CHAPTER ONE ;
" too many preludes to
too many bad situations "

" this time i gotta know
where did my daddy go?
i'm not entirely here
half of me has disappeared "
      ✧ DADDY ISSUES
      the neighborhood!

sheild facility,
san francisco, 1989

"Stark!"

The three old people sitting around a desk looked up to see a suited man with a dark expression marching towards them.

Mitchell Carson, a real nimrod, took in the sight of the man and mumbled to his associates, "He doesn't seem happy."

"Hello, Hank," Howard Stark, the billionaire dude's dad and that superhero chick's granddad, stood, "You're supposed to be in Moscow."

"I took a detour," Hank Pym, a scientist or something like that, slammed down a red liquid vile onto the desk before him, "Through your defense lab."

Peggy Carter, who needs no introduction, widened her eyes and hurriedly snatched onto the vile, "Tell me that isn't what I think it is."

Hank rocked back on his heels, wearing a scowl, "That depends if you think it's a poor attempt to replicate my work," he looked around, angrily, "Even for this group, that takes nerve."

"You were instructed to go to Russia. May I remind you, Dr. Pym, that you're a soldier,"

"I'm a scientist," Hank interrupted, glowering at the man.

"Then act like one! The Pym Particle is the most revolutionary science ever developed. Help us put it to good use."

"I let you turn me into your errand boy, and now you try to steal my research?"

"If only you'd protected Janet with such ferocity, Dr. Pym," said the man that completely proved the point in that he was a real nimrod.

"Oh, God," Hank scoffed, shaking his head and looking at the ground.

Then he suddenly pulled his fist back and rammed directly it into the nimrod's nose.

"Easy, Hank," Peggy quickly stepped in, grabbing onto Hank's arm before he could nail him again.

Hank pulled away from the woman, straightening his suit coat and pointing a threatening finger at Carson, "You mention my wife again and I'll show you ferocity."

Blood immediately shot down from Carson's nostrils and he held a hand up to it in shock. His brows furrowed as he looked up at Howard, expecting him to do something.

Howard merely shrugged and shook his head, "Don't look at me. You said it."

"I formally tender my resignation."

"We don't accept it. Formally," Howard said astutely before changing to a more convincing tone, "Hank, we need you. The Pym Particle is a miracle. Please. Don't let your past determine the future."

"As long as I am alive," Hank straightened, taking on a prophetic tone, "nobody will ever get that formula."

Peggy Carter, Howard Stark, and Mitchell Carson all watched Hank Pym leave the room with nearly solemn expressions.

"We shouldn't let him leave the building," Carson broke the silence, wiping his still bleeding nose.

"You've already lied to him," Peggy narrowed her eyes, speaking in angered shock, "Now you want to go to war with him?!"

"Yes!" Carson exclaimed, "Our scientists haven't come close to replicating his work."

"He just kicked your butt, full-size! You really want to find out what it's like when you can't see him coming?" Howard nearly laughed before watching after the exit, saying seriously, "I've known Hank Pym for a long time. He's no security risk," and, like all of the typically theatrical Starks, he added in a dramatic pause, "Unless we make him one."

♢ ♢ ♢

San Francisco, July, 2012

A girl of twelve crouched down in the dim lighting, peeking her small oval-ish face through the pegs of the upstairs banister. She could see her mom's blonde head hanging over the kitchen table from up where she sat. The girl stayed as hidden as best she could among the tall railing that casted shadows over her already tall frame. She wasn't supposed to be up; it was way past bedtime (which she thought was stupid anyway because she was nearly a teenager, but that's all beside the point). If Mom caught her watching from above, listening to the things she was, she knew she'd be toast.

Dad didn't mind when she stayed up past when she was supposed to sleep. He would see her up where she was, and he'd say something corny like, 'Oh good gracious! Is that a monkey climbing on the railing up there?!'. He'd laugh and then he'd usher her to bed, 'mhm'-ing and 'uh-huh'-ing to all of her excuses. Then he would throw her back under the blankets and would swear never to pay for college if she left the bed again. He knew how to make her stay put and he was never angry. But Dad wasn't there now.

That was the problem.

It was her mom's crying on the telephone that brought the worried girl from her bedroom in the first place. Imitating a ninja as best she knew how, she had peeked right and left to make sure her little sister was still in her room before she went to the edge of the hallway. She found Maggie Lang sitting at the kitchen table, holding one hand to her mouth and her other holding her phone to her ear as she listened to what her husband was telling her. She was his one phone call. He had really done it this time.

Life as Laurie LaRue Lang knew it was over.

Laurie struggled to really remember ever hearing her mom cry before. Sure, there were times that her mom cried when they watched a sad movie, but everybody cried during those. Even Dad did; she knew he did because he would always discreetly ask for the tissue box, though he kept insisting he just had a cold. But, this, what her mom was doing, this was real crying. It was terrifying.

"Laurie?"

The twelve year old hurriedly glanced over her shoulder to see the small and sleepy four year old standing a few feet away. She was wearing her little pink pajamas and her favorite, and ugly, stuffed rabbit hung lazily over her arm. Her big eyes widened even more at the sight of her much older sister crying, no matter how much Laurie immediately tried to stop herself. She hadn't even realized that she was until the little girl had shown up. She quickly yanked the hem of her shirt up and drug it over her face, roughly erasing the fat teardrops from her cheeks. Laurie didn't want to scare her. With Mom already crying, things were bad enough. Cassandra Eleanor Lang didn't need to see her big sister cry too. Laurie needed to protect her. That was her job. Cassie was her baby sister, after all.

"Is Daddy gone right now?"

Laurie's hands curled into fists around the pegs of the banister and her face turned angry.

Was Daddy gone?

Yes. He was more than gone. He had been sent to prison; sentenced to years of jumpsuits, bunkbeds, and phone booths. He wouldn't be able to hug them again, not for a long time. He wouldn't be able to kiss their foreheads goodnight, tuck them into bed, or put them up onto his shoulders. Daddy was gone. And it felt like he might as well have been dead in the twelve year old's eyes.

Still fighting tears of her own as she heard her mom sob downstairs, Laurie pulled herself up and answered her little sister's question, "Yeah. Daddy's gone."

"Oh," the four year old whispered as Laurie passed her by and walked back into her own bedroom.

She fell face-first into her mattress and did her best to hold in the cries that were hurting her throat. She just wanted her dad to come home. She just wanted her mom to stop crying. She just wanted her sister to be happy. And, really, she just wanted to be able to cry herself. She wanted to be able to feel without feeling guilty for it. She took in a harsh, weepy breath and she pressed her face further into the bed.

"Laurie?" a small hand pulled at her socked foot, "C'I sleep in here with you t'night?"

"Sure, Cas," a muffled voice replied before she threw back her sheets, "Climb in."

With the comforter now pushed away, Cassie dove inside before any of the monsters underneath Laurie's bed could snatch onto her tiny ankles. The girls cuddled together as the older sister wrapped her arms around the younger. They were quiet for a long moment, just listening to each other breathe and their mother sob downstairs. The yellow light streamed in from the big gap where Laurie's bedroom door was still pushed open, shining up onto their faces and making their tear-filled eyes sparkle.

"Laurie?" Cassie whispered, sticking her nose into her older sister's wrist as it stayed curled around her.

It took a second for the twelve year old to make sure her voice didn't sound thick before she replied, "Yeah?"

"Is Daddy coming home?"

There was another long pause as Laurie fought the tears that just kept coming. She blinked a few times and her eyes found the picture frame that sat on the nightstand a few inches from them. It was a family photo, taken only a few weeks before. Both Laurie and her mom were standing on either side of her dad, holding his hands, as he kept little Cassie up on his shoulders. They looked so happy; so annoyingly, naively happy. Her eyes narrowed bitterly and she stretched out hand to the picture frame. It made a loud clatter as she slammed it face down so she wouldn't have to look at it anymore.

Pulling her sister closer, she whispered, "No, Cassie. Daddy's not coming home."

Aaaannd end scene! Ta-daaa! Whaddya think?! So sad, right?! Typical. I had to start off sad, it's just what I do, I think. And I hope you didn't think it was cheesy with the first part (I had to keep the second part more solemn)! Laurie's sassiness and name-calling stretches into the story-telling so much, let me tell you. Did you catch my quick reference to Tony and Lisa? Had to.

Now, it might be a bit before my next update (sorry that this one was so short, by the way), but have faith that it IS coming! I'm getting inspiration for this story now which might mean I start off on a roll, we'll see.

Anyway, TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS! And vote and give me a follow! :)

Now, here it is, my very first Funny Thingamabob for Stinger:

What even? Oh man, this is just great