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 18: Crying Vengeance Tears . . . Your Heart Out

Stark Industries QuinJet 2, over Europe

Janet, back at normal size, peered with Stark through the slender doorway from the cockpit into the tiny passenger compartment of the QuinJet. The rumble in the engine seemed to be getting louder again.

Stark had taken his helmet off. His black hair fanned out in disheveled shapes in every direction. The rest of his armor remained on. He looked at Janet and whispered. "Well, here goes."

He clomped into the passenger compartment and took a seat across from Pym, who was sitting with his head in his hands.

"So we've got three engines out and two more grinding their turbines. Which leaves . . . hmm, let me see, one, two three, four . . . yep, that leaves us none working properly. We're leaking fuel and our air circulation system is compromised . . . we could be breathing toxic fumes even as we speak." Stark cocked his head toward Pym, trying to draw him out. "Other than that, everything's fine. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight."

Pym gave no reaction.

Stark shifted in his seat. "Anyway, we're taking the long way home. If this thing's gonna go down, I want to be over land if possible, preferably near an airport. So we're gonna do this just like the airlines do it. We'll stay on commercial routes all the way back to New York."

Still nothing. Stark produced a bag of peanuts from somewhere, tore it open and popped one in his mouth.

"If there's anything we can do to make your flight more enjoyable, please notify one of the . . ."

Stark's voice trailed off when Pym looked up and stared at Janet.

"You let him get away."

Janet shifted on her feet. She was about to defend herself when Stark spoke up again. "Uh, actually, the Serbian Army let him get away. You might not have noticed what with, you know, your brain not getting any oxygen for about three-and-a-half minutes."

Pym ignored him. "My one chance to avenge her. My only hope for justice." His voice fell back to a throaty whisper. "And you let him get away."

"Hank, I didn't let him get away." Janet eased into the seat farthest from Pym. "I stopped you from committing murder. We were going after him—"

"Don't patronize me!" Pym burst out. "You did just what you said you would! You fought for the bad guys!

"I'm not fighting for the bad guys! Don't be ridiculous! I did what I said I would because I have the moral decency to do the right thing!"

"Yeah? Well you let a proven murderer get away! And you put my life at risk . . . if he'd had anything left, he'd have pounded me into dust after you shrunk me. But I guess those lofty morals of yours don't allow for any concern over whether he kills me! Only that I don't kill him."

Janet fired back. "And I guess your need for revenge doesn't leave room for concern that you also tried to kill me back there! If I hadn't flown away, you'd have crushed me like a gnat!"

"Well I'm not the one claiming to have these exalted notions of justice, am I?" Pym sneered.

Janet was dumbfounded. "Are you seriously gonna sit there and try to justify what you did because you're a dumb brute?"

Pym leapt to his feet and roared. "I'd rather be a dumb brute that does the right thing than carry around your pathetic ideals about justice and let murderers get away! I wish I could have the convenience of such so-called principles. But I don't. All I have is the memories of Maria, and the pain. And people like you, all over the world, letting her killer get away. It doesn't matter whether it's a corrupt government or a banner-waving idealist, the end result is the same: my wife's killer is a free man!"

Stark had quietly eased to his feet during Pym's rage. He placed an armored hand on Pym's chest, but his tone was soothing. "OK, why don't you sit down, big guy. I don't want to see you guys come to blows because that guy is an asshole."

Pym obediently sat back down. "A guy we'll never get another shot at."

"Yeahhhh, I'm not so sure about that," Stark retorted. "I have a feeling we're gonna be seeing Mr. Grubervelt again."

For the first time, Pym looked at Stark. "Why do you say that?"

"Uh, superhuman strength . . . nearly beat you," he looked at Pym. "I thought we were the only ones. You think I'm not gonna be investigating this?"

Pym nodded, but he looked at Janet again. "Maybe between now and then, you'll learn. It's different when the murderer has killed someone you love."

Janet shook her head and was about to reply when . . .

WHUMP!

A loud thump rocked the craft. A deafening high-pitched whine started up, followed by a sound like shredding metal. Stark was already headed back into the cockpit when another loud bang ended the shredding sound. Janet got up and followed him to the cockpit door. Stark sat down in the pilot's seat and surveyed the control screen.

"That was engine three going out. And number five is gonna go any minute." He turned toward Janet, his look one Janet had never seen before: helplessness. "We're not gonna make it."

"Anything I can do?" Janet said. But as she did, she heard Pym's voice over her shoulder say the exact same words.

Stark looked over at the co-pilot's console. "Think you can make sense out of any of that?"

Pym pushed past her and settled into the co-pilot's chair. "I spent a little time looking over this back in New York. Maybe I can help a little." Janet resented Pym's edging her out, but she knew she didn't know enough about the co-pilot's console to argue, and she was sick of arguing with Pym anyway.

"Where are we?" Pym asked as he tapped the screen in front of him.

"Coming up on Iceland."

"Can we land there?"

Stark studied the controls a minute more. "Yeah. I've got a friend in Iceland's Coast Guard. He'll let us land at Keflavic. It's supposed to be closed, so that'll let us come in without attracting a lot of attention."

"Supposed to be?" Janet inserted.

Stark glanced at her, grinned and shook his head. "Nothing military ever closes. You should know that."

Just then another explosion rocked the aircraft, the loudest yet. The QuinJet lurched again like it had over Belgrade. The whine and shredded-metal shriek throbbed against Janet's eardrums. Stark grabbed an old-fashioned joystick that was built into his control console and yanked it free. Then he wrenched it as far left as he could.

"Okay, this is not good."

Janet surged forward, anxious to help. "What do you need us to do?"

Stark let out a groan. "Lean maybe?"

Janet couldn't tell if he was serious or joking. But she didn't have time to find out. Just then, her cell phone rang. She looked at Stark, perplexed.

"We can get reception up here?"

Stark, still wrenching the joystick with everything he had, grunted a one-word reply. "Iceland."

Janet looked down at the number. Edward Percy.

"Hello?"

"Janet?" The voice was distant and fuzzy with static. But Percy's beautiful English accent came though. "Well, I confess I'm a bit surprised I caught you. Are you still in Belgrade?"

Janet saw Pym start pecking at controls from his co-pilot's chair. She could only hope he knew what he was doing. "Nope. On the flight home."

"I see. Well, I wanted to ring you right away. I'm afraid I have some news."

Janet couldn't imagine what news Percy had more important than a plane crash. "Really? Well . . . can it wait?"

Another boom, and the QuinJet lurched again to one side. Pym started typing furiously while Stark held onto the joystick for dear life.

"Janet, is everything alright?"

"I just can't talk right now. What's the news?"

Percy cleared his throat. "Well, I've had a bit of a breakthrough in the search for your father's killer."

That got her attention. Suddenly all the background noise in the aircraft seemed like it faded to a soft hum. It was only faintly that she registered Stark's voice. It sounded unnerved again - "What the hell?"

"Yes?" Janet spoke back to Percy. Her voice had a slight quiver in it.

"Well, it's only a name," Percy said. "But it's a start. Only I don't think it's a real name."

Something about the way he said that made Janet's stomach hitch. "Why do you say that?"

She heard Stark again, speaking in the background: "Somebody's attacking Iceland?"

"Because it's so – goofy, for lack of a better word," Percy said through the phone.

Janet could hardly think. Somewhere, as though through a long tunnel, she become aware that Stark and Pym were having a highly agitated conversation. Something about an attack going on at the military installation where they intended to land. But her numb consciousness remained fixated on Edward Percy's voice, crackling through her cell phone.

"W-what's the name?" She stammered, unsure she wanted to hear the response.

"Grubervelt," Percy's voice came back. "Hans Grubervelt."

Janet's head swam. She felt like she was going to throw up.

Percy: "Although evidently he has a moniker he prefers to go by: The Executioner."

Pym, in the cockpit background noise: "Who the hell would want to attack Iceland?"

Janet's legs gave out, and she crumpled into a sitting position on the floor of the cockpit.

"The . . . The Executioner?"

Stark: "I don't know. But they've got some serious firepower down there."

Percy: "Janet, are you alright?"

Janet wasn't sure she was even still conscious. She couldn't feel the floor.

"Crashing."

Pym: "Altimeter's tanking." His voice sounded like he felt sick too.

Percy: "I beg your pardon Janet?"

"We're crashing, Edward. Crashing."

Stark: "Uh, Janet. You might want to buckle up."

Percy: "Janet, are you serious?"

She felt arms around her waist. Pym was lifting her. "I'm not gonna let you die like this."

Percy: "Janet! Are you still there?"

"We're crashing," she breathed again. Pym plunked her down in the co-pilot seat and started buckling her in. The QuinJet lurched again, a steep, arching yaw. Pym fell against the side of the cockpit.

Percy: "Janet, where are you?"

Stark: "Whoever they are, we're coming down right in the middle of 'em."

Pym was back, tugging on her safety belt again.

"Iceland," she whispered.

Percy: "Iceland?"

Stark, from the pilot's chair: "This is not gonna be pretty guys."

"Yes, Edward. We're crash landing in Iceland."

"Janet! I'll come for you!" Percy's voice was fading as they descended. She heard a loud explosion from outside the aircraft, and saw a fiery plume rise from a building. "I have my heliplane. I'll come for you at once!"

Janet saw Pym put Stark's helmet on him, while he clung to the joystick for all his worth. Stark touched a hand to the side of his helmet, and his faceplate slid into place. "You better suit up again," he said to Pym. Then Pym was scrambling right across her, headed for the passenger compartment.

"Janet?!" Percy screamed through the phone.

"Edward?" It was the last thing Janet remembered saying.

"HANG ON!" Stark cried, pulling on the joystick with all his might. "This is it!"

"JANET!" Percy's voice crackled into nothing. "JANET!"

End