Wanda tilted her head, eyes narrowing in curiosity. "So… how exactly are we getting there? I can't teleport. And I don't think you expect us to book a flight."
The corner of Wally's mouth twitched. "A flight? Seriously?" He tapped the side of his head, mock disbelief on his face. "We'd arrive after my fifth birthday party in reverse if we took a plane."
He stretched his arms, casual like a guy preparing for a lazy jog, then added, "I can circle this planet in a blink. A hop, skip, light-speed sprint, and we're golden."
Wanda crossed her arms. "Okay, so then...?"
"I carry you," Wally said plainly, voice light but firm. "Or Pietro does it, but considering his Speed Force buff's only been there for like—" he glanced at his non-existent watch "—half an hour? Better not risk a splatter crash."
Pietro nodded, arms folded, not offended in the least. "I vote Wally. You don't exactly weigh a feather, sis."
Wanda's brow arched. "Excuse me?"
Pietro grinned. "Kidding. Mostly."
Wally laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hey, no pressure. But it's literally just a second. Less, actually. I've carried semi-trucks while dodging lightning strikes before. I promise not to drop you into a volcano."
Wanda stared at him a second longer, then gave a small exhale. "Alright. Let's go."
What neither Maximoff twin noticed was the twitch at the corner of Wally's eye—the flicker of nerves that burst and vanished in an attosecond. It wasn't a rescue mission. There were no cities in peril. No flames to leap over, no bullets to catch.
It was… a trip. And Wanda was close. Really close.
For a nanosecond—maybe less—Wally's confidence wavered. Not because he couldn't carry her. He could lift tanks with his pinkie while running on water.
But because her scent drifted close when she stepped nearby. Something magical scent maybe.
Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, no hesitation in her touch. Pietro smirked behind them, muttering something under his breath.
Wally's mind yapped like it always did.
'Slender waist. Warm breath on my ear. Hugging me like a backpack. Keep your cool, West. Don't let the heartbeat spike. She'll notice. You're the Speed Force. You've punched gods. You can handle this.'
He blinked.
And they were gone.
They reappeared on a wide, sun-drenched shoreline. Waves rolled in with the scent of salt and kelp.
A sharp breeze nipped at their faces, warm but alive. The sand here was pale gold, finer than sugar.
A flock of birds—red-winged, crystalline-feathered creatures native to Earth-Prime Nexus—scattered overhead.
Wanda's boots hit the sand with a light crunch. She blinked several times, holding onto Wally's shoulder. "...That was fast."
Wally gave her a one-shouldered grin. "Told ya. Blink and you're there."
Pietro arrived seconds later in a silver blur, feet skidding in the sand with controlled grace. "Okay, not gonna lie," he panted, "this beach better have drinks, 'cause I think I lost my lungs back at the Equator."
Wanda let go of Wally and took a few steps forward, eyes wide as she took in the shimmering coast, the mountains far off in the distance, the strange, alien creatures dancing across the waves like surfers.
"This place..." she whispered, "...isn't on any map, is it?"
Wally's hands went to his hips, watching the sea.
"Nope. One of the extra continents I found. No name yet. No airports. No cities. I found it on a test lap earlier. Thought we could claim it for the day."
Pietro threw himself onto the sand like a man declaring war on exhaustion. "So, this is your idea of a vacation?"
Wally dropped beside him, one leg stretched, eyes scanning the horizon. "We could do the usual. Punch some monsters. Steal alien tech. Get thrown through time. But hey—sunburn's cool too."
Wanda smiled despite herself, standing between the two speedsters. The wind tousled her hair, whipping strands across her face.
There was peace here, even if she didn't quite trust it yet. Peace always felt like a dream on the verge of waking.
"So... what now?" she asked.
Wally's lips parted into a grin that bordered on manic.
"Now? We build sandcastles." He paused, then pointed toward the jungle. "Or go explore that possibly uncharted predator-infested forest. Depends on how bored we get."
Pietro groaned. "You're insane."
Wally shrugged. "Or bored. Big difference."
Wanda sat down slowly, still watching the sea.
Wanda sank into the warm sand, knees folded, elbows resting on her thighs. Her voice drifted out lazily, half amusement, half pointed jab.
"This is nice and all… but I thought we were on a vacation, not on some back-to-nature boy scout retreat."
Wally froze mid-squat, hand full of sand he'd been sculpting into the ugliest castle in existence.
His mouth opened slightly, tongue clicking against the roof of it. A humming sound escaped him—something between a nervous laugh and a toddler caught red-handed.
He tossed the sand aside and stood with a spring. "Okay, yeah, you're right, that's on me. Forest full of man-eating birds isn't exactly beachfront luxury."
In a flash, he was beside Wanda, sweeping her up into his arms before she could argue. "Hold on."
Pietro raised a brow. "Wait, what—"
"Follow me!" Wally shouted, already vanishing in a snap of air.
A breath later, Pietro sprinted after them, chasing the streak of red lightning that cut across the sky.
The next second—or what felt like it—Wanda's boots crunched into snow. Cold bit her cheeks, her breath catching in her throat.
The world opened into an endless white expanse, jagged peaks cutting the sky like teeth.
The Swiss Alps, a crown of ice and cloud, welcomed them with a glare of sunlight and a chill that slipped into bones.
Wally appeared beside her in full snow gear, goggles resting on his forehead like he'd been planning this for weeks. "Skiing first. Gotta start from the top."
"Wait—what?" Pietro slid into view, laced into a pair of skis that definitely hadn't been there thirty seconds ago. "I don't ski."
"You run faster than a bullet, man," Wally said. "Skiing is basically running downhill with style."
Turns out, that logic didn't quite hold.
Pietro screamed.
He flew past them in a blur of flailing limbs and curses in Sokovian, Romanian and multiple other languages, his skis carving chaos through the powder.
"Uh oh," Wally said.
Wanda's eyes lit red as she calmly lifted her hand and redirected her brother mid-air, slowing him into a pirouette before gently dropping him into a snowbank.
Wally gave her an approving nod. "That's cheating, but I respect it."
Next stop: Hawaii.
Waves crashed against golden sands. Palm trees swayed under a lazy breeze. Sun kissed their skin. Wally lay sprawled on a beach chair in tacky sunglasses and an even tackier floral shirt.
Wanda wore a deep crimson wrap dress, oversized sunhat shadowing her eyes. Pietro paced the shore, trying to surf on a board that hated him.
"Is this more what you had in mind?" Wally asked, tossing her a chilled coconut with a tiny umbrella stuck inside.
Wanda sipped, letting the salt in the air fill her lungs. "Better."
Then Pietro screamed again.
A wave, the size of a house and roaring with deep-sea vengeance, curled over him and dragged him under.
Wally laughed. "That one's on you, man."
A moment later, the wave caught up with Wally too. It swallowed him mid-laugh, flipping the beach chair, umbrella, and all.
For a solid three seconds, nothing but bubbling silence.
Then a hand burst from the shore foam, followed by Wally coughing up half the Pacific, his shirt wrapped around his head.
"I meant to do that," he gasped.
The Black Sea. A wide expanse of gray and steel-blue. Jet-skis roared over the surface, cutting lines into the frothy water.
Wally grinned as he throttled forward, water spraying behind him like fireworks.
Pietro followed, less graceful but all the more enthusiastic. "This is what I'm talking about!"
Wanda sat behind Wally, arms around his waist, gripping tighter as they hit a wave that nearly launched them into orbit.
Then the sea cracked open.
A massive wave rose—unnatural, a wall of churning water that blocked out the sun.
"Oh, hell," Wally muttered, wide-eyed.
It crashed down like a titan's hand.
When the sea finally calmed, Wally floated to the surface upside down, water dripping from every part of him.
Pietro pulled up beside him, laughing hysterically. "I thought you said you could swim."
"I can," Wally groaned. "But I wasn't ready to meet Poseidon today."
Japan came next. Hidden in the mountains of Nagano, where the air was clean and pine-scented, they found an outdoor hot spring tucked between boulders and trees that whispered in the wind.
Steam curled from the water like a dream. Snow blanketed the edges.
Wally and Pietro sunk into the pool, towels wrapped modestly, steam rising around them. Wanda entered last, tied in a dark robe, her feet dipping in before she slid down, sighing as the heat wrapped her muscles.
"Now this is peace," she said.
"No waves. No skis. No screaming," Pietro added.
Wally leaned back, arms outstretched, eyes closed. "...Let's never leave."
They didn't, not for hours. The moon climbed high, stars shimmered above, and for once, silence became their friend.
Then came the food tour.
Tokyo. Naples. Seoul. New York. Paris. Marrakesh.
Street food to five-star dining. Wally and Pietro devoured everything. Ramen by the gallons, shawarma wrapped in flames, pizza with mozzarella that stretched like a spell.
Wanda sipped wine slowly, watching them like a mother tolerating two overgrown golden retrievers.
"Do you guys ever stop eating?" she asked, cutting into steak as they sat on a rooftop restaurant in Buenos Aires.
Wally wiped his mouth with a napkin, then leaned toward Pietro.
"I could stop."
Pietro shrugged. "But I won't."
The trip spanned seven full days.
They laughed.
They slowed down.
Even Wally, the man who lived a thousand lives in a heartbeat, let time breathe around him for once. Let the seconds stretch, expand, mean something.
The world didn't end.
The sky didn't fall.
No alarms. No crises.
---
They were standing on a Tokyo rooftop, warm steam from the ramen cart below wafting up into the night, neon lights glinting off Wanda's eyes.
Pietro's phone buzzed. Then Wanda's. They checked them at the same time, and the weight in the air shifted like gravity itself had taken a breath.
Wanda's expression hardened. Pietro's narrowed.
Wally raised a brow, slurping the last of his noodles. "Uh oh. Don't tell me it's the check."
"No." Wanda's voice dropped low. "It's the Avengers."
Pietro sighed and pocketed his phone. "Ultron. Guess the tin man didn't stay in the scrapyard."
Wanda stared out across the skyline, jaw tight, fingers curled around the phone like it had insulted her.
"Cap says they're struggling. He's requesting back-up."
Wally tilted his head.
Wanda turned to Wally, searching his face, her voice quiet but firm. "We need to go to the Tower. Now."
"Fair," Wally nodded. "Duty calls."
Pietro stepped closer, straightening. "I can carry her now. I think I already get the gist of this Speed Force. I won't drop her this time."
Wanda smirked faintly. "One more time and you're losing kneecaps."
"But," Pietro continued, eyes flicking to Wally, "you don't have to come. This isn't your fight. Up to you."
And there it was. The weight of the question behind his easy grin. The future cracking open beneath his sneakers.
Wally glanced between them. The speed in his blood tugged at him—go, run, fight, help—but something deeper pushed back.
He wasn't a soldier. Not anymore. Not again. No more permanent team gigs. No more saving people who'd never remember his name.
Not until he figured out who he was in this world.
"I'm out," Wally said finally. "Not against helping, but full-time capes-and-codenames? Nah. I'm allergic."
Wanda nodded once. No argument. No guilt.
"But if things go sideways," Wally added, looking between them, "you call me. Fast as thought, remember?"
Pietro gave a sharp nod. "We will."
"Stay safe," Wanda said softly. "Really."
"Same to you." Wally raised two fingers in a lazy salute. "Go wreck a murder toaster for me."
Pietro swept Wanda into his arms with a blur and a crack of displaced air. In the next blink, they vanished into the horizon, twin streaks of scarlet and silver slicing toward New York.
Wally watched the sky for a moment, quiet.
He smiled looked small and faint.
The last seven days hadn't fixed the world. But they had meant something. The laughter. The near-death waves. The silence under stars. He'd actually... liked them.
And now?
Now it was back to work.
He zipped open his backpack, pulled out a folded map—physical, laminated, old school.
His fingers brushed over the scribbled notes in red sharpie.
To be honest he didn't need more speed. He didn't need more power.
What he needed... was to never be caught off guard again.
Defence or regeneration. But truly it's whatever came first. Whatever Force that's easier will be his first target to create or made a connection to it.
His eyes settled on one name underlined in heavy black ink.
Kamar-Taj.
He grinned.
"Guess it's time I go learn from the sorcerers."
Then, with a gust of wind and a red blur, he vanished.