A/N: Hey, I finally posted a story! This is an AU, in which the Avengers have gone military. Wasp will definitely be the main character, and I'll try to have as many heroes on this as I can. Well, I hope you all like this story. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the fun.
Prologue
Corporal Jason Binx did not like rainy days. He had always hated them, even as a child. The rain soaked your clothes, messed up your vision, and chilled you to the bone. Binx, being the perfectionist he was, simply could not stand it. In the rain, you couldn't see your enemy clearly, so therefore it was likely you would get shot. In the rain, the battlefields were muddy, which always made him trip and fall flat on his face. What would cause hilarity among his Army mates, would cause him to remember all of those awful times in middle school.
So it was with Binx's great disdain that he was currently trudging through the mud, in a heavy downpour. The rain pelted him, drenching his unusually unruly hair. Muttering curse words aimed at his leader, he continued along the dark, muddy path. Binx had no idea why he had been summoned. He wasn't very high up in the Army, and he was very clumsy. Why then, would the Supreme Lord ask specifically for him?
His older brother had been a general, and a very well-respected man. However, two weeks previously, he had been killed in a skirmish in Mongolia. Binx recalled that his brother had been smuggling stolen STARK technology for the Supreme Lord. Perhaps he wanted to talk to him about funeral arrangements, but Binx doubted it. Lord Doom was never one for acknowledging those beneath him.
The absence of rain knocked Binx out of his musings. He had reached his destination. The tall castle walls were made of old brick, but it was in an immaculate state. The spires looked dark and intimidating in the cold rain. There were flickering fire lamps on the inner most walls that provided little heat. Still, they drew Binx in to Doom Castle.
The halls of the castle were creepy, and had an ominous feeling to them. Binx smelled must, but could also detect the aroma of alcohol. It was the good, expensive stuff that made Binx's mouth water. Following the scent, he was led to an ornate metal door. He guessed that this was Lord Doom's study, seeing as all of the other doors were made out of a dark wood. Fear suddenly gripped the corporal at the thought of what lay ahead behind this door. Hesitantly, he knocked softly.
"Come in." A surprisingly smooth voice answered. Binx twisted the door knob, and was bewildered by the site he saw. It was a warm, fire-lit room, with a roaring fireplace to the right. There was a dark mahogany desk with a bottle of scotch on top. Besides the inviting feel to the room, what was most peculiar to Binx was the man behind the desk, who he could only guess was Lord Doom.
His buddies had heard rumors that their Lord had an eccentric sense of style. Long, green capes with hoods, skirts, and shiny metal armor were rowdily mentioned over their drunken tables. But the man in front of him had nothing of the sort. Doom had on a pristine, grey suit, with a neatly ironed teal shirt underneath. Black loafers that looked barely worn were on his feet, and his sleeked-back brown hair was shiny. However, Doom had on a metal mask that completely obscured his face. No one had looked so clean and menacing since Hitler.
Doom was reading a thick, leather bound book that appeared to be written in what looked like Latin. Afraid speaking out would anger his Lord Doom, Binx quietly cleared his throat. Doom looked up, and Binx could see his piercing grey eyes through the mask.
"Ah yes, Corporal Jason Binx, isn't it?"
"Yes sir." Binx replied in a small voice.
"Well Mr. Binx, would you like some scotch? 1896, Scotland, I think."
Binx wanted nothing more than to try some of it. "Yes sir, I would like some."
Doom took two crystal glasses, and poured the scotch into only one glass. He picked it up and sipped, sighing in admiration. He didn't even motion to fill Binx's glass. Binx stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, waiting for Doom to start speaking. The only sounds for awhile were the crackling fire and the sipping of drink. It startled Binx when Doom spoke again.
"I suppose it would interest you to know why I summoned you here."
Binx gave a small nod, scared his might tremble if he spoke.
"Well," Doom started, getting up from his seat, "there is an important matter in which the Latverian Army plays a role."
Striding over to where Binx stood, Doom continued. "You've got a mouth on you. I need you to relay this information to the rest of the Army."
Binx was nonplussed. Him? Relay information? Specifically from Lord Doom? While part of him screamed at him not to do it, the other part reasoned that if refused, he would be killed. So, reluctantly, he nodded.
Doom was smiling under his mask. He enjoyed watching his recruits squirm. "Good. Now remember this, this is vital. Tell them to prepare themselves. I want no more drunk recruits, or I'll kill them before they reach their hangover. I want you all to be serious. War is coming."
"War!?" Binx spluttered, a new fear taking hold of him.
"Yes you blubbering idiot, war." Doom had not shouted, but his tone brought shivers to Binx's spine. "With a powerful country as well. Tell the men to stop acting like ignorant bastards and shape up. The United States are not to be taken lightly."
Binx almost choked on thin air. The US!? Surely Lord Doom didn't mean the US! The US had a large military, and Latveria, their military was a speck of dust compared to the US'! They were all going to die..!
"Binx! Did you hear what I said?"
Shamefully, he shook his head. So Doom explained some of the details of Latveria's plan. Just some. Binx wasn't very important, and couldn't be trusted. Doom would explain more to his generals.
Binx, however, was slowly feeling reassured. There was no way in hell Latveria was going to lose. Lord Doom certainly was a talented strategist. Once Binx was dismissed, he almost skipped back to the barracks. He was ecstatic about what his Lord was planning. He was so swelled with information and euphoria that he didn't even think about the pouring rain, or the scotch he had missed.
The fighter plane had just broken the sound barrier. Shooting across the sky, the pilot skillfully tilted the controls just so, and veered slightly to the left. The plane followed her commands in a heartbeat, something the pilot was extremely proud of. Looking at her radar, the pilot saw that her opponent was still a good two hundred yards away. She thought it would be fun to show off a bit of her skill, so she spun the plane in horizontal spirals. Smirking, she stopped, and was still ahead by a fair amount of distance. On her com radio, she heard a feminine snort.
The source of the snort, the first pilot's opponent, was trying desperately to catch up. Determined to close the gap between them, the second pilot pulled up on her controls. Quickly, the plane obeyed, and in no time at all she was at least 1ooo yards above her opposition. Smiling in triumph at what she had accomplished, she descended downwards. Gaining speed with every millisecond, she began to close in on her target. The second pilot was absolutely giddy as she pulled in front of the first, gleeful that she might actually beat her rival this time.
Meanwhile, the first pilot just sighed, but her smile was still on her face. Honestly, when was the second ever going to learn? The first knew almost every trick in the book, and the second knew that. Why was she doing a trick she herself had taught her? Swerving to the right, she almost hit the tail of the second's plane. Seemingly unfazed, she started to go down, again smirking at what was going to be an easy win.
The second pilot looked at her radar, only to see a red dot exactly where she was. What? Where was her friend? Carefully, she glanced out the windows, seeing nothing at all except the bright sky. Curious, she slowed down the plane, looking around for the first pilot. That's when she saw it. Right in front of her, a plane emerged from beneath hers. Afraid she was going to hit it, she pulled back on the controls, braking.
The first plane continued to jet across the clear sky, leaving her competition in the clouds. Relaxing some, the pilot estimated that it would only take a few more moments to reach the finish line. Observing her small cabin, she saw the picture she had put on the dashboard. It was of a middle-aged man, who was in an Army uniform. He had a large smile that went all the way to the ends of his cheeks, very similar to hers. He was lean, with greying hair that was covered by his cap. Shaking her head, the pilot tore her gaze away from the picture. Too many bad memories. Sighing, she glanced at her map. According to it, there was only a few more seconds until the race was over. Then…
"WINNER!" A familiar male voice sounded from her radio. She slowed down a bit, no longer full of adrenaline. She had won, again. It wasn't exactly a big surprise, but she was still happy. Locking onto the base where she had originally come from, she began her landing. Slowly, she touched down on the landing pad near the metallic military base. As soon as she checked over her controls to make sure everything was good, she opened up the cockpit window. A rather small and slim figure emerged, jumping out of the cockpit straight to the concrete ground. She didn't seem hurt, in fact it was as if she had done this countless times. She looked up to the sky, scanning it for her friend.
A few moments later, the second plane came into view. It landed quickly, and without much grace. When the plane was successfully shut off, the cockpit window flew open, revealing a very angry blonde pilot. Her hair was wavy, and her sky blue eyes were lit up with irritation. She jumped out, stumbling a bit, and stormed over to the slim woman.
"You're a bitch."
The slim girl just laughed, her voice distorted by the helmet that was still on her head.
"I thought I was going to crash into you!" The second pilot exclaimed.
"Oh, relax Carol," the first pilot said, taking off her helmet, "I would've never let that happen."
The slim girl shook out her short, auburn hair until it was in its trademarked 'winged' style. Her bright, sapphire blue eyes were amused, and her lips were twitching into a smile. Carol had always been somewhat of a sore loser. Not to say that she wasn't either. Janet van Dyne had a hard time losing to anyone, even her superiors. Her superiors were very limited now though.
Carol looked like she was going to retort, but just sighed. She shook her head. "Honestly, you're going to get yourself killed, Jan."
They both locked eyes, then burst out laughing. It was hard not to. You were likely to do dangerous, death-defying stunts if you were both generals in the United States Air Force. It was in their nature.
"Come on," Janet giggled, "Tony's waiting for us inside."
Both women made their way into the small base that would serve as their home for the time being. It was better than sitting in your penthouse alone, Jan reasoned. Plus, it was strangely homey for a base. The walls let in bright sunshine, and the bland, grey floor was slightly sparkling. As you passed the many rooms, you could hear the rough laughter and jovial roughhousing. Janet smiled, remembering all of the happy moments with her military buddies.
When Carol and Jan reached a metal door labeled 'Control Room', they went in. They saw their friend, Tony, among the many computers. He was absentmindedly eating an apple, scrutinizing the details of the computer in front of him. He was only centimeters away from the computer. Also, his untidy black hair was smoothed back, and Janet wondered if Pepper had anything to do with it.
"Hey, Tony! If you're having an intimate moment with the computer, we'll leave." Janet suggested, and Carol's lips pulled into a smile.
"Huh?" The billionaire asked. "Oh, no Jan. Ew. Pepper would kill me."
They all laughed, and when they calmed down, Tony told them the stats of the race.
"Jan won, obviously. That takes the standings to fifteen wins for you," he said, pointing to Janet, "and two wins for you, Care-bear." This earned him a slap on the back of the head from Carol.
"So," Jan began, spinning in her chair, "what naughty things were you doing with the computer?"
Tony's face darkened, and Janet stopped spinning. Oh, it was something serious.
"Something happened to my STARK technology in Mongolia. For some reason I can't track it. Something must be interfering with the signal."
Before Tony could go into further details, the door opened. In stepped a man who they had never seen before. Janet guessed he was part of the Secret Service, since he was wearing a black suit and black glasses. There was a com link in his ear that was almost the exact shade of his skin. His sandy brown hair stood out against all of the dark colors, and gave him a striking appearance. He also stood with an air of importance, and it didn't go unnoticed by Jan.
"What do you-" Tony was silenced by Janet whacking him on the head.
"Sorry." She apologized to the man, shooting a glare at her impulsive friend. "How can we help you?"
"I'm looking for General van Dyne." He replied.
Confused about why the Secret Service would want to speak with her, she straightened. "That would be me."
"If you could follow me, then? President Fury wishes to speak to you."
Trying not to let her surprise show (it was unprofessional), she stood and followed the man out of the room. They walked quickly and quietly down the hallways, paying no mind to the commotion and questioning looks. The man took a sharp left down a corridor Janet hadn't known existed, and she struggled to follow. This irked her. She was a bloody general, she should know these things! She had to remind herself that this was the Secret Service she was talking about. They had their strange ways.
Finally, the man had led her to a large, wooden door. He knocked twice shortly, three times long, and one time short after that. Secret knock. She internally scoffed. What were they, eight? But a gruff voice told them to come in, so they did. Janet was quite impressed by the site of the large room. Seals of the military branches decorated the office, and an American flag hung besides an oval desk. Behind the desk was a man Janet had only seen in pictures.
"President Fury, sir. I have brought General van Dyne, as you requested." Janet's escort stated.
"Thank you Coulson." President Fury said, "You may leave now."
With a swift nod, Coulson left the room, leaving Janet alone with the country's most important man. He was a very handsome man, with dark skin and a muscular build. His hair was starting to grey, and Janet noted with an odd sense that he was wearing an eye patch.
"State your rank, soldier." President Fury bluntly ordered.
Straightening into a soldier's position, she replied, "Sir, Lieutenant General Janet van Dyne of the Air Combat Command, Twelfth Command, sir!"
Smiling, he asked, "What's your battle experience, Miss?"
Feeling the slightest bit cocky, she declared, "Sir, I've logged more hours in the flight simulator and in real life situations than any other current member of my division. I served in the Iraq War for awhile. I was also a Senior Airman in the Air Force Special Operations previously, and have also served in the Army for a limited amount of time."
The President's smile grew bigger. "Wonderful! Then you won't have any trouble being the General of the Air Force, I presume?"
Janet gaped at the man. General of the Air Force? It was such an honor! Her father would have been so proud. But so many questions came with the offer. Why her? What about the General Air Force Chief of Staff? And, the need for a General of the Air Force…
"Sir, isn't General of the Air Force reserved for..." She was unable to form words for the idea. It was all overwhelming.
President Fury grew very solemn, understanding what she meant.
"Yes General. We're at war."
AN: I hope you all liked the prologue. I know, it's kind of long, but I'm hoping to make the chapters long. Anyway, this story will be a Hank/Janet story, so stay tuned for that. Also, please tell me if I ever get any of the military terminology and ranking system wrong. I don't want to insult anyone if I get something wrong. I love our soldiers. So please alert me of any wrong information. Nicely though, no flames. I don't know how often updates will be, my school's in love with homework. I'll try to answer reviews, and reviews are loved. Well, that's all I can think to say. Until next time…
-Music's Passion
