She slipped off her pants, pulling down the pencil skirt she'd tucked into them before shrugging off the blue jacket with PRESS printed across it big grey letters. Beneath, she wore a long sleeve white button up, her fingers begrudgingly tying the dangling fabric from around the collar into a bow; making her feel like a gift; wrapped and on display.
Last one.
Running her fingers through her hair before taking a breath, she stepped from behind the barracks she'd appeared at. After checking for passersby, she rounded the corner, walking straight to the key pad where she punched in the code Steve promised would work.
If it didn't…
She didn't let herself think that far.
The pad blinked green and she slipped inside, shoulders relaxing as the elevator started to drop.
She descended to the fourth level, following the vague instructions Steve gave her into a ware-house-like space, packed to her shoulders with stuff; unrecognizable tech, experiments, and schematics. A giant underground workshop.
She was weaving her way past boxes and desks when voices drifted towards her, urging her to slip behind a machine just in time to see Tony and Howard Stark pass her. They talk about something she didn't catch, but her mind wasn't focused on their words.
She hadn't known Tony, but she watched him give the ultimate sacrifice so the rest of the universe could continue. Watched as each person around him took a knee, grief thick in the air. They knew it wasn't enough, but it was all any of them could do.
Seeing him was a surreal moment that had her head spinning.
He's alive.
But also not.
Not for long.
A bark of laughter knocked her from her stupor, and she pressed on, trying to retrace the steps to wherever Tony had just came from.
Alive, her mind repeated.
If the name plate above the large storage unit wasn't indication enough, the red hot and still smoking hinges were the tell-tale sign that she'd found the right desk. Pulling open the unit, she found a void, shaped perfectly for the cube within her case before her eyes landed on a pair of heavy duty pincers she assumed had only one purpose. Opening the case, she pulled the cube out carefully, sliding it into the void and not wasting another moment to push the unit closed and split.
Her eyes watched the clock in the elevator as she descended further into the base, running through the directions Steve gave her to get to Pym's lab.
"Sixth level, straight from elevator D, left at the fork, it's on the right, double doors; can't miss it."
"Would you like to draw me a map?"
"I just want to make sure you're prepared."
"It's one left turn from the elevator. I think I've got it."
She followed the instructions, stopping herself at a cork board as she made herself look busy, waiting, only moments, for a shaggy haired doctor to run from the lab. After him, she watched Steve slip through the door.
Alright, hurry up old man.
A few moments pass and he was back out, Marlow not hesitating to walk behind him, slipping in undetected.
Her eyes scanned the room; from the tables piled high with ant paraphernalia, bottles, and notes, to the different glass chambers that seem to make up half the walls in the lab. Then she caught sight of the red vials on the far wall to her left. Skirting past the table, she engaged her suit, immediately pulling the extra vials from her belt.
She was careful as she placed them one by one into the shelf, just returning the last one when the door clicked open.
Too soon.
She pulled her last vial of particles from her pocket before disengaging the suit, dropping it into the breast pocket of her shirt and fluffing the blow across it, hoping the person didn't notice her sudden change of outfit.
"Who are you?" a voice demanded. "And what are you doing? Get away from there!"
She turned slowly, pulling a look of excitement to her face. "Oh my goodness, Doctor Hank Pym!" she squealed, "hi, uh," she paused, clearing her throat as if to composer herself. "Hi, I'm Esther Jacobs. Wow. Sorry, I'm just a really big fan. I've always wanted to meet you."
"What are you doing in my lab?" he asked bitterly, obviously unaffected by her frantics.
"I came looking for you. I've heard that you've been working on a project that would link you mind to an ants, and wow, I just couldn't get over it. It's wicked."
"How do you know about that?" he asked lowly, taking a step closer.
Well shit.
"Word gets around," she shrugged, not letting the smile drop from her face.
He shook his head, starting towards her menacingly. "You shouldn't know about any—"
A beeping interrupted his word, halting his steps as his hands crept beneath his lab coat to pull out some device. He looked from the device to her, face becoming angry.
"So, you've already taken the particles, huh?"
"Doctor Pym, I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Don't play dumb, girl," he seethed, surging forward, and stopping barely a foot from Marlow. "You have the residue from my particles all over you—you've used them recently. Where's your suit? And where'd you get the particles?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she repeated, stronger this time as her hand moved to rest innocently on her chest.
"You're a terrible liar."
It would have only taken a heartbeat to engage her suit, one more to get the particles into the gauntlet, and barely another to disappear, but she never got the chance.
Because as she was preparing to do just that, the lab door burst open and a security agent stepped in, gun raised as he scanned the room.
"There is a security breech on this level, we're looking for two—"
Without warning, Hank advanced on her, spinning and wrenching her arm behind her back painfully. "She's broken into my lab and stolen my research; she needs to be questioned."
"Doctor—"
"Now!"
The man rushed over, but Marlow never took lightly to being manhandled. She shoved her other elbow into Hank's nose, sending a silent apology to the man back home who so nicely mass-produced vials of Pym particles, and ripped from his grip. Vaulting to the side, she slipped under the lab table and towards the door, swinging it open. Considering she wasn't looking where she was running, it could be considered a success that she made it exactly four feet before slamming into a body.
"Sorry sir didn't see you there," she mumbled, pushing herself away from the bystander. Unfortunately to her luck, he didn't let go. She snapped back towards him like an elastic band, annoyance surging through her as she slammed a heel onto his toes and wrenched from his grip.
To his defense, he barely winced before spinning her to wrap a thick arm around her throat and heaving her backwards.
"Remember, if someone gets you around the neck—"
"I know, I—"
She grabbed hold of the arm, springing off the ground to swing her legs up before slamming them down again, knocking the pair forward. Her assailant hit the ground behind her, and she spun, palming his forearm hard to the left and ducking her head from the grip. She popped up, taking a step only to have her ankle grabbed and yanked back violently enough that her temple hit the concrete flooring before the rest of her, knocking her into a daze.
"Nice try," the man chided, hauling her up and yanking her arms behind her back before cuffing her.
"I thought it was pretty good," she agreed hazily, earning a rough tug to the wrists.
The blur slowly cleared as she was escorted through halls, then into an elevator, then more through halls, all while trying to tone out the annoying chatter from curious onlookers that amplified the pain in her skull. Eventually, they arrived at a heavy looking door, which, as it was unlocked and she was shoved inside, Marlow realized was an interrogation room.
As her cuffs were attached to the table, she unassumingly reached a hand up to scratch her chin, gauging her range of motion.
More than enough to reach the particles.
I just need a moment where his gun isn't pointing at me.
Hank is in a fluster as he entered with two agents, settling along the wall before Marlow finally got a look at the man who dragged her here.
Light hair, soon to turn grey, tall, strongly built. His eyes looked tired, like he was running on coffee and possibly a few cigarettes, and he watched Hank with something along the lines of disdain.
Unassuming among the rest of the base, yet for some reason, he stood out to her. She searched through what she knew of S.H.I.E.L.D. history, what she's learned over the past handful of years, but she couldn't place him.
"Where did you get access to my research?" Hank demanded lowly.
"I already told you, I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're radiating traces, where did you get it?"
She let out an annoyed huff and looked away, scanning the room boredly.
"Doctor Pym, why don't you let me lead this interrogation," the man said, leaning himself on the chair across from the girl. "What is your name young lady?"
"Esther Jacobs."
"Miss Jacobs, what are you doing on this base?"
"I work here," she stated in an obvious tone. "Archives. Clearance level two. Employee number 77121."
"Someone want to verify that?"
"Sir."
One of the agents slipped out the door, leaving Marlow with only three men.
Doable, she thought.
"What do you know about the two suspicious men on base today? On the level you were on?"
"All I heard about them is from the agent as he burst into Doctor Pym's lab. I don't know who they are or why they were here."
"Why did you run?"
She let out a huff, not breaking her eye contact. "I apologize for getting scared when one man was detaining me while the other held a gun to my face. Next time, I'll be sure to sit quietly."
"She's lying."
"Doctor Pym," the agent sighed, cut off before he could say anything else.
"She is. She is covered in residue from my work, and she knows too much; she's involved in something."
"Knows too much? I'm going to need more information than that if I'm going to interrogate her Pym."
"That's all I will say. The only ones with clearance to that information is the Director and Howard Stark."
"Right, well, Pym, we can't very well keep her locked up in here all day. If her I.D. checks out, we have to let her go."
"She had her hands in my work. If she hasn't already, she was going to steal something," he pushed.
"Miss, can you verify if that's correct?"
"It's true… but I wasn't trying to steal it, I swear," she said, trying her best at dumb innocence.
She was never very good at that…
"I was just curious. I've never seen anything like that before and I wanted a closer look."
"A closer—you're not buying this are you?"
"Pym."
"No, Agent Richardson, she could be dangerous. We have no idea who she could be working with or why she wanted that information."
Richardson.
She ran the name through her mind, leafing through her mentally logged information as if it were a file she was searching for.
"Did she actually steal anything?"
"Well—"
"Yes or no."
"I don't know, haven't had the chance to check."
"Well, if she hasn't then all we can do is put her on watch."
Hank let out an annoyed growl but nodded. "Go ahead then."
Marlow's heart skipped and she let out a dramatic gasp. "Excuse me?"
"Miss, please just cooperate. It'll be over in a moment," Richardson grumbled, waving at her to stand up.
"You are not pawing me down," she bit.
"If you have nothing to hide there shouldn't be an issue," Hank countered.
"This isn't about hiding something."
"Miss, just stand up or I will force you to stand up."
Her mind ran over what she can do. Whether she could grab the vial with enough time to engage her suit while avoiding everyone in the room.
"Can I at least have privacy. I don't need an audience."
"You heard the lady, into the hall."
The two men exit, the latter barking about it not being a show, before the door shut.
"It's protocol Miss," Richardson said, almost apologetically.
She nodded stiffly, everything moving in slow motion as his hands began their pat down. He didn't linger, didn't squeeze, but as he brushed down her chest, his eyes flicked to hers.
"Tampon."
His face, however, didn't become struck with discomfort as she'd hoped. Instead, he stepped back and held out a hand.
Now or never.
She bent down, giving herself enough room to reach into her pocket and wrap her fingers around the vial before engaging her suit, hearing a bark of surprise as she inched to load it into her gauntlet.
To her annoyance, before she could slide it in, her hand was batted away, the vial flying out of her grasp at the impact before she was shoved into the chair with a harsh hand, hearing something shatter against the wall.
That something, she knew, was her key out of here.
"Stand down," Richardson ordered, hand not moving from her shoulder as the screeching static of a walky-talky erupted beside her. "Elmer, this is Richardson, please escort Doctor Pym back to the lab, I have this under control."
The hand released her shoulder, leaving an ache as Richardson rounded the table and dropped into the chair, demeanor changed from a tired, seasoned Agent to what Marlow could only liken to a dangerous animal; eyes sharp, mind assessing, and body tense for a fight.
"Miss, you're going to tell me your name again, and for your sake, I hope you tell me the truth," he said, fingers threading over his mouth.
Oh, is all she could think.
Because now that she was looking at him, half of his face construed like it was by a thick beard in later photos she'd seen, she knew who she was looking at.
Joseph Richardson.
A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who, among many others here, was also a Hydra agent. An important one at that. One that answered only to the leader of Hydra.
This is going to take some smooth talking.