Chapter 19: Let's All Meet And Sing Kumbaya.
These were the monuments to the high cost of doing business and the high rise of overnight burglary. They were blocks after blocks of silenced factory buildings in the South Bronx.
To a passing eye, only the windblown movement of paper and trash exhibited traces of activity here. To the passive ear, the buzzing of flies every twenty feet gave audio to the only life present ….. even if it was a lower form. These insects gathered around the innumerable long blades of weeds cracking through hard concrete and the sparsely placed defecation from undomesticated dogs and drunken humans. These greens and browns where the only contrasting colors amidst the off white sidewalks and the blacks of old vehicle tires and the empty plastic containers of motor oil left there by amateur mechanics looking to extend the lives of their mobile junk heaps. As a warning to the lackadaisical, an abandoned—and burnt out—car lay on the corner of one block as a specter of bygone vivacity.
Yet in the midst of this grave depravity, two expensive late model cars stood guard in front of one of the forsaken factory buildings.
Inside of a forgotten Baretto Street Warehouse were four men. One was a middle-aged, business-attired American— Mark Posey. He was the financial advisor and investor for the People's Republic of China's interest in the United States. In the largest room on the main floor, Posey loosened his tie as he watched a young Red scientist enjoy his second play date. As a matter of fact, Zhi Ming Xu couldn't get enough of his 20-plus foot toy.
Xu sat on what appeared to be a sports car chair inside of a bulletproof Plexiglas dome. Under the transparent dome was 16 feet of power in the form of a dark gray mechanical ingenuity that resembled a very thick human. On this second day, the 24-year old Xu had learned to move the legs as nimbly as if they were his own. The arms swung with punch-throwing fluidity. The robotic hands crushed wooden creates with ease.
The last two men were at an age somewhere between Posey and Xu. They were armed, sour-faced Communist Chinese Nationals. Posey couldn't determine if their disfavor reflected their embarrassment over the young man's enthusiasm (which was unfitting for a Red Chinese to display in front of outsiders), or if they were just jealous. Who wouldn't want to try that thing?
This forsaken building was the perfect storage area for the Thinker. The destructive machine that Xu was controlling was the Thinker's toy before it was the young scientist's. The communists didn't know where the Thinker hid his other playthings along the abandon block, but that hunt-and-raid project would have to come later.
Now, it wasn't that Posey was bored by Xu's exhibition, but the agreed upon time was rapidly approaching. They had to consent to purchase the machine and vacate the warehouse in less than 18 minutes. At that time an alarm would go off. Posey knew that there would be no police response, as these streets offered no life for cops to save. But since he was also in a hurry, he didn't mention that to the three men.
The American money investor waved his arms to get the young man's attention.
"Is it a deal, then?" Posey shouted.
Zhi Ming Xu could barely hear him inside of his cockpit, but he didn't need to lip read in order to get Posey's question. With a wide grin and fists wildly shaking on either side of his head, Xu signaled his approval. The two armed Chinese men shook their heads in unison. The kid must really be an embarrassment to them, the American thought.
Posey moved rapidly to the front door—the door adjacent to the loading dock raise-gate. The man signaled to another Caucasian who was sitting behind the wheel of one of the two luxury cars. The man dropped his news paper and sped away. The driver was instructed beforehand to get to an international banking institution and transfer the money from the communist country to the Thinker's off-shore account.
Posey reluctantly closed the door, as the outside air was preferable to the stagnant and stale atmosphere of the warehouse. But when he did, Mark Posey wondered why the Thinker was in such a rush to close the deal. With what he was sure to be tagged with in today's court proceedings, it wasn't like he was going to be able to spend the money within the next quarter of a century. Posey figured, "That must be why he's called the Mad Thinker."
The American fiddled with the light switches to the left of the door until he found the overhead lights of the loading dock. Under the lights waited an unmarked medium sized delivery truck.
As if on cue, the mechanical behemoth strolled up the rear ramp and into the opening at the back of the box truck. Posey got to the vehicle's back door as an excited Xu jumped out. The two guards pushed the ramp into the ramp container at the bottom of the cargo area and Posey padlocked the door.
The two armed men lit up congratulatory cigarettes. That was no surprised to Posey. The way they loved their smokes, they probably also participated in congratulatory light-ups for Button and Lace Day, for Scratch Your Head Day, …. probably even to celebrate a successful bowel movement.
Young Xu made a gesture to the advisor that indicated that he wanted to enjoy a quick puff from Posey's different brand.
As the two walked to the rolled up loading dock gate, Posey remarked, "Saw those three long nozzles coming out from the upper chest. You know, they're two machine guns and a flamethrower in the middle."
With nearly no accent, the young scientist responded, "We'll probably replace the flame thrower with a grenade launcher.
Xu then cheered, "But this is the beginning of China's dominance in war engagement. All other countries will fall at our feet."
Posey shrugged. He thought, let others fight the war, he was a money man. As such he figured that he would be removed from consequences no matter which nation won.
The truck pulled out into the street. Posey pressed a red button and the steel gates noisily came down. Standing by the truck he gave the young man what he wanted. For a commie, he was sure getting into the swing of American leisure. They both took lengthy drags on marijuana.
"I'll phone ahead to ready the plane, Posey said with an out-of-it smile. "You fellows can take the Tri-Borough to the airport."
Arthur Shapiro was worried. The post morning rush hour construction on the Whitestone Bridge forced the traffic to move at a snail's pace. The drivers who were impatient made the trip across the neighboring Throgs Neck Bridge equally as slow.
Arthur's experience with dear ol' mom was that a moving car that stops wakes up a sleeper. Right now he was enjoying the snoring of the Paul Duval coming from the back seat. It meant that he wasn't shouting. He heard that Duval went through some sort of transformation when he was ticked-off.
Werewolf? Monster? It didn't even matter if he became a tantrum-throwing seven-year-old student ballerina. Arthur was going to keep the car moving even if it meant going an extra twenty miles to get to the Hamptons. He breathed deeply and headed for the expanse called the Triborough.
25 minutes ago, Hank was still looking through his binoculars when Yolanda struck up a conversation about marriage. From her perspective, she just wanted to see what this wonderful man thought about it. Hank was dumfounded. Why was Yolanda suddenly so interested in it? He had a great marriage partner once. But did he want to relive that pain, when he had successfully blocked out of his mind his current joke of a relationship?
He could say that he knew a professor back in his Princeton days who stated that he didn't know what happiness was until he got married. And then it was too late for him.
That fellow continued to say that before marriage, he told his bride that he would go through Hell for her. After he married her, he was surprised that he had the ability to tell the future.
Considering that Yolanda was strangely obsessed with the subject, he decided to just let her talk, look alert, and then nod his head at the times when he thought it was appropriate. Hey, he remembered those self-preservation acts during his husband days.
Yolanda abruptly stopped her monologue and pointed towards the park. "Is that what we're waiting for?"
Hank looked down to find the van. He nodded and said, "We need to go down there."
Before he knew it he was over the edge and looking down at the street 25 stores beneath him. His eyes popped out, but he regained his composure when he saw that he was descending to the streets at the rate that an elevator would take. Yolanda held him around the waist with one arm and carried the satchel with the other. He looked up to see that her helmet was on her head.
"I wasn't expecting this," he said. "I had clean underwear a second ago. I hope I can still claim that when we reach the van."
From a second-story townhouse window located in the exclusive section of Riverside in Manhattan, Natalia Romanov brushed away her seductive hair from her left eye to give Clinton Barton a complete look at her lovely face. It was a last push, or incentive, to speed him on his way. He blew her a kiss as he stood before the limo. She motioned with her hand that Clint should enter the vehicle and not stay there looking up at her like a love-stricken calf.
The light-brown haired Romeo pulled away in the car. Natasha stayed by the window, not as a lover enjoying the last glimpse of her departing knight in shining armor. No, she was waiting until the car was out of sight so that she could motion to two men in a different car that was parked across the street. It was apparent that the two could pass for twins. Their identical facial features, glasses, attire made the Countess of Espionage roll her eyes. Then again, the Kremlin never cared for individuality, only success.
The two well-dressed, dark haired men left their vehicles and marched towards her front door. She smiled, and greeted them in English. When she closed the door, they continued in the Russian languish.
"Comrades," Natasha said. "Tell your supervisor, … Leonid, is it? Tell him everything is going smoothly."
"Considering your past failures, it better work," one man said.
"It will. As I explained to your supervisor, Clinton Barton is a child in a man's body. He wanted to play hero because he was jealous of the attention that the accursed Iron Man attracted. In my car, I observe him stopping a robbery and when the police mistook him for the culprit, he ran right into my arms. I drove away with him and, like a fool, he fell for me unconditionally.
"He doesn't know a thing about me. Still, my looks continue to render him my slave. He'll do whatever I want in return for some bedroom favors. So stupid, so infantile. Like so many Americans, he is a wild boar who smells the scent of an aroused female. He'll run through a valley of lions to get to her. Comrades, we will succeed. We will defeat Iron Man and take home Stark Industries secrets."
The two men appeared unmoved. One asked, "An archer will bring down the walking arsenal, Iron Man?" The other man made a noise that crossed between a grunt and a laugh.
Natasha countered, "These last few days he has worked with some of our best concealed arms dealers. This american has armed the head of his arrow with explosives, gas, …. many things. He is up to the challenge."
The man who asked the question continued, "And he is going where? To pick up what?"
"There are still more weapons that he needs. I sent him to pick up the latest things from my supplier. My archer-puppet will retrieve them at the foot of the Triborough Bridge.
There are things that one could feel for Frederick Jolen Dukes. If pity overrides one's amusement at the sight of his enormous, mountainous body, then one knows Mr. Dukes better than most. The Homo Superior known in the circus world as The Blob had a very wide frame that most mistook for purely obesity. True, he is a gluttonous eater and, true, he carried over 100 pounds of unnecessary weight, but much of his 580 pounds was due to his mutant "gift". His skin was bullet-impenetrable. His large hand could smolder a burning torch and feel nothing. His body could increase its density so that his weight could quadruple and his strength could not be measured. The bottom of his feet had the uncanny ability to bond with the surface below him, making him immovable— the carnie hawkers would challenge the rubes, saying that no one could budge him from a spot against his will. Two dollars a head allowed willing strongmen their chance. And of course, they failed even when they tried in groups of twelve.
About a year ago, he had fought the X-men. He may have won had not Professor Xavier, the Dean of the secretive mutant school, mind-swiped Frederick into partial amnesia.
Months later, the X-men's arch enemy, Magneto, restored his memory and recruited the brutish mutant. Again he faced off against the X-men. When Magneto sent a missile hurling towards the young mutant crusaders. He had no care if the explosion would also take out the Blob. Frederick took the full blunt of the explosion. He survived. The Blob renounced his allegiance to traitorous Magneto and the X-men extended a second invitation to join them. But the Blob had his fill of mutant teams, as he was sure that no mutant group would fully accept him. It was the circus life for him. It was the circus life for an unwanted freak.
An opportunity was presented where his troop—the Applebaum Circus— was up for sale. Frederick knew that he would be the right owner for the show. He loved the performing life better than anyone. Despite his fearsome appearance, he loved to hear the laughter of children. If he knew little of business, he could learn from the front office personnel who would stay. What was important was that he loved the circus and the joy that it brought. The problem was money… He didn't have it. Whatever he had, he spent on his mother's hospitalization. When she passed away, the grieving Frederick spent it on excessive indulgences to ease his pain.
Again, pity would enter one's mind when the Blob's life was examined carefully. And pain would follow thereafter if the sympathizer revealed that pity to the proud Blob.
Presently, Frederick Dukes sat in the back of his custom made pick-up truck. His pal Swen , the human cannon ball, was behind the wheel, hearing Frederick's lamentations.
The Applebaum Circus was heading to their engagement at Westchester Community College. They were to set up at the football field quickly for that night's performance. The heavy hearted Frederick Dukes asked his pal to take the long way. Instead of going through the direct route through the Whitestone Bridge, he wanted to go south to the Tri-Borough. Frederick hadn't heard about the delays. He just needed some extra time to think.
Everything went fast in Yolanda's consideration. Alone with Henry inside of the police van she howled in laughter as Henry confessed some of the odd adventures that he and sister Erica had as children. Then the van stopped on the Manhattan side of the 59th Street Bridge. The doors opened up and Yolanda found herself in the midst of the world famous heroes whom she had read about.
Thor, Iron Man, Reed Richards— she was in their midst. Inside of her helmet she was a wide eyed gawking teen age fan; on the outside, she was standing by them as their colleague against a deadly threat. WOW!
She determined in herself not to act shamelessly like Jan Van Dyne. Sure that fellow, Thor, was tall and handsome, but she had an undivided heart for Henry Pym; and that was the way she wanted it.
There was one stranger to their left who she thought looked familiar. He was slender and slightly shorter than her. This dark haired and goateed fellow wore a fashionable white shirt that had thin red strips. A bulge in his left pants pocket was evidence that he brought something with him for the assignment. Yolanda didn't know much about men's fashion, but those shiny black shoes under his black pants looked very expensive. Even without a tie, this stranger knew how to dress to impress, as the American saying went.
Aside from the man's good taste, Yolanda noticed that he seemed to ignore and move away from Mr. Fantastic— when Reed Richards moved to one side, the man moved to the other.
To the Unicorn's delight, Giant-man introduced her to each of the heroes who were present. They seemed genuinely friendly towards her. When he came to the stranger, Hank announced the name, "Bentley Wittman."
The alarms in her head went off. The Wizard; the evil genius and enemy of the Human Torch. As a result, he was an enemy of all the Fantastic Four. He must have been the man who was enrolled in an early prisoner release program. His cooperation in turning back the bombs was essential for him to receive a drastically reduced sentence. She understood why Henry wasn't too happy hearing about Wittman's contribution, but if Iron Man staked his reputation on it ….
Behind the heroes were the back ups—the New York City Police Captains and Lieutenants and the FBI Field Agents-In-Charge. Hank firstly explained that Captain America had already taken his station at the Williamsburg Bridge. He continued by laying out the situation to everyone. Reed Richards then gave the group an update on his team's city canvassing. The search produced no evidence of threats currently on the Island of Manhattan.
The plain clothed Wizard began, "Hopefully Richards is right. I, on the other hand, know that if I was brought in at the inception, I could rightly and quickly thwart the plan of that weasel, the Thinker.
"Nevertheless, despite your initial mistake, you still did splendidly by employing my limitless perspicacity to …."
"Oh Brother," Hank muttered to Yolanda. "Tony Starks, Junior."
Whereas The Unicorn was thankful that her faceplate hid her attempt to hold back a laugh, Giant-man made no effort to hide his irritation. Maybe it was the urgency and time element of the mission. Maybe it was that Pym Family temper that Erica was known to freely express. Whatever it was, Hank wasn't in a mood to suffer this fool.
"And my superior intellect should…."
"Yeah, yeah," Giant-man said. "Your superior intellect landed you in jail, all of what? Three freaking times?"
"Yeah," instead, of yes? The use of "freaking"….. This wasn't the refine Henry Pym speaking, according to Yolanda. This was Erica in her brother's voice. She didn't know why it seemed so charming to her, but it did.
Iron Man had the audacity to clap and Thor's lips disappeared into his mouth as he suppressed a smile. Richards looked to his feet, but his wide grin was evident.
Bentley Wittman tried to regain his honor by saying that he was just reminding his listeners how fortunate they were to team up with someone who had his high pedigree.
"High pedigree?" Hank responded. "Good, I'll be sure they engrave that on your collar, Lassie.
"But right now, we all stay focus. Right now, no individual is more important than the prevention of those explosions. And noooo one gets cute and tries to free lance. We all know what the plan is. Detect and then isolate the bombs. We let the Bomb Squad do their work. If they disarm the threat, the FBI can trace the manufacturer through the materials used. We stay close by. If they give the distress signal, we look to throw the explosives into the river."
During this charge, Henry was becoming increasingly annoyed that Iron Man was slowly moving behind the new Unicorn. It was obvious that the perverted Tony Stark wanted a better view of Yolanda's femininely rounded lower region.
"I'm sure Iron Man agrees." Giant-man suddenly said.
The red and gold Avenger straighten up as all eyes shot towards him. "Ehh, yes, of course, I agree. Everyone here does."
Iron Man sheepishly returned to his original standing place as the size-changer continued talking. Hank was both grateful and amused over Thor's reaction. The tall Norse Legend had his arms folded in a scowling teacher mode. As Tony began walking behind him, Thor head turned to the left like a lighthouse beacon guiding the metal-garbed ship named Iron Man. When the depraved fellow made it to the other side of Thor, the Thunder Master turned his head to the right allowing his eyes to follow the armored Avenger back to Richards' side. Certainly, the 6 foot, eight inch Asgardian had an inkling as to what Iron Man had attempted.
Giant-man added, "I should tell you that we will lose Dr. Richards. He'll continue flying over Manhattan for a few more minutes then he and the other members of the Fantastic Four have to be present at the trail. The Thinker mustn't suspect that we're on to him. We don't want to be caught flatfooted if he has a second plan to fall back on."
Giant-man turned to say a parting thanks to the leader of the FF. The Unicorn was right behind him. WOW Yolanda got to shake the internationally celebrated Reed Richards' hand twice in less than ten minutes. Too bad she wore an armored glove.
"Well, yes," the Wizard started. "Richards will not be with us, but we should all be thankful that I am here not to maintain the high intellectual standards of this group, but dare I say, advance it."
"Yeah, you'd dare," Hank grumbled. "You're the only one who would."
In his right hand, the Wizard raised a tangerine-sized, flattened metallic circle slightly above his head. Again alarms went off in Yolanda's head. It looked familiar.
The Wizard said, "This is my anti-gravity disk. You can understand what it can do by its name. What you don't know is that its brilliant inventor also devised a one-of-a-kind magnetic instrument at its bottom that makes the disc unshakable. Once attached to an item the disk can raise it effortlessly. You may ask how did I invent such a magnificent object? Well, yes, my vastly superior intellect does manage to surprise even me, at times. But let me .."
It had to have been thirty-five looong second of nonstop self-idolization. He boosted that the devise could lift more than a ton and his superior brain power had many more dazzling inventions yet to be revealed to a world. And nations would soon race to his side, the Wizard, the greatest intellect in history. But everything, even Wittman's boasts, eventually comes to an end.
"Now I am shy and reserved in nature, but I would never discourage the world's adoration. They need someone as god-like as myself to look up to and…."
The Wizard stopped when he finally noticed that nearly everyone was huddled many yards away from him. Only the Unicorn was in front of him; and she was standing at a distance.
Yolanda kept her elbow straight as the fingers on her hands intertwined in front of her thighs. And they stayed interlocked as she raised both shoulders.
"Well, Mr. Wizard … that was all … very interesting"—her shoulders went to their normal position and she began walking backwards towards the other heroes—"And we'll sure keep an eye out for those future inventions. I… I think I should"—she pointed her thumb over her shoulder—"get back to the group and see what they're discussing.
"Thank you for helping, and have fun at the Lincoln Tunnel." Well, fun wasn't the right word, but she was too embarrassed for him to stay and correct herself.
The Wizard looked at the distant heroes. He was surprised that they were not appreciative of his willingness to help these lesser intellects. It was then that Thor noticed the Wizard looking their way.
"Do forgiveth us," he yelled back at the slender man. "T'was obvious that thou wast in the midst of an amorous ecstasy and we forethought thou wanted time alone with thine beloved."
Iron Man added, "If you want, I'll pay for a hotel room for you and you."
Everyone laughed and Wittman could have sworn he heard the Unicorn also chuckle.
The Wizard frowned as the armored female sprinted off towards Giant-man. "How dare they?" he fumed. "And that insipid yelp trying to patronize me …."
But his rising indignation was sidetracked by a policeman who asked him to get into the squad car and race to the west side of Manhattan.
When the Unicorn rejoined the group, Iron Man turned his back to them all. Anthony Stark's incredible body guard appeared to be the first to attempt to leave. Then he suddenly stopped. He put his right hand to his right temple, looked to the ground and shook his head.
Yolanda, the other metal-attired being, thought he was having a headache. If he was, she would have been happy to replace him at his post at the Manhattan side of the Battery Tunnel, but not without her Henry.
He turned back to Giant-man and extended his arm to an area apart from the group and still far away from the people gathering at the police barricades. The barricades were there originally to keep people away from structures that were weakened by last night's battle between the Stilt-man and the team of the Wasp and Spider-man.
The armored Avenger began, "Something just occurred to me. Shall we have a talk?"
Now, the curious young woman would've loved to have followed them , but she thought it would be more mature of her to stay put and represent Giant-man. She dipped into the large tan satchel that she had brought and handed out communicators to those involved with the stake-outs. The equipment had an over-the-head hugging devise and a thin plastic arm stretching from the ear piece to the mouth. That arm held the voice receiver.
Like a sophisticated woman, she resisted gushingly boast about how she worked on the devices to finish what Henry had started. The police officials were intrigued, but she had an inkling that they looked at it as a toy.
A lieutenant was nice enough to offer to get one of the communicators to Captain America and another to the Wizard, who had just left. Hopefully, it would not be underneath Mr. Wittman to use someone else' invention.
Yolanda couldn't help but laugh when Thor took off his winged metal hat. He had so much hair that the arm of the communicator that was supposed to extend around to the front of his mouth only reached his nose. He pulled the head piece down, but when he let go, the entire unit was pushed back up by his hair.
"The speaker portion can still receive your words," Yolanda smiled. "The next set of communicators will have adjustable limbs, I assure you, sir."
Thor shrugged and said, "Mayhap I needth a cuttery of hair. Verily, if there would be a lawn mower within call, I'd let thee have the honor, young warrior maiden."
Thor had a sense of humor, Yolanda thought. Well, she thought he did, if she correctly understood what in blazes he was saying. She thought she could really like Thor… like, mind you— Hank, she loved.
The Nordic legend put on his winged Asgardian helmet to secure his communicator. She then relayed good-byes on behave of Giant-man and wished them success in their surveillance stations.
"Am I late for the party, again?" Yolanda heard from above.
Inching down from a web anchored to the top of a streetlamp, came Spider-man.
A distance away, Iron Man began to relay his disapproval to another Avenger. "I have to say, this isn't very smart. You need to open your eyes about all this, pal.
Giant-man thought he understood Iron Man. The size-changer looked at the curious people behind the police barriers. "I can't help the attention, but wide exposure about our meeting is controlled and contained. I have an ear at the Pentagon who has the President's office ordering a News lockdown about the meeting. No newspaper, TV, - "
"That's not what I meant. Let's get to the chase, shall we?" One metal index finger began to rest on the index finger of his other hand and moved to the others as he went on to different points.
"One, some of us know that Yolanda Vanko has this thing about her father's legacy. Two, she is a brilliant girl who could possibly be his equal in weapons development. Three, she carried on with Tony Stark, and I'm sure with her present mentor, Henry Pym, about the inferior Unicorn version that attacked my boss' plant, months ago. Four, this new Unicorn shows up; not only a female, but standing about Yolanda's height."
Iron Man let out a frustrated sigh. "No, it doesn't take a super-genius, the level of Wittman to figure out who this Unicorn is."
Giant-man chuckled at the sardonic mention of the blowhard who was heading to the Lincoln Tunnel site.
"To put Yolanda in harm's way is irresponsible."
Hank didn't show any signs of agreement to that statement. Nor was Henry taken entirely by surprise. He was expecting something like this. But from Iron Man? Heck , Stark was supposed to keep in contact with Yolanda twice a week to see about her needs and condition. For the last two years, only Pepper Potts made the time to call her. Hank expected the very removed Stark to be too involved with other things to even be interested in making this hypothesis.
"You assume, Iron Man, that I have firsthand knowledge of Miss. Vanko. Why?"
Iron Man continued, "And that leads to my next point. Her appearance as the Unicorn can also open up speculations about a double life that her current guardian may have. Don't you think so, Dr. Pym?"
"Are you getting enough oxygen in that tin can, Mister? You just called me Dr. Pym. But for now, let that rest. Let's make a wild assumption that what you say about Miss. Vanko and the Unicorn is true. Who, among the public,would know? One and only one person, Mr. Stark's secretary, made the effort to care about this Vanko girl, as I heard. "
Henry was proud of himself that he slid that zinger in on him. "And since she stands no chance of getting close to the Unicorn, I give her only a 20 percent chance of making the same weak and outlandish connection you have.
"Oh, and didn't we, the Avengers, meet at Starks Industries until Mr. Stark renovated his mansion so that we could continue reuniting there? I recall hearing Miss Potts on phone sympathize with the girl's constant relocation to different places. That led to Miss Potts to then tease the young lady about her fear of airplanes and heights. This new Unicorn has soared through the sky with the same hesitation of a skilled eagle.
Giant-man continued, "I won't say definitely, but wouldn't Miss Vanko be residing right now in whatever safe house she is supposed to be in. If the place is Pym's home somewhere in Queens, why don't you dial and find out? I think your circuitry has telephone capability. And if you don't have his number, Miss Potts should have it. Go ahead and call."
Iron Man would have, except that this invitation came too readily. Perhaps Pym's two cleaning ladies were in on the ruse and had a trick up their sleeves. They could have access to audio recordings with Yolanda's voice that could be fed into the phone. Pym was a whizz, to be sure. If he had Yolanda download a thousand words into a computer, the devise could masterfully duplicate her word-stresses to the final "t." As far as hurling questions at this "Yolanda," Pym had the know-how to make a computer that could receive any question or statement and fire back a reply.
Giant-man grinned at the knowledge that Mr. Intelligence— Tony Stark— had backed off. The billionaire braggart was anticipating being out-foxed.
The size manipulator continued. "As for Dr. Pym, years ago he and I appeared together on a special report hosted by John Chancellor on NBC. That was after he withdrew his lawsuit against me. He claimed that many scientists knew that he was working on a shrinking serum and I supposedly stole it. He had enough sense to realize that I wouldn't steal a failed project. He worked on it, but I succeeded. And if you saw the interview, you'd remember that although he dropped the suit, the poor delusional fellow hadn't entirely buried the hatchet. He's still somewhat resentful towards me."
"Hmm, I'll figure out how you did that dual appearance, Dr. Pym. But we'll talk later."
"I'm insulted. I'm sure Dr. Pym would hate being identified with me in any manner, as well. Careful he doesn't launch a lawsuit, Iron Man."
Iron Man walked away and prepared to lift off from the ground when Giant-man added, "You would do well asking Mr. Stark to discourage such silly notions if Miss Potts were to say those same things. Word gets around and I imagine that hiding a certain individual from Kremlin spies is hard enough. Loose talks within a high profile company may attract the headline-seeking vermin in the Media, you know. … Remember when the press foolishly thought that you were Tony Stark? Do you remember that circus?"
Iron Man turned to him and froze. After a while he nodded and then he took off.
Mr. Know-It-All was trumped. Hank was pretty proud of himself. Yes sir, Giant-man was heading to his look-out station, but now the trip north to the Triborough Bridge was going to be sweet.
A White Rock delivery truck driver took an unscheduled route. He usually entered Manhattan via a bridge that left him closer to midtown. Today, the truck was traveling up north and headed towards the ramp that lead to the Triborough Bridge.
Jan Van Dyne jumped out of her bed and gave her mouth a quick cleaning. She had to get to her darling and make things right with him.
As she rinsed her teeth of the toothpaste she wondered, how did she wake up in her own bed? Last night she was waiting for Henry's return on the living room sofa. How did ….
Suddenly she stopped and her eyes widened at her reflection in the mirror.
"Henry."
References:
Lassie: That name has been lost for the past few decades. Lassie was a heroic collie in literature, movies and TV who rescued humans in distress. Thus, Giant-man sarcastic dig at the braggadocios, self-assumed world-saver, Wizard, referred to this champion canine.
The Thinker's Toy: It was a towering man-directed robot. A version of it appeared in communist hands two years later in a Captain America story— SECRET!. See page 3 of Tales Of Suspense # 86 (1966).