(no subject)
Title: Bad Idea
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Young Avengers and Avengers Academy
Characters: Both teams + a guest
Summary: Hank Pym has a bad idea and the Young Avengers make that clear.
Warnings: None really. Just a random fic inspired by a conversation with a friend. Part of something I'm working on.
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Hank Pym grunted slightly and rubbed his jaw. He hadn’t expected little Cassie Lang of all people to hit him so hard. Or at all for that matter. A sudden scream drew the Scientist Supreme’s attention upwards in time to see Veil getting blown away by some sort of wind vortex. He winced at the flash of light that came before Hazmat hit the ground, containment suit smoking as the girl inside was knocked out cold. Next to her with a bloody nose and a pair of taser-arrows still attached to her arms was Finesse.
Hank started to stand, stumbling over to check on Reptil who was laying unconscious in a crater. He glanced up at Mettle still stuck in the indent in the wall where he’d been smashed and then at Striker who was still struggling angrily against what looked like several very large rubber bands. Before Hank could help any of his students, he found himself yanked up into the air and dragged towards the center of the room. The man currently calling himself Wasp cursed softly as his arms were wrenched above his head and held there by orbs of mystic energy before he was turned around to face a group of rather perturbed teenagers.
“And what exactly did you think having your class try to ambush us would accomplish?” Hawkeye, the girl, asked evenly. She’d lowered her bow and arrow but not put them away. Hank wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
“You didn’t listen to what I was saying,” Hank started.
“No, we heard you,” Wiccan spoke up, glaring daggers at Hank. “You insisted we needed to come be part of your training class. And when we told you we weren’t interested, you told them to attack us,” he gestured at the subdued students of the Avengers Academy.
Hank opened his mouth to reply but stopped when Patriot held up a hand.
“We don’t want to hear it. Back when we were starting out, we all volunteered for training. Twice. And both times we got told to pack up and go home. So instead, we’ve been training ourselves and getting out there on our own.”
“We’ve gotten some training from the more reasonable Avengers,” Hulkling chimed in, nodding to Hawkeye.
“But for the most part, you’ve all blown us off. And now, after we’ve proved we’re just as good as the rest of us, you think we’re going to be underclassmen to a bunch of kids you had to trick into thinking they were the next greatest generation of heroes?” Wiccan asked, quirking a brow.
“Judging by how quickly and efficiently we defeated your students and yourself with minimal damage to the room, Dr. Pym, you should focus more on their further training then telling us that we need more,” Vision managed to sound annoyed and calm at the same time.
“Wiccan, take us home. We’re done here,” Patriot turned and started to walk away, the rest of the team following soon after. Stature glanced back and jogged over.
“Sorry, Uncle Hank,” she offered, giving Hank a quick peck on the cheek before jogging after the rest of her team and vanishing with them into a glowing blue portal. A few moments after they left, Hank was dropped to the ground. Rubbing his wrists, the scientist looked over his shoulder as the door to the room opened and Clint Barton walked in with Tigra.
“If you’ll recall, we told you that was a bad idea,” Clint remarked with a smirk.
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Young Avengers and Avengers Academy
Characters: Both teams + a guest
Summary: Hank Pym has a bad idea and the Young Avengers make that clear.
Warnings: None really. Just a random fic inspired by a conversation with a friend. Part of something I'm working on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hank Pym grunted slightly and rubbed his jaw. He hadn’t expected little Cassie Lang of all people to hit him so hard. Or at all for that matter. A sudden scream drew the Scientist Supreme’s attention upwards in time to see Veil getting blown away by some sort of wind vortex. He winced at the flash of light that came before Hazmat hit the ground, containment suit smoking as the girl inside was knocked out cold. Next to her with a bloody nose and a pair of taser-arrows still attached to her arms was Finesse.
Hank started to stand, stumbling over to check on Reptil who was laying unconscious in a crater. He glanced up at Mettle still stuck in the indent in the wall where he’d been smashed and then at Striker who was still struggling angrily against what looked like several very large rubber bands. Before Hank could help any of his students, he found himself yanked up into the air and dragged towards the center of the room. The man currently calling himself Wasp cursed softly as his arms were wrenched above his head and held there by orbs of mystic energy before he was turned around to face a group of rather perturbed teenagers.
“And what exactly did you think having your class try to ambush us would accomplish?” Hawkeye, the girl, asked evenly. She’d lowered her bow and arrow but not put them away. Hank wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
“You didn’t listen to what I was saying,” Hank started.
“No, we heard you,” Wiccan spoke up, glaring daggers at Hank. “You insisted we needed to come be part of your training class. And when we told you we weren’t interested, you told them to attack us,” he gestured at the subdued students of the Avengers Academy.
Hank opened his mouth to reply but stopped when Patriot held up a hand.
“We don’t want to hear it. Back when we were starting out, we all volunteered for training. Twice. And both times we got told to pack up and go home. So instead, we’ve been training ourselves and getting out there on our own.”
“We’ve gotten some training from the more reasonable Avengers,” Hulkling chimed in, nodding to Hawkeye.
“But for the most part, you’ve all blown us off. And now, after we’ve proved we’re just as good as the rest of us, you think we’re going to be underclassmen to a bunch of kids you had to trick into thinking they were the next greatest generation of heroes?” Wiccan asked, quirking a brow.
“Judging by how quickly and efficiently we defeated your students and yourself with minimal damage to the room, Dr. Pym, you should focus more on their further training then telling us that we need more,” Vision managed to sound annoyed and calm at the same time.
“Wiccan, take us home. We’re done here,” Patriot turned and started to walk away, the rest of the team following soon after. Stature glanced back and jogged over.
“Sorry, Uncle Hank,” she offered, giving Hank a quick peck on the cheek before jogging after the rest of her team and vanishing with them into a glowing blue portal. A few moments after they left, Hank was dropped to the ground. Rubbing his wrists, the scientist looked over his shoulder as the door to the room opened and Clint Barton walked in with Tigra.
“If you’ll recall, we told you that was a bad idea,” Clint remarked with a smirk.