"I know a guy… He could get into anywhere…"

Three men knocked at the Maximoff's front door; the first was a short man with a burly stature, the second one wore loose almost dirty clothes and twitched ever so often, the last was the tallest of the bunch with crooked glasses and pants that were too short. After a quick introduction, the visitors were promptly ushered into the house and directed towards the basement, where a silver-haired teenager playing ping-pong against himself. All three watched in awe as the kid seemed to appear on one side of the table, then disappear—only to reappear on the other side of the table in time to hit the ball back again. "What do you guys want? I didn't do anything—" the boy said, disappearing again.

"I've been here all day—" a voice behind them said.

The men turned around to see the same kid now sitting on the couch.

"Just relax, Peter. We're not cops," the burly visitor told the kid.

"Of course you're not. If you were, you wouldn't be driving a rental car," Peter said, bouncing his leg as he sat.

"How did you know we've got a rental car?" the druggie-looking one asked.

"I checked your registration while you were walking to the door. I also had some time to kill so I went through your rental agreement. Saw you were from out of town. Are you FBI?" Before any of them could answer, the kid appeared behind them, with the druggie's wallet.

"No, you're not cops. Hey, what's with this gifted youngsters place?"

Without waiting for a reply, the kid shrugged and dropped the wallet on the ground.

"That's a…" the duggie attempted to chastise, but was interrupted when the kid disappeared again, "That's an old card." He finally grumbled, snatching his wallet from the floor.

"He's fascinating," the spectacled one commented, speaking for the first time.

"No, he's a pain in the ass," The druggie argued.

"What is he? A teleporter?" The third asks the burly one.

"No. He's just fast," the burly one replied, "when I knew him he wasn't so... young."

"Young? You're just old!" The kid tells him.

"Snap out of it!" I feel tiny hands on my face as I focus back on my reality.

"Sorry, Munchkin. Did you need me?" I ask my sister.

"No. Mom told me to come bug you. So that's what I'm doing," she said, crawling onto the bed with me.

"Since when do you do what your told?"

"Never!" she said with a shrug, "But you have the good markers."

"How about a deal? You can borrow my markers, if you stay up here, out of mom's way, while I go bug Peter," I hold out my hand.

She shakes it eagerly, "Deal!"

I give her the markers and some paper, then head to the basement.

"You— You kleptomaniac, get to break into the Pentagon," an unknown voice says.

"One, how do I know I can trust you. And two, it's a two for one deal," my brother counters.
"One, we are just like you. Show him," the same voice says.

There is a weird wet, squishy sound, then I hear my brother speak again,"That's cool, but disgusting."

"What did you mean about two for one?" a different, more rugged voice asks.

"I mean my sister is coming with us," my brother says. "We don't go against federal law and break into the Pentagon without the other. It's sort of a twin rule,"

I take this moment to slowly move into the room.

"Twin?" The rugged one asks.

"Twinning," My brother and I say at the same time.

All eyes snap to me, as my brother keeps talking, "Get it? We're twins, while we spend life winning—twinning!"

"Who are you?" The burly one asks me.

"My twin. Didn't we just cover this, old man?" Peter says.

"Hey, kid. Don't start with me. I never met her, and I find that fishy," he says pointing to me.

"Oh, how rude of me, for you to not already know me without so much as an introduction," I say crossing my arms and glaring. "Who are you all, since you seem to know so much about my brother, yet he doesn't seem to know any of you. How… fishy."

It's the quiet one that answers, "This is Charles," he says pointing to the druggie, "I'm Hank, and thats-"

"Logan," The burley one interrupts.

"Pleasure. I'm Wanda," I say as I give all three a good once over.

The burly one, Logan, seems anxious. The druggie, Charles, looks about ready to sell his soul for the next fix. While the last one, Hank, looks to be acting as the glue for the whole group. Nothing about them shouts 'trust worthy', then again, how trust worthy can people, who only just met you, be while asking for your help to break in the Pentagon? Yet, how many people can say they got a chance to break into the Pentagon?

So, Peter and I will trust them, what's the worst that can happen? We succeed?

"Right, well… We should get going," Charles says, breaking my train of thought.

I move out of the way, as the three visitors head up stairs, and give my brother a quick look.

"I don't trust them," I hear my brother's thinking to me.

"I know, but what can we do? Would you rather stay home?" I ask in a teasing tone.

He scoffs, "You really think I'm going to pass up a chance to break into the Pentagon?"

"Never," I wink back at him.

"Just promise me you'll stick close to me, if things go bad—we run."

"I promise."

He rests his forehead against mine,"You and me, sis. Us against the world, as always."

Then, he kisses my forehead before following the group out, leaving me to trail behind them all.

"Mom. We are running out for a bit with some friends. Might be back tomorrow. Love you!" Peter yells as we leave.

Neither of us stick around to hear her answer, knowing she's already a bottle in, and will be passed soon anyways.

"So… You all still haven't told us the plan…" Peter says as soon as the car doors shut.