The Downward Spiral

January 25, 2015: Janet, Hank, and Carol are trying to enjoy a night out when Spiral gets bored and decides to send the party crashing through the floor.

A dance club in NYC

A large room lit by neon, lasers and strobes, with a large light-up dance floor — a relic of the 80s, no doubt. The air throbs with driving bass directed from an altarlike DJ booth that towers over the throng of dancers. One whole wall of the space is dedicated to a bar. The other features booths and small cafe tables, arranged onto two levels. The upper level, accessible by a spiral staircase, has its own mini-bar and is the best area in the club for conversation.



  • Clubgoers and staff

Mood Music:

This may be an upscale establishment, with drink prices and an elite clientele to match, but it is unmistakably a nightclub. The DJ is highly paid because he just cut a record with a chart-topping YouTube sensation, not because of his rarefied taste in entertainment. The cocktails may be well-balanced, but they're potent and carry suggestive names. A veritable who's who of New York's fashion, entertainment, and business sectors mingle under the strobe lights and struggle to understand each other over the music.

No crowd is entirely without its wallflowers, though, and leaning against the railing on the club's upper level is a lone woman who seems to have raised being unapproachable to an art. She's beautiful, in a chilly and otherworldly way, and dressed so badly that she has to be a model or actress avoiding the paparazzi. She stares out over the dance floor — or, at least, one assumes she's staring beneath the shutter shades — with a sneer curling her lips. A man approaches her with a slight drunken swagger, and without glancing at him, she lifts a tiny plastic cocktail sword out of her drink and stabs it at him, stopping with the pointed tip about a centimeter shy of the surface of his eyeball. It happens so quickly that he nearly falls over backing away from her. Once he has gotten several yards away, she spins the blade around with a deft motion of her fingertips and bites the maraschino cherry off of its blade.

Janet leads the charge, she is in her element really here. She gets the trio past any bouncers or lists with names of those acceptable to enter the trendy night club. Fashionista and rich as sin in this city go a whole long way to opening all doors. "So this place is super hot right now." she doesn't mean tempature either. "Do you guys want bottle service and a VIP booth?" she doesn't seem to mind the cost implications of that at all "Though no camping out in the booth Hank you have to actually dance tonight." she smiles, amused, but not at all cruel in manner.

Hank looks good. He's wearing a perfectly tailored outfit that is at the very height of fashion. But Janet is like that. She helps. Hank would never have picked this outfit on his own, or modified it so it would fit this good. When Jan mentions how hot it is, Hank confidentally says, "are you sure this place is doing well? Shouldn't they turn up the air conditioning?" He is genuinely hot as his outfit doesn't breath as well as he's used to.

Carol needs a life. She really does. Either it's all work, or she's heading out to clubs. On the other hand, at least she still looks good when she hits the club. She's old enough to stick with basics, but the black cocktail dress is a little bit risqué all the same, with a low neckline and a high hem. And the heels. "I should probably pass on the bottle service," she calls back to Janet. "Last time I hit one of these places, things got a little bit weird."

The bouncers are perfectly amenable to letting Janet and her wingmen into the club. One recognizes her, and even if he hadn't, the attractive and the fashionable are always welcome here — even with Hank in tow. A number of familiar and unfamiliar faces smile in Janet's direction as the group enters, both friends offering greetings and climbers sharpening their social pitons. More importantly, one of the bouncers overhears Janet's suggestion of a VIP booth, and in a mute but unmistakable trick of gesture and posture, offers to escort them upstairs where such amenities await.

The beautiful but underfed girl in the trashy outfit chews noisily on the sickly-sweet cherry and continues to glare at no one in particular. She taps her foot listlessly — but perfectly in rhythm with the kick.

Janet waves Carol off "You don't have to drink the bottle, but it gives us a nice quiet space to retreat too Carol. That is really what you are paying for after all." she smiles cheerful to the bouncer and let's him take over leading the way. The nods and smiles are returned. If nothing else she is known to be friendly to the point that most think she is faking it, like many of them are, truth is though she isn't at all.

Hank will slide into the booth, taking a seat near the middle, meaning it'll be harder for him to get out, sans powers, or in another way of thinking about it, he can stay back there, hidden, for a bit longer. Once seated, he immediately reaches for the little drink menu insert, having a look at it, and gasps at the prices, "Girls, there must be a typo here. There's an extra zero on all these prices."

Carol laughs at Hank's response, shaking her head. "Yeah, well, like Janet said, you're paying for the space more than the drinks. Like an extra cover charge. These places have to make their money somehow." She slides into the booth behind him, leaning back and getting comfortable as she looks out over the crowd. "Janet, remind me why we came out to one of these places again? I'm pretty sure the alcohol is what makes them bearable."

As the group are seated, they pass a man arguing with one of the other bouncers. Despite the staffer's efforts to quiet him down, the customer only gets more incensed. "Crazy bitch tried to stab me in the eye!" he shouts. The bouncer escorting Janet's group can't help but overhear; he responds with a slight tilt of his head and a quick swipe at his throat with one thumb. At the signal, the other bouncer stops listening patiently, grabs the shouting man by the shoulders, and drags him toward the nearest exit.

"I apologize," the bouncer says as he leads them in the quieter space of the VIP lounge. "We do our best to maintain a pleasant atmosphere, but sometimes people do get out of hand." This may also be a response to Carol's comment, although the staff at places like this would never admit to hearing words that weren't directed at them.

The woman at the railing isn't nearly so coy about eavesdropping; she snickers openly when he mentions 'maintaining a pleasant atmosphere.'

Janet gives Hank a patient look "It is for the booth like Carol said, we order a bottle of Grey Goose and a bottle of Kraken, and they provide glasses and mixers and the bottles to our booth. We make our own drinks and have fun out on the floor but can retreat here as we wish." she snags one of the menus "Two bottle minimum. Let's go with the Grey Goose and Kraken." to the escort. Then her attention shifts to Carol "Because I need to maintain at least a level of being seen at places like this, you need to have fun, and Hank needs to get out of the lab. I figured this would work great right?"

"There are cheaper ways to get space," Hank suggests to Carol, and as a near tea teatotaler, he's not terribly interested in the alcohol. When Carol mentions the alcohol making places like this tolerable, Hank considers mentioning that if alcohol were invented today, it would be a Class A substance. But he manages to hold his tongue on that one.

It's good that Janet explains things to him. Hank is instantly thinking about the drinks he could make. He'd make one hell of a bartender with his knowledge of chemistry. "Janet, you can take the scientist out of the lab, but you can't take the lab out of the scientist." And he rolls his sleeves, "I'm going to make you both some mixed drinks." He rubs his hands together gleefully. There may be other things going on, but it's so noisy that he's oblivious to it for now.

Carol presses one hand to her cheek as Hank rolls up his sleeves, amused. "Well, all right. If it'll make you feel comfortable, Hank, I could have one. Just take it easy on the alcohol, yeah?" Just one drink won't hurt, right? She waves off the bouncer's apology, looking out over the floor. "I'm pretty sure I'm too old for anyone left down there," she points out to Janet. "Unless the goal here is to give the rags something to write about."

As the trio's bottles arrives — which takes hardly any time at all — the song shifts to a distinct percussion line, like a clean marching band rhythm with more emphasis on the backbeat. Several of the younger women in the club cheer even before the synth horns come in; Taylor Swift's lead single is inescapable enough that it's instantly recognizable. The nameless malcontent at the railing downs her drink and then drops the glass, allowing it to shatter on the tile floor. The noise of breaking glass instantly draws looks. Unconcerned, she rolls her shoulders and stretches her back. For a second, the stobe lights make it look like she has more hands than she should, but that's forgotten in an instant when she starts to dance.

It's a strange sort of dancing. There's a graceful, balletic side to it, with every inch of the body under perfect control. On the other hand, several of the moves are suggestive to the point of being raunchy. On another hand (to take some liberties with the usual number of hands in play), the dance is before everything else wild, improvisational, and unpredictable. Wherever she learned to do this, it's spellbinding. And somehow, not a single step lands on one of the scattered shards of glass beneath her feet.

Is this a remix? Suddenly, the bass line sounds different than usual…

Janet makes a pfft noise at Carol "You look great and I imagine you could land anyone here if you set your mind to it Carol." she then eyes Hank "But yes Mr. Wizard try to not get us to a point we can't walk home. I don't care if the bottles don't get tapped out we are paying for the booth and want to have fun." When the lady over there starts dancing Janet watches, because it is really quite impressive and the lady is in her way beautiful after all. "Wow look at her go."

Most bartenders make drinks based on a recipe. But Hank's no bartender. He's a scientist. So he considers what he knows about Carol and Janet's physiologies, body mass, likely calorie intake, every little detail he knows about them, taking it all in, and using that knowledge to craft an individual drink for each of them. Once the ingredients arrive, he'll begin mixing, using the glasses, a lighter he has in his jacket - one never knows when you'll need a heat source - and a few other goodies.

After a few minutes of messing about, really creating a mess, he'll serve a glass that is red on the bottom, orange in the middle, and blue on top to Carol. He'll then give Wasp a clear glass, except that one he drops something, a Tic Tac by the look of it, and suddenly it changes into a rainbow, fizzing, and settling into a psychedelic lava lamp like looking concoction. The dancing goes unnoticed in all his science fun.

"You are a little bit disturbing, Hank," Carol observes as she watches the drink making, head tilting curiously. On the other hand, she doesn't hesitate to take the glass, taking a sip and following Janet's gaze over to the dancing woman. "Been a long time since I saw someone dance like that," she muses, considering. "And that's not a skill set I've ever had."

That bass is really getting out of control. The scattered shards of glass are starting to shake hard enough to skitter along the tile like a vibrating phone across a desktop. Before long, they're actually jumping off of the floor at every downbeat. And then, right on "the players gonna play, play, play," they leap, fall, and don't land. There's no longer a floor for them to land on.

It's as though the dimensions of the entire room have just broken. The upper deck and the ground floor are gone, miniscule and distant. Every vertical surface except for the mildly ironic light-up floor has been swept away, and the dance area has somehow spread in all directions. All directions, but mostly down. It has become a pulsating, bottomless tunnel of light and blinking platforms, and anyone not gifted with levitation and fast reflexes will find themselves plummeting uncontrollably. Janet and Carol and Hank are going to find themselves sitting on thin air, drinks in hand.

For her part, the dancer took a little leap at the same time as the shards, tipping forward like an olympic diver. She grins wickedly, spreads her arms — all six of them, which for some reason nobody noticed — and joins the fall headfirst.

Janet accepts the glass from Hank "Okay then, we have to do this more often because that sir look's absolutely fabulous." she sniffs it to see if it smells like rainbows, or who knows, and then takes a testing sip. "I was right, fabulous." then she is sitting midair with her glass with the others and starts to fall. Of course. Starts to is the main key phrase here "Wut" then she is shrinking rapidly in her clothes, her outfit and wings appearing rapidly as she gets beneath the four foot point in size. The Wasp ends up zipping out of her own pant leg as the clothes she was wearing and her fancy drink keep falling.

"Disturbing," Hank asks confused, "why am I disturbing? If it's the clothes, J… a friend picked them out for me." If the clothes aren't what they were supposed to, he doesn't want to hurt Jan's feelings.

And then the world changes. The bench seat he had been enjoying disappears, and he falls back, onto his butt, and Carol it would seem. Looking up, he says, "owe." He doesn't have his costume on him, though he can still grow or shrink, since his body can regulate those abilities, but his clothes, that would be another matter. He's going to have to start carrying Pym particles in regular clothes, but tonight was supposed to be special. As he regards the stimuli, the changes to the world, it's lack of boundaries, he says, "fascinating."

Carol, thankfully, has the ability to fly. So when the bench drops out from under her, she quickly reaches out to try to catch Hank before he can take a hard landing. "So, that was unexpected." There's a shimmer in the air, and she's floating in the new uniform, looking out over the club for the source of the problem. "That's some serious, reality-altering shit."

"Now THIS is a party!" the six-armed dancer shrieks, banking like a skydiver to deftly steer past a floating panel of strobing light that has grown to the size of a basketball court. As she does so, several less nimble partygoers crash into it with cracks and agonized cries. She lets loose a throaty, unhinged cackle, spins midair, and sticks her tongue out at them. "Shake it off, wimps!" she screams, her face framed by tumbling silver hair and a pair of oh-so-mature moose ears. Of course, that leaves four arms free. Two are suddenly holding deadly-looking swords and using them as makeshift ailerons to avoid the clutter of deadly obstacles in the impossible space. The last pair continue to vogue and snap on the song's off beats. 'Inescapable' is no longer a metaphor: Taylor Swift's voice resonates from the walls, from the air, from skull conduction.

Janet zips around "Okay that lady down there.. totally insane and also she seems to have six arms. Woops swords too it seems. I'm going to go tell her to knock it off I think." she zips down, only half an inch in size now so not the easiest to spot. Until she speaks up in front of Spiral, out of easy sword reach though "Hey crazy lady, is this your doing!?"

Not the most polite greeting but come on guys.

Hank calls out to Jan, "hey, wait a minute," but she's already off and gone, ready to confront the six armed woman. Without his powers, there isn't as much he can do. He seems to have his clothes intact, but nothing more. No floor, no table, no chairs, no fire extinguisher or booze, what can he do besides being there, supported by Carol, giving moral support, and hindering Carol? Considering the woman, the six armed woman, and her anatomy, Hank calls out, "middle arm, go for the middle arm," an anatomical weak spot, or least he assumes it to be so given her skeletal structure.

"Not a party," Carol disagrees, keeping a hold on Hank as Jan goes off to yell at the woman who seems to be causing all of this. "Think you could do some shrinking, Hank?" she asks. "Not that you're all that hard to carry, but I'm not going to be able to pull off much fancy flying with an extra body in place."

Spiral grins and blows a hot pink bubble at Janet. Where did she even get chewing gum? "Of course it's me. Love the wings, by the way!" She doesn't seem to mind tumbling through the delirious space along with the entire staff and clientele of the club. although she's having considerably fewer bone-shattering bounces off of the floating detritus in the bottomless disco tunnel than most. She suddenly rolls and sweeps away from Janet, toward the DJ booth, which has remained intact and the right size, with its occupant gripping the decks for dear life and sobbing as his whole rig tumbles lazily through space. "Ooh, jukebox! Gottagobaiiiiiiiiiiiiii!" she calls out to the Wasp as she lays in an aerial intercept course for the booth.

Janet just stares after her for a long moment "You are hurting people knock it off!" she flies after Spiral, and well she is a fast flier. Not Carol fast though. Seriously who is. Anyhow she does listen to Hank and lifts a hand and aims a Wasp Sting right at the middle right arm from behind. No honor or something "Stop this!"

"Um, well…" Hank blushes a little at Carol's request, since the clothes he's wearing weren't treated with Pym particles, and he doesn't seem to have his gear with him. That's a mistake he won't soon make again, assuming of course he lives through this. But if it'll help them, he begins to shrink, shrinking right out of his clothes, down to the size of an ant, and runs up her sleeve, probably tickling her, as his clothes drop down into the gravity well. Jan's going to hate this when she finds out, he thinks to himself.

Carol is going to try really hard not to think about what's going on with Hank there. "Hang on," she warns, just in time to start flying after Spiral. Flying? Now that's Carol's wheelhouse. She was a pilot before anything else, and given the speeds she can reach, fancy flying is one of her favorite things. She dodges furniture and fixtures, tossing a few people to safer places before aiming to barrel directly into Spiral.

Spiral yelps in pain as the sting connects, balling up into the fetal position. For a second, it looks like she's out of the fight. Then, as Tay-Tay belts out "the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate," the dancer rolls onto her back, grins, and unfurls one arm spasmodically on each 'hate,' firing blasts of force back at Wasp and Carol and accelerating herself away from each. Her last arm swings out to catch the side of the DJ booth, sending it caroming off in a sickening spin. She flings the DJ out of his meager shelter, on a violent collision course with a spiky fractal surface that has grown on the side of one floating light panel.

With a two snaps of her fingers, she materializes a vinyl record in one hand and Hank's dropped drink in the other. She guzzles the latter, lays the former on the deck, and smoothly transitions from T-Swift's invitation to the fella over there with the hella good hair into the opening of Fergie's "London Bridge." Because, let's face it, this whole place be goin' down like—

Janet yelps and twists dodging the blasts of force with practiced precision. She tends to get shot at a lot when she is in fights, so emergancy flying evasion is something she has practice in. "Carol… get her." probably because she seems more Spiral's speed. In the meantime Janet swoops to intercept the DJ, she is ridiculously strong in this form for her size, but she twists growing a bit bigger once she has a hold of him and flings him away from certain fractal doom.

As much as Hank would like his suit, for obvious reasons, right now he really wishes he had his glue gloves or spring boots. Without them, getting from Miss Marvel's wrist to her collar is a long, arduous journey, complete with a trip over elbow mountain, near the dressed armpit valley, and past the dead collarbone sea, but eventually the little guy makes his way to freedom, where he's able to pop his head up to see, and can be heard, except that right now, he doesn't have anything to say. From the twists and turns, he does offer up the less than helpful remark, "ooh, I think I'm going to be sick."

"Not the kind of perfume I'm going for, Hank," Carol informs her passenger, going into a swift spin as Spiral fires off those blasts. "Working on it, Jan!" she calls back to the other woman. Spiral isn't the only one who can fire off blasts, though. Picking up speed as she moves toward the attacker, Carol fires off a pair of shots of her own.

Carol's blast obliterates the decks, but the bass just keeps right on booming throughout Spiral's pocket dimension. It's almost as though taking over the booth was just for show, and nearly killing the DJ just an homage to The Smiths. Whoever they're dealing with might just be that sociopathic. At any rate, the explosion of the booth has sent her flying back toward Carol, swords drawn and fingers still writhing and snapping with the beat.

The DJ does his level best to clutch Jan like a life preserver in the disorienting mess of light and sound, but at her size, it's both difficult for him and really distracting for her.

Jan suddenly shrinks down once the DJ isn't hurtling to his doom, directly, and right out of his grip. She zips off once more letting him free fall once more. "Lady knock it off… we can get you help." she obviously means mental health at this point. She sends some Wasp Stings at Spiral now as she zips back towards the action.

Hank tries to keep his lunch down, but it's harder when somebody else is doing the driving. He looks about, trying to analyze the situation, and he comes to a startling realisation, "Carol, this, whatever this is, it's taking a lot of juice, and when it stops, those people will still be travelling at term," a few bumps, he nearly loses his lunch again, "terminal velocity. We have to slow them down first."

"Got any suggestions on that front?" Carol asks Hank, still going after Spiral, this time picking up more speed. She doesn't actually seem to be worried about the swords. In fact, she looks eager to close with the other woman. Give her something to hit!

With no idea just how physically formidable Carol is, Spiral is only too happy to oblige. Still undulating to the scandalous beat of the outdated dancefloor hit, the multi-limbed antagonist connects, swords coming in from opposite angles, one palm shoved upward at her target's chin, and one leg twisting forward to try and catch her in a painful leg-lock. This sort of multi-vector attack is her usual hand-to-hand M.O., and effective against almost any target.

Carol? Not so much. But life is a learning process.

Carol will have no difficulty shrugging off the attack, and her first retaliatory strike will send Spiral rocketing toward the fractal surface she tried to impale the DJ on earlier. The punch seems to reverberate through the entire cavernous space, and for a split second, the walls start to close in and the floor rises to meet them at a terrifying pace. Then Spiral slams back-first into the jagged surface. Her head snaps back up, the back of one hand wipes a bit of blood away from her grin, and the fingers of her metal arm snap, resuming the beat. The impossible space reasserts itself.

Janet thinks for a long moment then zips over to Carol "Can you.. maybe… grab the bigger chunks and life raft people I got an idea…" she zips off shrinking smaller now. Half an Inch.. then a bit smaller. She pushes herself which will result in a headache later, but well this next bit is complicated.

Wasp is aiming to fly into Spiral's ear. Concentration seems to be required for this lady to hold things together, so perhaps if she Wasp Stings her right in the ear drum! ZZZT.

"That woman created this situation, she may prove to be the solution to it. If she could reduce the gravitational forces, reducing their descent, that would do it. But it's a fine line. Break her concentration and she might revert reality back to normal, killing them instantly… admittedly, it's not the best plan I've ever come up with." Oh how he wishes he had his tools, or really, anything. Nothingness, that's a tough one. Though he does note Wasp's style, "When you can" when she gets out of Spirals ear, "can you tell Wasp to vary her attacks, modulating them by charging her stings for constantly changing intervals."

"You two make complicated plans," Carol mutters, but she abandons going after Spiral for the moment to get back to rescuing clubgoers. Quickly, she gathers up disco floors, working on setting them together enough to serve as decent platforms for the people falling all over the place. A few of them need to be snagged and pushed, but at least she's trying!

Carol's efforts are successful. Although the platforms are suspended and have tons of inertia, they still respond proportionally to outside forces applied. Spiral is in no position to interfere, at least. With an effort that is disturbing to watch, Hipster Shiva starts to writhe on her platform like a breakdancer, pulling herself off of the spiny surface while simultaneously weaving a simple summoning spell. "Ohmigod. Scandal!" she hisses, in a serpentlike voice.

"S'like errtime I get up on a dude/paparazzi put my bidniss in the news," Fergie slurs, and then Hank isn't where he's supposed to be. He's definitely not where he wants to be: full size, hovering in space a few feet in front of Spiral, who lunges off the last of the platform's spikes and makes a grab for the naked man. "I thought you people were 'heroes'?" she cackles, slotting the quotes in as deliberately as David Bowie decades before her. "And here you are, crawling tiny and naked over each other. What will the tabloids say?"

If she gets her way, she's going to have an eminently vulnerable hostage to use against his powerful companions. But for the moment, she seems too focused on the salacious to notice Wasp sneaking up on her.

Well that is not something Janet was really expecting to see. Naked Hank and Spiral falling through the air. It is much to late to unsee this situation. Soldiering on or flying onwards now Janet takes advantage of Spiral being distracted to keep herself both very small and move in very fast. Her goal is to get into the psychopaths ear. Zipping along and then in. "Guh why don't people clean their ears properly?" oh yeah Spiral can hear that right before Janet stings her with an energy blast right in her ear.

Spiral actually helped Hank. By teleporting him away from Miss Marvel, and then lunges towards him, he shrinks just before she makes contact with him, and he proceeds to do what he did to Miss Marvel, except this time, he's doing it inside Spiral's mechanical systems. Without his clothes, he has no insulation, but at his size, he can slip his way into her mechanical parts and start toying with them, giving Spiral a muscle spasm in one of her arms. Now, if he does this right, he might even get her to hit herself…

"That I'm finally getting some action?" Carol replies to Spiral's question, snagging a few more floors and making sure everything is where it ought to be before taking stock of the new situation. "You know, you really should have at least let me finish my drink first. Then this might've missed," she says as she fires off another blast of energy directly at Spiral's center mass.

Spiral's face contorts in enraged understanding a millisecond before the Wasp's sting hits, scrambling her brain completely. Her rhythmic motions stop and five hands reach upward to clutch at her agonized skull. (Hank has the sixth malfunctioning, flailing uselessly in the air.) It's going to be tricky for Wasp to find a way out through all of that, but not impossible.

What is impossible is for this spell to maintain itself without Spiral's dance to prop it up. Fergie's voice, already manipulated within an inch of its life in the studio, controls and distends into the malevolent groan of natural space reasserting itself. The club's dimensions snap back into place, the walls and floor retracting so quickly that it's hard not to fear being crushed.

But thanks to the heroes' efforts, the majority of the clubgoers are safe — although they do spill in an undignified way off of the panels as they, too, return to their normal size. Carol is left holding a couple of pieces of light-up flooring that have been ripped out of their moorings. Hank has stashed himself away just in time to preserve his modesty. Several civilians did sustain injuries before they could be gathered onto platforms, and the DJ booth is a crater, but things could have gone a LOT worse.

Speaking of craters, Carol's final energy blast sends the now-defenseless Spiral straight through a wall and out into traffic. When the cars and the dancer have all skidded to a halt, even the preternaturally tough systems Mojo installed aren't enough to keep Spiral conscious.

Janet doesn't manage to make it clear until out in the street there with Spiral. That is the point that she ends up flying out of the ear and grows in size to a few inches tall, hovering and watching the unconcious one to make sure she stays down. Then she full sizes, still in her uniform. "Someone call 911"

When reality is put back together, Hank's clothes will be strewn across the room. Someone should cobble them together. His wallet is in there. And his underwear. With Spiral not moving, the very naked Hank will crawl out of her deactivated arm, and look up at Wasp, expectantly. He could use help. He's naked, he's tiny, and he's standing on top of an unconscious alien's mechanical arm.

Carol will gather up what she can find of Hank's clothes. At least pants and wallet. She can't make any promises about anything more than that. But once it's done, she sets someone in the club to calling the authorities before coming out with the pants. "You could use some help in the uniform department, buddy," she says as she puts them down where Hank can get to them. "Nice work, Jan," she adds with a nod to the other woman.

Janet grins to Carol "Thanks…" she offers a hand down to Hank and grabs the pants and wallet. She looks this way and that, then wasp stings a parked car's lock and sets both the guy and his pants inside so he can change in more privacy maybe. "I designed his last suit.. I don't know why he wasn't wearing it under the clothes he came out in to be honest."

Having been… exposed, like that, Hank is sheepish as he puts on the clothes that Carol brought to him, out there, in the middle of the street. He has his pants, wallet, a shoe, a sock, his wallet, and a watch, but nothing else. Fortunately, Wasp lets him change in somebody's car. When he's ready, he gets out and says, "Normally, I wear a suit of armour. Not really clubbing gear," and he looks to Wasp, "unless I'm even more out of touch than I thought." Once dressed, such as he is, he stands and gives Jan another look, wondering about his prospects of a third date.

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