5372/Checking Out The New Digs

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Checking Out The New Digs
Date of Scene: 27 February 2021
Location: Pym's Midtown Lab
Synopsis: Nothing Works! All hope is lo- GET BACK HERE, HOPE! Okay. There might be some hope.
Cast of Characters: Hank Pym, Michael Hannigan

Hank Pym has posed:
Hank Pym's text is classic Pym.

<<Not feeling well. Dont come over. HP>>

<<Rlly not feeling well. Dont come! Not hungry.>>

<<GOddamit. rly. Don't come. May have the flu.>>

Which is all it takes to realize Hank is really off. Dropping an apostrophe? L33t speak? Improper capitalization? Hank peers at the computer monitor and swears. Then unlocks the door. Well this will be different at least.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
At times like this it might be good to know the other end of the conversation.

<<How about we switch up lunch for today? >>

<< Ok. We'll do Lalo again. >>

<< I'm coming over anyway. >>

True to his texted warning. Mike does end up at the new lab. But instead of a look of curiousity for the new location. The expression Hank gets from Mike upon the door opening is a frown. In one hand he carries a white plastic bag. "Hey Hank." He greets, closing the door behind him. "I know you said you weren't hungry but..." He glances down to the bag and then to the newly appointed lab. "...I figure you could probably do with something to drink and snack on later."

Hank Pym has posed:
Hank Pym is over at the Men's Tall section of his new digs, filling his enormous chair. He is still wearing his Yellowjacket. The top is pulled up and he is applying a metal and plastic pad to his chest. "I SAID DON"T COME. I'M RECUPERATING." He does a finger wiggle to display the bandage wrapped about his right hand and forearm. Despite the volume he doesn't sound angry so much as large. He eyes the bag and says, "I hope you brought enough. Thanks for the thought." He tries to get up and then sighs and eases back into the chair after thinking better of it.

The monitors and displays on the central console flash silently.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike tilts his head upwards, looking to the hand wiggle. Eyes setting on the bandaging. He moves over to the slightly smaller section of the lab, setting the bag on an empty spot of counter before turning back to the scientist. "It's not the flu, is it?"

Hank Pym has posed:
Hank Pym looks at the bandaged bracelet and then Mike. "No. It is not."

"Everything stopped working. It's my endgame."

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike blinks. "Everything?" He glances around to the new lab. Looks like most of the tech is new so - "Endgame for what? The doppelganger thing?" He looks over to the flashing monitors, trying to make sense of the visual queues.

"What stopped working?"

Hank Pym has posed:
Hank Pym shifts a little. "Everything. The particles we gathered. The palliatives I made. The meditation. The aripiprazole, the tricyclics, monoamine oxidase inhibitors, the friendship of the Dreamweaver and the benediction of Inari's lovely kitsune."

"Pretty sure I'm dying, Michael. Pym strain is too severe. I haven't told anyone how bad it is but... bad as it gets." Hank smiles and finishes with the little patches. He pulls the yellow top down.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
The musician grows quiet as he processes the information presented. He glances down, shaking his head. "...If you haven't told others. Then you definitely haven't tried 'everything'. What about outside help? Many hands making light work and all that? Something beyond what you just listed? Something more alternative?"

Hank Pym has posed:
Hank Pym rubs his chin. "I... one scientist I spoke to said my best bet was a reclusive biochemist he heard of... named Henry Pym. This is like if Einstein was being killed due to e=mc^2. Who would be qualified to help him? If I had more time... if I had test cases but there are none. I'm a unique example. The best I could do... well it's a serum being synthesized now. I'm not sitting in my chair and waiting to die... it's because me legs hurt. But the serum has issues. I estimate a 70% chance of impurities that could kill me. It will be finished in under s day. Then I'm taking it. Hopefully I will at least be normal sized or smaller, otherwise man will they have a devil of a time getting the coffin down the stairs."

"It's ok Mike. I've been here many, many times. I told Saeko how I feel. I prepared for Nadia's future. I had one more fight alongside the Avengers. I built a device to give SHIELD the edge against the doubles. I built a cabin on a world allll my own. I'm good Mike. Now I'm ready for whatever. I live or I'm with my Maria. Win-win."

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike frowns, "70..." He is voice dies away as he considers matters, "Uh. Ok. What in particular is the problem you're going through? Maybe we can try for a hail mary that doesn't have as much of a potential consequence to it? Push off that 70% risk one until there's nothing left..."

Hank Pym has posed:
Hank Pym chuckles a little. "It's a matter of it interacting with my biochemistry. It might cause an anaphylactic reaction. There are a number of factors leading to this. I can't eliminate them all without making the serum worthless. But it basically lets my nervous system adapt to slight size changes. I got the idea from Reed Richard's power set. But... you're still screwing with your nervous system. I would really like it to work. Scott will need it, possibly Nadia and Janet. Possibly others... It was a physical condition brought about by using Pym Particles without sufficient safeguards and aggravated by my BPD meds. Perfect storm. If I had more time... if I had more data I would have better chances. But this is the best I can do. Either I filter it correctly or not."

"Now I need you to go. Please. I'll call you tomorrow... hopefully."

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike doesn't move towards the door. Instead, considering matters. "What about Raphael's Flask?" He asks, "...I don't make any guarantees to the effectiveness. It varies by the person and how its performed...but it's a hell of a lot better than 70."

Hank Pym has posed:
Hank Pym hehs. "I was using that too. Should I sing it or just have it playing? I mean there are limits to magic, like science..." Hank trails off.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike shakes his head, "That's what I mean by it varying by the person and how its performed. For some people, the song is just a mood booster. But for others it can be more. It can be built up and passed along to another, like what we did with Rod and Shannon. If the right person casts it with the right amount of energy, it can help a lot."

Hank Pym has posed:
Hank Pym shrugs. "Yes... I know. It did help. I just thinkI reached its limit for me. Same with my tech. Too bad we can't combine magic and technology. Right?"

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike frowns. "What about having someone else cast it on you?"

Hank Pym has posed:
Hank Pym snaps, "I don't know. Mike. It is not my area of expertise. My magic involves size altering particles and an equation to summon a foxy lady..."

Hank rubs his chin.

"I am an idiot."

"You're right Raphael's Flask can't hurt and most likely would help. We can combine magic and technology I've done it. You flask will heal damage from the serum's impurities. Saeko can affect probabilities... we combine technology and magic. I will see if I can locate Illyana. You try to find Ms. Sefton. If I am going to use magic more is better, right?"