Sokovia's capital, Novigrad.
The year is 2008.
In this year, the city was far from as dilapidated as Leon had imagined.
The war of 1999 had passed nearly a decade ago, and the city was slowly rebuilding.
But rebuilding did not mean prosperity.
This place was more like a forgotten zone of the World.
Old buildings and newly constructed concrete blocks were squeezed together, and armed peacekeeping forces and local militias were visible everywhere on the streets.
The sky was eternally gray, and the city was filled with all sorts of smells.
People on the streets hurried along, their faces numb and wary.
There was no hope here.
This was Leon's first impression of the city.
Leon's figure appeared in Novigrad's central square.
He stood in Stark contrast to the city.
He wore black casual clothes, and his golden hair seemed to glow on its own, dispelling the surrounding gloom.
A gentle smile remained on his handsome face, and his eyes curiously surveyed the surrounding Orthodox churches and war memorials.
He walked leisurely, as if he were not strolling through a city on the brink of conflict, but rather taking a walk in Asgard's backyard.
Those who saw him quickly made way for him.
There was only fear in the eyes of the local residents for him.
This guy, he looked too clean.
In a place like this, cleanliness often meant danger and privilege.
Leon didn't care about the gazes around him.
The Sun shone equally on everyone, but his radiance, in itself, set him apart from others.
He also didn't need a map; the unique source of chaos was his best lighthouse.
He walked through several dilapidated alleys and arrived in front of an old apartment building.
The building looked shaky, with bullet holes still visible on its walls.
Leon's perception told him that his target was on the third floor.
He slowly walked up the creaking stairs and arrived at the door of apartment 3B.
The door was old and worn, with symbols drawn in red paint to ward off evil, clearly for the owner's psychological comfort.
Leon raised his hand and gently knocked on the door.
"Knock, knock, knock."
The sounds inside the house abruptly stopped.
After a few seconds, there was a rush of footsteps.
Soon, the door was opened a crack.
A wary eye peered at him from behind the door.
"Who are you looking for?"
Behind the door, a young man's voice, with a heavy Sokovian accent, rang out.
Leon glanced at the lean but chiseled face and silver-white short hair behind the door, and smiled gently.
"Pietro Maximoff?"
The young man behind the door tensed up.
"I don't know you. You've got the wrong person," Pietro said, about to close the door.
"I haven't got it wrong," Leon's words stopped Pietro's movement.
"I'm here to talk to you and your sister, Wanda."
"To talk about a shell that fell into your home nine years ago."
Boom!
To Pietro, these words were no less than a shell exploding in his mind.
He yanked the door open, his face instantly contorted with fury.
"Who exactly are you?! What do you want?!"
Pietro, 19 years old, was no longer a child.
He was tall, but very thin.
Behind him, another figure also appeared.
It was a girl, also 19 years old.
She had beautiful long red hair and wore an old sweater.
She was beautiful, but her beauty was shrouded in deep sorrow.
She was Wanda Maximoff.
The moment Leon appeared, Wanda felt it.
She didn't know why, but this was her special trait.
She looked at the golden-haired man in front of her with some apprehension.
This man, who was he?
He made her feel like a warm Sun.
"Don't be nervous, children." Leon's gaze swept over the two of them, finally resting on Wanda's face, a flicker of admiration in his eyes.
Good, I've found you.
"My name is Leon Odinson." He nodded slightly.
"May I come in and talk? Standing here doesn't seem very convenient."
His tone was gentle, as if seeking permission.
But his attitude was self-assured, as if this were his home.
Pietro's breathing grew heavier; he glanced at his sister.
Wanda's eyes were fixed on Leon, unblinking, with no hostility on her face, only a confusion he couldn't understand.
This discovery made Pietro even more wary.
But the other party knew their biggest secret.
"Come in." Pietro gritted his teeth and moved aside, opening the way.
Leon was calm inside.
Good, the first step has been achieved.
He knew their past, he knew their hatred, and he knew their future.
He could not lose.
The apartment was very simple, or rather, bare.
A few old pieces of furniture, an old CRT television.
The living room had the Stark logo carved into it, looking more like a curse that was never forgotten, day or night.
This was the source of their hatred, the spiritual pillar of their past.
Leon's gaze lingered on the logo for a second, then he sat down on the sofa.
His posture was always elegant and relaxed.
Because, no matter where he was, he was the center.
"Who exactly are you?"
Pietro stood opposite him, hands in his pockets, body tense, ready to act at any moment.
"How did you know? Are you with the government? Or sent by Stark?"
"Stark?" Leon heard this and chuckled softly.
"Tony Stark? He's probably figuring out how to defeat me right now."
Pietro and Wanda were both stunned for a moment.
Defeat him?
Although they hated Stark, they, like other young people in Sokovia, were forced to learn about this playboy from television.
"I don't understand what you're saying." Pietro's hostility didn't lessen.
"Of course you don't understand." Leon put away his smile and looked at them calmly.
"Because you've been living a lie."
"Your hatred is real, and your pain is real."
"But you've hated the wrong person."
"What do you mean?!" Pietro was instantly enraged.
"The shell was right there! The name Stark was right there! It killed our parents! How dare you say we hated the wrong person?!"
"The shell was from Stark Industries, that's correct." Leon nodded, his calmness in Stark contrast to Pietro's agitation.
"But Tony Stark didn't know about this deal."
Leon decided to give these two children an introductory lesson to the Marvel Universe.
This was his second step in winning them over: reshaping their perception.
"Do you think Tony Stark is the sole controller of Stark Industries?" Leon's tone was gentle, like a patient mentor.
"No, after Howard Stark's death, the company has been controlled by another person. A man named Obadiah Stane."
"He bypassed Tony Stark and secretly sold these weapons, which were supposed to be sold to the U.S. government, to the Terrorists who started the war. He sold them to the Sokovian rebels."
Pietro and Wanda were stunned.
Obadiah Stane?
Their hatred for nine years had always been directed at the glamorous Tony Stark on television.
Now, suddenly someone was telling them, you hated the wrong person, the mastermind was someone else?
....
Thank You For Reading Up to This Point.
Please Donate Power Stones
And Read More Chapters At Patreon.com/Destiny07