directed play to generate fear…
And harvest profit.
And the citizens of Sokovia?
They were nothing more than renewable resources.
Leeks—
Waiting to be harvested.