At least he hadn't killed him. The wounds weren't anywhere vital and Wanda figured- hoped- he'd get up from that. They didn't have to kill anyone but Magneto. The people of Genosha were innocent, the Brotherhood would crumble without its leader. They could still stick to the Avengers strict no-kill policy. Mostly. Wanda pursed her lips at Clint's little remark and rolled her eyes. "Hardly," she muttered and added, “I’m a traitor here.” The Brotherhood held little love for Magneto’s runaway daughter.
She led the way up a winding path from the beach and into to the gardens surrounding manor, the air heavy with humidity and the perfume of exotic flowers in bloom. Wanda didn’t spare the beautiful landscape more than a glance- it was nothing special, she’d known this place her whole life. They crept through the garden, listening for any signs of enemies approaching over the singing of birds and rustle of wind in the treetops above. There was nothing, which surprised Wanda at first until it occurred to her just how paranoid her father was. His staff had always been minimal, he was a particularly private person, and in the face of a viral outbreak she suspected he’d keep as few people around him as possible. The manor could very well be empty save for the man himself and why would he need guards in his own home when he had a million defenses at his disposal with the simple flick of his wrist. That thought didn’t do much to settle her nerves, she felt even more on edge. They had probably better find out if Magneto was here before they got to Pietro. If Pietro was in bad shape they probably wouldn’t manage a simultaneous rescue and showdown. Knowing where Magneto was in relation to the cells below the manor would make things somewhat easier.
The first place and the one where they’d be the most likely to find her father was, she knew, in his study. At the wall of the house she paused and motioned for Clint to follow her as she moved slowly towards a window, the one directly behind Magnus’ desk in his study, and lowered herself below it before lifting herself up to take a quick peek. When she sat down again she looked confused.
“He’s not there,” she whispered and motioned for Clint to have a look. The room was empty though, strangely, her father’s helmet sat in the middle of the desk. When he went out without it he never just left it laying around anywhere. She supposed he was either only out of the room for a moment or had gone somewhere in a hurry.