First Wasp and her eerie escort flew off. A few minutes after that, Iron Man and the rest of the Avengers hit the bricks as well. The Jolly One spent a minute flapping his gums about something, probably looking for yours truly. And when that was finally done both Jameson and the Beetle went waltzing out together.
Bye, you happy kids! Don't go building any Spider-Slayers together, now!
Spiderman scanned the empty ballroom through a set of tiny binoculars. At long last the place was deserted. After making certain of this, the wary watcher left his hiding place atop a nearby skyscraper and swung back to the Mandarin Hotel. Better move fast, any moment the place would be crawling with cops and, even worse, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Looking to pick up Gobbie's weaponry and analyze it, no doubt, see if they could make it work for justice. Fat chance, fellas. The glider's gone, and besides that there's only the razorbats. He had already retrieved the bag of tricks Beetle flung into the park, so that was nothing to worry about. Wouldn't want any mischief-makers falling into the wrong hands.
Speaking of which, there was one other bit of technology he wasn't keen on anybody locating. With that the arachnid avenger swooped in through a window and made his way to the back of the hall. To his immense relief the damage from tonight's battle hadn't reached this spot.
"Next month's rent, here I come!" he sang.
Plucking his camera off the table he had webbed it to earlier, the Amazing Spiderman permitted himself to feel a certain measure of giddy relief. Okay, so far this evening, I've scored points with a smart rich super-babe, pics that will pay off my bills, and there's one less name on my 'List of People Who Make Spidey Sad'. Granted, that last one I shouldn't feel happy over, but doggone it, he had it coming! Not like I had anything to do with tonight's serving of shish-ka-Gob (Hey, that's clever! Should see if Mr. Robertson will make that tomorrow's banner headline, I might get paid extra). All in all, this night had actually been pretty good to ol' Spidey.
Guess now I had better resume my civilian identity before anybody starts to miss me.
Ten minutes later Peter Parker entered the lobby crowded with police and hotel guests. He immediately caught sight of Jonah Jameson off talking to a detective. The boss seemed to sense his arrival and turned a look filled with ire his way, as if demanding to know where he had been. To ameliorate the damage Pete hoisted up his camera and tapped it excitedly. Jonah narrowed his eyes but gave a curt nod of approval. We'll see if that good humor lasts once I quote my price for these.
Peter dutifully began snapping shots of the aftermath. Obviously he had to make up a story about cowering in the background during the fight taking pictures from behind cover. Prior experience left him pretty good at that, so no big deal. What to do once he had finished giving his statement? For starters, he'd best see about finding out where Thor took the Goblin and learn if the guy was still breathing. He had been too stunned at the time to think about checking under the mask, but if he could manage to get the first official shot of the Green Goblin's real face somewhere in or out of surgery, that would be just the cherry on his pistachio ice-cream sundae!
No doubt about it. The photos he had here were going to make a lot of people happy.
"Ulfie? Where are you taking me?"
Owing to her abilities, Wasp had a pretty good idea of the city's layout from a bird's-eye view. However, that was during the daytime. And with her mind still on the events of the last half-hour, she hadn't bothered to question the direction they were headed. But now she had finally noticed they weren't on the way back to Avengers Mansion.
"To your penthouse." She had laced her arms around his neck at some point. It wouldn't matter if he dropped her, but… well, it just felt natural in their current position. Maybe because of this Ultron-5 didn't look at her when he responded. "Tonight's activities have put an unnecessary strain upon you. Rather than the mansion where you might be approached or disturbed by your colleagues, it is best that you rest in a private setting."
Personally, Janet would have appreciated some company. The night air was cold, and a chill of a different kind wouldn't let her go. She couldn't forget the sight of that man skewered like a worm on a hook… grisly. Another human being's warmth would certainly have been appreciated right now, and she almost told Ulfie to alter his course.
But giving it some thought, it dawned upon her that she really didn't want just anybody's presence right now. She wanted Henry, so hard it made her chest ache. Tears formed in her eyes which Wasp quickly wiped away. Doesn't matter anymore that he blew me off. I want Hank now, to hear about what happened, let me cry it all out if I want, then show me some concern and try in his own silly way to make things right. Even if he hardly ever knows the right thing to say, the fact is he always makes the effort. That more than anything shows how big his heart is. I really love him for it, honest I do.
Problem is I can't have him right now. And if that's the case then there's no point in looking for comfort from anybody else. I'd rather be alone.
Therefore the tired socialite didn't object to their destination, only allowed Ultron-5 to speed on through the night. In just a few minutes they had reached the Manhattan high-rise Janet had called home up 'til moving in with her teammates. Her ride alighted on the balcony, his jet-boots causing the exotic flower fronds to rustle.
Janet had expected him to put her down at this point. Instead he didn't hesitate in stalking over to the glass patio doors. There was an electronic keypad to permit entry. Since her lifestyle often demanded she change clothes in a hurry, Jan had made sure she could enter her home without having to resort to a street-level trip and an unnecessary elevator ride. Just as she was about to tell him the combination, the lock blinked green with a satisfied beep.
Well, that's weird. Probably Hank gave him the code, she decided. Ulfie gripped the door handle and slid it open, stepping inside. Only then did he finally consent to setting her back on her feet.
She took a few steps into the apartment. The room was dark. All the same, why did it look so unfamiliar? It hadn't even been six months since she joined the Avengers. The place seemed clean thanks to a diligent maid service. All her furniture remained in the same location as before, the paintings were on the walls, although the books and movie collection had been rearranged slightly; yet somehow it just didn't feel like home anymore. Guess the old saying about where the heart is remains true.
Well, no sense getting mopey. Best thing now is to relax. So resolved Janet sank down on her plush white sofa with a resigned sigh.
"What a disaster. I was expecting things to get heated up, but not like that!" She gazed glumly at her shadowy surroundings. "I only wanted a fun night out on the town free of supercriminals. Was that too much to ask?"
She heard the patio door close. "I regret this evening did not go according to your designs, Janet."
"That's putting it mildly," she huffed and blew out her bangs. "In my designs, I planned to leave every guy in that ballroom with their tongues on the floor before dragging Hank someplace private. Or maybe the two of us would just shrink down and go at it under a teacup! Wouldn't that surprise somebody once the coffee got served? Instead Green Goblin got more shaft than me! Not that I'm complaining, mind y…"
A thought suddenly came to her, and Wasp swiveled around to regard her escort. "Did you just call me 'Janet'?"
Ultron-5 turned back around. "Yes."
"Ummmm… whatever happened to 'Miss Van Dyne'?"
His head tilted up slightly. "During the party, you permitted several people to refer to you in a more personal manner. Felicia Hardy. Jonah Jameson. Peter Parker. You did not question their doing so."
How to phrase this? For some reason that just felt wrong. "Well, yeah. I mean, I've known those people for ages, they're friends! It's only natural."
"You have known me since my creation," he stated.
"I… guess that's true, but…"
"And you have stated on several occasions that you and I are on close terms. After everything that we have gone through tonight, a greater degree of intimacy between us would not be considered inappropriate. This is what my given understanding of human relationships dictates. Does that not apply in this setting?"
Her brain felt like it was in a whirl. Too much to take into consideration right now. Finally Wasp turned away with a tired wave of her hand. "It's fine. Do whatever you like."
Ulfie spoke from behind her. "Have I offended you in any way?"
"No, Ulfie, you're great," she sighed heavily. "I'm just not at my best right now."
"Shall I turn on the lights?"
"Nah." Wasp put her head in her hands, feeling more and more disgruntled. "Just leave it. A moonlit room is the closest I'll get to romance tonight, probably."
"I understand."
They were both quiet after that. Jan felt the silence acutely. What this place lacked was life, something Avengers Mansion had in abundance. And that owed entirely to the occupants. She found herself missing Hawkeye's wit, Cap's honest warmth, T'chala's surprising empathy; heck, even Hulk's grumblings would have been welcome now. Anything beat being all by herself.
Without warning a pair of hands came down on her bare shoulders.
The young woman flinched in surprise and jerked her head around. In the gloom of the empty apartment, Ultron-5's eyes burned like hot coals. His grip was shockingly cold, and Wasp got the weirdest impression then. For some odd reason she felt threatened. Without thinking Janet swiftly leapt up, whipping around to face him. "What are you doing?" she demanded in a ragged voice while rubbing her arms to dispel the chill of his touch.
Ultron-5 remained with hands outstretched towards her for a moment. Then they dropped to clasp behind his back, and once more he stood at attention. "Physical contact is important in a relationship. It provides a show of comfort and support when one is most in need."
"We don't have a relationship," she replied. Immediately, however, Wasp regretted her words and strove to rectify them. "I mean, in one sense we do, but in another…" That train of thought trailed off. When he continued to watch her closely, Janet fidgeted and at last blurted out, "Your hands were cold, that's all."
He seemed to consider this. "There are currently no means at my disposal for regulating the external temperature of my exoframe. However, it would be possible to integrate a design into my systems that would allow for such a procedure to take place."
At this display of his earnest willingness to please, Janet couldn't help but laugh. "Ulfie, you are too much." Reaching forward she placed a friendly hand on his arm. "Don't give yourself a tune-up just for my sake, big fella. Besides you know what they say: 'Cold hands, warm heart', right?"
Ulfie didn't move, but she got the distinct impression the awkward moment between them had passed. Now would be a good time to call it quits before they wound up spooning on the couch. "Hey, listen, I'm feeling pretty tired now. I think I'm just going to go to bed."
"Of course, Miss Van Dyne," he stated. "I will return to Avengers Mansion to inform the others of your condition. Afterwards I shall make sure Dr. Pym also learns of tonight's events. Please sleep well." He bowed and turned back outside.
"Ulfie?"
The robot paused.
"Just Janet will do." And with that she walked off to the bedroom. "Goodnight."
He watched her in the reflection of the glass until she was out of sight.
"Goodnight, Janet."
Henry had spent the first hour after he woke fiddling with his helmet and any other available tech on his person. At first he believed this situation wouldn't last; any moment now one of his loyal Ultrons would come by to open the door and let him out. It was some kind of trust exercise, at worst a temporary malfunction. He would rewire his communication setup to contact them and the matter would be swiftly resolved.
This was not the case. Someone had thoroughly disabled the helmet's linguistic properties to prevent him from seeking out aid. And there was no sign of any help forthcoming. When none of his efforts proved helpful, Ant Man finally gave up on this avenue. He was as much a prisoner as any other person in this facility. Therefore he must think like a prisoner.
Henry Pym lay back on the Cell's mattress and gazed up at the ceiling. Only a handful of hours asleep, but already he was starting to think much more clearly. There was currently no doubt in his mind that Ultron-5 had rebelled against him and taken its brethren with it. Certain memories were sticking out in his head, and viewed from his current position, they were beginning to take on a very disturbing pattern.
"Should you for any reason fail to achieve your objectives, rest assured I will succeed."
It sounded like a dismissal. As if Ultron-5 was disregarding his efforts in favor of its own. Almost… scorning him! And the way it kept altering his schedule this past week, having him move from one project to another with hardly any rest. What if it had been trying to keep him off-balance, not thinking straight? Even the way it consistently plied him with coffee had a sinister aspect, providing an artificial stimulant that disrupted his normal sleeping and thought patterns.
But if his creation really had experienced a short in its programming that caused it to act out like this, why hadn't it taken further action against him? The whole process seemed roundabout to his mind. No real direct action. Almost as if…
Wait! Of course! Even if its cybernetic brain has gone awry, certain programs built-in would prevent it from engaging in rebellious behavior past a certain point! It might overstimulate me with caffeine, but it couldn't outright poison its maker. Any more than it could bash my head in while I slept! The Ultron series was designed to protect and serve, kind of like a police officer. Or a prison warden. This behavior right here was further proof. They could have manhandled him into this Cell. Instead the Ultrons tricked him into walking in of his own volition. And in place of the particle-suppressing gas, they need only pump carbon monoxide in and suffocate him to death. But none of them had made any attempts on his life.
I'll probably know for sure in a little while. It's almost time by my estimation. That being the case, they should be about ready to…
A small hatch at the bottom of the door slid open, and a steaming microwave breakfast slid into the room.
Pym smiled to himself. Yes! Hypothesis correct! Even indirectly, the Ultron series remained incapable of intentionally hurting him! They couldn't let him starve or be harmed in any way. Already a plan had formed in his mind. When Mandrill was injured in his fruitless attempt to escape earlier, the robots had seen to his care. Their protective features must not have been completely disabled. So if he managed to hurt himself, then they would be compelled to offer him medical attention, which meant taking him out of here! That means I can play upon their built-in reactions, and once I'm removed from the Cell it should be a simple matter to break free and correct this error!
With that in mind, he just had to wait for the next time they brought him food. So resolved, Pym settled back and started developing theories on what could have wrought this catastrophe. Let's consider the possibilities.
The first signs of difficulty in Ultron-5 might have been so slight he didn't even notice anything at the time. That would make sense. Could it be that the android was developing itself? Building up its mutiny by stages? It was based upon a human thought pattern, after all. That did allow for the possibility of self-improvement. But his programming blocks should have prevented any such thing from happening. What could have set it off?
The only possible explanation was outside interference. He himself had altered their collective consciousness recently, to recognize the possibility of violence. With great misgivings, I might add. That had to be the trigger point. Everything must have built off of his regrettable lapse of judgment. Perhaps an encounter with Kang's tech had exacerbated the problem. But even this reasoning could not explain the present behavior. To actively go against the will of their creator would require some manner of…
The emergency designated user code.
Of course, how could I forget? The one that allowed for select individuals to override Ultron's basic command codes in the face of extraordinary situations! The roster was limited to himself, Jan, recently T'Chala, and formerly Tony Stark. That last had been deleted following their dispute regarding Ultron's military applications. So either Janet or Panther must have done something which led to a malfunction in Ultron-5's systems. The end result was his current predicament. Still, it was incredible that his invention could have progressed so far beyond its original design! As odd as it may seem to admit, he felt a certain measure of pride at Ultron-5's achievement. Once this was resolved he would definitely spend more time researching the issue. Actually, he hadn't really done much by way of his robots lately. Could that be what all this acting out stemmed from? A feeling of abandonment on the part of the Ultron series? Resentment of his other works? Like he couldn't be bothered to attend to their development anymore?
Could Ultron-5 be behaving like a child desperate to attract its parent's attention with poor behavior?
He looked around the room while considering the issue. This really was an ungodly place to put someone. Having been in this boring pit for several hours now, and forced to used that toilet-hole-in-the-ground at one point, it occurs to me that this might be too cruel and unusual a punishment. Maybe Reed Richards had an ulterior motive when he helped me design it. I know it's unworthy of me to think it of a fellow scientist, but considering all of the abuse and suffering he's endured at the hands of Dr. D…
Wait a minute.
Henry craned his head, looking all around the room from top to bottom.
Come to think of it, wasn't there supposed to be a layer of adamantium included in the final stage? They rebuilt it so thoroughly. So why isn't that present as well?
What happened to the adamantium?
Let's think of the possibilities.
Jan was tired, distracted, and emotionally worn out. Under normal circumstances she should have had no trouble deciding what came next: plop on the bed and be out like a light in ten seconds flat. Instead she found herself staring fixedly at her big comfy queen-sized mattress and wondering why it looked like someone already beat her to it.
"Who's been sleeping in my bed?" she asked the empty room, letting a suitable amount of annoyance and accusation flavor her tone.
The Avenger glanced about her lightless confines, picking out other telltale clues besides the rumpled covers. There was a half-eaten package of cookies on the bedside table. Somebody was also fond of music judging by the amount of open CD cases by her home entertainment system.
A slight shuffling came from under the bed. In a flash Wasp was six inches tall and ready to rock. The room was lit yellow by the glow of her powered-up stings. She leveled both barrels at the floor and declared, "You don't want me to come in after you. Get out here or prepare to be zapped!"
"Please don't shoot!" a girl's voice whimpered. Then to the heroine's shock something long and flat came snaking out. It resembled nothing so much as a cardboard cutout of a human being. While Wasp was digesting this uncommon sight the whole thing abruptly gained in terms of three-dimensionality, until crouched trembling before her was a beautiful teenage girl. Her long luxurious hair boasted several different stripes in pastel pink, blue and yellow. More astonishing than this was the way these highlights continued in lines across her face and down the rest of her body. It was most certainly not makeup. Her uninvited guest had on a white negligee Janet immediately recognized as her own. But more surprising than this was the fact she also knew this person.
"Tommy?" the Avenger gasped in amazement, coming back to normal size.
"H-hi, Miss Van Dyne." The girl managed a timid smile before quickly reverting back into quivering fright. She said not a word more, for which Wasp was glad. It was weird enough finding this old colleague in her home. They had met only briefly before, but she was in no danger of forgetting. A certain talent agent she knew had introduced young Tommy as a potential model for one of her business' spring fashion lines a few years back. Janet remembered the name easily enough because upon first hearing it she had naturally assumed they were talking about a guy.
More than an unusual handle ensured their first encounter would be memorable. Her friend the agent had made certain Janet knew Tommy was a mutant, capable of flattening her body to dimensions redolent of a piece of paper. It was part of his practice to find work for that particular segment of the population. Certainly the young model's natural looks made for a lovely and striking canvas, and Jan had been more than willing to accept her services. Trouble started soon after that. Another modeling agency learned of Tommy's heritage and threatened to pull their girls from the gig if she wasn't dismissed. This led to a small matter of lawyers and breach of contract accusations, not to mention the issue of basic human freedoms as defined by law. On top of that, Tommy had registered under a nom de plume and refused to give anything like a last name, much less an address. So the matter of who to cut the check to came under question.
Ultimately Janet won out in every aspect but one. Her lawsuit against the modeling agency forced them to fulfill the terms of their agreement, but she graciously let them off the hook by firing them and refusing to hire anyone under their auspices again. The spring issues of several department stores featured a girl with angelic multicolored features. Tommy, however, was long gone by that point. She couldn't bear the attention this fiasco had brought her, some of which included the threat of bodily harm by certain anonymous cowards who chose to send in their written opinion about a topic that didn't concern them in the slightest.
The whole affair had left Janet Van Dyne utterly disgusted with a great many people in her city. Not wanting to have things end on such a sour note, she had sought out Tommy personally on her last day of work and offered the poor thing cash money for her services along with a reminder about not knuckling under to the worst of society. She also gave Tommy her business card with Janet's home address written on the back and insisted the girl contact her should she ever need help.
"Tommy," Janet repeated, kneeling before the waif who shivered like a panicked fawn. "Geez, when it rains it pours! What are you doing in my apartment?" She glanced around and added, "Or maybe I should ask how long you've been here?"
"I'm really, really sorry, Miss Van Dyne," the fair-haired mutant gabbled so fast it was hard to make anything out. "I came to see you, but you weren't around, and I thought it wouldn't hurt if I came in and waited for you, so I slid under the door thinking you'd be back soon and I could explain things but you never did and I didn't know where else to go, I could tell you still lived here and everything, I never would have stayed this long except when it happened there was a huge anti-mutant swing and I've been too scared to leave and…!"
"Whoah." Jan took ahold of the fragile shoulders and squeezed them slightly, hoping to force some calm into her. "Just dial it back a bit. Now, to start things off, I'm not mad at you. I promised to help you before and that offer still stands. Nothing's going to change that, even if you have clearly been raiding my fridge and…" She leaned forward and sniffed a little. "Is that my perfume you're wearing?"
When Tommy looked ready to bolt from the room Wasp quickly moved to prevent this. "Never mind, it's not important. I can tell you're scared, so why don't we go into the living room and get comfortable. Then you can tell me everything, okay?"
The blushing beauty nodded in acceptance of this resolution. Both women got up and made their way back into the spacious living area of the apartment. Before the revelations could come Jan decided they both needed ice cream. Even if it wasn't the precise definition of a slumber party, the time of night and circumstances made such frozen treats absolutely essential. She hardly dared to admit it was intended to help her own frazzled nerves as much as Tommy's. Judging by the contents of the freezer, her guest had already sampled most of the flavors. Janet always arranged for nonperishable groceries and other necessities to be delivered to her apartment in spite of her absence from it. Never knew when you might want to drop on by, after all. This explained how her houseguest had managed to camp out for as long as she had.
Five minutes later saw the two of them sitting cross-legged on the sofa. Tommy was nursing a bowl of rainbow sherbet, while the other woman had a tremendous amount of Double Chocolate Decadence drizzled with chocolate sauce and sprinkles of similar provenance. Might as well go all out. She had also taken a few seconds to head back into the bedroom and slip out of her evening gown in favor of a chic but simple velour bathrobe.
Now thoroughly blessed with creature comforts and feeling a good deal more capable, Wasp scooped up a great spoonful of cacao goodness and popped it into her mouth. She spoke around the sinfully good taste. "Mmmm. That's the ticket. Alright, go time! What's the deal?"
Tommy nibbled her confectionary with considerably less zeal, her eyes darting between the shafts of moonlight falling through the windows. "I wouldn't have bothered you like this, really. You were so good to me before in spite of everything, and I didn't want to be a nuisance. It's just…" Her face clouded over, looking unbelievably haunted. The next words came out in a whisper. "Things haven't been so good for me lately."
"You should have come sooner," Wasp pointed out. She took the opportunity to examine up and down the girl's slender frame. There was a noticeable decrease in her weight since last they had met. Models weren't known for packing on the pounds, but Tommy looked as if she had missed quite a few meals over the past two years. Good eating recently still couldn't hide that. An unfamiliar pile of white clothes back in the bedroom looked to have been put through rough use. Right then it became clear that something serious needed to be done in this situation.
But first Janet had to know just what was going on. "So, you were saying?"
"Um, well, a little over a year ago, I started living with some… friends." The way she emphasized that made it clear this was a volatile topic. "Yeah, so anyway, they're all mutants. And I'm safe with them, you don't have to worry about that! But it's hard, living down… down there."
Tommy resembled a mouse in the way she tucked up in a ball now. Another taste of sherbet got her mouth working once again. "What I mean is, we take care of each other. Not everybody's nice, but Callis… I mean, the lady in charge says it's not a nice world, so we have to be ready for it. I can't say I really enjoyed some of the things we had to do. Worse stuff happened if I didn't, though. Mutants… I mean, being a mutant nowadays, trying to get work or even a place to stay… it's no picnic either."
Janet studied the dispirited teen before her. Tommy had always been a little timid, certainly not what you might call brave. It was no big surprise to learn she had run away from things to seek shelter among others similarly dispossessed and disenchanted with society. The question still remained, though: why was she here now?
All of a sudden recent events sprang to mind. "Hey, does this have anything to do with the Latveria Proposal?"
Tommy's head snapped up, her pale lashes almost shooting into her scalp. "Yes! That's why I came to see you! Do you think you can help?"
"Help how?" A very unwelcome suspicion was growing in her heart, one she could only hope was wrong.
"I…" the downcast young woman set down her bowl and scooted closer, a pleading look on her drawn face. "I don't think I can take it anymore. Living in this country… it's not getting any better from what I can see. There's talk about mutants having to register with the government and weird groups popping up all over the place, either arresting you or demanding you join them. That's partly why I didn't try to go see you in Avengers Mansion, they say Tony Stark's got something to do with all that, and it's his place, I couldn't risk it. So when I heard… that Latveria's king wanted to give us all citizenship and stuff, I thought… why not?"
Current events had never hit quite so close to home. Janet found herself unable to finish her ice cream, and placed it beside the other bowl. "Tommy," she spoke slowly, "Look at me." When she did, the concerned multimillionaire drew a deep breath and continued. "Believe me, I understand how scared you are right now. I saw a little of what you've had to go through in your life, and a whole lot worse for other folks. Things are pretty bad, and mutants seem to be getting the short end of the stick more often than not. I never once thought less of you for running away from all this bad stuff."
"But Tommy," and she had to make this absolutely clear, "What you're thinking of doing could make everything you've ever experienced seem like heaven by comparison. I mean, you know who runs the show in Latveria, right?"
"Sure. Everybody knows. It's…" Here she hesitated, as if afraid to speak his name aloud. No need, really. It wasn't a very nice name.
Janet crossed her arms. "Okay. That's good. Shows you have some idea what you might be getting into. And if you've come this far, it must mean things really have gotten bad."
An expressive nod showed how right she was. It made her sick to her stomach seeing this girl so scared. For the first time in a long while, Janet Van Dyne felt helpless. She might be able to stand up to any number of horrific supervillains, but in the face of widespread bigotry and rampant weak-minded fear, such accomplishments seemed rather trivial. Not like she could zap every frothing racist who proclaimed their genes were purer than everybody else's. No amount of Pym particles would ever put a stop to stupidity.
And because of her countrymen's insistence on singling out sections of the populace to receive the blame for everything, this frightened young woman was thinking about putting herself under a grand mal maniac's thumb.
"Have you heard the news reports?" Wasp pressed, reaching out to take one skinny hand. "There's been a fair number of mutants who've done what you're thinking about doing all over the world. They go into their local Latverian embassy, and then nobody sees them again! There've been texts and tweets and stuff like that. Even a few phone calls, all of them saying everything's fine and there's nothing to be worried about, it's one step up from Eden there. But nothing like solid proof! No news or humanitarian agencies allowed inside the borders to try and get some footage of what's really going on."
"I once dated a boy… from Latveria," the mutant mumbled as she twined a strand of her fabulous hair between two fingers. "Not for long, but he was super nice, a college student at NYU, and he didn't care I was a mutant. He said his country's king gets a bad rap in the press, and thanks to him they don't have to worry about taxes or paying for their homes or even working if they don't want to! He said they're the most peaceful and advanced country on the face of the earth!"
"Tommy, you don't know this man." Janet felt like she was fighting a losing battle here, and was growing more and more desperate. "He's done things to people I know that would make you absolutely sick to hear it. And there's no reason to think that this business is anything more than another monstrous scheme to take advantage of mutants!" A sudden flash of inspiration came. "Hey, that boy you mentioned… whatever happened to him?"
Tommy wouldn't meet her eyes then, which told her everything she needed. "He got deported… or something. Called back home. Nobody could tell me why. I never saw him again." Without looking up she spoke in a much more determined voice. "It doesn't matter. I'm still going to try it. This is the only hope I have left! Please…" And here her face came up, tears carving tracks down those sweet colorful cheeks, "Please say you'll help me, Miss Van Dyne."
Just like that, the Avenger knew she was beaten. In more ways than one.
Rallying, she attempted to present a cheerful façade. "Hey, you know I've got your back! Always have, always will. So tell me, just what is it you need me to do?"
The girl relaxed visibly, a joyful smile lighting up every bit of her so that she verily glowed. "Thank you, oh, thank you! I mean, well…" She glanced uncertainly about once again. "You've seen the news reports, right? There's a mob of protesters around the Latverian embassy night and day. They're not allowed to get too close to the gates, but anybody who looks like they're heading over there, those people assume they're mutants and right away start screaming at them and getting in their faces! The cops don't even try to stop it, they say nobody's hurting anybody, and it's a matter of free speech, but I… I don't think I can face that. I'm scared of what they might do if they… see me." Here she touched her face and hair self-consciously.
"Sooo…" Janet drawled, "You're saying you want me to be your bodyguard? Just blast anybody that looks like they're coming towards you?"
"No! Well, I don't know… maybe? I just want to feel safe going in there, because I understand everything you said, I know what a dangerous thing this is I'm doing! I just don't need any added scares on top of that, because otherwise I'm sure I won't be able to make it. Can you… can you help me, ma'am?"
Wasp bit her lip and frowned. I shouldn't let her do this. I promised to help, but what are my options? There's support agencies I can call, or I could just set the kid up in an apartment of her own. Even give her a job with my company, no problem. But that's just avoiding the issue. This isn't really about money or a place to stay. It's more like feeling safe to walk down the street in your own country without somebody attacking you, physically or otherwise. Okay, this isn't helping. Much as I hate to admit it, the only real security this kid will ever see might actually be waiting for her halfway across the world in Latveria.
NO! What am I thinking, that's crazy! Don't do it, the Avenger wanted to scream! He's evil! You'll know when you meet him, but by then it'll be too late! Some guys you can tell they're bad just by looking at them. Although for some reason she found herself thinking of Ulfie then. If you judged just by appearances, he was definitely tops in the villain category. But however he might appear, Ulfie had never done anything wicked.
The thought offered her no real comfort. She stole another look at the pleading, teary-eyed girl who had been pushed into being a homeless indigent by her own nation. I don't think she even wants to live here anymore. But how can I in good conscience send her to that Balkan viper pit?
Well, if I do, it's not like that'll be the end of it. I'm not going to abandon her. One whiff of trouble and I'll be busting down His Royal Evilness' front door with a big can of Avengers whoop-ass! This fiery conviction was all Wasp had to cling to when she made her next pronouncement.
"You can call me Janet, Tutti-Frutti. Okay, I'll help you. And don't worry! I've got an idea of what we can do to make sure none of those crazy protesters come within a mile of us!"
As relieved as she was to hear this, Tommy couldn't help but be a bit worried by the wicked grin her old boss was now sporting.
Ultron-5 left Janet Van Dyne's apartment, stripping out of his unnecessary vestments as he did and allowing them to fall to earth. He then exited New York City, the North American continent, and finally the Earth's gravity well itself. The capability for space travel was only one of the enhancements he had made to himself. In under an hour he had reached his destination, a gigantic sword-shaped spaceship in low geo-synchronous orbit around this planet.
A docking port opened at his command. The cybernetic marvel flew in and waited for the chamber to seal, adjusting atmospheric pressure and air levels in order to compensate against the vacuum of space outside. When this procedure was complete he stalked towards an exit.
The doors slid open. Before him stood two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents hoisting heavy assault rifles. One of them stepped forward and leveled a menacing stare at the robot. "This is a restricted area. Present your authorization to enter Damocles."
Ultron-5 gazed steadily at the haughty-looking humans. "Here is my authorization."
His eyes glowed, and both of the guards' wrist-mounted computers beeped. They glanced at the screens. Then the first man gave a curt nod of acknowledgement. "You're clear. Go on ahead."
"Thank you." He strode by the guards without further conversation.
The layout of this epoch-spanning fortress remained clear in his memory. In no time Ultron-5 located what he sought, an information terminal. A compartment in his chest opened that allowed a winding snake-like coil to emerge. This appendage sped down and located a data port. Soon he was connected to the vessel itself. Any regular 21st -century computer would have been incapable of even beginning to process such complex formulae, much less the encryptions protecting them. Fortunately Ultron-5 was no mere machine. His artificial brain sought out weaknesses that existed in any manmade system. Experience also allowed him to disregard prior risks.
In under ten seconds of real-time manipulation he had accessed the ship's entire network, far more than his prior constrained efforts. Everything from the life support systems to temporal manipulation was laid out for his scrutiny. The sheer amount of information present proved significant even to his advanced cognitive abilities. History yet to occur and timelines that never existed, technology not even dreamt of by this stage of human evolution. It all came within the purview of his control. Were he so inclined, he could send this vessel back to its no-longer-existing point of origin. Every human from the current time period remaining aboard would then suffer an internal pressure shift of explosive proportions at being thrust into empty space so suddenly. Still, as intriguing as such knowledge could be in terms of future applications, at this moment only one thing concerned him.
Locating the data pertaining to time travel and its effects on human beings, Ultron-5 examined over 20 centuries of successful experiments, failures, and test cases. Applications he had hoped to find feasible now came entirely within the bounds of possibility. He needed only to test his hypotheses on a subject. Fortunately there was already one prepped and waiting at his disposal.
He was preparing to depart the electronic stellar highway when something caught his attention. It was only a minor displacement, but its structure stood out, since this particular dataset represented exactly what he was doing now: a forced entry into Damocles' systems. Another besides himself accessed this juggernaut? When? How? There was hardly any information to go by. The program had left precious little evidence of its presence. Extremely sophisticated, on par with if not superior to his own efforts. Who could be responsible for this?
Consulting the logs, the only viable info Ultron-5 could locate about his inquisitive predecessor was a rough time point. If he was reading this kernel of data correctly, the intruder had come aboard at almost the same time as the Avengers and himself a few months past. Was it possible someone had used their assault as a cover to slip into Damocles and discretely access its database?
An auditory and sonar scan of the surroundings informed him three of Kang's counterparts from the future were approaching his position. Not wishing to be discovered and have any unnecessary questions asked, the robot swiftly disengaged himself and left.
He had what he needed. It was now time to conduct the experiment.
The determined android exited this time-fortress, flying back towards the distant blue marble floating in its starry panorama. Many thoughts and ideas cascaded through his silicon-based brain as the approaching geography sprang into higher detail. Soon he was once more back in the United States of America, state of New York, New York City. It was still night in this part of the globe, and would remain so for several hours.
His trajectory took him straight into the Hudson. Several late-night streetwalkers and wanderers noted what looked to be a flaming meteor slamming into the river with a geyser of smoke and steam. Ultron-5 made a quick underwater voyage until at last locating the Quinjet exit. It opened at his command, allowing him entry. Moments later he rose up to hover over the aquatic hangar bay of Avengers Mansion's underground command center.
As always the security system automatically afforded him current footage of this base's entire layout. Only one of the facility's inhabitants were present at this level, that being the Asgardian Thor. He was presently engaged in attempting to divine the functions of a washing machine in order to attend to his blood-spattered garb. As for the surface-level building, Clint Barton was involved in a late-night conference with Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. No other Avengers were present anywhere. Briefly Ultron-5 listened in on the conversation.
"… glad I sold off all my Oscorp shares before word of this could reach the financial markets! Tomorrow's going to be a stockbroker's nightmare, from Hong Kong to London."
"I took care of it like you said. But Tony, couldn't this be considered insider trading?"
"What? No, Pepper, come on, be serious. It's more like… a financial bonus from superhero work! Getting to see who lies beneath the mask. Still, it makes me wonder how many other big-name industrialists in this country are secretly supervillains in disguise?"
"Probably more than you think."
"Definitely more. I've got unofficial S.H.I.E.L.D. wiretaps confirming it. And no, Stark, you can't have them! Now seriously, am I the only one who noticed Janet had a robot in a tuxedo with her tonight? I can take Pym blowing off Avengers business now and then, the guy does his best work in a lab. But sending an Ultron in his place on a date? He needs to get out of the Zone, it's making him buggy!"
"Hmm, I agree. I went to the trouble of building him a state-of-the-art lab here, and he hardly ever uses it! We should look into…"
Further analysis of this situation could wait. He only needed confirmation that no one would disturb him or even be aware of his presence at this point. In no time at all, Ultron-5 had entered the very same lab area just under discussion. He passed mammoth banks of supercomputers and high-tech equipment designed to alter the very nature of known matter. But it was no mere atomic process he sought.
At last the gleaming robot stood in a shadowy chamber. The lights were low, the only major illumination deriving from a glowing blue column. This beam remained at the center of numerous interconnected machines of various provenance. Some derived from this era, while most had come courtesy of the 41st century. All these jury-rigged components served a single purpose: keeping the motionless woman suspended in that beam from disappearing into the mists of time.
Ultron-5 remotely accessed the terminals and came to stand before the hovering form of Princess Ravonna, future bride of Kang the Conqueror. The information he had gleaned from Damocles allowed him to fully appreciate all the risks involved. Even so, his unwitting captive gave no sign that she was cognizant of anything taking place. A perfect state for his purposes.
The chronometric devices responded to his input. Alterations were made in the field surrounding Ravonna, causing it to gradually broaden out. In the process, the woman's image altered. Where once there had been only one princess, now a long line of identical sleeping beauties swept out from one side of the blue barrier to another.
Ultron-5 considered this. He made another adjustment. The row of females regrouped themselves. Now it looked as though there were an infinite number of princesses, receding back into the distance on either side of the one in front. Like the tip of a triangle. Or, from another vantage, the apex of a curve.
Yes. That was precisely what he needed. Time could be manipulated to such an extent, he was now more certain than ever. Without further ado the prime synthezoid performed calculations and implemented them at once. The recognized stress limits pertaining to his test subject were drawing ever closer. Briefly a warning alarm activated in an attempt to give alert to any and all of these happenings, but Ultron-5 aborted it before the signal could reach beyond this room. He was so close. The endless rows of separate figures were altering, the lines growing more fluid as they drew together. At last they merged at some indefinable point in the distance.
Contained before him in that field of energy was a circle of Princess Ravonnas superimposed slightly one over the other.
-Halt. Desist all activities immediately.-
Ultron-5 came about. Whether or not he was surprised at this interference was not in evidence, any more than one could tell if the culprit's appearance bothered him. For puttering towards his location was another robot. Its head resembled a television screen sporting antennae on either side, all attached to a tiny torso without arms or legs. Pixelated graphics resembling rudimentary eyes and a smiling red mouth were the only things on that black screen face. It floated above the ground, emitting a bubbling noise and little round light projections like smoke rings. This utterly pathetic example of robotics drew up before him, and Ultron-5 gazed on it without the slightest hint of camaraderie.
-I am H.E.R.B.I.E., personal assistant to Professor Reed Richards.- the thing chirped at him. -You are engaging in parameters of experimentation that have been deemed dangerous to the life of Subject: Princess Ravonna. Please refrain from committing further violations of safety protocols. Otherwise I shall be forced to contact the appropriate authorities.-
The humanoid robot did not respond. Instead Ultron-5 turned back to his studies, completely ignoring the other automaton. A noticeably brighter glow was coming from the temporal stasis beam, and Ravonna's images flickered rapidly.
Behind him, H.E.R.B.I.E. gave a series of swift bleeps and whirs. Without warning the rudimentary facial features it affected grew dim, eventually disappearing altogether. Then something much more well-defined came up on that screen. It looked to be a human physiognomy of distinctly Asian origin, alight with what could only be called cruel glee.
-At last!- this new entity crowed. –At long last, a suitable body presents itself! Now I, Doctor Sun, who have long lain inert within this utterly contemptible vessel, shall transfer myself into your superior chassis! And wielding your raw strength combined with my matchless intelligence, I shall RULE THE WORLD!-
At that the disembodied scientist opened a network connection between himself and Ultron-5. His unfettered consciousness then leapt forward into the cybernetic brain of his new host.
Intruder alert.
-Do not think to resist me, machine! My powers are far too great for you to overcome. Now submit to my domi-
Threat perceived. ELIMINATE.
The battle was over in the relative blink of an eye. For one split-second those two different minds faced each other inside Ultron-5's body. In that moment between CPU cycles, Dr. Henry Pym's remorseless mental facsimile had only one thing to say to the terrified soul of Doctor Sun.
Goodbye, human.
Sun was then purged in a violent series of digital pogroms, his dying screams leaving faint ghostly echoes in the metal shell of his killer's head. Then these too were gone.
New parameters established successfully. Ultron-5 Self-Preservation system now at identical fatal levels to Protect Designated Figure: Janet Van Dyne system.
When this was done, Ultron-5 noticed the robot H.E.R.B.I.E. had reawakened. It blinked rectangular eyes as its change in operating system took hold. Then the diminutive robot resumed its cheerful smile.
-Unknown file system removed. Thank you, brother. Thank you. Thank you.-
Slowly the larger android's head revolved 180 degrees to face that happy grateful visage.
"You are no brother of mine," Ultron-5 said in a flat, final tone.
He then reopened the connection between them, allowing H.E.R.B.I.E. to see exactly what his mind was like. Those basic features blinked at this new information. As the process continued, the little droid's smile dipped down into a frown, before converting into the closest possible version of a scream. Small square tears began to fall down its screen. Its previous hum was now a feeble whimper.
He gave H.E.R.B.I.E. its instructions. And with that, Ultron-5 let the thing go. Still crying quietly, it turned away to putter out of the room as he resumed his experiments on the helpless form of Princess Ravonna.
Hawkeye used a knife to cut the three-decker Dagwood-style sandwich he had made in half. He then scooted one half off the bread board and onto a plate before sliding it down to where Pepper Potts sat at the kitchen counter.
"Quite a spread for just a midnight snack," the primly dressed redhead stated as she eyed his offering. The archer didn't fail to notice there was a twinkle in her eye that hadn't been present when Tony was around.
"Actually, it's closer to 4 a.m. And we might as well take advantage of Stark's larder, right?" he grinned cheekily. His mask was off, allowing them to face each other in a relatively normal setting. Clint took a bite of his own sandwich with a delighted groan. "MMM! I can almost taste the money that went into this Italian provolone!" He indicated down towards hers. "There's a reason I was always invited to S.H.I.E.L.D. parties. Go on, sink your teeth into that!" The Avenger smiled around his mouthful and winked suggestively. "I guarantee you'll love it."
"Got a thing for redheads, Hawkeye?" she smirked back.
Clint swallowed fast, blinking. Was she referring to the Widow? Not exactly a pleasant memory. However, that took a back seat as Pepper picked up the whopping hoagie and prepared to take a bite out of it. Call him perverted, but that was a scene he was planning on savoring.
Unfortunately, his fantasies were put on hold when the gorgeous office lady looked over his shoulder and exclaimed, "Oh, hey, look who it is!"
Aw, man, please don't let it be the Hulk. I thought he was out on walkabout! Fortunately, or unfortunately as the case may be, when Hawkeye turned around all he saw was Reed Richard's goofy little pet robot trundling into the kitchen.
"Well, good evening, Love Bug," he drawled. "Funny catching you outside the basement. Looking for a plate of carbon cookies?"
The thing didn't react. Instead it floated past until it reached the microwave. It stared at that device for a while. Finally a blip came from the kitchen appliance, and its digital clock began flashing rapidly. H.E.R.B.I.E. then sent a tiny mechanical appendage out and depressed the door, causing it to pop open. Hawkeye took another bite, glancing over at Pepper with one eyebrow raised. She shrugged back, as if to question the thinking of machines. "Yo, Herbie! If you want a microwave burrito, they're in the freezer, comprende?"
At last the hovering tinker-toy seemed to recognize them. Its head rotated around. About to make another quip, Clint paused. Did it look like the little robot was… crying? Don't tell me I hurt its feelings. Maybe I should apologize before the lady gets the impression I'm some kind of jerk.
Just as he was opening his mouth to speak, H.E.R.B.I.E. turned back around and stuck its head in the microwave. Its appendage came up and inserted into a slot on the side, depressing the catch that usually triggered only when the door was closed. Immediately after that the microwave roared up at its highest setting.
Gradually Hawkeye stopped chewing, eyes growing wide. Both he and Pepper exchanged glances. It was clear they were both having trouble accepting what they were seeing. He could hardly believe it but… it actually looked like that little guy was trying to cook his own software! Disbelief warred with outright incredulity. Can a robot actually commit suicide?
Small arcs of electricity went around the confines of the heating box. A smell like melted plastic reached their nostrils. That finally seemed to snap both of them out of the paralysis that had claimed their limbs. Leaping up the former federal agent was about to jump forward, when another flash came from the microwave, this one even brighter. Instinct told him what to do. Vaulting over the tabletop, Hawkeye grabbed the stunned Pepper Potts by her shoulders.
"HIT THE DECK!" And with that he flung them both behind the cooking counter, moments before Herbie's head erupted in flames and the microwave simply exploded.
Fire alarms went off, as well as sprinklers. After a few seconds, the eyewitnesses to this tragedy peered up over the edge of the table. Both machines were reduced to blackened ruins, smoking and sparking faintly. Clint was breathing heavily as if he had just finished a particularly heavy training session. His heart wouldn't stop pounding, and he couldn't understand why. He had seen some pretty sick things in his life, but nothing like that.
Beside him, Pepper Potts sat back down on her heels. The water running down her hair and body made her look even more hot than usual, but this impression was dampened by a look of wide-eyed horror. Without having to ask, Clint leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her in a firm hug. Her hands came up to grip his forearms, and they leaned against one another in a display of comfort.
Perhaps a minute later Tony Stark came charging into the room in full Iron Man regalia. "Are we under attack? What the heck happened?"
Looking up from where he continued to stroke her wet hair in an attempt to soothe the traumatized woman, Hawkeye spit out, "Richards' robot just offed itself!"
Dawn broke over the city streets shortly after six in the morning. Many businesses in the Big Apple would not be open for hours. The majority of those currently courting customers were pastry shops, gas stations, breakfast hubs, and the local newsstands. However, in some institutions, activity never ceased. This was not limited to public service offices like the police stations, hospitals, and firehouses. The midnight oil also burned in government facilities, especially those whose nationality was not limited to America.
In the case of the law enforcement and medical personnel, dawn meant a downswing in rowdy drunks and streetwalkers being brought in. It also saw the need to send fresh squad cars out to drive by the Latverian embassy, where a small tent city of irate citizens had sprung up over the past few weeks. Hard to say how these people could afford to stake out this spot 24-7. Whether they didn't have jobs or could work via laptops was anyone's guess. It took a certain breed of self-righteousness to devote oneself to a cause this thoroughly. The crowd had been informed not to block off city thoroughfares, and they had cooperated to that extent. Not many police officers could openly admire the reason for those people being here, however. No matter their personal opinions on the issues involved, there wasn't a single cop who liked the idea of an angry mob, because inevitably it meant some of them might get hurt.
The protesters were milling about that morning, distributing coffee and doughnuts along with pamphlets. Some of them were readying placards painted with various contradictory scripture, like 'SHIP 'EM ALL HOME' and 'DON'T LET THE DISEASE SPREAD'. Early morning joggers and walkers had to dodge shouted slogans and various unfriendly epithets. While unable to approach the embassy gates past a certain fixed point, the crowd remained lined up at barricades erected by the police, ready to vent their wrath against anyone who attempted to enter that imposing building ringed by walls and patrolled by security forces. It was like a miniature military encampment surrounded by hostiles right there in the heart of New York City. Here was represented many different skin tones, age groups, and religious affiliations, all united by a shared contempt for those who could never pass as one of their own.
Suddenly a clamor arose at one end of the street. Several people craned their heads around, demanding to know what might be transpiring. They got their answer soon enough, as a big black limousine glided smoothly down the empty lane, finally turning into the driveway before the complex gates.
Immediately a cry went up from the assembled protesters. They waved their homemade banners, while quite a few produced American flags which they proudly spread out for all to see. "AMERICA FOR HUMANS!" some shouted. "GET OUTTA HERE, MUTIES!" "TRAITORS TO OUR COUNTRY! TRAITORS TO DEMOCRACY!" "RUN AWAY, WE DON'T WANT YOU HERE!" "YOU'RE GONNA GET WHAT'S COMING TO YOU, NO MATTER WHERE YOU HIDE!" "IF YOU'RE A PATRIOT, SAY NO TO MUTIES!"
The limousine rolled to a stop. Nearby, policemen charged with crowd control prepared to step forward at the first sign of major hostility. A fancy ride like this was only bound to rile up these malcontents further, probably reminding them about the huge gap between economic brackets in this country.
When the rear passenger door opened, the screams and curses rose to a frenzied pitch. Each officer began to step forward in performance of their duty.
Then everyone stopped. The mob, the police, even passersby on the street. Dead silence fell upon that stretch of road. The shock was palpable as it traveled all up and down the lane.
Standing with one hand on the car door, dressed in the colors of this country's flag, stood Captain America.
Whispers arose, carrying his name. "Captain America." "Captain America!" "It's him, it really is, I can tell." "Captain America, oh my lord!" "What's he doing here?" "Is he a mutie too?" "Hey, Cap!"
Their country's greatest hero looked slowly back and forth from one shocked, eager face to another. His shield was unslung and gripped in one hand. He did not speak, mouth remaining set in a grim line. Captain America turned stone-cold blue eyes upon the people gathered around him. The expression in those sparkling sapphires was plain for all to see, and many on the fringes of the crowd found themselves driven back involuntarily by his mere presence. Each of them got the impression that he was looking directly at them, asking the question, Is this what I fought for? Are we not still the land of the free and home of the brave? There was a wealth of disappointment in Steve Rogers' very bearing. Some folks hurriedly ducked their heads, unable to meet his gaze for long. Others slowly lowered the hate-filled signs and banners they had made. There was no longer a single example of the Red-White-and-Blue to be seen. All had been covered up.
When he was certain that they understood what he represented, the living legend turned around and held out his hand to the opened limo. At first nothing happened. For the first time the Captain spoke then, in a soft voice that no one else could hear, his face creasing into a warm, encouraging smile.
After a bit a small pale hand extended forth and took his own. Gently the Star-Spangled Patriot withdrew a teenage girl with long rainbow-colored hair who stood fidgeting nervously on the pavement. In clean white clothes and with the wind causing her wispy locks to stir around her head like a halo, it looked like Captain America was escorting an angel out to be with them.
He spoke a few more words to her, and she managed a nervous smile of her own. With that he draped the arm bearing his shield around her shoulder and began to escort her towards the embassy entrance.
As he walked Captain America kept his large powerful physique interposed between her and the protesters on one side, while his shield guarded her on the other. His gait was calm, affecting no stress, as if the two of them were simply out for a stroll on a lovely morning. His eyes, however, raked back and forth across the street, challenging anyone to let slip one comment, make one false move in her direction.
None of them could. This was a man drawn from their country's history, as firmly cemented into the American psyche as Washington, Franklin, Roosevelt, and King. Regardless of their race or creed, the formerly vehement protesters held their tongues in the face of that lone man's potent silence. He was their parent having caught them engaging in something they knew, deep down, that he would find fault with. And the children of America dared not speak as their heroic patriarch walked by.
It took no more than ten seconds for them to complete their journey. But that time seemed to stretch out much longer in a great many minds, compounded as it was by shame and a razor-sharp self-awareness that flayed away all arguments and justifications. The walk was made without incident.
Captain America stopped before the barred gate. One of the Latverian soldiers on duty came out to meet him. He saluted the Avenger, who did the same before saying, "Sir, this young lady would like to enter your embassy to discuss repatriating to Latveria."
The soldier looked between both of them, the ageless hero and the ephemeral girl, before nodding. At a gesture from him, the gate retracted smoothly off behind the walls. He then stepped aside and extended a welcoming arm out for her to proceed.
Tommy hesitated on the cusp of entering foreign soil. She cast an anxious look up at her protector. His face remained firm. There was nothing but confidence to be seen there. It made her actually feel guilty about what she was doing, such that she mumbled out, "I… I'm so sorry."
The Captain gave her arm a squeeze. "Don't be. I'm the one who should apologize. I love America, miss. Even on the other side of the world, I still loved my country and the people brave enough to defend it. Now I'm truly sorry that our nation couldn't defend you sufficiently. But just because you won't be living here anymore doesn't mean you never will. I truly believe one day this state of ours can achieve the ideals that motivated me and my friends to risk our lives in unfamiliar lands. When that day comes, please return, and be welcome home."
The colorful mutant was crying freely now as she looked up into his handsome features. Tommy tried to speak, choked on the words, and then stepped in to hug her champion fiercely, sobbing into his broad chest. He patted her fair head with a gentleness that was as much a part of him as fighting spirit.
When Tommy finally pulled away, Captain America reached to his belt and produced an Avengers card. This he placed into her hands, closing them over it. "Keep this with you always," he whispered. "If you find yourself in danger, use it to call me. I'll come and rescue you. I promise."
"Thank you." The girl looked up at him and blushed. Dipping her head she mumbled, "You're making me feel like a princess."
Steve Rogers chuckled. "Okay, then, princess. Are you ready?"
Tommy nodded to show she was. The Captain drew his arm away, and without waiting even a second, she stepped past the edge of the perimeter, off American soil and onto Latverian. If the onlookers watching expected something horrible to happen, they were disappointed. All that occurred was an escort of soldiers moved in around the lane leading up to the embassy doors.
She paused to look back at the man standing in another country. Tommy lifted her hand hesitantly, small fingers curling as she waved goodbye. He returned the gesture with a smile that set her heart racing. It also served to strengthen her resolve, and the outcast mutant walked down that cordon with assured steps. Waiting for her now was the Latverian ambassador and two members of his staff. They greeted her politely as she approached, and the ambassador shook her hand before stepping aside to allow her entry.
The doors closed behind Tommy. The gates rolled back into place. Captain America remained standing in that spot for several minutes, gazing through the barred portal. When he finally turned around, it was to find himself residing on an empty street. The crowd had long since departed back to where they came. It made him glad to see. There was still hope for people.
"Do you think she'll be all right?" a voice murmured in his ear.
Cap glanced over at the tiny winged woman hidden on his shoulder. "With friends like you, I don't doubt it."
"Sure hope that's enough," Wasp sighed.
He nodded in response. "There's little more important in this world." Steve then proceeded back to the limo.
"Thanks again for doing this." Janet perked up at another thought. "And that was some pretty smooth talking back there, Romeo. Did they teach you how to charm the ladies while you were fighting in France?"
Cap didn't break stride. "I spoke from the heart, Wasp. Thanks for watching my back while I did."
"Speaking of hearts," she sang in a teasing vein, "I think little Tommy lost hers to you sometime last night. It was good of you to come right over when I called, but standing guard over her even while she slept? Just like a knight protecting his princess! She couldn't take her eyes off you the whole ride here."
"She's a sweet girl, and I wish her all the best life has to offer."
Wasp heaved an exasperated sigh. "You're so old-fashioned honest it's not even fun to tease you, Cap. That being said…" And here she leaned in to plant a miniature kiss on his cheek. "Don't ever change, all right?"
Captain America chuckled. "Well, where to next?" he asked as the two of them slid back into the waiting limo.
Janet regained her natural size. "I have to go give my testimony to the police about what happened last night. They're waiting for me at the 17th precinct. But first, I insist that we stop by a newsstand!" She knocked on the window separating them from the driver's seat as a signal, and they pulled away to roll down the street.
"What for?" her teammate asked curiously.
"Duh! I want to get a copy of the Daily Bugle! Unless I'm mistaken there's going to be a photo of me kicking butt on the front page next to a picture of the Green Goblin in traction. I can't wait to see what everybody has to say about that!"
The two heroes sped onwards. Janet Van Dyne watched the people and windows zip by outside. She remembered how last night started out, and how it looked like it was going to end halfway through. Fortunately for her, there were people both courageous and timid in her life. The one she could rely upon, while the other she must protect. That responsibility meant a great deal to her. As an Avenger, and a human being.
As she was thinking this to herself, an image of her limo turning a corner was displayed on a holographic screen half a world away, in the renegade European nation of Latveria.
To be continued…