Runaways Part I

The story begins with Pietro and Wanda leaving home due to an unforeseen complication. Read and discover how Quicksilver's superspeed mutant power manifests for the first time!

A disclaimer from the Author

As you already know, I do not own Marvel, Quicksilver, or any of the franchise’s characters that will appear in this story.  Quicksilver is my favorite character in the Marvel universe and I wanted to do a story in his honor.  In preparation for this fanfiction series, I read the biography of Quicksilver on the Marvel website and Wikipedia.  The chronology of events that make up the outline of each chapter are not my original ideas, however I will be taking creative liberties in the retelling of them.  While I may create characters to enhance my take on Quicksilver’s story, if you notice any familiar heroes or villains, they are Marvel’s…not mine.  With that said, the purpose of this story is for my own entertainment (as I love writing and Marvel is a great universe to have fun with!) and hopefully your entertainment as well.

Chapter 1

Runaways Part I

It was dark and a little too quiet on this one particular evening, deep in the forest of Mount Wundagore, located in Transia, Europe.  Most mountains were known for being dry, barren, and full of nothing more than dust and rocks.  Wundagore Mountain, however, never lacked lush vegetation and was one of the finer and more mysterious natural wonders of Europe.  Sharing the mountain with its neighboring countries, Transylvania, Romania, and Serbia, Transia was a small country, having only one town called East Transia.  Located within the monstrous Wundagore Mountain, were several small villages.  Surrounding these little places of society, were a few even smaller camps of Gypsies, known as the Rom.

In one of these tiny camps, outside of a small unnamed village on Mount Wundagore, two fourteen year old twins sat around a camp fire with gypsies.  Both the children who were dressed in rags, a boy and a girl, were orphans.  Besides from each other, the wandering camp of gypsies was the closest thing these kids had to a family.  With that said, neither ever felt like it was really that close to what an actual family was.

The camp of eight to ten people huddling around a caravan didn’t do much of anything that families would do.  They ate together when and if there was food available, and that was just about the only communal thing these folks did.  Often the twins, Pietro and Wanda, would observe a gypsy burning incense and mumbling some kind of strange chant.  If they weren’t doing that, they were high on a local herb staring absently into the fire thinking of wherever their warped mind took them.  The camp wasn’t perfect, or even desirable, but it was the kids’ home.

The twins’ father, Django Maximoff had found them fourteen years ago abandoned in the woods and brought them back to the camp.  Django and his wife, Marya raised the Pietro and Wanda, that is when they had time.  Django and Marya were also the leaders of the camp, and the food providers.  Often they were out pilfering villages late in the evenings and when they returned, the two retired to their tent to either sleep or keep to themselves.  Their instruction and rules to the two children was very simple: Don’t bother anyone, and don’t do anything dangerous.

Nobody was bothered by this fact, but it was clear that Django and Marya weren’t the real parents of the only two adolescents in the camp, as they looked nothing like the teenagers.  Both parents were dark skinned and had jet black hair.  Pietro and Wanda had somewhat pale white skin and deep blue eyes.  Wanda had long, flowing, and beautiful brown hair while Pietro had short, and often unkempt, white hair.  In many ways, not just considering physical appearances, the twins were the opposite.

“It’s taking them forever!” Pietro complained as he threw a stick into the fire as he stood up and started to pace, impatiently.

“Would you calm down?” Wanda spoke calmly, trying hard to mask her annoyance of her brother.  “So it’s taking them a little longer than usual to bring back food….maybe the village they went is farther away than usual.”

“Maybe...” Pietro considered this fact but then shook his head.  “But it never takes them this long…this is like double, no triple, how many hours mom and dad are gone.   And I’m starving.”

“She’s right you know.” A stoned gypsy leaning against an old tree spoke in a mellow and soft tone.  “You’re always in such a rush boy.  Take it easy, sit down and enjoy the breeze of wind and this fine night we have upon us.  You know, each night is only alive once in our lives, then it’s gone forever.  Enjoy them while they last.”

“Whatever that means…” Pietro and Wanda exchanged looks of awkwardness regarding the spaced out man full of nonsense.  “Besides, I wouldn't always be in such a rush if everyone wasn't so slow.”

Suddenly Wanda, Pietro, and the rest of the company turned to see a rustling through the dense bushes behind them.  After a moment or two of hearing footsteps rushing towards them, Django and Marya lept through the bushes carrying two large sacks of food, and looking somewhat frazzled.

“Finally!” Pietro perked up seeing bags full of food.  “It took you guys long enough!  What’d you bring us?”

“Well there is good news and bad news…” Django spoke, his voice trembling a little bit with nervousness.

“The good news is we definitely grabbed enough food to last us a few weeks…” Marya continued, “But…”

“The bad news is there is a small mob of angry visitors who are not too far behind us.” Django finished his wife’s sentence.  “So now would be a great time for us all to pack up and start moving to another camp.”

“What, we’re leaving already?” Another stoned gypsy sitting across the fire from Wanda moaned.  “Aww man, I’m so comfortable here…and I got some things sitting in my stomach that may make it hard to move anywhere quickly…if you know what I mean.”

“C’mon man, didn’t you hear my dad?” Pietro moved around the fire to start picking up the half baked man, motioning his sister to come help him lift the heavy fellow.  “We’re going to have very unfriendly company here in a little bit, and everyone knows that Wundagore village people hate us nomads…For no understandable reason.”

“I think they frown on the fact that we like to help ourselves to their food.” Wanda interjected, as the two finally got the man to his feet.

“It’s too late, they’re here!” A lady’s voice came from behind the caravan, followed the sound of an angry crowd rushing into the camp site.

Several  angry townsfolk with various weapons from carving knives and pitchforks, to a rolling pin and a large fish began to attack the gypsies ruthlessly.  Pietro and Wanda moved backwards in the shade of the woods in horror, as they watched their pseudo-family of ten get battered by the enraged mob.

“You no good gypsies!” Someone yelled as he bashed one of the men in the face with a sledge hammer.  “You always just help yourself to whatever you want in our towns, don’t you?  Well it doesn't feel so good now does it!”

“Over there!” A woman who just smacked a gypsy with a frying pan yelled as she pointed at Pietro and Wanda, “Those two runts are hiding!  Someone get them!”

A large angry fat man carrying a torch and a very negative attitude growled as he rushed towards the children.  As he came closer her started to laugh with malicious intent as Pietro and Wanda held each other and stepped backward in fear.  Suddenly, Django leapt from the side to tackle the large man with the torch.  As the two men fell to the ground, the torch caught many leaves on fire.  The burning leaves quickly began to spread, igniting trees and even the wooden gypsy caravan.   The children now gasped in fear as they looked around at the forest being destroyed.  Django sharping looked at his children and yelled.

“What are you two doing?  Don’t you know what’s good for you!  Run, get out of here!  Pietro!  Take your sister and RUN!”

Pietro grabbed Wanda’s hand and started to move backwards.  “Come on Wanda, let’s get out of here!”

“Are you crazy?” Wanda cried, tears filled her eyes as she saw this terrible sight.   “What about…”

“You know the rules…” Pietro interrupted his sister.  “In times of trouble, it’s every man woman and child for themselves!  Now, we have to go!”

Pietro yanked his sisters arm as he started to run deep in the forest.  Wanda followed, now not resisting at all.  The two teenagers could hear three or four village people following them cursing at the two and promising their upcoming deaths.  As the angry mob sounded as if they getting closer, Pietro felt himself moving faster and faster.  He was now running on pure adrenaline  and terror.

“Pietro slow down!” Wanda panted as she struggled to keep up with her brother.  “I can’t…”

“Not the time to complain, sister!” Pietro retorted in between breath, “We have to get out of here!”

“But I can’t…keep up!” Wanda spoke as she stumbled on a stump the two ran over. 

Pietro stopped as his sister fell on the ground and smacked her head hard against a tree.  Pietro cussed as he realized Wanda was now unconscious.

“Wanda, wake up!” Pietro yelled as he gently smacked his sister’s face, trying to help her regain consciousness.  “This is SO not the time for a nap!”

Hearing angry voices approaching, without a second’s thought, Pietro picked up his twin sister’s body and threw her over his shoulder.  He started to run now, not considering anything other than his and Wanda’s survival.  Before long, the silver haired boy’s feet began to run faster and faster…and faster until Pietro felt the wind brush against his face.  He began moving so fast  that it seemed as if everything around him was moving in slow motion.  In a matter of moments, as the boy picked up speed, he no longer heard the yells of angry villagers.  When Pietro finally thought it was safe to stop, he couldn’t believe his eyes.   Within minutes of running, the boy had rushed through the forest and down the mountain to East Transia.  Gently setting his sister down and leaning her against a stone building, the speedster looked around observing the town for the first time.  Pietro Maximoff had never ran that fast in his life, and he had never felt so alive.