Variant Strain

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The voice was a smooth and resonant baritone. The cultured and polished voice wasn't a real one, but it was the one he heard in his head whenever the electronic ones sounded. "Remember, despite her biological or chronological age, Jessica has had no significant interaction with anyone since her fifteenth birthday. Not in any meaningful way. Emotionally and mentally she is still very much as she was when she was first infected. She has had no opportunity to grow or mature."

"And she also happens to be able to make anyone near her do anything she wants." It was impossible to avoid sarcasm when dealing with Henry sometimes. He made it so easy.

"Among other things," The voice said agreeably, "While her strain shares a few superficial similarities to a Beckoner, she is considerably stronger, faster and more resilient than her appearance would suggest. However, the true danger lies in her ability to control the Hydra. She can tailor the effects of infection to some degree--"

He cut the voice off before it could go fully into another lecture. "I know all of this. What I don't understand is why you are telling me all over again."

"Because it may prove useful to you, Curt." The voice was mild. Chiding. There was a small bit of engineered hurt in the tone that implied its owner didn't understand why he was being so difficult.

He relented slightly as he replied, "You're sending me into the belly of the beast--"

"Ha. Ha." The voice said with teasingly sarcastic laughter.

That was the last straw for him. "You know what I mean, you overgrown tumor." He said in what he wanted to be a snarl, but it came out just as flat and unaffected as anything else he could manage, "You're sending me down there hoping that the boy's blood is going to protect me. Why not Miles?"

"Your Gragan strain is rarer. It is one that developed naturally. Outside her influence. It is one she is not directly familiar with and will find you more interesting than Dr. Warren's half-completed Tracker transformation."

"You want her to control me."

"I want her to make an honest attempt."

"You're throwing me away."

"You are a more valuable resource." The voice said, soothing, "It ensures her attempt. You are a good friend to me, Curt, but you know that we have to stop her."

"We have no guarantee this is going to work. You're sending me down there to lose my mind." He responded softly.

The voice continued to be mild, "If need be, yes. But I have every confidence."

"In what, I wonder?" He said sourly.

Peter gasped as he surfaced from the memory. It had been clearer and more vivid than any he'd experienced before short of Ed Whelan's memory of his mother. That had happened less than an hour ago. Right after he'd left Pym.

He knew he was on all fours, heaving and gasping. He tried to rise back to his feet, hoping that it was done, but the thought of his mother seemed to trigger another memory to rise.

"Back off!" Parker roared, cradling the pistol in both hands. The gun roared and men and women who had been colleagues, co-workers, acquaintances... they all fell. There simply seemed to be more than there should have been.

The man had shot his intern. A pretty blonde whose name he couldn't even remember. She'd just gotten him a cup of coffee and now she was on the floor, twitching and shaking even as her legs deformed and lengthened. Her blood made abstract patterns on the tile from the gut shot she'd taken.

He could feel the fever overtaking him. He knew the man. The security chief. Mary's husband. He was out of bullets, but he hadn't stopped fighting. His body was changing as well. Thickening, His hair was falling out and his shoulders were beginning to tear open his uniform. His hands could no longer even hold the unloaded pistol.

Dr. Parker was running past him, a syringe in one hand, shouting something that he couldn't make out.

Chief Parker was trying to tell her to stay back, but it had come out as an incoherent roar.

He could still understand. He understood how it worked. How Hydra would unfold into a host of lethal, lesser virii that would multiply in his brain first, burning out his higher faculties. Searing through the capacity for abstract thought, for memory, for a sense of self... Then it would work on the rest of him. He could already feel an itching sensation in his arm. The bone in his bicep felt mushy and tender.

The fever raged. His body was burning hot. As though he were drying out like a piece of jerky.

He watched Chief Parker change, tearing entirely out of his clothes. A single Hunter-form. A dim part of him recognized how odd that was. Hunters generally attained their size from infusions of mass from a Hive. As a Hunter, Parker was smaller than the usual, but it didn't diminish his strength or ferocity one bit.

Nor did it seem to affect his impulse to protect his wife. The newly transformed Hunter, still wearing the tatters of his uniform leaped to Dr. Parker's side and batted away Dr. Warren as he moved closer.

Warren always did have a crush on Mary. Curt always knew Richard Parker would deal with Warren if he tried anything. That just proved it.

Mary hadn't changed at all. She was just as exposed as they were, but she still looked the same... granted the sudden ability to perform twenty foot leaps from a standing start and the blinding display of speed were probably new.

Chief Parker, the newly minted Hunter, held Jessica. She was awake. Why was she awake? How had she even made it to this floor? Dr. Parker was stabbing her with a syringe. Her eyes were fluttering. The light in those red glowing eyes dimmed.

She wasn't the only one going to sleep, Connors could tell. Dr. Parker was beginning to slump against her. The needle was still in Jessica's throat and even from this distance the spot of blood stood out in stark contrast against her pale, pale skin.

His arm was drooping... he vaguely recognized the sensation of his hand slapping against his knee. He could also feel himself losing out... losing... so hard to focus... so hungry... but then came the voice. Smooth and cultured and polished.

"No, Dr. Connors. Stay with us. Fight it. You need to fight it Curt."

"... Who are...?"

"It's Henry Pym, Curt. The voice of Ultron. Stay with us."

"Ultron's a machine--"

"No, I'm not. I need you to focus on my voice, Curt. You need to keep control."

Peter came back to himself on his back staring up the barrel of a rifle.

Past the barrel was the bright yellow beekeeper mask of a Thunderbolt soldier. "Good morning, sunshine." The voice said with mock cheer. Peter recognized Schultz's voice.

"Is it morning already?" Peter asked blearily, not moving from his position on the ground.

"Who knows?" Schultz said with a gesture that might have started as a shrug, but he stopped himself before it could alter his aim.

"It's about three in the afternoon." Petruski's voice responded off to one side. He also had his rifle trained on Peter.

Peter shifted, preparing to roll back to his feet when Schultz made a noise in his throat. "Hey, look. Don't move, alright? We saw what happened when you were running away. The Captain figures you can probably shrug off regular bullets, but if we pump you with enough lead you still end up getting hurt and slowed down."

His eyes narrowed. He was reasonably sure he could take a few rifle rounds. Especially if he brought the shield up. Even with a few dozen slugs inside him, there was a pretty good chance he could blow past them.

Then there was the sense of the Hunter calling his attention, forcing him to shift his eyes to something that was only in the periphery of his vision.

Schultz added, "And if you think you can survive a couple of rifle rounds, I want to call your attention to our new friend here, Private Blake. Say 'hi', Donnie."

Off to Peter's left, where he had a clear line of fire without Schultz or Petruski getting in his way stood another Thunderbolt soldier. This one was huge. He was slightly taller than Captain Bradley. Where Bradley tended towards the lean despite his height, Blake was almost half as wide as he was tall. What did catch Peter's attention however was the massive six-barreled Gatling-style gun that was rested on a folding tripod that had sunk into the viral matting.

"Hallo," Blake's Swedish accented voice called back cheerfully. "God dag."

Schultz continued in a conversational tone, "In case you were wondering, that thing he's got pointed at you? That is a Hammer Industries MJ01 Mini-gun. It shoots thousands of bullets, each one the size of my middle-finger, in under a minute. He's got a full load of ammo, so I figure he's got enough for about three minutes worth of sustained fire. You want to find out what that can do to you?"

Peter swallowed nervously, but shook his head. He took a deep breath then. Other than the three surrounding him, there none of the other Thunderbolts were anywhere nearby. He wondered briefly if these men were the last survivors, but they seemed too calm for that.

"See, I'm pretty sure you can survive getting turned into chunky salsa, but it's probably gonna sting something awful in the morning, y'get me?" Schultz said meaningfully. "You make one move wrong and he brings the hammer down on you. Clear?"

Peter nodded and he could sense Schultz grinning at him from under his helmet. What he could see of the man's eyes through the visor seemed to indicate that he was smiling.

"So that kinda tells me what I need to know. You're still sane, right? No urges to go serve Madam Hydra back there? No mindless cannibalistic desires?"

"No." Peter replied sullenly.

Schultz said, "See? That's interesting. Ain't that interesting, Pete?"

Peter startled at that, but Donna hissed in his mind and he caught himself, forcing himself to stay still.

Petruski nodded then replied laconically. "Yep. Rational."

It was all Peter could do not to let out a sigh of relief.

Schultz kept talking, "Which is really weird, since you aren't wearing NBC gear like we are. We saw you in there. You got full exposure to whatever she's pumping out, you know? All those sexy-time vibes. I mean you got a good long look at her, so you know what I'm saying, right? Va-va-voom."

Peter could swear he could see the man's eyebrows waggling despite the mask.

"We were all feeling it despite the filters." Schultz gestured to Petruski, "This tubby wuss over here is gayer than a tree full of monkeys and he was popping a chubby over her."

"Screw you, Schultz," Petruski said mildly.

"You wish," Schultz taunted back. "You been dreamin' of that for weeks."

At that point Blake pointed out, his Swedish accent making his words sing-song, "If he's the gay one, why were you watching his crotch?"

It was all Peter could do to keep from chuckling as Schultz sputtered at the man holding the Gatling gun. It took a moment, but Schultz got his control back. He seemed to have relaxed somewhat. Certainly enough that he was willing to look away and allow his rifle's aim to waver from Peter briefly.

Not yet. Not distracted enough, yet, the Hunter counseled.

"What happened to 'don't ask, don't tell?" Peter asked, unable to stop himself.

Schultz actually shrugged this time, "We don't need to ask. Everybody can tell."

Petruski's only response was an annoyed clearing of his throat.

"Anyway, our orders were to stop the Madame Hydra back there by whatever means necessary." Schultz said, "The computer told us that it had her trapped down here. That she turned some unused service tunnels into a hive. Except all the virus gunk down here looks old. Real old. Ain't no way these are only a couple of days old. The Sarge notices these things."

Peter cleared his throat, "What else did the--" He paused and couldn't help adding the emphasis, "Computer, tell you about what was down here?"

Schultz eyed him for a long moment then said, "Said we'd be able to pin her down. Trap her in the big chamber back there. Except there were a bunch of exits. Access to the sewers. Then the rest of the infected started showing up." His voice hardened slightly. "She even got a couple of our guys. Once the Walkers got in range, they just pulled the guys' masks off and next thing you know they'd switched sides."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Peter replied.

"Yeah, well... them's the breaks," Schultz replied. "We pulled back. Blew the tunnel... then the damn corridors started closing on us." He tilted his head slightly towards Petruski then to Blake. "We got separated from everyone else. Radios don't work for crap down here. We hear bits and pieces. Enough to know some of 'em are still alive. We've been trying to get back to 'em. These tunnels are a mess. They keep looping back into that chamber. I saw someone wire the tunnel mouth they came out of to blow before goin' back in. Figure sooner or later we're gonna catch up to everyone else and get out of here."

Peter asked in a level tone, "Then what?"

"Then we call in a damn air-strike and collapse the building on the damn infected, that's what." Schultz snarled.

"Won't work." Petruski said soberly. "Too deep. They'll get away, then we'd have to hunt 'em in collapsed tunnels."

"Thank you, Mister Negative." Schultz snapped.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Peter asked finally.

Schultz finally slung his rifle back over his shoulder and seemed to relax. Petruski did the same, but Blake kept his gun trained on Peter. "I'm doin' a Hannibal Lecter thing. Quid pro quo. I'm telling you all this stuff, cause I want you to tell me stuff."

"Also he talks a lot when he's nervous." Petruski quipped.

"Shut. Up." Schultz swung his rifle around once more, aiming it directly between Peter's eyes. "Something is screwy here. The Sarge knows it. The Cap knows it too, but they're too regulation to actually try askin' questions, y'know? Me? I'm a crap soldier. I don't know when to shut up."

"Honest truth." Petruski chimed in.

Peter glanced over to Blake who seemed to also have relaxed somewhat, but still had the mini-gun aimed at him. "What about him?"

"I'm just a dumb grunt that doesn't know any better." Blake called back. "Not my fault when the senior man on the team starts interrogating the infected instead of shooting them."

"Anyway, I have got questions. Loads of 'em." Schultz continued, ignoring the byplay. "You have been running around giving us headaches all week. The Sarge made some guesses, but I wanna know what the hell is going on, Parker."

Peter froze once more and realized that they had heard Jessica right before the tunnel collapsed.

"That's your name, right? It's Parker? You aren't Cassidy or Whelan." Peter could clearly hear the note of triumph in Schultz's voice. "Petruski over here actually pays attention to the briefings. And he reads through all the reports Gentek security sends us. He remembers who Parker is, don'tcha Pete?"

Petruski nodded. "This mess started when Ed Whelan pulled a runner after killing Mary Parker."

"See? The way your fists are tightening tells me that pisses you off. Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one." Schultz leaned in closer, "Parker name comes up again when Gentek security corners the Runner at the Parker residence while chasing Ed Whelan... except Ed had no reason to go there. He had no connection to the Parkers except as the nurse taking care of Mary."

Peter's tongue darted out, licking his lips worriedly.

"The Sarge ain't said it out loud, but he thinks you're some kind of deniable Gentek Security asset. You're too well trained. It isn't that you got infected recently... it's that you slipped your leash."

Peter blinked.

Schultz gestured to Petruski once more. "Told you. He reads all the reports. All sorts of stuff stick to his memory. Like the fact that the Gentek Tower security chief was Mary Parker's husband at the time they got infected. Now that she's gone, Gentek's got no leverage on you. You stopped keeping a low profile. Ain't that right, Richard?"

Peter stared and tried to keep from twitching. He said slowly, "You guys think I'm Richard Parker."

"Well obviously you're gonna deny it," Schultz shrugged. "Gentek's been keeping you under wraps for years. It fits. It also explains why you keep getting away from us. You know how we operate already."

In the back of his head Cletus was howling with laughter.

Donna whispered, He actually does have a point. You do know Gentek security procedure inside and out because of us.

"That also means you know what the hell Gentek's been keeping from us." Schultz said after a moment. "For instance why the hell is there a frickin' Hive smack in the middle of Manhattan?!"

"You don't know?" Peter asked incredulously.

"Know what?" Schultz pressed.

"Dr. Henry Pym." Peter replied. "You don't know about Pym?"

"Who?" Schultz asked again, turning to Petruski.

"Head of Research for Gentek. Been involved in hush-hush stuff since the seventies." Petruski replied dutifully. "Heard he's the one who kept telling the General we should've been deployed in Manhattan instead of Queens."

"Fine. What about him?" Schultz demanded.

Peter gestured. "Meet Doctor Henry Pym."

"Wha--?"

"You really didn't know about this?" Peter asked. "I thought Thunderbolts command set the whole thing up. He used to be at your Thunderbolt Mountain facility until a couple of years ago."

Blake, Schultz and Petruski exchanged uneasy glances.

Blake asked softly, "How big?"

"Pretty much the entire building above us and I don't know how far down here." Peter replied. "I'm guessing, but I think he's spread out for a couple blocks at least."

After the long silence, Petruski finally spoke, "Our job is to contain this stuff. Why would they set up a Hive in the middle of one of the most densely populated--"

Schultz nodded. "Well if it's been here that long, that explains why those infected out there were so coordina--"

Peter cut him off, "That wasn't from the Hive. It's been here this whole time. That was all just Jessica Drew. Patient Two. Madame Hydra. Whatever you want to call her. She can control infected like a Hive does."

"You're kidding." Schultz said flatly.

"We just assumed it was the Hive doing it." Petruski murmured.

Peter pressed on, "And while Hank Pym's content to sit in the middle of Manhattan keeping his infected contained and under control, Jessica isn't. She wants to spread Hydra. I think... she's probably already getting some limited control over the immediate area of the Hive around her." Peter continued, realizing that Connors flat, soft voice was whispering the terminology into his mind. "If she can get to Hank's central neural cluster, she can potentially take him over. All of him. All at once. That means all the infected he actually does have control of as well."

"A huge, fully active, infectious hive in the middle of mid-town Manhattan." Petruski said in horrified awe.

"We need to make sure the Captain knows." Blake chimed in.

Schultz sighed and grumbled. "Have I mentioned how much I hate this city?"

It was at that point that the floor suddenly irised open beneath Peter, dropping him out of sight.

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