Chapter 14: Some Folks Never Have To Worry About Boredom.

"Shut up you're doing it," Brygtka ordered her sister. ""You are great at this."

About the time when 9-year-old Sam Guthrie was chasing his sister around the tree in Mississippi, a 57-year-old in New York thought that she accidently slipped into The Twilight Zone.

Delfina could not believe what was happening, much less how she became ensnared in it. Actually, she couldn't remember much pass Brygtka's pushes against her back to speed up Delfina's steps. How she ended up sitting between the other two females on Yolanda's bed with innumerable magazine pictures of hairstyle systematically shoved in front of her face was still a mystery.

Because Yolanda was as at home with the Polish languish as with any other, the conversation was very easy for the older sisters to follow. But communication wasn't the issue for Delfina.

"Stop, stop, stop," Delfina demanded. Everything was spinning and she wanted to get control of at least her part in this conspiracy.

"This is being done to win Henry? Does he have a say in this?"

Yolanda shook her head "no", but a sudden rush of shame stilled her head movement. On the other hand, shame was not in Brygtka's vocabulary when it came to war—and this was indeed war.

Brygtka bristly asked "What saaaay should he have"?" To emphasis "say" she faintly shook her head. "For centuries we women have been the real decision-makers. Men are too stupid to know what is best for them. Look at who Henry wants for a girlfriend. Tell me he's not a typical man—clueless, stupid."

Yolanda wasn't happy about those words being attributed to such a wonderful man. She would have protested, but from the corner of her eye she saw Delfina move her lips to the right side of her face. That was the very same expression that the young woman took when she was faced with considering a response to a spoken truth. To win the debate, Yolanda could ill-afford breaking ranks with the pushy Brygitka right now.

Brygtka continued, "We're just moving him out of a mine field into"—she brought one arm in front of her sister to hold Yolanda's silvery hair. She slowly continued to lift her hand upward. This gave the strands that returned to gravity's control an appearance of a light spring shower—"a beautiful garden."

The young woman smiled broadly, thankful for that sister's support. Yolanda turned to the other sister who was closer to her. Delfina's left arm wrapped across her own torso, while the right index finger drummed a steady, quiet beat against her lips.

She began an argument to discourage the idea. "I don't really think -"

"That's just it," Brygtka interrupted. "You sometimes don't think. You take conversations with males too seriously and this is the consequence. You just keep quite. You know that Henry can only gain in this matter. Yolanda and I will pick the style and you make it happen."

Yolanda thought she should add a compliment to tip the scale in her favor.

"Delfina, I saw all those picture of all those women that you worked on for weddings and special occasions. They were fantastic. Your daughters, Mr. Stark's secretary, Henry's sister— the all looked like they had their hair styled in very expensive salons. You are the Michelangelo of the Styling World."

Brygitka nudged her young friend and whispered, "Don't push it. She already knows that and she'll be impossible to live with for the next few days if you say things like that."

The spirited woman then slapped a magazine photo on Yolanda's lap and pointed to an actress, Tippy Hedren. The brilliant, but sensitive young woman gave a small shudder. She had remembered that same photo taken from a film that scared her last year—The Birds. Yolanda then noticed the hand that led her eyes to the picture.

"Dear Lord, Brygitka. Your knuckles are all red."

Brygtka looked at her sister and said. "Someone was slapped on her hand by an inconsiderate person wearing a heavy wedding ring."

Delfina replied, "Maybe the inconsiderate person was the one who wouldn't stop pushing that other someone from behind."

"Del, just take some tea and we'll get back to you when we decide on a look."

The older sister (by 8 minutes) looked to her right at the tray that Yolanda had prepared on her vanity table, Del stood up and walked to the table miffed. The older sibling had no problem ignoring etiquette by keeping her back to the two women for more than a few seconds. As a matter of fact, if she didn't have to look at them for a week, that would have suited her just fine.

Imagine— dismissed and regulated to underling by the snippy Brygitka. She had been set up by Brygtka a million times before, but for her to join herself to this young woman against Del was extra irritating.

Del loved Yolanda as a dear young friend, but she wasn't family. The idea that her own flesh-and-blood would team up with someone who WASN'T just to corral her was almost unpardonable to the family-centric woman.

And if she was annoyed, why not take a leaf from her sister's playbook and spread the misery? There was a question that Delfina had held prisoner behind her teeth. The aggravation that these two had brought her became the key that could unlock the cage.

Delfina took a sip of her cup and turned around. Seeing the two of them so happily smug about their impending success, moved Del to fling open the jail cell.

With a raised eyebrow, she sighed. "Oh yes, we must do this for our dear Henry's good. It is 100 percent for Henry's good."

Yolanda nodded and then returned to the magazines. Brygitka, on the other hand, knew her sister. She looked up to Del with a "don't mess this up" look.

"I mean," Del continued, "the fact that neither of you two can stand Janet Van Dyne has nothing to do with it. This plan to win his heart is entirely motivated by seeking his happiness."

Now all four eyes became moths to Delfina's lantern- face.

Brygitka responded, "Don't start sounding so superior, sister dear. Your own feelings for that witch are not at all that different from ours."

Del responded, "I won't lie, but I have chosen not to openly displayed my displeasure, as you two have. … As I suspect you two are now doing now."

The momentary silence was long enough for the thought provoking woman to continue.

"Be aware, dear Yolanda and my de… mmmph, Brygtka"—her tune upon mentioning her sister's name was less than sisterly—"We are not little girls in a playground hiding a ball from another girl whom we find extremely bossy and obnoxious. We are full ground women… at least we two are."—Delfina looked at Yolanda.

"We are also talking about a human being; a good and fine man. I want to make sure that our motives are right. I want to make sure that if we get Henry away from that woman, that he will not be a plaything to be enjoyed now and then forgotten later because there will be no competition for his affections."

Her sister gave her an incredulous look. In the middle of her facial contortion, she openly asked if Del had lost her mind. Yolanda, though, stoned her features and with determination replied.

"I appreciate your concerns. I had also asked myself that question."

Brygtka turned to her and gasped, "What?!"

"Delfina, Brygtka, I asked myself that at least three times, today. I was so surprised at my own reaction to the newspaper articles. I felt sad, yet at the same time relived and happy. I stopped and asked myself, do I hate Jan that much that I would do this?

"All three times my heart shouted, 'No, I love this man so much that I would do this.'

"Delfina, I have been here more than 8 months and I have studied this wonderful man. My admiration, I thought, was for a good man. Then I said it was for a good friend. Weeks later, I said it is because he filled the role of the caring and supporting father that all my life I wished I could have enjoyed.

This very morning I found out that I had been lying to myself. Well, for the past month and a half, anyway. I want you to understand that I definitely am attracted to him. I want to spend special time with him, not as his assistant, nor his friend. I want to see if we can pursue a relationship. I would rather die that use him in a scheme to extract vengeance. I'd rather die slowly and painfully than to hurt him."

Those ice-blue eyes invaded Del's soul. And as inexplicable as it was, the older woman felt Yolanda's sincerity. She smiled at the young woman.

Their somewhat mystical union was interrupted by her sister. Brygika blared out. "So there." She also made a face to punctuate the victory over Del's challenge.

The two women continued scanning pages for a hairstyle. Delfina leaned against the wall by the vanity and took another sip of her tea. She then let out another prisoner.

"Stop."

"What is it now," Brygitka responded with great annoyance. "If you aren't going to help then get back to your housework."

"I said stop. You are wasting valuable time. Do you think he will stay asleep for hours until you two decide? You are also wasting your time in another way."

She placed her cup on the vanity table and moved towards the bed.

"Yolanda's hair is straight. It would take too long to attempt a perm. Besides, who said that straight isn't lovely? Now look at her present cut: Bangs come down in the front. Her hair by the sides fall to her jaw line. Her hair increase in length as it moves backwards to finally end a 'U" shape inches below her neck."

Del's right four fingers lifted Yolanda's chin. The old woman smiled a motherly smile.

"We can work beautifully using your strengths."—with a wink, Del continued—"With some odorless hairspray and white hairclips."

The high security Clinton Correctional Facility called New York State's Dannemora Hills its home. A half-hour earlier, the embracing tranquility of the scenery had impressed Attorney Arthur Shapiro. Now after Arthur visited inmate number 4756689, the good mood that the idyllic surroundings had produced were smashed and forgotten.

Arthur couldn't understand why Dr. OttoGunther Octavius, imprisoned for months, did not take the employment offer. He could have left prison early. Oscorp would provide all requirements needed for a work-release program. Dr. Octavius would also be receiving a handsome salary to do nothing but follow Arthur's brother-in-law around town. It would have left him plenty of spare time and accessibility to Oscorp labs where he could continue his research in atomic engineering— that was Dr. Octavius' passion before the explosion that had strangely united his body to a vest that had four powerful mechanical arms. Of course, for the correctional facility's security reasons, minor surgery was performed to separate the prisoner from the vest.

Behind the wheel of his car, Arthur replayed the puzzling conclusion of his visit. There he was, sitting in the facility's visitor center. The attorney offered the proposal to the man whom the world knew as Doctor Octopus. From behind the protective glass the doctor seemed interested; he even smiled. Then, as if his mind was switched with that of a different inmate, his face went blank. There was no gradual change in his reception to Arthur's words; no explanation as to what happened, nothing.

Dr. Octavius stood up unexpectedly and told Arthur that he should go out and enjoy the scenery. The doctor called for the guards to take him away, and that was it.

Oh, heavens—another failure. Norman wasn't going to like this one bit. After a few minutes, Arthur rolled his caddy onto the parking lot of a roadside dinner. He wasn't that hungry. It was just that his lucrative job had its bad sides. One bad point was that he needed anti-anxiety pills. Arthur needed liquid to swallow a pill and perhaps a small sandwich— the medicine was to be taken with a meal.

He took only two bites of the sandwich, but he figured that it was enough to help speed the pill's effect. Having made the necessary actions to remedy his racing heart, the Oscorp lawyer returned to his car to close his eyes for a few minutes.

Feeling better, he got out of his car and courageously marched up to a payphone just outside of the diner. It was later in the morning and he had to find out from his secretary—his cousin Beth— if there were any calls concerning his solicitations to prospective employees.

Between "pops" of her bubblegum, Beth replied, 'Yeeeah, Aw-rt. Dwayne called. Could you immmagine? I offer to get him a job wid yous at da company"—Arthur groaned at the prospect—"an' he sayz no.

"He'z da faw-ther of my kid an' I cut him a break, but he sayz he needz to be a may-an an' get hiz own joe-ob. Like wha's he may-anning up fo-ah after 8 monthz, an astronaut? Well, maybe. I think sometimez he's in his own orbit, ya know?

"What a loooozer. What I saw in him, I'll nev—"

Arthur cut in, "Beth that's all interesting, but what about the employment picture with the contacts that I told you about?"

"Dwayne could be a great baw-dy gwa-ard, ya know? Of course, ya gatta keep lick-a away from him. Ya gotta call him to makez sho-ah he doezn' oversleep an' getz ta work late. Ya gatta call him again at midday an' make sho-ah dat he doesn' oversleep past lunch ow- are. Ya gatta frisk 'im ta make sho-ah he ain't carryin' a radio so dat he liz-zenz ta music and fa-getz where he iz. Make sho-ah he doesn' have a newspaper, cuz he spendz most morning checkin' da racez an' callin' his bookie. Then ya just gatta.."

"Beth. .. BETH! Concentrate. The names I left you. What about them?

"Oh, they aren't as good as Dwayne."

"BETH, DAMN IT! Did they call?"

"Don't get so upity, wit me. Yell one more tie-yam and I'm hangin' up."

Upon hearing a small whimper from her boss and cousin, Beth relented. She began, "Oh, awl right. Dis here Voor-guy."

"Voorhees," Arthur replied anxiously.

"Yeah, can't you get guyz named Jonez or Smith? Anyways, he sayz – wait I got it written somewhere. … He says 'thankz'. "

"Thanks. But …?" Arthur asked, fearing the worst.

"No, just thanks."

"Beth is he signing on?"

"Isn't that what I just said, Aw-rt? Pay attention. He sayz don't call him. He'z movin' around from place ta place. He'll call you at 1. … Oh an' a guy who didn't leave hiz name sayz … You or Lu or Boo.

"Lu Chen?"

"Yeeah, how'd ya know? He sayz it's ready. Yous orderin' Chinese food so early Aw-rt?"

"Yeah, yeah. It's a new diet I'm trying so as to gain weight. Thanks and 'bye."

Arthur hung up with equal amounts of relief and questioning. Could he do better by just putting his phone on 24-hour tape messaging?

Yolanda knocked on Hank's bedroom door. Hank snapped up to a sitting position on his bed. It was as if he was a youngster who discovered that he was late for the school bus. Whatever he was dreaming about had retreated into the chamber of forgotten fantasies. Yolanda called to him from behind the closed door. He responded in a hoarse voice.

She popped her head into the room. The way he rubbed his eyes seemed adorably child-like to the young woman. Henry took his fingers away and his sleepy eyes left her with an inner "Awww".

"Wow", Hank responded. "You look different. Heck, you look sensational."

Yolanda's silvery hair was parted on her left side and the strand swirls that made her fair flow over her left ear and move the longer length to her right shoulder looked great. Even her bangs swayed to her right. She ventured future into his room with a wide smile on her face and a tray holding a tea kettle, small cups of sugar and cream and his favorite mug.

She wouldn't walk with swayed her hips as Brygitka ordered, but her outfit was still enough to make Henry say, "Forget just 'wow'. This is wow to the millionth degree."

It felt great to be appreciated in this way, but Yolanda still didn't seem right.

She couldn't imagine what he was going to feel when he discovers Janet's betrayal. Especially cruel was HOW he'll discover it. The images and articles would add to the weight of his humiliation as the public knew about the scandal before he did. Maybe Yolanda should say something, but she just couldn't bring herself to be the bearer of bad news

"Are you okay?" Yolanda asked with a smile.

"Sure, why you ask?"

The brilliant woman mentioned that he was usually up by 7 AM and it was already 9:40. Hank groaned, explaining that he didn't hear his alarm.

"That's not a valid reply. You always wake up ten minutes before your alarm rings."

Hank looked at her in astonishment. "I must have told you that ages ago."

Leaning on the doorframe, she responded, "Yes. Our first breakfast together—almost nine months ago."

Henry shook his head in wonder and returned the smile that seemed to be pasted on Yolanda's attractive face. She told him that he presently had a phone call from a Peter Parker. If he had called earlier in the morning, as had a previous caller, she'd have told him to call again later. But at twenty to ten ….

Hank couldn't stop looking at Yolanda in a hypnotized way. Finally, in embarrassment (which she picked up on) Hank looked away and nodded at his phone on the bed stand. He instantly forgot to inquire about the first caller when he heard Peter's name. The four clear buttons located close to the bottom of his phone unit meant that he had access to four different lines. He mouthed "thank you." He ignored a steady red lit button to press the blinking button on the lower right.

A recorded message came on just before the phone connected him to the caller. The message said, "Five messages on A1"

That was the line with the steady lit button. That was also the secured Ant-man's line. Henry's mood darkened at the recorded voice— it belonged to Janet.

In her nervousness, Yolanda failed to notice that the milk cup was empty. It had been depleted by her and her co-conspirators. Well, at least she can go back to the kitchen and say that their make-over was a success. Yolanda had never seen Hank so taken back by her.

"I'll get you some cream," Yolanda said, and she left the room.

In the kitchen, the young woman gave a glowing report of the operation. Delfina couldn't believe that she was hoping up and down along with the other two. She hadn't been this animated since… maybe her school days?

When Yolanda returned, Hank was sitting up on the bed and one of his feet tapped impatiently on the floor. It was his particular way to show that he was waiting for his turn to talk.

"Hold it, Peter," Hank said over the phone. "Calm down. Firstly, shouldn't you be in school?

Okay, okay," Hank continued. "But cashing-in on the scholarship isn't the wisest thing to do in the long run. ….Yes, I know about Jameson. Yes, I know most of what you're going through, but take a deep breath and grab a pad and pencil."

In the subsequent silence, Hank looked into Yolanda's eyes and smiled appreciatively as she set the milk by his night stand. He followed her every movement as if he was seeing her for the first time and… he was out-and-out floored.

Then he was returned to the present when Peter Parker returned to the phone. Henry recited a phone number and the name Raymond Ailes. Yolanda always marveled at Henry's ability to remember numbers and names. Being his Spanish teacher, Yolanda felt all the more valuable to him because his memory retention didn't extend to foreign languishes.

Henry explained that Ray was one of the two head writers on NBC's nation-wide Huntley-Brinkley Report. If Jameson didn't want anything to do with the cash-strapped teen, Ray would look at his photos and offer a fair price. Well, "fair" in as much as a telecast used live motion images … and photos weren't high on their priority list.

"Peter, when you get him on the phone you need to say something silly. 'Things are Pym-ly wonderful.' He'll know that I sent you.

"And before you ask, no— I didn't make up that dumb greeting. Call me if he doesn't want to play ball. I'll have my sister straighten him out. Good-bye."

In answer to Yolanda's question, Hank dismissed the call as a "small errand for the errant." Yolanda playfully pressed him for information. He confided that the Peter on the phone was the same High School student who received Henry Pym's scholarship a month ago. He was also a freelance photographer for the Daily Bugle.

When the Daily Bugle newspaper credited him with the pictures, the teen insisted on using Richard Fitzpatrick.

Because Hank had become familiar with Peter's get-in-there style photos, he did a bit of investigating. Peter had taken his father's first name and his mother's maiden name to form this third persona.

"Third persona?" Yolanda asked.

Hank froze. Did he inadvertently offer Yolanda's curiosity a bait? Henry had to get out of anything alluding to Peter's crime-fighting side. Quickly, he added: student and shutter-bug were two aspects of the youth.

"Oh, and he's also a dedicated nephew to his aunt," Hank noted to complete all sides of the youth.

"You won't tell me about his second persona," Yolanda replied. "Okay."

"Now why would you say that? Didn't I just…" Henry stopped. He saw that Yolanda wasn't buying that. She was as good as his sister in seeing through him.

She replied, "Henry you're a good and honest man. Those qualities make it easy to read when you're being evasive.

"How so?" he asked.

Yolanda could have told him that he fidgeted and looked away when he skipped around the whole truth. Instead she replied that if he had his secrets, then she was entitled to her own.

"Okay, then", Hank said in steering the conversation towards safer roads. "Peter has photos to sell, but due to a foul-up, his editor doesn't even want to see him. With no ID stating that he is this Richard Fitzgerald, no other newspaper editor would bother seeing him. As far as they are concerned, he's just a novice kid trying desperately to break into the big league.

"Why did he use a Pseudonym?" Yolanda asked.

Hank answered, 'Well aren't you the clever little beauty. You think to extract information from another angle because you think I'm something, huh? Like I said, he has his reasons."

"But I'll bet you know. That makes it two Henry's secrets to Yolanda's one. I'll have to catch up somehow."

The message behind the brilliant assistant's humor was not lost on Hank. He envisioned people asking how Peter Parker could take so many photos of Spider-man without there being a partnership between the two. That would've spelled trouble for the teen and his aunt if one of his enemies wanted to get to Spider-man through a connected party.

"Listen," Hank finally said. "Maybe we shouldn't be in my bedroom together."

"Agreed," Yolanda said taking the tray back up. "Brigitka is bound to suspect something scandalous. I'll leave you the mug and milk. I'll tell the Delfina to expect you for breakfast soon."

During his teeth brushing and grooming, the biochemist scolded himself. Ms. Vanko was too bright. She had the capability of diverting pass his roadblocks to get to the truth. To keep his secret, he had to check his words twice before talking to Yolanda. It wasn't because Hank didn't trust her to keep things confidential. He was tight lipped because he himself had no right to be privy to two discoveries, much less share them.

Erica insisted that Hank inform industrialist Tony Stark of an impending theft of his satellites. But no one knew what happened after the Ant-man squeezed through the window of an apartment that Stark had over his office building. The Ant-man had unintentionally overheard the multi-millionaire lament over his secret identify— Iron Man. Just as his stubborn sister pushed him into the direction of that revelation, Erica also hurled him into the path of another one, months earlier.

That was when he discovered Spider-man's identity. Hank remembered it vividly. It all started when …

Ref: Dr. Octopus' prisoner number came from Spider-man Annual #1 (1964)

Post scripts: I have said a hundred times that the great writings found in the Superman-Wonder Woman group were inspiring and educational. But there is another writer (not connected with the SM/WW authors) on the Fan Fiction site whom I also have to thank.

Wasp9000 had firstly reminded me that Giant-man and the Wasp were also contributors to the rise of Marvel Comics. She also had wow-ed me with her talent in dialogue writing. Her characters speak fluidly and they intelligently answer each another. They don't drag down the narration, but help it along. The dialogue between Yolanda and the sisters was tough, but I remembered Wasp9000's style of cutting off the excess (even what I thought that I originally wrote wittier remarks) to reveal the characters without tiring the reader.

As with the writers on SM/WW group, I don't claim that I'm in her class, but I'm glad she (and they) are around to not only entertain, but also show me the way to better writing. I only wish that my schedule would free me up to see what these talented authors are doing recently,.

Secondly, I haven't forgotten about Jan Van Dyne. She is a late riser and I'm using her sleep time and the lull in the Pym-Van Dyne drama to catch up on things that had been carelessly ignored. I refer to the teasing nature of Thor and his power (which Marvel has tragically watered down). Also exhibited was the sorry excuse that Tony Stark uses to continue to be a drunk and a slut.

Speaking of which, both Tony and Jan have terrible boundaries concerning the opposite sex and one would never consider them candidates to be one's husband/ wife. They both can repulse readers, but they can still perform heroic deeds for society. Yes, one would be better off being a rescued stranger than an intimate partner, but a part of their character still forces you to call them "HEROES."

By the way, that sentence in Chapter One where Hank laments that her flirtatious practices have invited un-pleasantries into his life is still unexplained. Be patient—remember she's a late sleeper and questions about her can be answered easier if she isn't around to distract the divulgers.

-HC