More than one mission
The next morning I get up extra early and go for the monuments run again. I take a moment, though, to tour the WWII memorial because I've never been. (Hi, FDR! Hi, Fala!) And as I pound around the pavement afterward, I think that the memorial, like all memorials, is grand and splendid, and ultimately hollow and sterile. It's sanitized, even this one honoring the last good war. And I think that if you're going to do a memorial right, you need to actually show the blood and guts of it. Explosions going off to the right of you, the whine of bullets to your left. The smell of blood spilling and clotting and drying on a hot day, screams and men shouting in foreign languages. The confusion and fear and determination of it. Hot sand and wet jungle from the Pacific. Muddy fields and trees splintering from bombardments and clearing towns house to house. Of course, tourism would immediately stutter to a halt, because that's too real. It's easier to talk about sacrifice than actually do it, or standing around looking at marble and bronze honoring heroes before checking the site off the list of touristy things to do before going to a bar for a refreshing beverage and tapas. And you suspect that you might not have the guts to do what those soldiers did, if it was down to you. Then, just because, I took the steps up and down the great penis of monuments, the Washington Monument. I took out my earpiece and put it in my bra, first, though. Don't need any commentary on the puffing and panting as I go. I'm not worried about missing anything because the thing vibrates slightly when somebody is speaking and it tickles. I actually forget about it until I'm back in the hotel and it falls to the carpet when I go to take my shower.
I'm almost ready when there's a knock on the door. "Mr Stark is upset because you're not answering," Peter reports, and I roll my eyes.
"I was in the shower," I explain to Peter. "Are these things even waterproof?"
"Mr Stark says they are and that you should leave yours in at all times, especially in the shower or if you're taking a bath," Peter relates, a little nervously.
"No," I just say, shaking my head, and I slip on my pumps.
"Oh, and we're supposed to check out of this place." It doesn't take me long to pack as I never unpack; I just have to grab my toiletries and doublecheck to make sure nothing went astray. I grab my jacket and bags and we head out. I finally slip the earbug back in once we're in the elevator.
In the conference room, though, Tony's teasing is absent as he sets up another presentation. "Lots of activity at the manufacturing point, boys and girls," he says briskly. "Last night everybody came by. So we have pictures and biographies. Now, in order, from most normal to least, we have Copperhead, aka Davis Lawters. American. He seems to be straight human. Strong, he works out and all, but he's got micromesh chainmail armor, a fang-like grappling hook, suction cups for wall scaling, and wrist doohickies that produce paralyzing electrical blasts.
"Fer de Lance, one Teresa Vasquez, from Puerto Rico. She has superhuman strength and durability, trained in hand to hand and in sharp weapons. She has these foot-long talons attached one to each wrist, and apparently they're coated with poison of some kind.
"Then there's Asp, Cleo Nefertiti, also known as Temptress, from Egypt. Her character's a bit of a cliche, but don't underestimate her. She can ooze venom from her pores, adjust the potency of the venom to paralyze or kill, and she has energy venom bolts. She can rebuild her energy levels in about ten minutes by doing this swaying, undulating thing, so if you see her doing that, stop her. She's a skilled pilot and hacker, and she's also a dancer, both classically-trained and exotic." More than one pair of eyebrows quirked at that.
"Then we've got Puff Adder, or Gordon Fraley, as his parents named him. American, some mutations. He can puff himself up to make himself bigger and superhuman stronger and can breathe a corrosive, toxic gas strong enough to go through metal.
"And there's Rattler. Gustav Kringer from Poland. He's the other student at the school, Emma. He's got a seven foot long bionic tail."
"The hell?" Sam complained.
"Must be detachable, because there's no mention anywhere locally about a guy with a tail that can't be tucked away in his pants. It can grip, bludgeon, support weight up to about 550 pounds, and even more fun, he can shake it to produce a sonic shockwave that can confuse and disorient people up to ten feet away. His major weakness is that he's about 85% deaf and depends on hearing aids in his uniform cowl."
Tony brings up the final picture and pauses. The man isn't remarkable looking, so he must be pretty bad in abilities. "This is Cobra. Klaus Voorhees, Dutch by birth. He was a former criminal, working with a doctor on a humanitarian mission, when he was bitten by a radioactive cobra. Unlike our boy Sess, his body was mutagenically altered in very major ways to help him simulate a snake's movement. All his bones are extremely malleable and the muscles are extraordinarily resilient and pliable. Because of these characteristics, he can fit his entire body through openings as small as six inches in diameter. His extreme flexibility also enables him to produce a constructor-like grip and the man can slither for short bursts at up to fifty mph. On top of that, he has a silicon/graphite dust suit to make him even more slippery, suction devices to enable him to go up walls and across ceilings, and blades coated in cobra venom."
"I think I'm going to throw up," I muttered, and Bucky patted my arm.
"This bunch think that they will be finished in production of their goo early this evening; they're working through the day to get it done, and they'll be dumping it tonight, whenever they've got it done," Tony finished grimly.
Steve stood. "This is beyond us and the local cops. We have to bring in the big guns; they'll have to go to The Raft when we capture them. Tony will be working with the FBI, and we will be taking the lead on this operation. I don't actually think we'll have much trouble insisting on that point, although Ross doesn't mind being a hero with other people's lives. But whether or not they're ready, we go tonight. We will infiltrate the reservoir this afternoon, regardless of what Tony manages to arrange by then, and we will wait until the snake guys all show up, and we will take them into custody. However, given the nature of the mutations in this crew, we will be using lethal means to apprehend them. Especially Cobra. I can't imagine that capture will be easy or maybe even possible, so if you get a kill shot, don't hesitate to take it." His eyes rake over the team, lingering on Peter and me. "If it's him or one of us, there's no contest." He takes some questions, then makes some specific assignments. I am preferentially to target Asp because my skin is impervious to damage. We're kind of assuming poison or venom wouldn't penetrate my skin because other liquids, including acids I use in my workshop don't, but we don't know for sure. It's a good reason to try to stay out of range, at least to start with. Peter is not to engage any of them directly but to use his webbing to incapacitate. He looks rebellious.
"Yes, part of it is because you're under age," Steve tells him, up front. "But another part of it is that you're not used to fighting in a team. We can work on that this summer when you come out, but there is a difference. And your ability to throw webbing around will really help us. We need at least some of them alive to question, if possible." Peter looks somewhat mollified by Steve's bluntness and rationale. "Stark and I are going to be on the phone, lining things up, so I want you all to take it easy today. Eat balanced meals, rest up. I want you ready when it's time to move out." He and Tony grab their pads and go into another room to set this op up.
The day is excruciatingly boring. Nobody talks a lot and I think we're all freaked out by this Cobra guy, even Bucky. It's a relief when Steve comes out and tells us to suit up. He goggles at me briefly; I took some time to dye my hair a hot pink. I don't like the white hair with the costume because the white hair is me. I like change that I can put on or take off with the costume. I have some new contacts that cover most of the eye and have a small ability to adsorb particles to the surface, which may help with all the toxins that could be thrown around. Plus they're black, which looks kind of cool or disturbing, depending on your mindset. They brought both the white armor and the first suit I had from my Armorer identity, the gray leather one. I choose this one because if there's electric bolts being shot out, I do not want to be wrapped in conductive metal. Plus I can wear the urumi with this one. I've got the flexible white mask as well, which I wear despite the contacts. I need all the help I can get, I think.
Infiltration isn't hard; we park a ways away and we are dropped off on the way so that we can take up preassigned observation points. I climb a tree at some distance from the pools of water and start scanning. Sam can also scan through a few spectra using the goggles from his suit, so he's covering another approach. We made it to the reservoir around dusk, so it's not as absurd as it would have looked during the day, a bunch of adults in weird costumes.
It's been full dark for several hours before I get the first hint of the impending conflict. It's cold, I'm chilly, and I kinda need to pee, but that gets pushed out of my mind when I see a knot of heat signatures moving slowly over a ridge. I report this and Cap puts the team on notice. Sam sees another group moving toward another of the open pools, so it looks like they're just planning on dumping and running. Wanda reports that a man matching the description of Copperhead just knocked the guard in the guardhouse unconscious; the other guards should be on rounds, that's their usual MO, but tonight they've been taken off their duties. The baddies shouldn't be aware of this, though.
My bunch of baddies contains Asp, so yay, I'm in the right place. She's wearing a very thin white body suit that is more of a distraction than a costume, sleeveless with high-cut legs and neckline, and little fall of fabric over her butt like a tail. Her comrade Puff Adder keeps eyeing her boobs. Her dark hair is long and loose, which is good for me if I can grab it in the fight. And if it's not weaponized in some way, which with this bunch is not necessarily an assumption I can make. They are allowed to approach the pools with the containers. Then bright floodlights flick on, temporarily blinding them.
"Place the containers on the ground and put your hands in the air," a new voice barks out over a bullhorn. "This is the FBI and you are under arrest."
Of course, they do nothing of the sort and we go into action. Asp does not go down easy. She's very flexible and she has a hypnotic, sensual way of moving that rolls off her like her venom. I'm not kidding. It oozes out of her skin and travels in rivulets, the venom, that is. Her sensuality is distracting even to me and it's good that she's my assignment rather than one of the boys. She tries to use her energy bolts and crap, the energy part hurts, but I use my fan and manage to damage them enough to make them unusable. She becomes very agitated at this (but that might also be because I broke one of her wrists in the process) and smears her acrid venom on my hands. I can't possibly tell you how relieved I am that it just beads up and rolls off. She is distracted when I don't fall to the ground in agony, I guess, and I use the metal pole of my poleaxe to knock her out. I call for Peter to come over and immobilize her so that she can't do her energy collection dance when she wakes up. He starts shooting webbing over her but is a little distracted by her body, which is curvy and amazing. I have to get his attention back on the job, but by the time he's done, she's pretty much encased and not going anywhere. Her venom doesn't seem to affect the webbing, which is really good news.
Wanda took out Copperhead by messing with his mind. He's curled up in the corner, sobbing and rocking, so we relieve him of his grappling hook, suction cups gizmos, and the electrical wrist devices. I'm not anxious to encounter anything like that again today, and Peter webs his wrists and ankles to the pavement as a precaution.
Bucky and Natasha are battling Puff Adder, which is a ridiculous name but the man is no joke; he is big and strong and scary. They keep him off balance enough so that he can't concentrate on producing his toxic gas. Vision and Wanda join them, and I'm called away to the other fight.
This is the main event under the big top. Sam has engaged Fer de Lance and is holding his own, having managed to neutralize the talons on her wrists. Scott is apparently in Rattler's tail, trying to cause damage, but the tail is apparently a mess of cables and the structure is complex, so it's not the easiest job, and Tony is fighting him, using his aerial abilities to keep damage from the tail to a minimum. What a monstrosity that tail is. It's a lot more agile than we thought it would be. He's trying to open one of the canisters. Clint is kind of hampered by the close range and high concentration of teammates, so he's taking charge of the canisters and helping where he can.
Cap is engaging Cobra and barely holding his own. I run behind the mutant, who is moving in ways that are unnatural and quite disturbing, and as Cobra lunges at Cap, I hurl the poleaxe at his back because I'm not going to be there in time. Man, Bucky's going to be mad. He's always telling me not to throw away a weapon you can still use. It sticks in his skin briefly before falling to the ground and Cobra whips around. I think that I'm about to pee myself when he kind of melts, his bones and muscles moving like a snake, slithering rapidly toward me. I am too terrified to move, but somehow I grab the first throwing knife from the back of my glove and throw it. Amazingly, it sticks, but then I can see the muscles bunch and force it out. I throw the second and third and fourth and fifth and sixth, but it's all the same result. Cap gets around him and we stand shoulder to shoulder; he gives me back the poleaxe so at least there's that.
Mercifully, the others have put down Puff Adder and the authorities are mopping up; I register this in distraction. I am more grateful than I can even contemplate to see the five others join us. Peter heads over to Sam. Vision and Wanda go help Tony and Bucky and Natasha circle behind Cobra. Even with four of us attacking, he's fast and dangerous. Cap is limping from where his left leg was damaged by constriction and we've had several near misses from the venom-coated blades.
There's a crack to my left and Cap groans; I look over and see Viper coming out of the trees, showing her skill with the long, tough bullwhip as she lashes Cap. Shit, I'd completely forgotten about her, but this is one thing I can do better than anybody on the team. I shove my poleaxe at Cap and free the urumi from its waist sheath. She smiles at me, the smile hitching on the scars on the right side of her face, and sends the whip questing toward me.
It's worth quite a bit to see the shock on her face when the urumi severs her whip into four pieces effortlessly. I'm on the attack immediately, and the urumi bites into her hand and arm as she tries to pull a gun. She screams and drops it and as she turns, I send the urumi against her again. The blades slice the metal like a scalpel through gauze, and she falls to her knees, bleeding from the stripes along her side. There's no quit in her, though, and she starts to get to her feet again. It takes two more passes before she concedes to my request to stay down. I back away as the feds appear on the very edge of the combat zone and take her away. I turn back. Fer de Lance is practically mummified in Pete's webbing, still struggling, but the feds are approaching to remove her.
Even as I look at Rattler, his tail falls off midway through a sonic shock and I can hear Scott's whoops of victory. Looking at Cobra, we're finally winning that one too, mostly because somebody's managed to slice him up a lot with the poleaxe and apparently he doesn't have any surprises for us like healing abilities or venom spitting. But before I can do anything, he abruptly changes direction and his arms elongate, pulling me off balance and he scoops me up, arms going around me and squeezing my ribs and abdomen. "Shoot him!" I shriek, and that's all I can manage as the constriction tightens every time I let out a breath. I get one little strike with the urumi before my arms are held to my side. Creepily, one nasty freaky elongated hand is resting on my breast. I feel a rib pop. I'm starting to feel the lack of oxygen when something bounces off my hip and Cobra recoils. Then he screams, right by my ear and really loudly, and his grip releases. Tony is right there to drag me away and I drop to the ground, sucking air greedily. I look over and see that Bucky managed to sever a leg with the poleaxe, Natasha is hitting Cobra repeatedly with her Widow's Bite, and Cap has him in a headlock. A brave fed has crept in and is injecting what I assume to be a tranquilizer.
Tony asks me urgently if I'm hurt, and I gesture toward my ribs. Sam comes over and thinks I've got a couple of cracked ribs. He's not looking too good himself; he's showing some bruising and there are cuts on his arms as well as a long scrape that looks like road rash. Tony's suit is dented but he's ok aside from some bruising. Peter shows up and anxiously asks if I'm ok. He's fine, which is important, and he carefully puts his arm around my shoulder. I put my arm around his waist. My other arm is starting to hurt some; the Cobra's other hand had been squeezing my forearm, but not hard enough to break it. The team gathers on the sidelines as Cobra goes down and the feds move in.
Cap's leg might be broken, but he has that healing ability and he'll be fine in a couple of days, so I'm the worst off. Since there's nothing majorly wrong, scrapes are cleaned by an ambulance crew, a couple of cuts stitched, and then we go along with the feds and give our statements, which takes most of the rest of the night.
"Fortunately, none of the canisters were opened," one rather offensively perky fed tells me. He seems to have been energized by the operation, but then again, he wasn't doing the hard work, I think uncharitably. "The guy known as Puff Adder says that it's a mutagenic agent that was supposed to absorb through the skin and create snake-like, scaly skin, maybe some other cosmetic issues, but that there's also the chance that it could make people crazy, so we're lucky it wasn't successful. Even the White House uses this water."
I shuddered. "Why?" I asked.
"Apparently it was designed to be some sort of a declaration to the underworld, kind of 'look what we can do.' But I think it was more than that, Puff might not have known everything. I think Asp and Viper might have gone after money or secrets in the fuss the mutations would have caused if it worked. That Asp has international warrants for hacking," the fed said.
We all went back to the hotel; there were plenty of beds available. I didn't get one, despite Tony's generous offer to share his, though; my ribs were feeling worse so I slept sitting up on one of the sofas which had a recliner on one end. Natasha and Wanda rounded up some blankets and pillows and tucked me in, then everybody went to bed. I slept fitfully, waking up around six when Peter's aunt started texting me. I just picked up the phone and called her, reassuring her that we'd kept her nephew well away from any danger (it was relative) and that we'd return him today. Then I went in to take a bath. I was developing some very exciting new colors as the bruises started to heal. I also wanted to wash the pink out of my hair. I reduced the hue to an almost-unnoticeable level before dragging myself out of the tub and managing some more sleep.
We didn't start to assemble until about four in the afternoon. We'd been sleeping for about eleven hours, more or less. I woke up when Tony started playing with my hair. "Up and at 'em, Easter Egg," he said. I growled at him but he was not impressed.
"Oh, you've got to fire up one of your private jets," I said, yawning. "We need to get Pete back to his aunt. She probably will never let him come on a jaunt again.' I looked over and saw Peter texting, a resigned look on his face. I got up, walked over, and asked what was going on. He flushed a little to see my nightdress (whoops, I didn't bring a robe, maybe there was one in the bathroom) and kept his eyes on my face.
"Just texting MJ," he said. "Doesn't look like I'll be able to make it to the dance tonight."
"Homecoming's tonight?" I asked. "I completely forgot. No, wait. Don't send that. Tell her you're sorry but you won't be able to take her to dinner but you'll meet her there." I looked around. "Tony. How fast can you get the jet ready?"
"It's not a big deal," Peter said, trying to reel me in.
"It is a big deal," I retorted. "You're only fifteen this one year and this is might be your only date with this girl if you don't get there in time. This is a big dance and you will be attending."
Tony smirked at me. "It'll be two hours," he said.
"Ok. Peter, do you have a suit?" I went over details with him. In all the fuss of this expedition, he'd forgotten to order his date flowers.
"I'm on it," Natasha assured me briskly, and left the suite with Wanda.
"You won't have time to go and change at home," Tony said; he grabbed his jacket and Steve, who had just joined the crisis in progress, and together they towed Peter out the door.
I went to change. Holy crap, I looked bad. I was grateful for the super cosmetics our labs had come up with. Last time I had bruises, a well-meaning woman had given me information about a battered women's shelter. By the time I creaked out (stiff and sore and not able to bend at the waist) Natasha and Wanda had returned with a gorgeous wrist corsage with tiny ivory rosebuds and jasmine and feathery ferny things with some other sort of glossy dark leaves. About forty five minutes later the boys returned with a beautiful charcoal suit, shirt, tie, cufflinks, shoes, the works. Pete went to go change, and when he came out, I took pictures and Natasha and Wanda cooed over him. Natasha reclaimed the corsage from the refrigerator and I tied his heavy steel blue silk tie, then fluffed his pocket handkerchief so that it was jaunty and confident rather than just peeking out of the breast pocket.
"Ok, honey, take her out for dessert after the dance," I instructed him. "It will be a nice way of winding down, especially since you couldn't make dinner. Plus she won't have to worry about spilling on her dress. Now, do you have money for a cab?"
Before Peter could speak, Tony said, "He'll have one of the company drivers." I beamed at him, then tucked some money into Peter's inner coat pocket and stepped back.
"You look great," I said. "Now go and have a great time." Tony patted a little aftershave on him. Natasha leaned in and sniffed, nodding, then Bucky towed him downstairs and put him in a cab for the airport, giving detailed instructions to the driver. I texted the pictures to Peter's aunt, then we went to go pack. Clint went early to get the quinjet ready. I can't wait to get home.