ShadowFireZelda: I had no idea who the girl was all through the description. I am not good with keeping all that info in my head and constructing an image out of it, but her face was crystal clear in my mind the second she opened her mouth. You nailed the personality.
NeoNazo356: Thank you. After watching/reading the final episode of Gwenpool's initial run, I really wanted to capture her [Fourth Wall Awareness] through the lens of FanFiction.
*THE MIGHTY ATOM*
San Francisco, California
November 7, 22:30 EST
Doctor Henry Jonathan "Hank" Pym was an entomologist and molecular physicist of exceptional talent and brilliance.
In his youth he trained in the United States Army before being recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D., the American extra-governmental military counter-terrorism and intelligence agency, to work as a consultant. Eventually discovering a type of particle that could shorten the distance between an objects molecules, effectively reducing its size while maintaining its original mass, he would then go on to develop a suit capable of shrinking a human being to the size of ant while still maintaining his original strength and resilience. In addition to this he developed the EMP Communication Device, which allowed him to telepathically manipulate ants; something that fell in line with his acumen as a myrmecologist.
Even back during the time of the Iron Curtain, Hank Pym trusted only himself to wear the Ant-Man suit, continuing to serve his country with the eventual assistance of his wife Janet van Dyne, aka the Wasp.
In his years as a parent, he and his wife had been able to raise Hope van Dyne into a brilliant young girl despite their extraparental activities overseas.
However, one mission would serve to shatter the once-happy family.
Hank and his wife had been called upon to intercept a Soviet missile that had been launched against the U.S. While they'd been able to successfully hitch a ride on said missile, they were unable to break through the missile's titanium shell. Hank had attempted to shrink to subatomic size, move between the molecules to disable the missile regardless of the cost to his life, only for his regulator to have been damaged during the initial boarding.
With no other course of action available to them, Janet disabled her suit's safety measures in place of her husband, shrinking to subatomic size and disabling the missile.
However, the success of their mission came at a great cost as Janet was banished to the Quantum Realm, a reality where all concepts of time and space become irrelevant as those consigned to it shrink for all eternity.
Hank would then spend the next ten years studying the Quantum Realm in an attempt to find her, even to the detriment of his relationship with his daughter, whom had been sent off to a boarding school in Europe shortly after the "plane crash" that claimed the life of her mother.
With his daughter awayed and his wife awash across the sea of subatomic space-time, all that was left for Hank was to ensure that no-one else abused the power of the particle that claimed the life of his beloved. Cutting all ties to S.H.I.E.L.D. under the assurance that as long as he lived no one would ever be allowed to attain the formula to the Pym Particle, Hank Pym began a life of relative solitude, funneling all of his time and resources into Pym Technologies as he buried himself in his research, and through Pym Technologies eventually became one of the richest men in the world.
During his meteoric rise to success, the man took on two apprentices, though one would later leave his employ and enter research on his own accord, leaving Darren Cross as his sole protégé. Someone whom he wanted to surpass him and never make the same mistakes he did. Darren Cross' infatuation with the mythos of "the Ant-Man" was a bit disconcerting, but Hank did all he could to assure him it was nothing more than urban legend or American propaganda to strengthen the people's trust in their government.
Of course, all good things must come to an end. The board of directors taking a vote onto whether or not he would be able to contribute to the company in the future, the deciding vote came down to his estranged daughter Hope whom he'd pushed away twenty years before. With Darren Cross as the new CEO, Hank became a recluse and isolated himself even more to his mansion, continuing his experiments into the understanding of the Quantum Realm.
However, the Quantum Realm wasn't all he dedicated his time to. Using what little connections to the company he had left, he kept an eye on his protégé, and what he found worried the man greatly.
Despite his every assurance that the Ant-Man was a myth or propaganda, the recent resurgence of super-powered beings following the retirement of The Justice Society of America during the Cold War, fueled Cross' obsession with the power of Ant-Man even further.
Progress was slow-going, but as long as that long-held infatuation remained, the possibility of Cross reverse-engineering the Pym Particle and using it as a weapon of war remained an ever-constant danger to the world.
Hank Pym couldn't allow himself to die just yet.
As the man sat in his study, contemplating whether or not he'd have to wear the Ant Man suit "one last time", his phone began to ring.
Looking down at the Caller ID, it said Number Unavailable, which was weird because after becoming a recluse the way he had, there were an extremely few amount of people who had access to his personal line like this.
Reluctant to answer, to the man hung up, only to hear the buzzing of his phone a minute later. After two more disconnects and the caller showing no signs of stopping, Pym decided to see what was so important that they couldn't take the hint.
"Hello. Who is this?"
"Hank, it's me. Ray."
"Ray? What the heck are you calling me in the middle of the night for?"
"I need your help."
"My help?" the man remarked, noting that the man on the other end sounded frantic. "I'm pretty sure I stopped agreeing to help you when you made that weapon everyone was so hot under the collar for," the man spat, a bit of venom in his tone.
"Hank… Dr. Pym…" the man, Ray, said taking a more formal tone. "Listen, I know we've had our differences?"
"Differences?! You took what you learned from me and used it to make a weapon! I think that goes beyond mere differences," Hank spat into the phone. " . . . I'm hanging up."
"NO! Wait! Please! You have to listen to me! They took Peter!"
" . . . Who?"
"Peter Parker, my nephew," Ray answered frantically. "Yesterday after school, his aunt and uncle called asking if I'd seen or heard from him because he never made it home from school that day. Then today, just as I was about to head home, a courier delivered a parcel to me. The moment the courier was out of sight, the parcel started ringing. I opened it up and found a cell phone waiting for me. The caller had a Russian or Eastern European accent. Said they kidnapped my nephew, and the only way I'd be able to get him back was if I handed over all of my data on my Atomic Compression Machine."
"You mean your weapon."
"I didn't mean for it to be viewed as a weapon, just a stepping stone for something greater."
"Yes, well, in this country, unless it can keep a man in office, scientific advancements are only worth anything if they can be weaponized, or be used to make large amounts of money."
"Dr. Pym, please, I know I showed off my machine at the science expo against your wishes, and that wanting to get out of your shadow was a really stupid reason to put something like that under the public eye, but I can't let Peter get hurt because of something I did. He's the only family I have left. Please, I'm begging you, you have to help me, please."
"Okay, okay, calm down," Dr. Pym said into the phone. It'd be hard to get anything out of the man if he went into a fit of hysterics. "Now, I want you to take a deep breath, and calm down. Can you do that for me."
"Yeah… Yeah, I can do that," the man answered, audibly inhaling and exhaling. After a few cycles, Dr. Pym continued. "Okay, I'm calm… I'm calm."
"Alright… Based on what you've told me, this doesn't sound like the work of an ordinary criminal," Dr. Pym began. "I've been keeping my ear to the ground, so I just so happen to know that things are heating up over in Russia. I don't know what they're fighting about over there, but the timing of a potentially Russian group making a move on your Atomic Compression Machine can't be just coincidence."
"Of course that's what they're after. I'm surprised the Americans didn't try something first," Dr. Palmer sighed. "They said I have seventy-two hours to prepare the sum of my data and bring it to the rendezvous, and that I shouldn't call the police."
"Well obviously they wouldn't want the police getting involved. And even if they weren't going to hurt Peter if you decided to call the cops, they probably aren't above piling up a load of bodies. Plus, deals like this usually have super-mercenaries attached, and ordinary police forces aren't equipped to handle what the Russians have up their sleeves right now."
"So what do we do? Do we call the Justice League?"
"No. If they're serious about acquiring your research, they'll be keeping an eye on any League activity, doubly-so if Peter is still on American soil," Dr. Pym countered. "No, if we're going to get your nephew back, we're going to need some serious backup."
"Backup like Ant-Man?" Dr. Palmer asked hopefully.
"No. Not like Ant-Man."
"What? Why not?! With your powers, getting Peter back would be easy-"
"You think I don't want to? I can't. I spent years wearing that suit, and it took its toll on me."
"Oh… Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I… I didn't know."
"I don't want your pity," Dr. Pym bit in before he could get a pity party. "Now listen, we can't call the police, we can't call the Justice League, and Ant-Man is retired."
"So… who's going to get my nephew back?"
"Listen… I know a guy."
*THE MIGHTY ATOM*
The Bunker: War Room
November 8, 06:30 EST
"And that's what happened," Colonel said through AR. "Dr. Hank Pym contacted us with the mission details as soon as he was able, but from here-on he's washed his hands of the matter entirely, so our sole point of contact will be Ray Palmer, the uncle of the kidnap victim."
"So what exactly makes this Atomic Compression Machine so dangerous?" Virgil asked after the early-morning mission debrief, he and the other Freelancers on-site in attendance.
It'd been about a week since the Ghost Car had finally been put to rest, though they'd have to wait a whole year until they got their money; assuming the exorcism stuck. With his time freed back up, he began returning to the gym owned by Hotel Moscow and got back to work on his Systema training. In addition, he was able to get a hunting bow from the sporting goods store and convince Marcus to let him use the shooting range in the basement, so he was able to keep his archery skills sharp; something he'd been missing out on until now.
Sure, the Nanosuit helped compensate for his dulled edge with all the bleeding-edge tech packed into it, but that was hardly anything he could feel satisfied about. Not when the "perfect shot" wasn't really through his own merit.
"Long story short, it's like a shrink ray from pulp fiction, only anything it shrinks has the sudden propensity to violently… ah… explode," York explained. "Something about the molecules growing unsteady as they change size or something."
"And this Palmer guy thought showing something like that off at the science expo was a good idea?" the teen gaped exasperatedly.
"Admittedly, it was a dumb move on his part to show off an exploding death-ray," Carolina stated. "However, the application he intended for his technology to be applied to was the energy release from the shrinkage of heavy metals."
"And how exactly does that work?"
"When radioactive nuclear material undergoes nuclear fission, it decays into lighter materials in terms of atomic mass. This energy release creates heat which nuclear power plants use to drive steam-driven turbines, though this fission also generates a lot of radiation and nuclear waste as a consequence," Re-l answered through AR. "In the case of Unstable Compressed Matter, Dr. Palmer's intent was to use heavy metals in conjunction with his Atomic Compression Machine because while the matter still releases a tremendous amount of heat into a controlled environment, the metal dust released by the molecular decay is non-radioactive. A nuclear meltdown is the result of molten uranium coming into contact with ground water and exploding into the air, but Unstable Compressed Mater in the form of heavy metals releases only an inert non-radioactive material."
"However, I doubt the commies have any interest in clean energy," South bit out.
"Taking all of this into account, there are two ways that the Atomic Compression Machine could be utilized by a foreign power," Colonel stated. "The first is that it could be used as-is, used as an energy weapon to cause targets to shrink before exploding when the material loses molecular stability. The second is they could compress a large sphere of iron and turn it into an explosive with similar yield to an atomic warhead, without any of the fallout that would trigger a retaliatory nuclear strike."
"So basically, the next generation of nukes, now made with green energy," Virgil bit out sarcastically, feeling like Venom Snake would be rolling in his grave right now if he learned that one type of nuke had simply been swapped out for another.
"Suffice it to say, we can't let this technology fall into enemy hands," Colonel stated. "Presently, the US and Russia are allies, but without any evidence to rebuke that this is the work of a splinter cell, the only option we have is a Black Ops exfiltration mission; of both the data, and the hostage."
"Right. Because it'd look really bad if we started pointing fingers without any evidence."
"Based on preliminary findings, a splinter cell within the Russian government seems like the most-likely conclusion. At least until any evidence to the contrary is discovered," Colonel stated. "The exchange of the data for the hostage takes place on November 10, 2200 hours on-the-dot, so we only have three days to prepare. Two and a half if you take travel time into account."
"What makes it worse is we have no way of knowing what kind of opposition we'll be encountering when we intercept the exchange," Otacon said from his console up in his office. "While the Russians gave Dr. Palmer a deadline and a general location, the city of Boston in the state of Massachusetts, we have no idea where the actual exchange itself will be taking place. At the earliest, Dr. Palmer will be given until 2000 hours to get in position before receiving final instructions, and there isn't any reason to believe the Russians would spend three days waiting in the same place, so it's highly unlikely the hostage will be brought out into the open prior to the hostage exchange. Hell, there are more than two pages' worth of waterfront warehouses in Google Maps, and that's just assuming they'll want to meet up on the water."
"So then a pre-emptive exfiltration is out," Connie huffed. "So who's taking point on this mission?"
"That would be agent Carolina," Re-l answered, her AR-self turning to the woman in question. "Night Snake will be working under your command with the Nanosuit, in the event it's needed to deal with any heavy hitters conventional weapons can't."
"Splendid," Virgil grumbled with a roll of his eyes, the red-head flinching at his words.
What she'd heard back on All Souls Day was technically heard out-of-context, but it wasn't like she had any way of knowing that. As far as she knew, she was the red-headed bitch he wanted to murder.
And given Virgil had no clue he'd been eavesdropped on, he had no way of knowing there was a misconception that needed clearing-up.
"Our first priority above all else should be the successful exfiltration of the hostage, Peter Parker," Re-l said as a series of hologram screens formed in front of all in attendance, a highschool photo of a nerdy-looking brown-haired teen with coke bottle glasses appearing in the air in front of him.
It was important to know what the hostage-in-question actually looked like.
"What's the kid's relationship to Palmer?" North asked.
"Looking into the Palmer family tree, we're able to speculate that Richard Parker, Peter Parker's father, is the bastard child of David Palmer. I say "bastard" because Richard Parker was conceived out-of-wedlock," Re-l answered.
"So even though Peter's father is contextually a bastard, his uncle still cares for him a great deal," Virgil hummed.
"The preliminary background check shows that both of Ray Palmer's parents, his brother, his ex-wife, and wife are all deceased. In context, Peter Parker is the only family Ray has left," Re-l stated.
"Okay, so then Dr. Palmer will have a vested interest in getting his nephew back," Virgil nodded, happy that Dr. Palmer would be cooperative and not make their job any harder than it had to be. "So this Hank Pym guy… How exactly was he able to pass this along to FOXHOUND so quickly?" he asked, changing the subject.
If he'd gone through conventional channels, this Palmer kid would've been long-dead before anyone knew there was something that had to be done. The fact that he could go straight up he chain of FOXHOUND's command structure and arrange for a rescue mission in half a day spoke of a significant link between them.
"Hank Pym, formerly a member of S.H.I.E.L.D., collaborated with FOXHOUND on a few missions back in the day. Contrary to his Ant-Man moniker, Hank was the heavy hitter in those operations."
"So even though the guy is retired now, he still has 'contacts' he can call on?"
"Yes, though understandably, he wants to put that life behind him. I don't know all the details myself, but apparently he'd spent too many years wearing the suit, and had to retire for medical reasons."
"And the cause of those medical complications are…?"
"Classified."
"Of course they are," Virgil nodded. "Well, it's not like knowing about Ant-Man will have any bearing on this mission. So… Should I just spend the next three days training?"
"As much as you're able to before the deadline. I'll have an optimized training/sleeping schedule forwarded to your quarters," Re-l answered.
"Alright then. I'll just need to go above-ground, send out a text message to the others saying I'll be out of town for a few days, and then be right back."
"That's great to hear," the woman replied, the de-briefing coming to a close moments later. Everyone beginning to file out, just as Virgil was about to leave the War Room, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Virgil. Can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Not now Carolina. I've got more important things to do," the teen said dismissively as he waved his phone at her before walking off.
" . . . He hates me," the woman sighed dejectedly.
"What? No, of course not," York cut in. "He's just… Ah! He's probably just miffed he won't be able to see his girlfriend for the next three days. That's gotta be it."
"You're a bad liar, York," the woman sighed, remembering what she'd heard a while back during eavesdropping.
"Look, why don't you let me talk to him first and take the edge off. I'll call you up once he's in a better mood."
"Thanks York. You're a good friend," the red-head said as she walked off.
"Ouch. Blue balls never hurt so much," North winced.
"Don't you have a sister to babysit?" the man bit out.
"I heard that!" said sister growled out.
*THE MIGHTY ATOM*
"So yeah, long story short, I'm going to be out of town for a few days," Virgil summarized, with necessary omissions.
"Do you want me to get your shield ready?"
"No thank you. It isn't like I'm going to get into a firefight or anything."
Which was mostly true. The intent of the mission was likely going to be a surgical strike to incapacitate all or at least some of them, and then get the hostage out of dodge; not soak up bullets. And plus, the opposition this time around were legit Russians, or at least he assumed as much; no offense to the girl's engineering ability, but if he was going to get shot, it was probably going to be something stronger than a side-arm.
Plus, if he asked for the shield, it'd basically be admitting he was going on the kind of "outing" where he was going to get shot, and that might break his NDA.
Also, even though they were technically dating, no words like "boyfriend" or "girlfriend" had ever come up between them, but even still, the less he made her worry, the better.
The only reason he couldn't cut ties to her altogether was because she, and to an extent the rest of the Moxxi family, had already seen the Nanosuit; albeit not in-action save for Tina whose words could usually be taken with a mountain of salt even when she was being factual.
"Well… alright then. Just… take care of yourself."
"Don't worry, I will," Virgil returned, ending the call before letting out a sight. "Alright then… Back to the grindstone."
*THE MIGHTY ATOM*
The Bunker: Firing Range
November 8, 09:00 EST
"I have to ask… Why the bow and arrow?" South asked.
"It started out as a hobby," Virgil hummed as he twirled an arrow idly in his hand, reacquainting himself with the dexterity he possessed while wearing the Nanosuit. More-specifically the gloves that conformed to his every articulation. "It was something I did as an after-school activity to help the time go by between foster homes, but as time went on… There was a certain satisfaction in being able to do something few others could do, and against those that could, simply being able to do it better."
"Yeah, I get where you're coming from," South hummed. "Nothing like having your hard work be rewarded."
"Exactly," Virgil nodded as he lined up another shot, and loosed his arrow straight into the target with a hearty *THOK*
As South and a couple other Freelancers watched Virgil at work, for the novelty of someone at a firing range using a bow & arrow more than anything else, York and Carolina stood off at the entrance, keeping their distance.
"So… Looks like you've got another mission," York hummed.
"Yeah."
"And you want to bring the kid along."
"He won't get better if we keep coddling him."
"This problem also won't solve itself unless you try to fix it."
"You think I don't know that?" Carolina asked. "I just… I let my emotions get the better of me. I. Never. Let my emotions get the better of me. And the one time in recent memory they did, I beat a kid who isn't even eighteen yet half to death."
"Yeah, I can see why approaching him would be awkward," York nodded. "Which is why I stand by my statement from before. This problem won't solve itself unless you actually try to fix it."
"Which is why I'm waiting for you to break the ice," Carolina returned. "Please, York, I need your help."
"Aw geez, don't give me those puppy-dog eyes," York whined as the red-head looked up at him pleadingly. " . . . For an army brat, you're really good at getting men to do what you want."
"Hey, it worked for my mother," Carolina said returning to her more-stoic visage. "So, you going to help me or not?"
"Alright, alright, no need to get snippy about it," York sighed. "The kid seems to be in a better mood now that he's talking about something he enjoys, so now's as good a time as any to approach him."
"Right behind you."
"-but when there's wind nearby you have to account for a lot more variables than that. Obviously, arrows are more-subject to a crosswind than bullets and-" Virgil said explaining what he knew about ballistics in relation to archery, only to stop when he saw York approaching as well as- "You."
"Um… Hello again," Carolina said bashfully from behind York, trying to be as un-intimidating as possible.
" . . . As I was saying," Virgil said turning to his audience, completely ignoring the red-head as he went back to his explanation.
"Hey, c'mon kid, I know she was a little rough with you, but-"
"A little rough?" Virgil snapped at York. "This crazed nutball beats me within an inch of my life, and you call it a little rough?!"
"Hey, I didn't hurt you that badly!"
"Says the sore loser who lost to Batman before taking it out on a teenager!"
"Yeah, Carolina, what the hell?" South asked accusingly, causing the red-head to flinch back.
Though to be perfectly honest, she didn't care about Virgil as much as she cared for the opportunity to bitch at the #1 Freelancer on the Leaderboard without repercussions.
"Listen, you. I'll work with you, follow orders if I have to, but that's as far as I want to associate with someone like you, so unless you have something important to say, I'd like to get back to my training," Virgil said flatly.
"Someone like me?!" Carolina gawped in offense.
"Yeah, someone like you who holds everyone to an impossible standard, and then beats them within an inch of their life if they don't meet expectations."
"To be fair, you did go a little overboard."
"York you're not helping!" Carolina hissed at the man before turning back to the teenager she'd beat within an inch of his life, as he was wont to remind her. "Look, kid-"
"I have a name. Use it."
"Virgil," Carolina blurted out, realizing calling him something demeaning like "kid" did very little to ingratiate herself to him. Especially when she was trying to get back on his good side and mend burnt bridges. "I'll admit it. I'm a bitch sometimes."
"Sometimes?" South scoffed with a tilt of her head.
"Quiet, you," Carolina growled before turning back to Virgil. "Virgil… I'm sorry. I got over-confident in my skills and my tech, and when I lost to Batman… in addition to you getting the Nanosuit before me… At the time you seemed like the most-logical person to take it all out on."
"So then it was about the suit," Virgil spat. "Let me guess… Being the Nanosuit's test pilot would've gotten you a nice fat promotion and a pay raise, maybe a beach house in a foreign country?"
"It wasn't about the money! It was about being the best!" Carolina yelled back. "I trained harder than everyone so I could be stronger than everyone, so when some upstart comes in wearing my suit, you'll understand if I'm a little… distressed…" she paused, realizing she'd let her emotions get the better of her after being accused of caring for the suit solely for the monetary gains.
" . . . Carolina," Virgil spoke after a very awkward moment of silence.
"Yes?"
"Do you really want to make it up to me?"
"Yes, I do."
" . . . Then go to the sporting goods store uptown and get me everything on this list," Virgil said grabbing a piece of scrap paper before scribbling down a list and handing it off to her. "You do this for me, and I'll consider us even for the shit-kicking you gave me last month."
"Yeah… sure, I can do that…" Carolina replied. She wasn't thrilled about being turned into a gopher, but if she could get back on the right foot with the kid and re-establish a healthy working relationship, she was willing to do a little grunt work. "Um… There's an awful lot on this list," she said seeing not only the list, but the pricing estimates as well.
"Just hold onto the receipt and I'll reimburse you for it later," Virgil waved off. "Or do you just automatically assume I'm not good for it because I'm a "kid"?" he asked with a tilt of his head as he made air bunnies.
"Of course not! If you say you can pay me back, I'll take your word for it," Carolina said waving her hands in a placating manner. "So um… Well… See you later," the red-head said awkwardly as she walked out, list in hand.
" . . . Okay, I'm just going to come right out and say it," South began. "That was fucking funny."
*THE MIGHTY ATOM*
The Bunker: Cafeteria
November 8, 12:14 EST
"So uh… Virgil."
"Yes, York?"
"Why'd you have Carolina go to the sporting goods store just to get you another set of bow and arrows? Don't you already have one of your own?" the man asked as they ate lunch. "Also, isn't FoxCry providing you with the Predator Bow and those collapsible arrows that go in that magazine-quiver thing?"
"In-order, yes, I do have a set of my own, but it'd be really suspicious to bring a bow and arrow set to and from home and a vehicle customization shop," Virigl answered. "The set that Carolina got for me is the one I'll be leaving here in the event I stay consecutive nights. As for the Predator Bow, in order to use that, I either have to be wearing the Nanosuit, or be hopped up on enough Venom to make me as strong as that guy," he said jerking a thumb towards Maine, who even out-of-armor had the largest muscular profile in the entire facility.
"Okay… so… the draw strength on the Predator Bow really is that high?" York asked. Bow and arrow terminology wasn't really his forte, so he wasn't completely sure if he was using those words correctly.
"High enough to take out a rhino. Or so I'm told," Virgil hummed. "Also, do you know how much of a hassle it'll be to request the Nanosuit and squeeze into it every time I want to practice my archery?"
"That's… a good point too," York hummed. If he had to get into full combat gear every time he wanted to use the firing range, it'd just be a lot of wasted time. And in the PMC business, Time = Money. "So… You think you'll be willing to forgive Carolina for what happened?"
"Sure, I don't see why not," Virgil shrugged. "You know… Originally I was going to get that hunting bow and arrows myself, but making Carolina stoop down to my level and get it for me was pretty damn satisfying," he said with a grin.
"Yeesh. Remind me not to get on your bad side."
"Well, you know the old saying. The toes you step on today are connected to the ass you'll have to kiss tomorrow," Virgil chuckled.
"That's… certainly an interesting way of looking at it," York admitted, since in context Carolina was kissing the ass connected to the toes she'd tread on. "So… Are you just not comfortable with guns, or…?"
*THE MIGHTY ATOM*
The Bunker: Firing Range
November 8, 13:21 EST
"Wow . . . I thought the suit was doing most of the work for you, but you're pretty damn good at this," York hummed an hour later as Virgil stood in the firing range with his new hunting bow, now out-of-Nanosuit as he turned a ballistics target downrange into a pincushion.
"The Nanosuit might be a marvel of cutting-edge technology, but I won't always be able to use it. If I let it become my crutch, I'll actually become a worse shot. That's why I need to keep up the fundamentals," Virgil said as he nocked another arrow, letting it loose a few seconds later. "Plus, there's just something so satisfying about nailing the perfect shot with your own flesh and blood."
"I guess I understand where you're coming from," York hummed. "Using equipment that gives you a real-life aimbot does seem like it'd cheapen the whole thing. Especially with all the time and effort you put into getting this good with a bow and arrow," he said remaking how-close the arrows in the dummy were together. He wasn't splitting any arrows, but anything on the receiving end of that many dead-on shots would definitely be feeling it the next morning.
Assuming they weren't dead from cascading organ failure, because anatomically, if that dummy was a human, their heart and lungs would've all been turned to ground hamburger.
And that was without the Nanosuit. For all York knew, arrows fired with that thing on might fly completely through their intended target into whatever or whoever was right behind them.
Suffice it to say, the man was re-evaluating just how-dangerous a guy like Green Arrow could really be if he tried.
Of course, the infamous "Boxing Glove Arrow" was a bit hammy, so downplaying the guy's feats was made kind of easy.
Hell, some people regarded Aquaman as a "gag character" because of a misconception that he was completely useless on dry land, but when his "base stats" included the fact that he was bulletproof… Let's just say that those who actually saw him in action were quick to defend the orange-clad hero from their contemporaries.
"So… Have you ever tried to William Tell someone?"
"Are you fucking high?! That shit's dangerous! One wrong move and someone loses an eye. If they're lucky!"
"Okay, that was a little insensitive, I'll admit," York replied. "So… Back to what I was saying earlier before you wowed me. Do you have some kind of aversion to firearms?"
"Not particularly, I'm just grateful to the craft that kept me alive," Virgil said landing another arrow in what little remaining space there was before he started breaking arrows.
"Care to elaborate?" North asked.
"Back in NYZ, it wasn't like a zombie-genre survival game where you'd find entire boxes of ammo lying around. Back then, I had to take advantage of the fact that in all the sporting goods stores, all the arrows were left relatively untouched," Virgil answered. "Also, assuming an arrow's in good shape, you can pull it out of whatever you hit and use it again. Can't do the same thing with a bullet, now can you?"
"So it's a matter of being cost and resource-efficient?" North asked.
"Exactly," Virgil answered as he pressed a button in his booth and had his target slide back forward along its rail. "Do you know how much money I'd been pissing away if I'd been firing bullets for the past few hours?" he asked as he began plucking arrows free. "What I like about arrows is that they can be re-used, especially in practice like this. While I understand training with firearms is essential for what I'll be expected to do in the future, you can do things with the bow and arrow that you just can't do with guns as-effectively."
"Name one," North said in disbelief.
"You can fire an arrow in a parabola, change drawstring tension to alter how the arrow will behave, and unlike guns, arrows don't need silencers to be stealthy," the teen listed off. "Oh, and by the way, silencers are not, silent. They still make a pretty noticeable sound."
" . . . Okay, those are fair points," North hummed. " . . . You aren't going to make a Boxing Glove Arrow of your own, are you?"
"Are you fucking high?! No way that shit's aerodynamic!"
*THE MIGHTY ATOM*
The Bunker: VIP Barracks
November 9, 08:31 EST
The following morning, waking up to a welcome soreness in his right shoulder, Virgil decided to instead focus on his marksmanship. With the familiar tranquilizer gun in mind, he stepped out of his cabin after a warm shoulder, a familiar face ready to greet him.
"So… Um… Morning."
"Carolina. Good morning."
"So… What'd you think of the bow?" she groused.
"It's a good bow," the teen returned as he made his way to the cafeteria for breakfast. " . . . Relax. I forgave you after you did my grunt work for me. We're fine."
"Oh… That's good."
"Yeah. It's easier to forgive you for being a bitch sometimes than it is to hold a grudge," the teen replied, Carolina walking alongside him. "So about your loss to Batman…" he began, the woman sighing tiredly. "You'll get him next time."
"You really think so?"
"Well, I mean you'll never win if you just give up," Virgil returned. "I assume you were trying to stall Batman so he wouldn't be able to get a bead on us?" he asked, the red-head nodding. "Then you still technically won."
" . . . Sorry I took my loss out on you."
"And I'm sorry I blamed it on your period, so now we're even," he said flatly, dashing off before he could receive any reprisal.
*THE MIGHTY ATOM*
The Bunker: Firing Range
November 9, 11:04 EST
"So… From what I hear, you're a Two-Percenter."
"Yeah? What of it?"
"It's just… If you can kill people without hesitating, why're you training with tranquilizer rounds?" she asked as the brunette fired downrange.
Of course, the rounds weren't actually live, they were just weighted down with a dummy liquid. Unlike bullets, tranquilizer rounds were more-subject to gravity because they had less propellant in the bullet casing. Also, the end of the bullet had a different shape because it was a small syringe, not an actual bullet.
"Oh trust me, I've got no problem killing people. Blackwatch knows that all too well," the teen chuckled as he thought back on the euphoria he felt putting those Nazi fuckers six feet under. Hell, some of them started getting paranoid that it was Evolved with freaking crossbows, and that was good for a laugh. "However, if I kill every bad guy in front of me, that just gives them the easy way out. I still believe that criminals should be made to pay for their crimes, and you can't do that if you're dead."
" . . . Fair point," Carolina admitted. "While it is easier to drop bodies, I guess I can understand that stance. Though there won't always have the option to take prisoners."
"It also won't always be an option to kill all the things," Virgil returned. "If someone needs to be captured alive, it's kinda hard to do that if you paint the broad side of a barn with their brains."
" . . . That's also fair," the woman admitted. " . . . Your form is wrong."
"Then teach me," Virgil said flatly. "That's what you wanted to get back on my good side for, right?"
" . . . I've never had to teach anyone before."
"Clearly."
*THE MIGHTY ATOM*
The Bunker: Gym
November 9, 14:11 EST
"Well, it's nice to see the two of them getting along again," York hummed as Virgil and Carolina sparred in the ring, the latter giving the prior pointers as they refined his CQC.
"Yeah, but something seems a little… off," North hummed, noticing their rhythm was broken intermittently.
"Hmmm… Well, she's never really had to teach anyone before, so maybe she's just struggling?" York suggested.
"Well, nice to see Little Ms. Perfect isn't good at everything," Connie hummed, feeling a bit vindicated about the whole thing. " . . . You really think he's ready for the upcoming mission?"
"He'll have to get involved sometime," North stated. "Assuming everything goes to plan, all we'll have to do is commence a clean, surgical strike and rescue the hostage. And even if things go pear-shaped-"
"Which they usually do," his sister hummed.
"-he has the most bleeding-edge piece of military technology at his disposal. Bulletproofing and invisibility capabilities will be good tools for keeping him alive," he went on to say. " . . . I just wish this responsibility hadn't been foisted onto a kid. He isn't even eighteen yet."
"Yeah, well, conventional age restrictions go out the window when you consider where he came from," York hummed, having read the report in more detail. All things considered, he was just glad the Nanosuit was no longer in the hands of Blackwatch, though he wasn't comfortable with them having that much control of Manhattan and the surrounding area.
Still, the entire place was under Quarantine, so it wasn't like they could really do anything about it. They'd already lost Montana and Nebaraska to the Red Zone, but at the very least, they didn't get turned to any of those… things skulking around Manhattan.
"If that kid wasn't a Two-Percenter, he'd probably be another statistic," Connie sighed.
"Right. And whether we like it or not, that kid's up to his eyeballs in the family business," North sighed. "It sucks that someone so-young was dragged into our world, but he can't go back to a normal life, so the most we can do is make it so he can stand on his own, even when we're gone."
"Right. So let's make sure the kid's primed and ready!" Connie said pounding her fist into her palm. "Hey Carolina, your teaching methods suck! Step back while I show you how it's really done!" she said vaulting into the ring.
*THE MIGHTY ATOM*
Boston, Massachusetts
November 10, 20:00 EST
For the past few days, Ray Palmer's sanity had been holding on by a thread.
It wasn't that he was going to go funny-farm crazyor anything, but having his nephew abducted by Russians and having to continually lie to the boy's aunt and uncle… it was very trying on the Ivy University scientist. Knowing that his technology was the nexus of all this only made things worse, and if anything happened to his nephew because of it, he'd never be able to forgive himself.
The man was only too grateful that his former mentor had humored him long enough to ask for help, because while ordinarily he'd trade the data for family in a heartbeat, he knew he couldn't let the Russians have their cake and eat it too. The Atomic Compression Machine in the wrong hands could be utterly devastating.
While getting the assistance of the covertly-legendary Ant-Man would've been most-preferable, there wasn't any way he could ask the aging man to put on a suit that'd been slowly killing him all those years.
After receiving another burner phone mere hours after his call to Dr. Pym, Ray had learned that the "a guy" Hank mentioned was connected to FOXHOUND, the elite Special Forces group. Knowing that a group like that had his back and that they'd be doing everything in their power to get back his nephew, and keep his data from falling into evil hands, caused a wave of relief to flood through him.
In regards to his FOXHOUND handler, all he was told at first was to follow the kidnapper's demands and prepare the data for his Atomic Compression Machine and not tamper with any of the data. The possibility existed that the Russians would attempt to verify the veracity of the data on-site, and trying to sabotage them would just get both himself and his nephew killed.
The following day he'd done as-asked, getting the necessary data readied on an external hard drive. When the dean of Ivy University had asked why, his practiced reply was that he was getting ready for a conference out-of-state. It wasn't technically incorrect, if by "conference" he meant "hostage exchange". Fortunately, the dean bought it, and no red flags were raised.
After his assigned handler confirmed that everything was readied on his end, he was then given instructions to move ahead to Boston and arrange for a brief stay at a designated hotel while he awaited the next call from the Russians. Ray had asked why they didn't try searching for his nephew beforehand, but he was then made to feel really stupid after he was told that the kidnappers would likely not spend three days squatting at the exchange point, and would instead be keeping to ground until the last possible moment.
The days that passed seemed to stretch on forever. Wiling away the hours by making minor adjustments to his off-the-books pet project and dining on takeout Chinese, the man kept the doors locked and curtains drawn as-instructed by his handler.
Eventually, at 2000 hours on the 10th, the moment of truth came.
Receiving his final call from the Russians, he was given final verification to where the exchange was to be made. Before they could hang up however, Ray followed the advice of "the guy" that Hank sent his way, and demanded "proof of life"; otherwise he was going to walk away. It was a gamble to be sure, but the data on the Atomic Compression machine was important-enough to them that the Russians acquiesced to his request, putting his nephew on the phone.
"Uncle Ray… Uncle Ray, is that you?" his nephew asked worriedly as soon as he was put on the line.
"Don't worry, Peter, you're going to be okay. Don't do anything stupid, I'm coming to get you."
"Okay… Okay, I'll sit tight-"
"Enough talking. You bring drive, you get nephew back," a heavy Russian accent cut off, killing the line.
" . . . Okay… My nephew is alive, and I have the address," Ray said looking at the scratch paper, the address for the rendezvous written down with excruciating detail. "Time to call in the cavalry," he said turning to his other burner phone. " . . . Yeah, it's me, Ray. I have the coordinates."
"Confirmed. Text the rendezvous point through the secure line, make sure the spell-checker doesn't mis-spell anything. I'm going to send you return coordinates to the retrieval team. Leave nothing behind when you check out."
"Got it," the man replied. "To be honest… all this spy thriller stuff would be more fun if it wasn't my nephew's life on the line. Grass is always greener," he lamented to himself.
Packing his bags, making doubly-sure not to leave anything behind, and then triply-sure, Ray Palmer checked out of his hotel room without incident, and drove off into the night.
To Be Continued…