The Avengers and all related characters and settings are the property of Marvel Inc. and their respective affiliates. All rights reserved (by them, not me).
Chapter 5: The Email
Stark Industries Global Headquarters, Queens, New York
They returned to work the next morning in the patched-up lab. But the mood was different – at least for Janet. Blake's departure had gotten her thinking overnight about the weeks since the Avengers came together. They'd spent all their time here, working on the technological breakthroughs that formed a large part of their basis for coming together. But they'd spent none of their time working on the other reason they came together – Janet was no closer to finding out who killed her father, and neither Stark nor Pym had made any progress on their quests either, as far as she knew.
Suddenly, this whole "Avengers" initiative was starting to feel like a waste of time.
Pym seemed glummer too, she thought. Not that she had any first-hand knowledge. Though they were housed in next-door rooms in the living quarters of Stark's campus, she saw little of him outside the lab. He spent every waking moment here, working on the particle devices – and other projects, she didn't know what. Pym outworked even Stark, who was the only one of them free to leave the campus and have a life. Pym and Janet were still wanted by the police in connection with Pym's rampage in The Bronx.
Dear God, how everything had gone wrong. One day she walks out the front door of her house looking for clues as to who killed her father . . . and she never goes back. Now her father, her career, her house, her friends, were all lost to her. And she ended up here - a refugee, confined to a patch of earth no bigger than a city block, traipsing back and forth every day from the dorms to the lab, to the cafeteria (but don't talk to anybody!), back to the lab, then back to the dorms. And while she was grateful for the chance to continue her father's research, she had thought by now they'd be further along in their search for their loved ones' killers.
Now, with Blake's departure, they were already down a man after only a few weeks. It was a most inauspicious start for the Avengers.
Her computer beeped. She looked down to see a stream of data feeding out of an experiment she'd been running on the effects of repeated exposure to the Pym Particles. She sighed and tried transitioning her mind to the data. But she couldn't concentrate. She kept drifting back to the lost weeks, the lack of progress, the wasted time.
She massaged her temples, took a swig of her coffee, and tried again to focus on the data. Still couldn't.
Finally, she sat up and just blurted out what was going through her mind.
"Hey guys. When can we get started trying to find out who killed my father?"
"Hang on a second Janet." Pym raised up from hunching over a computer that was monitoring a test he and Stark were running. Janet stared at him, stunned by his insensitivity. But Pym just looked at Stark. "Tony, are you seeing this?"
They were testing a miniscule version of the particle discs from Pym's belt. Stark, at a workstation separate from Pym's, kept his eyes fixed on a magnifying lens through which he viewed the test disc. "Yeah. We're just not getting critical mass. I don't think it's going to work at this size."
Stark pivoted his chair toward Janet. "Janet, I'm the foremost miniaturizer in the world. But even I can't make this work."
Well, they sure don't seem concerned about finding Dad's killer. Janet stuffed her feelings down, got up and walked over to Stark. "What's the matter?"
"We can shrink you easy enough - we just put a belt on you like Hank has, with magnetized particle discs all around it. The problem lies in giving you a portable means to regrow. See, the discs don't shrink - you know that of course. Only living organisms do. So once you shrink, you'd be too small to carry even one of those discs, much less a belt full of them. In fact, one of them would crush you." Stark pointed to his computer screen. "So I've been trying to make a set of really tiny discs that you could wear all the time on an expandable strap – like the repulsors – to use for regrowth. The problem is, we can't get enough of Pym's particles in a disc that small to work." Stark propped his elbow on his hand. "Right now it's a one-way ticket. I can give you a belt that will shrink you, but not one that will bring you back. You'd have to get in front of a large enough stationary Particle Device to regrow."
Pym got up and walked toward them. "And that's too dangerous, Janet. We can't let you take that risk."
Janet picked up Pym's particle belt, lying nearby. "How many of Hank's discs would it take to regrow me?"
"At that proportion, two or three would probably do it," Stark answered.
Janet looked at Pym. "So why can't you keep a couple of extra discs on your belt for me? When I need to regrow, you could take them off, put one on either side of me, and bring me back."
Pym shook his head. "Because we may not be together every minute. And what if something happens to me? Then you're stuck the size of an ant."
Janet thought about this. "Then . . . we could stay together every minute. We could be partners."
Pym frowned. "Janet, this is no light matter. I'm not letting you do it. It's simply too dangerous."
Janet felt her anger start to rise. "Excuse me, who gave you final decision making authority over what I do or don't do? I'm a big enough girl to make up my own mind about what risks I'm willing to take."
"Not with my particles," Pym retorted.
"That my research made usable in the first place!" Janet shot back.
Pym threw his hands up in exasperation and turned to Stark. "You tell her."
Stark still had his head resting on his hand. He cut his eyes sideways at Janet. "I think you should do it."
"What!?" Pym looked at Stark in shock.
Stark shrugged. "Hey, I'm in favor of anything that'll get Janet into that skintight suit we've designed for her."
"Oh for God's sake!" Pym and Janet said at the same time.
"Come on, at least let me show them to you." Stark got up and walked over to a cabinet unit against a far wall. He opened it and pulled out what looked like a one-piece outfit, then reached back in and fished out something Janet couldn't see. He walked back and tossed the outfit to Pym. Then he turned to Janet. "Hold out your hand." She did. He dropped a tiny, coarse, skin-toned outfit into it, so small it looked like it was made for the tiniest of baby dolls. "Go ahead," Stark said to both of them. "Try them on. We're gonna have to see if they work before you go out in them anyway."
Janet looked into her palm. "Is this a joke?"
"Here, let me show you." Stark took the tiny suit back and wiggled his pinky finger into the neck hole. The fabric gave amazingly easily. Then he reached in with the fingers of his other hand and started pulling the neck hole open. The fabric stretched . . . and stretched . . . and stretched, until the neck hole was big enough that Janet could have put her head through it.
"The whole suit is like that. You just open it up, put your legs in, then start pulling it up. It'll give." Stark grinned. "But it'll be tight!"
Janet looked over at Pym's outfit. The fabric draped across his arms was thick and coarse. "And his?"
"He has different issues, sweetheart." Stark leaned forward conspiratorially. "But then, you knew that already, didn't you."
Janet looked down at the tiny outfit again. She got the distinct feeling that Stark was playing her somehow. But the concept did make sense.
"Whatever." She turned and headed for her private office - Stark had made one available to each of them, just off the cavernous R&D lab. Once there, she started undressing to try the suit on. At first, she undressed to her underwear. Then she realized that wouldn't work, so she stripped naked. She took the tiny outfit, pulled the neck hole open as she'd seen Stark do, and poked her feet in. Then she started pulling it over her body. It was amazing! The fabric gave and gave, stretching ever thinner but never tearing, until she had it all the way up her torso. Then she pushed her arms into the sleeves, which she had trouble finding at first, they were still so miniscule. Finally, when she had the suit completely on, she looked down at herself . . . and immediately her anger started boiling again.
Are you kidding me?
Even without a mirror, she could tell that the suit left her practically naked. The fabric stretched so thin that it hugged every contour of her body like pantyhose. Worse, it was semi-sheer like pantyhose too. With its skin-tone color, even what little masking effect it might have provided was minimized. Her nipples and pubic hair were easily visible.
"Jerk!" Janet yanked her clothes back on over the outfit and stormed out into the lab. Pym was already there, wearing a thick, blue one-piece. Stark was helping him check the fit.
"You're a pervert, you know that?"
Stark saw Janet steaming toward him and started backing up, grinning. "Now Janet, I can explain. Your suit has to be that thin at normal size because it gets thicker as it contracts." He wheeled an office chair into Janet's path to slow her down. "If it were any thicker, it would hold you down when you shrink!"
Janet pushed the chair out of the way. "Yeah, but this is like wearing pantyhose over my whole body."
"Well, that was my fantasy anyway."
"You creep!" Janet kept coming. What about Hank's? Is his this tight too?"
"At full size, yes." Stark was still backing up. "When he's Goliath, he'll look like a ballet dancer." Stark nearly tripped over a stool. "But hey, that shouldn't bother you – you've seen his pecker that size before."
Janet growled. She picked up a coffee mug and looked like she was going to hurl it at Stark when Pym interceded.
"Janet, calm down! Tony's right - your suit's thinnest when you're normal size. Mine's thickest. We go in opposite directions, remember?"
Janet turned on him. "And there you go again, taking whatever side is against me!"
"What? What are you talking about?"
"First it was 'I can't let you take that risk.' Now it's 'calm down.' Why am I always the one you're lecturing?"
Pym looked shocked. "You're delusional. You need to get a grip on yourself!"
"Do I? And here I thought I needed to find out who killed my father!" Janet was boiling over now. "You know, I'm sorry I can't be all science all the time, like you! But I have something you evidently don't! It's called a heart!" She turned on Stark. "And I'm sorry that I'm not into your little strip-tease fantasy!" She felt herself starting to cry. "But I thought we had a reason for doing all this! And now I'm trapped on this God-forsaken compound with one man who's all brain, and another who's all hormones, and no clue how to find who killed my father!" Janet slammed down the coffee mug. "Most of all, I'm sorry I ever got involved in this stupid Avengers thing!"
She turned and stormed out, fighting back tears as she raced to her office and slammed the door.
She paced, anger still roiling inside her. She took deep breaths and fought back the tears. She didn't want to give those bastards the satisfaction of finding yet another reason to disdain her: crying like a girl.
The more she paced, the more control she got. Slowly, she began to calm. The tears withdrew, her breathing eased, and she started thinking clearly again. Getting away from Pym and Stark helped. She had just moved around the desk and sat down when she heard a soft tap at the door. She thought about ignoring it. Finally, she bellowed a crude "What!?"
The door opened, and Pym stuck his head in. "Hey."
"What do you want?"
Pym stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry."
Yeah? Well you should be! That's what she felt like saying. But she didn't.
Pym sat down opposite her. "I think being cooped up on this campus is starting to get to both of us. And when I get stressed, I tend to bury myself in my work. At least, that's what Maria always told me." Pym winced, as if his deceased wife's name brought a spasm of pain.
He sat back. "Truth is, I think part of the reason I've been working so hard is to deaden the pain of remembering her." He looked at Janet. "But you're right. We haven't made any progress on finding whoever killed her or your father. And we mustn't lose sight of that."
Janet shrugged darkly. "Not that Mr. Sex-Hound out there cares."
She saw Pym tense slightly at the mention of Stark.
"You know, you shouldn't let him talk to you the way he does," he said.
"Oh? And what would you suggest I do, file a complaint with the EOC?"
"No, Janet!" Pym instantly got exasperated at her – again, it seemed to Janet. "You can stand up for yourself. Tell him to leave you alone."
"Or maybe you could try taking my side against him once in a while."
"I would . . . ." Pym hesitated. "If I felt sure you didn't really want his attentions."
Janet was already opening her mouth to speak again when she stopped and closed it. Did she just hear Pym right? If she didn't know better, she'd say that was a hint of jealousy coming from Pym.
"Uh, just for the record, most women don't prefer the kinds of attentions that involve being treated like a personal lap dancer." Even as Janet said it, she could feel the slightest play of a smile tugging at her lips. She couldn't help it. Pym was so earnest, so brilliant, and so clueless, all at the same time, she sometimes found him cute.
Pym must have seen the half-smile. He looked at her in silence for a second, then exhaled a little laugh at his own clumsiness. "Yeah. I guess you're right."
Janet plopped her arms on the desk. "Hank, what are we doing here?"
"We're becoming this . . . Avengers thing. We'll work it all out. You'll see."
"Yes, but all I really wanted was to help you with your research and find out who killed my father." She lowered her head to her arms, folded in front of her on the desk. "And I don't have a clue where to start." She looked back up at Pym. "How am I supposed to find Dad's killer when I'm cooped up here?"
Pym shook his head. "I'm no criminal investigator. I don't know. Have you tried checking his email?"
"What good would that do?"
"I don't know. Maybe you'd find something suspicious. A clue. Maybe someone unusual who'd been in contact with him before he died or something."
Janet thought about this. It seemed worth a try.
"Alright," she said. "If nothing else, it'll give me a break from nonstop experiments."
"Alright then." Pym looked around awkwardly. "Well, I guess I'll get back to work." He got up to leave. "Since I'm 'all science all the time.'"
Janet smiled. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"No, I . . . ." Pym shrugged. "I probably deserved it." He turned and opened the door.
"Hey," she called after him. He turned. "Thanks for coming in." Pym nodded, then slipped out, closing the door behind him. Janet stared at the door a moment. Then she sighed and turned to her computer.
She knew all of her father's email accounts and passwords of course, so she quickly got into one and started searching around. She pored over old emails from fellow scientists, relatives, neighbors, looking for anything out of the ordinary. She found nothing. She looked through all of his folders – maybe an unusual contact from someone who had no reason to reach out to him. Still nothing.
She kept at it for two or three hours, conducting the same thorough search through all her father's email accounts. Each time, she came up empty. She rubbed her forehead and sat back, trying to think of what to do next.
Suddenly, it dawned on her that she hadn't checked her own email since this whole Avengers thing started. She quickly typed in her user name and password . . . and her heart sank - 1,477 unread emails.
She groaned and sat back in the chair again. This is going to take forever.
She started scanning down the list, looking for spam, advertisements, anything she could delete or dispatch with quickly. Suddenly, she stopped cold. Her heart jumped into her throat.
How could this be? She'd spent hours scouring her father's email. Could this one really have been sitting in her own account all this time?
It was from what looked like might be a departmental email address in a genetics school at the University of Oxford. But that wasn't what grabbed her attention. What grabbed her attention was the subject line:
I KNOW ABOUT YOUR FATHER'S RESEARCH.