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The straightjacket cut into her, pinned her arms the same way she had been pinned under rumble all those years ago.
Back then she had Pietro. Now she had no one.
Even while Hydra had her she had Pietro.
He was dead now.
Her parents had died because of something Stark made. Pietro had died because of something Stark made. Now she was imprisoned because of Stark.
The straightjacket wouldn’t let her move, a giant hand squeezing the breath out of her.
Her palms were facing her body. If she used her powers they would hit her.
The power was burning up her insides, not able to escape.
Trapped under the rubble, Pietro’s dead body, trapped in a straightjacket.
All because of Stark.
She should have killed him when she first saw him in the Hydra base.
Alone, acidic power coursing through her veins.
Stark’s fault.
She screamed.
Mama, papa, Pietro— all dead.
Stark, alive, free.
Her, trapped, alone.
Her throat felt raw as another scream was ripped out of her.
The others tried to speak to her, but she couldn’t hear them.
They were no one, they meant nothing.
Wanda fell silent and to the floor, curling up on herself.
Her sobs turned into gasps before she went catatonic.
Glass shattered and Wanda was lifted up, her head rolling to the side.
Colors blurred and Wanda could finally breathe.
With the straightjacket gone her powers were released. They burst from her, killing the inconsequential people around her.
She pushed herself up, her legs shaking beneath her.
Her powers felt limitless.
Her mind was focused on a singular, all consuming goal.
She had to kill Stark.