Laurel Canyon, Los Angeles, September, 1947
Nonna Manfredi sits like a statue while Rose and Jarvis recount an edited version of her grandson's demise. Some of the details are too fantastic, but the gist is simple: Joseph Manfredi fell prey to a HYDRA scheme and they used Whitney Frost's technology against him. Yes, the death was painful, but it was quick, all things considered. And for a very long moment, she says nothing. It makes Jarvis nervous. He feels like he's standing on a tightrope far above the ground and at any moment he will slip and fall.
She says something, low and quiet. Neither Jarvis or Rose speak Italian but there was no mistaking the icy tone in Nonna Manfredi's voice.
"Dona Clotilde asks if there's a body," one of the gangsters translates.
Jarvis shakes his head. "No. It was incinerated when the factory exploded. There is nothing left. Unfortunately."
The young man translates, Nonna Manfredi nodding along. She's silent, again, for a long moment. The air feels heavy. The ticking of the mantle clock fills the room. Like most older Italian women Jarvis has encountered, she's dressed in all black. Widow's weeds. She keeps her eyes downcast on her lap. Mourning? Contemplating?
When she finally raises her head, her face is set, stern and focused. Her eyes ablaze in fury. "I will pray for Guiseppe," Nonna Manfredi says through the translator. His eyes widen in shock at one point, and he hastily repeats what she says. "Tell Mister Stark that the men are at his disposal. All I ask is for Cassandra Romulus' heart in a box."
Jarvis' heart thuds in his chest. All he can do is nod and Rose picks up with a 'thank you' and assurances of her request.
"What a woman," Rose murmurs when they get in the car.
"Well, if one must be formidable to live so long in that world," Jarvis replies. "In any case, we should radio into Samberley and Miss Carter can make further arrangements."
"Of course." Rose takes up the wireless receiver. "Samberley, this is Rose and Jarvis, over."
She waits a beat, perhaps he's taking a leak. "Samberley, come in. This is Rose and Jarvis."
Still nothing.
"Are you sure you're on the right station, Miss Rose?"
"Of course I am," she replies. "Maybe the channel's busy, or the volume's too low." She fiddles with the dials, trying to get something out of the console. Satisfied, Rose tries radioing in, again.
"Aloysius Samberley! This is Rose and Jarvis, are you there? Over!"
There is a response from the wireless, at first sounding like regular static. But soon a strange buzzing sound takes over. Like a swarm of bees have swallowed the airwaves.
In the distance, there's a faint scream, then a thud, and the radio goes silent.
"Oh god," Rose cries.
Jarvis floors the gas pedal. All he can think about is Ana.
Griffith Park, Los Feliz
Roger's doing everything he can to keep standing. The blue suited man (with rather gauche pink hair) isn't much of a fighter, but when he gets in a scream the vibrations shake Roger in a sickening way. He feels like he's about to shatter. Then there's the matter of blue suit's companion. He's a mountain of man pinning down the communists with continuous sprays of bullets, seemingly with no visible belts. They're trying their best, but he can't hold both of these foes alone.
"Duck!"
Roger crouches down, but catches sight of his friend. Emily shoots from out of seemingly nowhere; a blue bolt in her own right. She leaps over him, kneeing the blue suited man in the face, making a sickening crunch of bone on bone.
She lands, stance wide and balanced by her left hand. "You alright?" she asks.
"Right as rain."
They hit the floor as their second attacker trains his gun on them and fires at Roger and Emily. "You blondies really think you're gonna win?"
"We'll give it a shot," Roger quips back. He turns to his full diamond form and follows Emily's dash towards the dark giant.
Emily doesn't go for such a blunt approach. She goes low, dodging the guns and going for a low punch followed by a leg sweep. Roger comes in with diamond claws and ricocheting bullets.
What would have been a killing blow for most people, the gunman shrugs off. Bats them away, then fires a burst of bullets at the others taking cover in the trees.
Emily spits out the grass that got in her mouth, then shouts, "Who the hell are you?"
She sees movement from the trees. Get him distracted.
"Greycrow little lady," He replies, then laughs - cackles really - as he trains his gun on her. "You wanna know who's 'bout to kill you?"
Keep him from firing his strange looking gun. All a solid looking block of gunmetal grey with no wood buttstock. She doesn't know where the ammunition is coming from, but he wears an army field jacket with the sleeves torn off and the pockets are heavy.
"More to know where to send your corpse to," Roger quips.
In one quick motion, Emily springs to her feet and takes out her knife. Roger attacks from behind. Emily gets under Greycrow's arms and stabs up into his armpit. Roger drives a diamond fist into the man's throat. She plunges her knife into Greycrow's abdomen, just below the ribs. It all only appears to stun him, but it's long enough that shouts from the trees warn Emily and Roger to get out of the way.
Gunfire thunders out, ripping into Greycrow. The momentum of the bullets - machine gun and pistol shot - kept him standing for a few seconds. When they stop, he staggers for a second, then collapses to his knees, then crumples on the grass with an ugly wheeze.
Emily and Roger stagger to their feet, panting hard.
"We need to go."
Roger nods, yet bends down to pick up Greycrow's gun. "I figure Stark and his boffins might fancy a look at this," he answers to Emily's confused grimace.
"Better us than him, I suppose," she says with a sigh. "Best get the car, then. I'll get Dottie and Mr. Sousa."
"Right."
He runs to the car whilst Emily turns to rejoin Dottie and the others under the trees. If Ivan's going to force her to choose, she'll choose her friends - all of them. She's got an idea - one she knows Michael won't like, but at this moment she doesn't care what he thinks.
Dottie and Sousa are trying to separate themselves from Ivan and his men. Emily takes a few steps, building up speed. Pistols are pulled.
Ivan won't let Dottie get away. Emily won't let him kill Dottie.
She sprints. Roger pulls the car up to the curb. Ivan's got his pistol pointed at Dottie, hammer cocked.
Emily comes to a stop between Ivan, Dottie, and Sousa. Manages to shock the good comrade. She takes hold of his right arm, thrusts it into the air so the pistol isn't pointed at anyone. With a swift jab to the abdomen, she wrenches the pistol from his grasp, pointing it back at the communists while catching Ivan as he goes limp. She can hear Roger shouting at her to move.
"What are you doing, güera?" the lieutenant shouts.
She points the pistol at him; right between the eyes. Calmly, coldly, Emily says, "If you want him, come and claim him."
Not turning her back, she retreats to the car, half-dragging Ivan with her as he slumps over her shoulder.
"What's going on?" Roger asks.
"Comrade Ivan's coming with us," Emily bluntly states, tossing Ivan into the back with Dottie.
Roger moves to the back seat with an exasperated, "Just get us out of here, Em!"
"Are you crazy?" Sousa cries regarding Ivan as they careen onto the street. The communists start shooting, trying to take out the tires and windscreen.
"Yes." She replies. It is a mad idea. Absolutely bonkers. So many things could go wrong. "What's the fastest way to Mr. Stark's?"
"West on Los Feliz Boulevard?"
"Right then," Emily says, taking a sharp turn. She shifts gears and guns the car, wanting to put as much distance as she can with Ivan's communists before he regains consciousness.
Downtown Los Angeles
Peggy tries to drive like she wasn't getting away from an exploding building. She tries her best to make room for police cruisers, fire engines, and ambulances. Being a good Samaritan and not racing to get away from Cassandra Romulus' superpowered goons after absconding with HYDRA's secrets.
A task that would be easier if Howard and Angie weren't canoodling in the back seat.
"You've been holding my hand for the past ten minutes, Mister Stark," Angie breathes.
"Well, I need to make sure you're alright," he purrs as he leans in closer.
"With you around, I'm sure I'll be alright."
Peggy clears her throat and calls to the back, and the two look up, rather flushed as they remember they're not alone. "Could you two look out for any potential problems?" Peggy requests. "We're not out of the woods yet."
"Oh, yeah, sure Peg," Howard replies, not taking his arm down from the back of the seat. Only a few inches away from Angie's shoulders
"Of course, Peggy!" Angie concurs, then to Howard adds, "This is so exciting."
Peggy does her best to control the twitch in her eye. The traffic's chaotic and she needs to concentrate as she navigates through the freeway to Beverly Boulevard. Perhaps it's the time of day or the explosion of the Arena Club. There's a grey convertible right on her tail, following close behind. So close that they nearly rear-end Howard's car at a stop light.
She hisses a curse and looks for a quick getaway.
"Uh, Peggy, we've got a problem," Howard says.
"What problem?"
"That's her!" Angie cries.
"And she's not alone," Howard adds.
Through the rearview mirror, Peggy sees the green haired woman from the Studio Club in the grey car. Sitting behind the wheel is a large, dark haired, muscular man.
Peggy slams on the gas pedal. Horns blare as she blasts through the intersection, swerving to miss oncoming traffic and put as much distance between themselves and their pursuers as possible. Yet they keep close to their tail.
"Howard, you got your pistol on you?" she asks, swerving to miss a lorry.
"Peg, I'm not the type to -"
There's a few pops, then a crash of shattered glass as the back windscreen is blown open with bullets. Angie lets out a scream and ducks down while Howard covers her with his own body.
"Howard!" Peggy shouts.
"Here it is!" he replies, holding up a small pistol.
"Good!" Peggy makes a turn south. She has an idea to both lead their pursuers away from Howard's mansion and, hopefully, more easily shake them off.
There's more gun fire, which causes Peggy to swerve into oncoming traffic and barely makes it back to her proper lane, nearly crashing into an oncoming car. At least now there's a few cars between them.
"Alright Angie, I need you to come and take the wheel," Peggy yells to the back seat, trying to be heard over the wind and traffic.
"I'm not sure -," she starts hesitantly.
"You're driving's fine!" Peggy reassures her. Angie had only scraped the car a few times when she tried parallel parking. "On the count of three, climb over to the front and take hold of the wheel, and I'll move to the passenger seat. Howard, cover the rear!"
Angie places her hands on the back of the seat, ready to climb over, "Okay, I'm ready."
"Alright," Peggy nods and readies herself for the switch. "One!" A bullet ricochets off her side view mirror. "Two!" The pursuing car hits the boot, giving them a hard jolt. Angie cries but holds onto the seat's back. Peggy rights the car and shouts, "Three!"
Howard starts shooting. Angie leaps over the back of the seat with a gymnast's grace and takes hold of the steering wheel. At the moment Peggy takes her foot off the gas pedal, Angie takes over, while Peggy shimmies to the passenger side. Lowering the window, she leans out and starts firing back at the pursuing car.
She aims her pistol, and pulls the trigger. Manages to take out a headlight and put two holes in their windscreen. Angie takes a sharp corner, nearly causing Peggy to fall out the window whilst a spray of bullets fly past her head.
Peggy sits back in her seat. "Why the hell did you turn?"
"I told her to go north," Howard replies, "We can lose them in the hills."
"What he said!" Angie adds.
"That's if they don't kill us -"
They let out a collective surprised shout. From the pursuing car, one of Romulus' henchmen fires a harpoon into their car; its dart lodges itself in the back of the vehicle and there's a sharp tug before the bumper tears away and clatters against the concrete.
"Who brings a harpoon gun to a car chase?!" Howard wails in bewilderment.
"I don't think they're concerned with rules of engagement, Howard," Peggy snaps back. She leans out the window to try and lay down covering fire, but whatever weapon their pursuers are using reloads quickly. Another spear flies at them, and this time it penetrates the front seat, sticking out an inch from Angie's side. She nearly veers off into oncoming traffic before righting herself.
"They got us hooked!" Howard shouts whilst loading a new clip.
There's a rope connecting the harpoon to the car. Peggy looks out the blown out window to see the smirking driver lean back in her seat. She quickly turns away as nauseous bile rises in her throat.
"Keep shooting!" Peggy tells Howard. To Angie, she says, "Keep heading north. Don't turn until I tell you to."
"Okay!" Angie replies nervously. Peggy clambers over the front seat, feeling the car struggling against their attackers' added weight. Bracing herself against the front seat, Peggy pulls at the harpoon and manages to get it a good way through before the dart snags something.
"I got you," Howard says as he ducks down. He brings out a pocket knife and starts slicing open the upholstery to better wiggle the harpoon out.
More shots are fired. Angie screams and weaves across the road trying to dodge them. "You alright, Angie?" Peggy shouts.
"I'm not hit! Just scared!" she replies.
"Just hold on, love! Where are we?"
"Just past Monroe Street!"
Santa Monica Boulevard is coming up fast. The home stretch to Howard's estate. With a great heave, Peggy and Howard free the harpoon. He's about to let go when she commands, "Keep it hooked to that strut until I say so!"
Peggy switches out the spent clip for a fresh one and crouches on the back seat. She sees the man in the passenger seat, standing up in the uncovered car holding another harpoon, poised to throw the weapon. Energy crackles around it, and it starts glowing. Wasting no time, Peggy raises her pistol and fires into his unprotected torso. He slumps and falls back into the backseat, the charged harpoon flying off to the pavement and exploding. The green haired woman loses focus. To Angie, Peggy tells her to turn left onto the boulevard.
Angie takes the turn hard, the right side lifts off the ground while the car screeches into busy traffic. At that moment, Howard lets go of the harpoon. They duck to avoid the whipping dart. Their car shoots forward with the momentum of the lost weight. The pursuing car and harpoon collide and tumble out of sight. Home free, Peggy hopes.
"You knew that woman back there," Susan says from the back seat, clearly still in a bit of a shock.
"Yes," Michael replies as he takes a corner too hard.
"Careful!" Jason calls. "We can't let the Gamma Cannon get damaged."
Michael grumbled. He was taking a risk, driving this recklessly with a sophisticated piece of technology in the trunk and two Black people in the car. All it would take was one cop for them to have either a terrible day or another body to cover up. But once Michael realized the crew they were against, something in him didn't dare to lose another associate.
"Her name is Philippa Sontag. She's a mercenary and a mutant who helped Nathaniel Essex kidnap Roger and Emily not that long ago." Michael's expression is stony as he remembers it all over again. "She and her friends are sociopaths - when told to bring someone in alive, they consider it a technicality. Their main focus is causing pain for the highest bidder."
"Small wonder Romulus can afford them," Jason replies.
"And you think one of them has reached the mansion?" Sue asks. When Michael nods, she grimaces. "Mr. Carter, you might be able to take on someone like that again, but Jason and I got lucky back at the lab. If there's some…superhuman waiting for us, I don't think we can pull something together that fast."
"I know." He pulls out his revolver and hands it to her. "Stay low, and don't draw attention unless I give you the all clear…or you see someone trying to make a run for it." Michael pauses. "Bullets should work on the others."
He doesn't mention that bullets worked on them all last time, too. But it's possible that last time Essex's lackeys were taken out they were only mostly dead. Michael saw some horrifically advanced studies in his lab when he was liberating his family, and it's possible he sewed them all back together given enough time.
The car skids to a halt in the driveway. The front door is cracked open, so Michael knows to be ready. He gives a wordless nod to Sue and Jason before exiting the vehicle.
There aren't any sounds of struggle as he approaches the door, and he can't decide if that's a good or bad sign. All he can hear is the sound of bees moving from flower to flower in the garden. The door swings open silently, and Michael pulls a knife from the back of his trousers. The coast is clear on the first glance around, but then his eyes make it to the living room and he sees a body sprawled across the floor.
"Samberly!" Michael hisses as he rushes over and turns the man over. He looks terrible - his face is so swollen from whoever attacked him that he's barely recognizable. His arms and torso swell up, too, and it's difficult for Michael to check for a pulse. He's about to write the man off when a pained wheezing comes from his throat and his eyes blink ever so slightly. "Damn, Samberly. You scared me. Where's the man who did this? Is he still here?"
"N…" Samberly chokes out. "Not…here…"
Michael doesn't know what damage control he'd need to do in case the assailant took something of Howard's or otherwise through a wrench in their plans, but right now Samberly needs medical attention. He runs back to the door and gives an a-okay. "He's in a bad way, but they didn't finish him off."
"Oh God," Susan blurts when she sees him. "What happened?"
"Don't know. I'm going to see if they took anything," Michael replies, leaving the wounded in the care of the scientists. He moves to the office where the radio had been set up. It's still there, but on closer inspection it had been damaged - that explains the communication problems. Though the cuts on the wires weren't very clean at all.
In the living room, Sue has grabbed a cold washcloth while Jason is examining Samberly's body. "Sue…these aren't bruises."
"What?"
"This swelling, I've seen it before. It's like he got stung by a swarm of bees."
Sue kneels down and presses the cloth to Samberly's forehead. "I've never seen bee stings this bad."
"Not…not…"
"What is it?" Jason asks, leaning in closer to hear his friend better.
"Nnnot here…" Samerbley chokes out.
"I know, you said -"
"Ev…every…where…"
Michael is still examining the radio when something moves behind him. He spins in time to see the barest outline of a humanoid before a writhing mass slams into him, hard enough to knock him off his feet and through the window.
By the time he lands he can already feel the bees trying to bite and sting him. His skin is too tough for them to break, but he's barely gotten to his knees when he feels them all turn in unison and direct themselves at his face. He squeezes his eyes and mouth shut, batting at his head to try and get rid of them. He can feel them gnawing at his eyelids, trying to reach flesh that wasn't as strengthened by the serum. Something sharp digs into his eardrum and he wants to cry out but knows if he does they'll just find another entry point.
Somehow he manages to remember that Stark's yard has a pool. If he can just make his way there, he might be able to get into the water and rid himself of these insects. But it's a blind chase, and Jason and Sue are still unprotected.
Sue screams when she sees the half-decayed body stagger towards her. "He brought gueztzzz. How fun," he intones as more bees flood from beneath his cloak.
The doctor had put Ana on bed rest. Her body wasn't going to heal if she was busy cleaning up a mansion. Her duties were more than that, in some ways closer to a châtelaine crossed with a secretary, but Edwin had persuaded her to rest. She still insisted on the bare minimum - monitoring Mr. Stark's social diary, planning the week's menu with the cook, and coordinating other errands that could be done from a bedside telephone.
She can only do that much in a short time, though. Ana tires easily, her body aches, and often the only relief is the sleep provided by the medications. Being in bed all day can be boring, especially whenever she hears Mr. Stark bringing more and more guests over. At the very least they were out for the day, along with her Edwin, and would be back in the afternoon. And Dr. Samberley would hold the fort down, don't worry, darling.
Ana is awoken by a buzzing noise. Not an out of the ordinary sound - the gardens were often full of bees, or it could be any number of gardening equipment. This time however, the buzzing was rather loud. Like a swarm of locusts. And too loud to be anywhere outside - somebody must have left the door open.
Her head is foggy. She doesn't know if the pills haven't kicked in yet or or are just wearing off; so often she finds herself in fugue states for longer than she'd care to admit. But the last thing she'll have is a swarm of bugs in her home making a mess of things. Silently pulling herself upward, careful of the stitches in her abdomen, she dons her robe and slippers and quietly shuffles her way out the bedroom door to see what the fuss is about.
There are two Black people in the living room, a man and a woman, frantically swatting with pillows and a broom at a swarm of bees surrounding them. A few feet away is another man - barely, by the looks of him. Ana's never seen a corpse but she imagines his state isn't much better than one. His skin is drawn and pale, sunken in some spots, and in other places peppered with hexagonal holes. There are bees crawling in and out of them, like he's some kind of hive that walks like a man.
It's something out of a horror film, and it's enough to wake Ana the rest of the way up. She doesn't know what's going on, but she knows she has to help them somehow. She stumbles backwards, hoping the man hasn't seen her yet, leaning against the wall to keep her still-weak legs from buckling underneath her. She needs to reach the bathroom.
If she remembers correctly, she'd made sure that each bathroom in this house has at least two canisters of the new hairspray Mr. Stark has a fondness for. It's got great holding power and helps him keep his slick businessman look even in Los Angeles' dry heat. Ironically, every bottle warns its user not to keep it near high temperatures, or to hold them near an open flame. Well, Ana's seen enough of Mr. Stark's experiments to have an idea why that might be.
Michael finds the edge of the pool and feels a brief moment of vertigo before plunging into the freezing water. He feels the bees flee from him in a single motion just before he hits, and when he opens his eye he can barely see any of them beneath the water. But as he looks up he can tell the dark cloud of them is spreading over the water, ready to block him in at any turn. He knows he can hold his breath far longer than the average soldier, but he doesn't know how long that might be - or how long he has to find out.
Jason has yanked his coat off and is swirling it around at the bees, but they're dodging easily as anything. In fact, with every move he and Sue make against them, they bring themselves closer and closer.
"What are they waiting for?" Sues cries, terrified beyond belief. "Why are you doing this?" she yells at the man.
"Oh, it'zzz been zo long zinzzze I've had the privilege to zee lezzer creaturezzz like you zzzuffer," the cloaked man replied with audible glee. "I am going to zzzavour thizzz moment."
Sue and Jason are back to back now, with no chance of escape. Feeling the end approach, they reach out and take each other's hands.
Fritz von Meyer, thriving in the great work he's been commissioned to perform, is about to make his money's worth. He reaches his will through all his children, readying them to lunge, and when he feels his prey have reached their breaking point he - PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN
The stream of flames belches from the massive aerosol can as Ana holds a lighter ahead of the nozzle, aimed directly at the back of the man's head. He lets out a horrible shrieking noise, and even the bees seem to scream. "Run!" Jason yells, and he and Sue make a break for it, slamming through the swarm as they become discordant without their leader's attention. The bolt down the hall and out the door, too harrowed to register surprise at Rose being there.
"Oh god, where's Samberly?" she asks, but the question is lost in continued screams as the assailant runs after them, still crying in terror. He's headed towards the pool, where more of his bees are reeling in confusion, some of them more than others as the man under the surface swats at them with something heavy. Fritz can't reach the water before he comes face to face with the butler and a canister of his own.
"You've crossed a line, sir," Jarvis declares before plugging down the nozzle and sending clouds of insecticide into Fritz' face. It's flammable on top of poisoning every cell of his warped body, and as he collapses in agony Jarvis leans in closer. "It's one thing to threaten the guests, but you put my wife in harm's way." And he empties the rest of the canister.
As Fritz struggles to breath, a soaking wet figure stomps towards him carrying something long and metal. Michael has no quips to add as he hoists his makeshift weapon and slams it down on the assailant's head. Fritz von Meyer barely has a skull left to crack, so the last noise his body makes is something akin to a tree being mulched.
There's some smoke coming from inside, collateral from Ana's quick thinking, but Rose has already barrelled in to find Samberly and Edwin is following as soon as he knows this man is dead. Sue and Jason are in shock, holding each other as they sit in the driveway. Another car is pulling up - Howard's, give or take a bumper and rear window. The passengers pile out, looking at the scene in shock.
"What the hell happened, Michael?" Peggy asks.
"The situation escalated," is all Michael can say between breaths.
"Good god fellow, is that my pool ladder?" Howard asks.
Michael looks down at the metal rungs he's been clutching, still covered in bits of Fritz. "Yes," he pants before dropping it.
The last car arrives, also sporting some bullet holes. Michael is happy to see Sousa, relieved to see Emily, Roger, and Dottie, and baffled to see another strange man who seems to be barely awake. The last of them regards his new surroundings neutrally.
"What's that American saying?" he asks with a Russian accent. "Something about a frying pan and a fire?"