3469/Shadows of the Past

Shadows of the Past
Date of Scene:	21 September 2020
Location:	Red Room Facility, Beneath the Siberian Tundra
Synopsis:	Janet is forced to recall her capture and receives a visit from Nadia's old friend Ying.
Cast of Characters:	Nadia Pym-van Dyne, Janet van Dyne

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Nadia Pym-van Dyne has posed:
It's all over the news, every station is picking up Channel 6's report: Hank Pym, world renowned scientist and Avenger, Ant Man, arrested in a surprise raide by Federal Marshals. This isn't supposed to be happening, it's too soon, the lawyers had assured Janet that there would be at least another week before that Hague Warrant could possibly clear the necessary legal procedures. But it is happening all the same, on live television no less, and the world is watching.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Paul, either set aside your beef with Jen Walters, or I find a new attorney team. Jen's a friend and she's an Avenger." Janet's voice is terse to the point of being sharp-edged. Hank arrested, Nadia suddenly unavailable-- the timing is a little suspicious, and it's caught the Wasp off-guard. "Yes, I mean it. She's lead counsel on this. Get over it."

The socialite jabs a finger at the elevator buttons to make the doors close faster. Some of the best parties in New York happen atop exclusive penthouse roofs, but it also means there's not really a fast way to get down to the ground, even for the Wasp. It's a long way to fall with unpleasantly chill late-summer winds gusting unpredictably between the buildings.

The elevator doors *ding* into the parking area, and Janet snaps a finger brusquely at the valet. "Hey! Black Escalade, license plate WASP3," she tells him. "Tell the driver to bring the car around right now."

The socialite stops near the valet booth, attention diverted to the phone held to her ear. Green-gold party dress, clutch, jewelery-- she's definitely not dressed to rush off and intervene in a diplomatic incident, but that's clearly what she's about to do. "Good! I'm glad you've seen sense. I want everyone you've got on this. Bill me overtime if you have to. I'll see you at the Consulate in twenty minutes."

Nadia Pym-van Dyne has posed:
Twenty minutes can be a tall order in New York, though when you have enough money that the fines cannot possibly amount to anything significant and a willingness to bend the rules of the road in an emergency, even obstacles such as the infamous New York traffic can be overcome. There are a few near collisions, some angry shouts, and waved middle fingers, but the car manages to careen through the New York streets unscathed and thankfully without attracting any police attention either.

When the car veers around a corner merging with Madison Avenue traffic, just a few minutes from E. 91st Street and the Russian consulate, a motorcycle rider comes into view with a very familiar red and black color scheme to their riding leathers and a recognizable brunette haircut. It sure looks like Nadia zipping down the street on that bike.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"That's her. That's her! Cut her off! Go!" Janet almost clambers into the front seat. One hand rapidly pats her driver's shoulder, the other jabs a finger at the dark-clad cyclist. "There, on the bike! Just... don't hurt her!"

"Yes Miss Janet," the driver says. He's the sort Janet likes for personal security; tall, lantern-jawed, and extremely proficient with his duties as a bodyguard. The SUV whips through traffic and even jumps up on a curb chasing Nadia. It tears through a yellow light, gets ahead of her, and e-brakes to a halt to block off her path forward.

"Nadia!" Janet is out the door in a flash, ignoring the braying horns of upset New York drivers. "Nadia come here, your dad's in trouble!" Her voice is gone high and tight with urgent worry for the situation at hand.

Nadia Pym-van Dyne has posed:
The motorcycle skids to a sliding stop in a move straight out of Red Room advanced getaway driver class. Were it not for Janet's timely emergence from the vehicle it is likely she would have righted the biked again and sped around the impediment on the sidewalk. Instead Nadia looks at Janet, face stricken.

"I know, that's why I have to go Janet." She says from where she still sits on the back of the bike, "It's me they want. They'll come for you next. And Vivian and Valeria and the Titans. I..I'm not sure I can do this anymore. You should just let me go."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"This is *so* not the time to channel your dad's martyr complex," Janet snaps at Nadia. She's busy looking over her shoulder as she approaches the motorcycle. "God knows where the Russians are. They got your dad arrested on some trumped-up charges. Now c'mon. In the van. We're going to the Avenger's building and we're hunkering down behind blast doors and a metric ton of muscle until we figure out our next move." A hand reaches out to grip Nadia's forearm and tug her along.

Nadia Pym-van Dyne has posed:
Nadia doesn't move from the back of her motorcycle as Janet approaches, though she doesn't gun the engine and speed away either, seemingly conflicted.

"They'll take him away, I'll lose him again..." It looks like she is about to speed off when Janet reaches for her forearm, but in that moment everything changes. A metallic yellow ring with three sharp looking prongs the size of a CD is produced from within Nadia's jacket and thrust into the center of Janet's chest. Searing pain courses through Janet's body as suddenly the Pym Particles in her bloodstream become extremely aggravated in a chain reaction that seizes up all of her muscles in an instant, rendering her a prisoner in her own body.

As the ring connects, Nadia's entire demeanor seems to undergo a subtle shift until while she still looks like Nadia she just seems off, out of character somehow, "Hopefully this won't stop your heart." she whispers into Janet's ear in a Russian accent that sounds nothing like Nadia. "We haven't tested these on humans yet, seems effective though."

Janet's unresponsive form is pulled on to the back of the motorcycle. Her arms held over 'Nadia's' shoulder with one hand in an impressive display of strength, even as her bodyguard attempts to clamor out of the SUV and do his job... only to be met with a chest full of tazer. The bike's engine is then gunned and 'Nadia' drives off drives off with Janet as everything fades to black.

Until that is stabbing bright light cuts into the darkness and Janet wakes up restrained on a metal slab, her body covered in sensors and electrodes with an especially elaborate metal device currently affixed to her head. All around there are voices.

"It's no good, we can't seem to probe back into her memories any further than when she was taken, that infernal device of Ying's seems to have scrambled things somehow!" Shouts one male voice.

"Or maybe it's all the fucking stimulants in her system, have you /seen/ her bloodwork?!" Retorts another.

Right, it was a memory.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet's eyes open to groggy slits, and stay that way. Flickering around as if still half-unconscious.

One could ascribe a fair amount of this tradecraft to Natasha's careful tutelage over the last few years, but in truth part of it is simply Janet's pharmacological experience. It's probable they needed fewer drugs to bring Steve Rogers out of the ice than Janet uses on a wild weekend.

A fist curls against restraints, then relaxes. A subtle inroll of her lip puts flesh between her teeth and Janet bites down, hard, hard enough to draw blood. The pain brings more focus and clarity.

But she's still quiet, forcing her respiration and heartrate to stay low. At least until she gets the lay of the land.

Nadia Pym-van Dyne has posed:
"Enough of your incompetance, figure out a solution before Mother becomes angry. The copy needs to be ready before anyone comes looking for her, and they will. For now, take her back to her cell." It's that voice again, the voice of the Black Widow in the hologram when Janet first woke up in this facility and with the memory refreshed in her mind, the voice of the false Nadia that brought her here in the first place.

The helmet-like metal devices is removed from Janet's head and the electrodes and sensors are pulled off. Two pair of powerful hands clamp down on her arms and legs while the restraints are removed and a familiar pair of very muscular men in military jumpsuits begin hauling Janet off of the table to take her back to her cell.

As she is brought upright, the room where she is comes into clearer view, some sort of medical facility full of scientists in scrubs and sophisticated computer equipment and diagnostic devices all centered around the metal table that she had been laying on.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
In truth, Janet couldn't fight back even if it was the right moment to. Not as drugged as she is, with paralytics and benzodiazepenes flooding her nervous system. But she pays close attention to everything she can. With her chin drooping to her chest, it makes sidelong glances out the corner of her eyes much easier to accomplish. Hallways, turns, faces in passing. Anything that might prove useful.

She doesn't resist even when she's thrown back into her cell, and remains in a sprawl of limp arms and legs until well after the boots have receded back into the distance.

Nadia Pym-van Dyne has posed:
It is a winding journey back through the corridors of a complex that has been specifically designed to be confusing for security reasons. All manner of doors are passed, though with all the labeling in Russian it is often hard to determine what exactly lies behind them. Some are probably storage, one with particularly heavy security is probably an armory or something similarly important, a brief glimpse through a door in the process of closing reveals what looks like a data center where information warfare operations are staged, but others just loom ominously offering no clues as to what they hide.

Back in Janet's cell, she lays there for a long time. Eventually the sound of the boots is gone and the quiet stillness returns.

The quiet lingers a bit longer before it is broken by the unfamiliar quiet voice of a young woman, "You're not supposed to be here."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet is motionless for a little while longer before she stirs. Getting her limbs under her, then pushing herself up to a kneeling position. At some point her cocktail dress was taken and swapped out for ill-fitting scrubs. A lift of her chin focuses Janet's attention on the source of the voice and she focuses on it.

Toes and fingertips grip the ground for a little extra friction in case fast maneuvering is needed.

"Who are you?" The question comes with a wary, guarded tone-- after all, can anything here be trusted?

Nadia Pym-van Dyne has posed:
It is only then that the slit running down one of the walls is seen, one of the 'vanishing' doors into the cell opened just a crack so the voice could enter. The door slides the rest of the way open revealing an asian young woman about Nadia's age with long black hair in a short black dress.

She clicks a small device in her hand as she enters the room. "You shouldn't be here." she says again, "Why are you here? Nadia was going to come back, they were going to let us be together again, now it's all ruined." Something about this girl isn't like the others, she's certainly one of them but there is an odd familiarity in the way she says Nadia's name and the rest of it that speaks of closeness, concern, a genuine desire for reunion.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet's head droops with unfeigned exhaustion, but then she steels herself and rises to her feet. Barefoot and in tattered scrubs, Janet still projects that air of worldly sophistication and utter certitude that has carried her thus far in life.

"Ying. Right?" A finger lifts and wags vaguely in her direction. Janet's eyes rake over the girl in a thoroughly penetrating way, and then just as cooly somehow dismisses her entire persona with nothing but a flickering bit of scorn.

"Yeah. You've gotta be Ying. Nadia's only friend. You're in on this?" Janet's searching gaze examines everything in the room but Ying. "Some friend."

Nadia Pym-van Dyne has posed:
Ying shakes her head, "In on it? There is no not being in on it. Mother's plans are absolute disobedience is death, except for Nadia apparently. She's special, I don't think anyone else would have been given a chance. She probably won't get another one though. You shouldn't have made Mother angry... she's taking it out on Nadia. Now we can't be together again." She seems frustrated, troubled, by all of this, she's also speaking oddly freely for a place where the walls have ears.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"In on it," Janet repeats. She's not confrontational or reassuring-- just... dismissive. The socialite turns a slow circle in place and once she's convinced no other cracks in the wall are going to open, she moves to the slab that serves as a bunk and sits on it like she's taking high tea at the Waldorf-Astoria. Legs neatly crossed, back straight, hands on her knees. Only then does she look directly at Ying again.

"So... is that it? Whiny boo-hoo, I abetted the kidnapping of my friend and now mommy's not paying attention to me?"

Janet clucks her tongue and looks away dismissively once more. A hand flicks in the air to ward off the start of Ying's words. "Nevermind. I don't have time for traitors. Nadia doesn't, either. So save it."

Nadia Pym-van Dyne has posed:
Ying watches Janet for a moment longer and purses her lips. It is hard to say what she was expecting from this encounter, what made her decide to take this risk. "You couldn't possibly understand what it's like." she replies and then just turns clicking that odd device in her hand again on the way out. As the door whooshes shut behind her there is for a moment a fleeting glimpse of a pulsing red light embedded in the back of the base of her head where it meets her neck as the rush of air briefly brushes her long black tresses aside and then she is gone.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Said every traitor ever," Janet sings back. Just before the door closes, a last, taunting little shot at a clear chink in Ying's emotional armor.

Janet slowly rolls sideways and lays flat on her back on the bench. The light never goes off in her cell so she simply puts a forearm over her eyes and tries to ignore her discomfort.

Plus with her eyes shut and no distractions aside from the vague distant humming, Janet has some time to herself to think.

And to plot.