warnings: Earth-339. sci-fi. world-go-boom. language: pg-13 (for f*** and s***).

pairing: none/gen.

timeline: 2019, the Big One.

disclaimer: i doesn't owns the movies, comics, or characters. or the assorted objects of pop culture reference.

notes: 1) Marvel's timelines are highly mutable and indecipherable. i will take some artistic license in saying that the FF have known Hank Pym for more than two decades by 2019. maybe closer to three? 2) to the best of my recollection, Carol's never been hit with a nuke. lots of splosions, but no nuke. correct me if i'm wrong. 3) MSD = minimum safe distance. the shortest distance from an explosion at which you can survive without special precautions (like bunkers or radiation suits). for a 1-megaton bomb, the typical assumed MSD is 10 miles (but note that a 1-megaton bomb is pretty big, and most nuclear bombs are much lower-yield). 4) at high speeds, water (especially seawater) does indeed feel a lot like concrete.

Missing in Action

Central Park looks like an ant hill from the deck of the carrier. Thousands of people, swarming. There's no way it can end well.

"This is ridiculous," Carol mutters under her breath.

"We knew it was going to be like this," Johnny tells her. "We knew it'd take months before reality sank in, before people were pressured by family or friends. And it takes a while to pack up an entire life. We always knew there'd be a last-minute flood of people."

She gestures toward the nearest street. "But gridlock, stopped trains?"

He shrugs. "Not like anybody ever ran a simulation to see what would happen if forty percent of the population of the five boroughs took to the sidewalks simultaneously."

"I'm surprised Reed never did," she snorts.

~"Central command to Ms. Marvel,"~ Steve says over their comm channel. ~"We may have a situation. I need you and Torch to check on some people."~

Carol straightens, touches a finger to her earbud to activate her comm. "Give me the names, central command."

~"Hank Pym was collecting some research, and Warpath should have been making sure Agency X was fully evacuated. Neither one has reported in."~

A glance at the watch on her wrist shows that they have six minutes before the deadline. "Okay. Torch, you check on the situation with Agency X, I'll get Hank."

"Got it."

Off to her right, a gout of flame signals Johnny's departure. She launches herself into the air at her highest comfortable speed. About a minute later, she hears Johnny report in.

~"The office is closed, and there's a sign on the door that says 'out of town for duration of apocalypse.' Headed for Pym's place in case you need an extra pair of hands."~

Hank's latest lab is in Queens, and it's easy to spot from the sky.

"I'm on-site," she says as she reaches for the buzzer. Then she notices that the door (which is meant to always be locked) is slightly ajar.

It's possible that Hank just forgot to close it in his haste.

Carol doesn't believe that for a second.

When she walks in, she's tense and ready for a fight.

"Hank?" she calls out, just in case.

No answer.

Most of the crucial equipment has already been moved or stored, so the lab is nearly empty. There's a half-packed cardboard box of books and papers, next to a still-warm mug of something that looks like tea. The chair of Hank's desk has been knocked over, but nothing else seems to be out of place.

She hears footsteps, but when she turns to look, it's just Johnny.

"Where is he?" he asks, perplexed.

"A good question," she grunts, swiftly looking for some kind of clue. Under the desk, she spots Hank's favorite pen, snapped as if someone heavy stepped on it.

~"Human Torch, Ms. Marvel, we're powering up engines now—have you got anything?"~

Frustrated, Carol shakes her head before she lifts her hand to reply. "Nothing, central command. Hank's not here, and there's no real sign of a struggle…just an overturned chair and a crushed pen."

~"Get what you can, but make it double-fast."~

"Barely two minutes on the clock," Johnny sighs in dismay. "I dunno about you, but this is at least a minute-long flight for me."

"Scared of a little heat?" she teases as she goes back to the tea. When she sniffs the mug, she catches a hint of something bitter and half-familiar. "Shit, why couldn't it have been Stark? He'd have this analyzed in ten seconds."

"Think Hank might've been drugged?"

She holds out he mug playfully. "Unless you feel like testing it the old fashioned way, we'll probably never know."

"I'll pass." Johnny taps the cardboard box. "Looks like there's nothing missing. Everything's grouped and sorted the way all of Hank's other stuff is."

"Absolutely sure?"

He snorts. "Reed would know better, but since I've known Hank more than half my life, I think I can be pretty darn sure. I mean, Hank's got this system—Jan'll tell you—"

When she looks at her watch again, her heart skips a beat. "Thanks, John, I know. Under forty-five seconds on the clock, let's fly." She pockets the pen, just in case, and sprints for the door.

"You know this is crazy, right?" Johnny shouts over the roar of wind and flame as they shoot across the sky. "I'm fire-proof, not nuke-proof!"

"You'll be fine, you big baby."

"And what about you? Are you nuke-proof?"

"Never had the opportunity to find out."

"When people say 'no time like the present,' this isn't the kinda thing they mean!"

He's right, of course.

She presses her finger to her earbud again. "Central command, we're not gonna make it to the carrier before you need to leave. Lift off on schedule."

After a brief pause, Steve replies. ~"Can you make MSD?"~

"Couple of high-flying adrenaline junkies like us? We'll be home for tea 'n cake."

~"I'll have some waiting. Good luck, and Godspeed."~

"You're so full of shit!" Johnny complains. "We'll be lucky to get far enough away not to fry our skin off instantly, let alone be in any shape for—for fuckin' tea and cake!"

"This from the eternal optimist."

"Your watch has been beeping for like a whole minute, I think it's a safe time to run out of optimism."

"You've got breath to bitch, you've got breath to fly faster."

"Hey, Carol, I found one more drop of optimism—at least if we're running like hell, we don't have to worry about looking away from the flash."

"Exactly. See, it's not so—"

The shockwave is a wall of sound, like the loudest, longest peal of thunder in the world. It knocks them off-course with nothing beneath them but the bay and nothing ahead but sky and sea. Just after the shockwave comes searing heat. From her military days, she knows that behind them is a cloud of fire and black smoke a mile high.

And then comes cold salt-water that feels like concrete, and blackness.

.End.