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Mailbox for Janet van Dyne
Entry tags:
House Calls, Part III
"This is ridiculous," Jan groans. Tony lives off the beaten path, but at least there's a path and a mansion to direct visitors the right way. But Bruce? No. Bruce has to go hiding in the middle of nowhere. Not just the middle of nowhere, but the middle of nowhere on an island in the middle of, pretty literally, nowhere. If there's a path, Jan hasn't seen it. And she's been looking. Her feet ache and there's bugs everywhere and if it weren't Bruce Banner at the end of this trek, she would turn back.
For the millionth time this hour, Jan misses her wings. She's not made for hiking anymore. It's not the physical strain. Yeah, she's sweating and getting a good workout, but she's in shape. It's that walking is so slow. Every obstacle needs to be stepped over or around or under. She can't see beyond the trees in front of her. She needs to be flying, passing over every trial and knowing exactly where she's going.
When she sees the hut that must be Bruce's, Jan nearly weeps.
"Finally!" she cries out to the sky she can see, fringed by tree tops. Who cares if he hears her before she knocks on the door? He deserves this, especially if he's meditating.
"I know you like to go all Walden, Bruce," Jan calls out as she strides up to his front door. "Zen and the art of whatever, but this is ridiculous."
For the millionth time this hour, Jan misses her wings. She's not made for hiking anymore. It's not the physical strain. Yeah, she's sweating and getting a good workout, but she's in shape. It's that walking is so slow. Every obstacle needs to be stepped over or around or under. She can't see beyond the trees in front of her. She needs to be flying, passing over every trial and knowing exactly where she's going.
When she sees the hut that must be Bruce's, Jan nearly weeps.
"Finally!" she cries out to the sky she can see, fringed by tree tops. Who cares if he hears her before she knocks on the door? He deserves this, especially if he's meditating.
"I know you like to go all Walden, Bruce," Jan calls out as she strides up to his front door. "Zen and the art of whatever, but this is ridiculous."
Entry tags:
House Calls, Part II
"Oh, Tony," Jan sighs.
It figures. It's reassuring, actually. She gets pulled away from a battle for the planet and dropped just off shore of a mysterious island in another dimension, or something, with no way home and with a handful of familiar faces who aren't really who they should be and think she's not really who she should be. Her entire life gets turned upside-down and filtered through a scrapped episode of the Twilight Zone. Nothing is the same and everything is strange.
But Tony Stark still has a mansion.
It figures.
The nervousness of yesterday has faded away with some friendly reassurances, a good night's sleep and the somewhat familiar surroundings. Wooden steps leading up to a bamboo front door are not nearly as comforting as this imposing stone facade. There is a doorbell, but probably no JARVIS to answer, so Jan gives Tony points for style while taking away for amenities.
She presses the doorbell and waits, only to have the door answered by... some kind of machine. It's a bit rudimentary to her eyes, not that she's any great engineering genius, but it's definitely more than what should be on an island like this.
"Oh, Tony," she sighs.
It figures. It's reassuring, actually. She gets pulled away from a battle for the planet and dropped just off shore of a mysterious island in another dimension, or something, with no way home and with a handful of familiar faces who aren't really who they should be and think she's not really who she should be. Her entire life gets turned upside-down and filtered through a scrapped episode of the Twilight Zone. Nothing is the same and everything is strange.
But Tony Stark still has a mansion.
It figures.
The nervousness of yesterday has faded away with some friendly reassurances, a good night's sleep and the somewhat familiar surroundings. Wooden steps leading up to a bamboo front door are not nearly as comforting as this imposing stone facade. There is a doorbell, but probably no JARVIS to answer, so Jan gives Tony points for style while taking away for amenities.
She presses the doorbell and waits, only to have the door answered by... some kind of machine. It's a bit rudimentary to her eyes, not that she's any great engineering genius, but it's definitely more than what should be on an island like this.
"Oh, Tony," she sighs.
Entry tags:
House Calls, Part I
They call him James here. That's weird.
It's not like Jan's best buddies with the guy. In fact, practically the second the Winter Soldier decided he didn't want to kill Captain America, he hightailed it. Took off to make a different kind of mark on the world. It's admirable and they haven't heard anything but good things about the Winter Soldier on all the regular channels. But it means Jan hasn't had any chance at all to know him as a guy: the guy who once was Bucky and grew up.
That doesn't matter right now. Right now, she's looking for her teammate to make sure he's okay. When the call went out to all those the Avengers consider friends and allies to help in a battle bigger than they could manage, everybody stepped up. The Winter Soldier stepped up. Jan figures she owes the guy a hello and a few minutes to see how he's doing if, albeit in another dimension, he's willing to drop everything and back up her guys.
So once she's had a bite to eat, taken a shower, gotten a change of clothes and had the nickel tour, she looks for more people she might know. The hut of one James Barnes is relatively close to the Compound and relatively close to the boardwalk, so Jan's relatively sure she won't get lost looking for it.
"This is weird," she mutters to herself, staring up at the completely normal island home. Completely normal if you live on an island abundant in wood and palm leaves but not brick or steel.
"Really weird." With that last comment, Jan pulls in a deep breath, lets it out and steps up to knock on the front door.
It's not like Jan's best buddies with the guy. In fact, practically the second the Winter Soldier decided he didn't want to kill Captain America, he hightailed it. Took off to make a different kind of mark on the world. It's admirable and they haven't heard anything but good things about the Winter Soldier on all the regular channels. But it means Jan hasn't had any chance at all to know him as a guy: the guy who once was Bucky and grew up.
That doesn't matter right now. Right now, she's looking for her teammate to make sure he's okay. When the call went out to all those the Avengers consider friends and allies to help in a battle bigger than they could manage, everybody stepped up. The Winter Soldier stepped up. Jan figures she owes the guy a hello and a few minutes to see how he's doing if, albeit in another dimension, he's willing to drop everything and back up her guys.
So once she's had a bite to eat, taken a shower, gotten a change of clothes and had the nickel tour, she looks for more people she might know. The hut of one James Barnes is relatively close to the Compound and relatively close to the boardwalk, so Jan's relatively sure she won't get lost looking for it.
"This is weird," she mutters to herself, staring up at the completely normal island home. Completely normal if you live on an island abundant in wood and palm leaves but not brick or steel.
"Really weird." With that last comment, Jan pulls in a deep breath, lets it out and steps up to knock on the front door.
Entry tags:
Paperwork
The showers aren't anything to write home about. The food is; everything's fresh and amazing (or maybe she's just starved after fighting and panicking). The clothes box is pretty... interesting. Jan gets the feeling she's going to be camped out in front of that thing for an obscene amount of time in the near future. Like once she gets a place of her own and a closet of her own. The yellow top and black short shorts she found are good for the time being, but she knows she could get something better with some more effort.
A lot of her questions have been answered -- or she's been informed that there are no answers. She's done the quick tour of the Compound (which she still thinks is an awful name) and been warned away from dinosaur territory. Her head is full to bursting with information, the sensible warring with the completely irrational: The bookshelf can give you anything, but be careful because fictional characters live here. Lots of people help out in the garden and make things in the kitchen, but a lot of the other supplies magically replenish. The alcohol is free and not terrible. That's the most conflicting piece of information of all, maybe.
There's nothing more she can absorb, no more questions she has the energy to ask, so it's time to do something. So she heads over to the council offices, planning on checking herself in, inquiring about open houses and looking for familiar names in the register. Even if it's a small, empty something, it's something. Slipping through the lab/clinic, Jan heads straight for the attached office, strolling through the open door with a quick rap of her knuckles against the wood.
"Janet van Dyne: newbie reporting for processing-- Cap?!"
A lot of her questions have been answered -- or she's been informed that there are no answers. She's done the quick tour of the Compound (which she still thinks is an awful name) and been warned away from dinosaur territory. Her head is full to bursting with information, the sensible warring with the completely irrational: The bookshelf can give you anything, but be careful because fictional characters live here. Lots of people help out in the garden and make things in the kitchen, but a lot of the other supplies magically replenish. The alcohol is free and not terrible. That's the most conflicting piece of information of all, maybe.
There's nothing more she can absorb, no more questions she has the energy to ask, so it's time to do something. So she heads over to the council offices, planning on checking herself in, inquiring about open houses and looking for familiar names in the register. Even if it's a small, empty something, it's something. Slipping through the lab/clinic, Jan heads straight for the attached office, strolling through the open door with a quick rap of her knuckles against the wood.
"Janet van Dyne: newbie reporting for processing-- Cap?!"