Pietro stood in the doorway of their apartment and looked at the two women, then at the folder, then back at the two women.
"You mean," he said slowly, "that Mr. Smith Doyle — GOD — is inviting my sister and me to come and see him?"
Wanda had moved up beside him. She was looking at the two women with the careful attention of someone trying to find the angle in a situation that didn't yet make sense.
Yelena nodded. "I don't know the specific reason. But it was Mr. Smith who sent us. That part is certain."
Pietro murmured, more to himself than anyone else, "This is unbelievable. How does he even know we exist? We're not enhanced. We've never done anything significant."
Yelena shrugged slightly. "Honestly, I'm curious too. Maybe you have abilities that haven't surfaced yet. Or maybe you've done something that reached Mr. Smith's attention through a channel neither of us knows about."
Pietro and Wanda looked at each other. The look said everything — two people who knew their own lives very precisely, running through the inventory of anything they might have done that could have registered with someone at that level, and coming up empty.
Wanda said, carefully, "My brother and I haven't done anything that would warrant God's attention. Unless Pietro posting about being a fan of his online somehow counts..."
Melina spoke then, with the practical directness of someone who wanted to move past the theoretical objections. "We won't be able to answer that question right now. But there's no reason to worry about deception." She glanced briefly around the apartment — not unkindly, but with a complete and accurate read of what the space communicated about its occupants. Her meaning was clear: people in your situation are not targets for this kind of elaborate scheme.
Wanda's mouth opened and then closed. The observation was uncomfortable precisely because it was accurate. Their lives were not ones that attracted sophisticated deception. There was nothing here worth the effort.
Yelena said, "We'll take you to New York on a private jet. When you meet Mr. Smith, I think the reason will become clear."
Pietro reached back and pulled Wanda by the arm. "Give us a minute."
Yelena nodded. The two of them stepped into the back room and pulled the door.
Pietro kept his voice low. "True or false?"
Wanda thought about it honestly for a moment. "True. If someone wanted to deceive us, they wouldn't construct an elaborate scenario involving Smith Doyle and a private jet. The scale of it alone makes no sense as a fraud." She paused. "And again — we're not worth that kind of effort."
Pietro nodded. "That's what I thought too." He looked at his sister. "So we go with them and find out what he wants."
Wanda studied Pietro's face. The excitement he was trying to contain was not invisible to her — she'd been reading his expressions her entire life. "You're thrilled that your idol knows you exist," she said.
Pietro made a sound that wasn't quite a laugh and didn't confirm or deny anything. But Wanda knew what it meant.
They came back out together.
"We'll go," Pietro said to Yelena. "We want to meet Mr. Smith."
Yelena said, "Good. I think you'll find it was worth the trip."
New York — Headquarters of the Fraternity.
The sightseeing bus moved through grounds that neither of them had a reference point for. Pietro kept turning his head, cataloguing. The scale of the place was not something that arrived all at once — it accumulated, block by block, as the bus moved through it and the end didn't appear.
"My God," Pietro said. "In New York. Where every square meter costs a fortune. How does this much space exist?"
Yelena said from the seat across from him, "This is the Fraternity's headquarters. One of Mr. Smith's primary residences."
Wanda was looking out the other window. "I thought it was the Avengers base."
"The Avengers base is separate," Yelena said. "Mr. Smith was born into the Fraternity. This is where he comes from. The Avengers facility is also considerable, but it's in a different location."
Pietro had stopped listening. He was looking at the tower.
It came into view through the treeline and kept coming — stone, ancient-looking, rising through the upper canopy and continuing past the point where the scale made comfortable sense. The top wasn't visible. Near the base, figures moved against the stone surface — climbing, with their bare hands, with the focused patience of people who had decided something and were honoring the decision.
"What is that?" Pietro said.
Yelena followed his gaze. "Korin Tower. The Fraternity's training landmark. The people on it are attempting the climb."
Pietro stared at it until the bus turned and the tower moved behind the treeline.
The bus stopped in front of an administrative building. Yelena got out first.
"I'll take you to Mr. Smith's office. He's expecting you."
They followed her through the entrance and down a corridor that had the particular feel of a building where serious work happened.
Fox was coming out of an office at the far end of the corridor. She glanced at Yelena, then at the two people behind her, with the quick assessment of someone who had been looking at their portraits for two days.
"Yelena. Are these the two?"
Yelena said, "Secretary General — Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. The ones Mr. Smith wanted to see."
Fox nodded. "Three days. Good efficiency." She was already moving, documents under her arm, corridor diminishing behind her. "Go ahead — Smith is waiting in his office."
Pietro watched her go. He leaned slightly toward Yelena and said quietly, "She knew who we were?"
Yelena smiled. "The search was her operation. She arranged it."
Pietro and Wanda exchanged another look — the shorthand of twins processing the same information simultaneously and arriving at the same place — and followed Yelena to the office door.
Yelena knocked. A voice from inside gave permission. She opened the door and brought them through.
Smith was behind the desk. He looked at them as they came in — Pietro, making a visible effort to keep his expression calibrated, and Wanda, holding herself with the careful reserve of someone who had decided to withhold judgment until she had more information.
Yelena said, "Boss. Pietro Maximoff and Wanda Maximoff."
Smith nodded. "Thank you, Yelena. Give us the room."
Yelena nodded, stepped back through the door, and pulled it closed behind her.
Smith looked at the two of them — standing in front of the chairs across from his desk with the slightly stiff posture of people in an unfamiliar situation — and said, "Relax. Come and sit down."
Wanda and Pietro crossed to the chairs, pulled them out, and sat.
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