Sparks, Missiles, and Mockery
Owen looked to both sides. The two young ones were staring with eyes full of hatred directed at the man of metal. Tony, noticing it, opened the mask of his armor, showing a confused face, not knowing how to react. Although Owen knew that, if he gave him a moment more, he would surely blurt out some stupid comment that would only make things worse. That's why he decided to step in.
"Well, you still don't know how to control your powers properly. You could end up causing a real disaster… but luckily for you, you've got an excellent punching bag right here," he said with a mocking smile, pointing at Tony.
The genius, seeing everyone's eyes on him, pointed to himself in disbelief.
…
"Remember: speed is mass. Although in your case, your power is strange… it should generate a hurricane with every movement, yet it doesn't seem to affect the surroundings. Still, your falls are definitely a problem," Banner commented while checking data on a tablet, watching the group.
Owen, standing to the side, couldn't help but look at Pietro with a mocking expression.
They had brought Banner in to provide a more technical approach to the training.
"As for the girl… her power is far more complex. It's not simple telekinesis, not like Jean Grey's," he added, glancing at Wanda.
She, to demonstrate, lifted a heavy metal armor effortlessly and hurled it through the air. Before she could do more, Tony appeared with another suit and fired an electrified net that caught her mid-movement, releasing small shocks to disrupt her energy.
In the end, the three of them ended up collaborating in the training. And it turned out to be far more effective than Owen had expected: in just one day, the twins showed much more control than when they had started. Although, in Pietro's case, he still needed to improve the way he used his footing.
"You do realize my suits cost more than a luxury car, right?" Tony asked, flying overhead with irritation.
"And you've built… what? Fifty? Sixty? For what exactly?" Owen replied simply.
"Not that many. Just forty-two," Tony said, as if it were nothing. "Better to be prepared. We just got out of an intergalactic battle, remember?"
Stark's tone made it clear that the memory still bothered him. Although, since he hadn't entered the portal on that occasion, he didn't carry the same psychological weight he should have in canon. Still, his paranoia kept him constantly on guard.
Suddenly, multiple alarms went off both in Tony's suit and throughout the base. The engineer spun around sharply, looking toward the sky.
A helicopter was approaching at full speed, accompanied by two objects coming from another direction: missiles. And they weren't the only ones. Another five were launched from different points, surrounding the base.
"Ha… looks like they found you, Tony," Owen remarked calmly, unsettling Wanda and Pietro. "Need help?"
"No need. One helicopter and a few missiles… piece of cake," Tony said confidently, as several of the suits Wanda had torn apart reassembled themselves and flew toward the projectiles. Tony himself headed straight for the helicopter.
"Alright, you two, stay focused," Owen ordered. "You've improved a lot in just one day. Maybe you should learn martial arts as well."
But Wanda and Pietro couldn't take their eyes off the sky, where explosions lit up. Tony was fighting against a war helicopter, until another suddenly appeared, firing a barrage of missiles. It had been a trap from the start, designed to distract him.
One of the missiles veered toward where they were standing. Wanda raised her hands, trying to stop it.
Owen, however, moved his hand swiftly and threw the pen he was holding. The projectile exploded in midair.
"Bad guys always have terrible aim," he muttered calmly, extending his hand toward Banner. The scientist, as if he had anticipated it, handed him another pen with the same composure.
The twins stared at him, mouths agape in disbelief.
Tony, meanwhile, finished off both helicopters and returned with his other suits.
"Hey, I've got something important to take care of. Can't keep playing babysitter club with you," he said before flying off.
Owen simply raised his hand in a dismissive wave, not even looking at him.
"Aren't you going to help him?" Wanda asked with concern.
"He didn't ask for help. That means he trusts himself to handle it," Owen replied calmly. Then, looking at them with genuine interest, he asked, "So… what weapons do you prefer to learn to use?"
The twins exchanged a silent glance.
…
Days passed, and Owen remained in full instructor mode. At the same time, he kept an eye on Tony from a distance, knowing that sooner or later he would face Killian.
And indeed, the genius ended up fighting him. Owen took the chance to send him a message, slipping away some information about the Extremis serum. Even if it wasn't useful for now, it was better to keep it in reserve.
Tony, with Kitty Pryde's help, managed to hack into A.I.M and steal valuable data on dangerous projects. That changed the entire course of the battle. He didn't even bother chasing the fake Mandarin once they discovered he was nothing more than a façade created by Killian. The real Mandarin was in China, but Owen chose not to share that information. For now, it was unnecessary.
Killian's fury drove him to launch a total assault on Stark. But Tony, with his new armor built from material obtained from the Destroyer —practically indestructible—, crushed all his plans. And as the final blow, he bought A.I.M, ensuring nothing like that would happen again.
Meanwhile, Owen was receiving the information while sitting back with a soda can in hand, watching the twins train. At his side, Nicolás lounged under the sun as if on vacation.
On the field, Pietro moved at blinding speed with a sword in hand, cutting down with precision the projectiles fired from multiple automated turrets. Although the shots weren't lethal, at that speed a hit would have easily drawn blood. Yet none of them touched him. Each projectile fell, cleanly split in two, the blade in his hand gleaming with every strike.
Meanwhile, Wanda was surrounded by a group of automated turrets. She used her power to stop the projectiles midair and redirect them against other incoming shots. However, she could only catch one at a time, and to block the next, she had to throw it immediately—or else be hit without mercy. It was harsh training, but precisely that difficulty forced her to perfect her control.
At first, she managed it well, but as the speed increased, she began to take hits. Her concentration was being pushed to the limit.
She caught one that was moving so fast a normal person wouldn't even have seen it. But she barely had time to react to the next. She raised her hand, caught the projectile, but didn't manage to throw it in time, and the second one struck her squarely. That small slip in focus disoriented her, allowing more projectiles to hit. Finally, she dropped to her knees, shielding herself with her arms, as the turrets powered down after detecting her surrender.
Drenched in sweat, Wanda panted heavily as she slowly stood back up. Pietro, in contrast, had finished his training with an arrogant smile, resting the sword on his shoulder as if nothing.
"Both of you died," Owen stated calmly, watching them.
"Hey! None of them hit me," Pietro protested immediately, certain of his performance.
Owen raised a finger and pointed at his student's abdomen. There, a small blue mark glowed—the trace of a projectile's impact.
"Tsk…" Pietro grunted, annoyed. He had let his guard down for just an instant, right when he saw his sister get hit again, and that moment had distracted him.
Wanda, on the other hand, was still breathing heavily, staring in frustration at her arms covered in blue marks.
"Well… not bad," Owen said, standing and walking toward them. "Unlike your brother, you don't have heightened senses, and yet you still reacted to projectiles moving at bullet speed. You should be proud. Even Captain America would have a hard time with that."
Wanda lifted her gaze toward him, tilting her head slightly with a tired smile.
"Are you trying to cheer me up, instructor?" she asked with irony.
"It's just that seeing weak people makes me feel guilty for being so powerful," Owen replied with a shameless grin.
Both siblings rolled their eyes, already used to their teacher's nonsense.
At that moment, a firm voice was heard approaching.
"How's the training going?" asked Steve Rogers, dressed in his uniform.
"Better than yesterday," Owen replied simply. "Going on a mission?"
"Yes, and I need help. A tunnel collapsed and there are people trapped inside. Oxygen is running out. An extra super-soldier to move debris would be perfect," Steve explained seriously.
"Then take them," Owen answered, pointing at the twins. "I'm better at fighting, and you know it."
Steve looked directly at Pietro and Wanda. "Are you ready?"
"Yes. Don't worry. I'm their instructor," Owen assured with a confident smile.
"Then you two, get ready," Steve ordered seriously before turning around.
As they followed him, Pietro muttered under his breath, "Is it really okay for us to go? I think the Captain doesn't like us much…"
Owen smirked mockingly. "Well, it's normal. You were with Hydra, and on top of that, you hate his 'cuddly friend.' But relax, it's only until you earn his trust. Go, before I make you do five hundred push-ups."
The twins chuckled softly and left with Steve.
Owen watched them go with a serious expression. Then he suddenly turned and kicked Nicolás's chair, knocking him to the ground.
"What the hell's wrong with you, bastard?!" Nicolás shouted, standing up angrily.
"Go watch them. Make sure they're alright," Owen ordered.
"And why don't you do it yourself, if you're so worried?" Nicolás snapped back, irritated.
Owen grinned with malice. "You parked your new car in the garage, didn't you?"
Nicolás glared furiously. "Fine, fine, I'll do it. Damn lunatic!" he muttered, walking off with a look of annoyance.
Owen was left alone. He lowered his gaze to the ground: at every step he had taken, the concrete was cracked beneath his feet.
"What a nuisance…" he murmured, running a hand through his hair before walking away in another direction. The floor creaked again under his stride, as if unable to contain his strength.