CHAPTER ONE - NORMANDY

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Wanda Maximoff - Private

Truly, I was not meant to serve.

And, surprisingly, it wasn't only because I was a woman.

I was from Sokovia, a poor country just right next to the Soviet Union. It was on the way to anywhere important, as others called it, not being any type of power in this world.

I lived there for the majority of my life, in relative poverty. It was a violent place, with a lack of police support and corruption across every corner.

Though, the charm and kindest of some of the townsfolk made up for the danger. It wasn't a glamorous place of any kind but had its fair share of tourist attractions and gorgeous sights.

Being right next to the Soviet Union pressed many challenges. It was a miracle that we weren't apart of it yet, despite the many attempts and threats made.

Despite how poor I was, I thought myself to be quite lucky. Unlike many of the countries children, I had both parents, and, a twin brother.

My parents were strict at the time, usually with manners or keeping in our lanes. I realized, when I grew older, that it was for our safety, as many young kids with a lack of filter ended up dead.

Anastasia Maximoff was my mother's name. I was told I was a carbon copy of her in the face; green eyes and dark hair, full but sharp features and brooding eyes. She was gorgeous, to say the least, with a bright grin always on her face and her eyes twinkling with every word.

And yet, despite her delicate figure and appeal, she was not to be messed with. From a young age, she was trained in self-defense, moving on to actual combat skills later on in life.

Sure, for women everywhere in the 1900s, this was uncommon and unheard of, but with the constant threat of violence, especially towards women, in Novi Grad, her father made sure she was protected.

I always found that sweet. A somewhat harsh, but evident, gesture of love. Being their only daughter, my grandparents cherished every moment with her.

My father, on the other hand, definitely looked the parts.

His name was Django Maximoff and he met my mother during his school years. I like to believe I took on most of my mother, but I couldn't deny that his teaching influenced me.

He had deep blue eyes, ocean-like, and dark curly hair. I was told he was quite the looker as a young man, and still was, in the mid of his life. The business he meant was evident in every line of his face, and it was no surprise that he was once a prized street fighter.

My father taught me more about agility and circumstance in fighting, whilst my mother was more articulate and calculating. It was because of them that I was the person I was now.

But, I couldn't give them full credit.

And that brings me to my brother.

Pietro Maximoff was my twin brother, the elder by twelve minutes. He was more similar to our father in looks, having a tall and strong figure, and could build on muscle as easily as his ego did.

Sure, I could go on for days about how amazing he was. But, to sum it up, he was the best thing in my life.

Though most siblings were close, they always had somewhat of a barrier between them. That was not the case for Pietro and me.

We were connected by date and year, but nevertheless, connected at the hip. There was nothing that could separate us, and no one could ever fill up the gap he left.

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