9102/Sentinels: You broke the Mold with this one

Sentinels: You broke the Mold with this one
Date of Scene:	07 September 2019
Location:	Sentinel Factory
Synopsis:	A Paladin, an Assassin, a Technomancer and a Glamourist walk into an illegal factory.
Cast of Characters:	Captain America, Ant-Man (Pym), Winter Soldier, Wasp (van Dyne)
Tinyplot:	Sentinels

---

Captain America has posed:
By all appearances, the van parked at least two blocks away from the Sentinel facility belongs to a cable company named "Comtrast". Who's really looking at the innocuous vehicle? Inside, Steve's adjusting the sleeves of his borrowed (stolen) dyed-black fatigues worn by the company who contracts security around Trasks's various facilities.

"...and that's the plan. We'll adjust on the fly. Any questions?" His brimmed cap is smartly set on his head, obscuring his blond hair, and he checks the ID clipped to his collar. A small wince.

"Did it have to be Captain Frost? That's terrible," he sighs quietly as he glances around the van's occupants.

Ant-Man (Pym) has posed:
"Yes, it did, Captain Complaint," Pym responds. He doesn't look particularly ready to go anywhere: he's looking over the van gear and doing another count over each piece of equipment in a way that is OCD to a point of possibly starting to drive the others a little crazy if they have to watch him do inventory one more time.

Still, this way they don't forget anything. Hank's dressed in a suit he hasn't worn in over a year; it's a little big through the middle, since he hasn't gotten back to 'comfortable' weight yet, so it looks more decent than it has in the past, comparitively. Science build means nothing compared to the super soldiers in the van, but Hank's not self conscious. He's busy checking gear.

"I've got /three/ of these devices that can go inside a mold's upper cranial cavity, inside lobe two, preferably. I'll take two, but I shouldn't have all three." A look goes to Janet.

Winter Soldier has posed:
Remember the time we broke into that HYDRA base in SS uniforms? Tailored, no less. This is considerably less snappy....and Buck has even deigned to knot up his hair. Apparently even the demands of incognito will not induce him to buzz it down. He's examining his own badge. "I'm Gorman," he says, frowning. It's reminding him of something, but he can't say what.

Then he looks up from it. "Sounds good," he says. Apparently counting on their knee-jerk synchronization. And then adds, as an aside, "You know, Frost is still one of my IDS, hand to God. Some fucking Russian joker thought it would be hilarious if I came out of cryo and walked around as John 'Jack' Frost. Barrel o' laughs."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet pivots in her chair and turns a sour look at the three men in the van. Her fatigues fit like they were tailored for her; coincidence, or vanity? A shortballcap covers her pixie cut but does little to conceal her elfin features.

"Could have been worse; I voted for Crunch, but I was overridden," she informs Steve.

Janet gets to her feet. Short as she is, she barely needs to crunch. "Okay. Side door. Give me... five minutes," she hazards. Her phone's removed from her pocket like she's severed a finger and set in the tiny SCIF compartment in the van. "I'm gonna go do my thing."

She moves past Steve with a palm on his shoulder and disappears with a rush of air as she shrinks to insect-scale. Up she goes through the vent and buzzes along to the side of the building.

There's a long minute of silence. Several. And then, a side-door opens, and Janet's beckoning the men in the van to hurry up and come over to the open door.

The scent of laundry assails the nose as the enter the janitor's side access rather than the loading dock.

Captain America has posed:
"You're awful," Steve informs the Wasp as to her opinions on badge names. 'Gorman' doesn't ring a bell for the Captain either, but he's content for the shockingly accurate badges nonetheless. "And that's also terrible," he asides to Bucky, frowning deeply. Clearly in bad taste.

"Five minutes it is." Sitting and waiting is, in fact, the worst -- especially given three of the four portions of the unit have an intimate knowledge of just how scary a single Sentinel robot can be, much less an entire fleet of them not only in production, but guarding the facility. Things have been tightened down since the explosive detonation of a mold in the skies over the city. Comm check is confirmed and the men leave the nondescript van behind.

Once more, the facility is bypassed by dint of previous experience, the jamming devices on everyone's person, a tense moment where the gentlemen need to hold very, very still to allow a Sentinel robot to walk by in its tyrannical size and glory -- each step rumbles the concrete beneath their boots -- and then it's into the laundry facility.

Inside, it smells like...well, y'know: the stink of unwashed garments. Steve wrinkles his nose. "Just as bad as the last place," he mutters. "Good job, Janet." A curt nod accompanies his accolade. "Alright. If I remember correctly and the layout's similar enough, the main manufacturing facility is building A. Last time, building C was the labs. Walk like you mean it. Nobody should try and stop us this way. Gear up with your weaponry."

Winter Soldier has posed:
Walk like you mean it. Buck shoots Steve a sidelong glance, amused....but he does. Something in his stride alters, though. For those who've met Winter himself, that's how he walks. For those who haven't.....well, T-1000 is about right.

Gear up he does, and he wears the armaments with a kind of unconscious ease. How many years has he spent where no day passes without him carrying at least a few arms?

Ant-Man (Pym) has posed:
Hank comes out of small scale to accomodate the weapon requests -- resizes himself, and then sorts through the gear, simply sizing each piece up and getting it to the correct owner of the item. Hank isn't armed with weapons, he's here in a support-tech role. Let the soldiers do the main fighting.

"I'll bring up the rear," Hank comments as he adjusts his comm, and pulls his mobile scanner out, adjusting it on the fly.

"Also, I'm getting a new read on their scanners. Huddle up and let me update your jamming frequencies," Hank says, without any room for argument about it. "They're rotating; I'll sync ours to match." Once done, he'll impatiently wave the others on, and 'disappear' back into small size.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet stands just inside the door, forearm clasped behind her back with a winsome expression. She beams up at Steve at his praise and pops onto her toes to fall into step with the little quartet. She pivots to Hank and holds out her communicator so it can be synchronized with the others.

They come up to a door and Janet comes up short, tapping Steve's bicep to halt him. She turns to Bucky, then, stepping close and resting a hand on his forearm imploringly.

"Actually. Bucky, if you'd be a dear-- I scouted ahead. I can get us past the next guard station, but there's a bruiser in there who looks like it's his job in life to harass people. Be a lamb? Give him a pavement makeover and I'll deal with the guard station?"

Janet then flashes Bucky her most devastatingly charming smile. Not quite fluttering her lashes winningly at him, but it's close to it. With another quick squeeze of his arm she vanishes under the door with a flutter of wings and wind, headed to the other guard station to work her own brand of special skills.

Captain America has posed:
"Good call, Hank." His small suspicion that Trask would throw in a wild card like a rotating frequency pans out in their favor in the end. With weapons doled out and the unit armed, the three standard-sized humans (well, mostly, there's a fascinating range of heights on display) and one minute Hank strut their stuff -- like the contract security agents they are, not fashion models. Maybe it's the carriage of Janet -- or the set of Steve's jaw -- or the cold distancing in Bucky's eyes -- but they make it across the campus without further incident until they reach another side entrance to the main factory building. Its yawning entrance is around the far side, more than tall enough to admit the Sentinel robots coming and going on their computerized shifts of security.

With a slow exhale, Steve swipes his ID card against the reader...and the door unlocks. Bless, Natasha, bless. "Not gonna stop you, Buck," he says under his breath as they both enter the building. Indeed, a guard station and the occupant is already rising to his feet.

The guard shares Steve's breadth of shoulder and about his height, give or take an inch, which makes him formidable for a human. He's got a bulldog grimace on his face even on approach.

"Dunno your faces, let's see the IDs," he growls, a faint Jersey accent lingering. At his desk, a button blinks on and off -- on and off -- set on a timer to be dismissed or else trigger an alarm when the alotted time passes by.

Winter Soldier has posed:
Of course, he returns that with his flattest pokerface. Barnes on the whole isn't the charmer he used to be....but in a situation like this, he's got all the suavity of a cinder block. He looks at her hand on his arm like he's not sure how it got there, but it better not stay there.

Then she's flitting off, and they're confronted with this bulldog. Buck examines him coldly for a moment, then says, looking down at his ID, as if he's not certain he's got the right one on, "Oh, well, yeah, I'm new here and-"

Even as he's speaking, he's exploding into motion. He's a hair faster than Steve, and the poor guard suddenly finds that he's taken a metal fist to the temple. The 'crunch' of alloy against bone is not loud, but it's terribly distinct. Someone is not coming in to work tomorrow.

Ant-Man (Pym) has posed:
Hank ignored the guard, and instead went for the security system. First, the damn alarm, so that that doesn't get triggered: Hank is mostly invisible, as he goes to the alarm system, going inside the mechanism to rewire that, set it to pulse on its own.

Next, Those cameras-- he's moved on to hacking into those, making the feeds circle through his own tech, to mask the group's further violent activities.

"You may have been on camera for a moment; maybe they weren't looking. This isn't an /instant/ process, I don't work here," Hank's grumpy tone comes into the communicator, but that's just par for the course of the situation being stressful.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Bucky floors the guard. Hank slices into the security system. And Janet? Janet's 'office flirting' with the desk officer in the guard station, in a way that's devastingly effectively, thoroughly insincere, and utterly charming. It's enough he doesn't even notice Hank subverting the systems right under his nose.

She looks over at Bucky and Steve as the two soldiers lumber up and a vexatious expression flashes over her fine-boned features. "There you two are. Would you hurry up?" she says, her tone crisp and lacking any affection. "I don't have all day." She looks at the guard, who no doubt has been trying to unlock whether or not Janet's flirting sincerely or not. "Gotta go. Duty calls. Was nice chatting with you, Bill. Buzz us in?"

The duty officer puts his hand on the buzzer, hesitates. Janet winks at him furtively. "I'll come back later and get that lemon strudel recipe. Sounds divine."

BZZRT. The doors swing open. Janet wriggles fingers at him and slides away from the guard station desk to start a purposeful march into the secured area, hips swinging.

Bill catches himself staring, realizes he's being observed doing so, and coughs to hide a low flush. "Er, head in, fellahs," he says, trying to restore some authority to his suddenly hoarse voice.

Captain America has posed:
"Yeah, I'm -- "

And Steve looks down at the collapsed meat-pile on the hallway floor before letting go of his own ID.

" -- thinking he'll have a headache tomorrow," the Captain finishes drily. "I'd feel bad for him, but that's how the cards play out when you work for a tyrant." Gripping onto the man's wrist, he drags the sturdily-built guard back into the shack and works him back up into his seat. Folded hands on his lap are ziptied together behind him and then the length of belt to the spine of the chair to boot. The black cap is perched down over part of his lolled-up face, as if Protein-Powder McGee here thought it was a good idea to nap. Actually, his nametag says 'Chad'.

"Bet they didn't catch us. I didn't hear any change in the factory cadence," Steve replies to Hank, sticking his head out of the room to see if Janet's on approach again. Hmm. Not yet.

It's a singular thing, the sound of the factory at work. The perpetual, unending stamping of parts and pieces resonates in the chest even with walls between them and the open portion of the floor. Sentinels stomp in and out. Metal rings and sparks fly with repairs here and there, automated. It's efficient...and coldly, eerily inhuman.

Through a small port window in the guard shack, one can see out onto the floor itself. Steve peers through it. "I remember the layouts Natasha shared," and he points to a door on the far side, small and seemingly insignificant compared to the size of the robots moving about. "That's the main entrance to the mold room itself. Thing's gigantic." He turns a concerned frown on his teammates. "'m talking the size of a building. Foot the size of a Panzer tank." Yikes indeed. "We're gonna have to cross the floor itself to reach it, no access from a side hallway. The cloaking tech'll do its job, but we'll need to be fast."

Janet's flirt game earns them far easier access than expected to the floor itself. Sure, someone was probably hoping to deck Bill's face in, but one unconscious body with a questionable blip on video is enough. Steve gives the other guard a curt nod, his eyes a touch hard, before he leads the way along the wall of the warehouse. Lines painted onto the floor keep them from stepping into any hazardous zone. On the approach, Steve can be seen to wiggle his fingers and reach for another ID card stashed into the pocket of his fatigue pants.

A swipe across the keypad again..and the door swishes open.

Regardless, a Sentinel nearby scans them once. And again. And lifts a hand for the particular scanner there.

Winter Soldier has posed:
That was only a taste, not enough to satisfy. But then, this is one of those missions that's nominally better ended without more blood. Buck's expression is grim, set.....

Which doesn't stop him from whistling, whimsically, a few bars of 'Powerhouse'. Because God, this place reminds him of every factory in every Warner Brothers' cartoon he's ever seen. "Ready when you are," he tells Steve.

Ant-Man (Pym) has posed:
"Hold," Hank snaps into the comms, forced to resize back to normal scale, using the zone just beyond where Steve and Bucky were most recently taking cover. "Something's going on with the mold. If it's not dormant, this won't work," says the scientist sharply, referring to his equipment.

Yes, Sentinels are walking around nearby, and this is one of the worst places to stop. It's just not ideal: Sentinels making them freeze, but other guard patrols will see them if they don't move soon!

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Is that an imperial or metric unit of Panzers?" Janet quips at Steve. The Sentinel stomps up to scan them. Being the only genetic metahuman on the team, that might prove a real inconvenience for the likes of Janet. So she's already moving before the scan can zero in, buzzing upwards into the factory ceiling at the insect scale once more. Her wings give her a lot of mobility, and she heads straight up to disappear into the thermal exhaust of intake manifolds located in the ceiling. Small as she is, it's unlikely anything could spot her.

"Hank, they've got a lot of arc grills over the ventilation system," she whispers over the commset. "I've got some wildlife that can get in, but the chokepoints are really inaccessible," Janet murmurs. "If you can short the environmental systems enough for vent access, it'd help a lot."

She buzzes along inside the cover of shadow and heat until she's situated for the best possible surveillance of the facility, eyes scanning. "Looot of moving parts here, boys," she murmurs. "If this goes pear-shaped, it's the four of us against... a dozen Sentinels, give or take. Maybe more. I can't see from here how many are in cold storage. I think I can get a little closer if I buzz across the assembly line..."

Captain America has posed:
"Get to cover," the Captain hisses. The reddish hue of the Sentinel scanner's rectanglar field is passing back to cross over them again and damned if one solid footstep has turned in their direction. It's definitely like a t-rex scenting some small mammals in the underbrush.

In a quick blur of movement, Steve, at least, is behind a bulking of boxy rises of machinery -- maybe a portion of the steam-intake control mechanisms for the hydraulics of the stamping machinery itself. In the shadow of the refridgerator-sized alignment of boxes, there's surely some electrical interference put off to provide further cover against the scanning. With eyes averted, he listens to Janet's report on the comms and grits his teeth visibly. The main door to the mold room slides shut on silent gears once more.

"Don't go far, Janet, you've got my shield," he reminds the Wasp; it hangs at the necklace on her neck, shrunk for now, spangled as always. "We gotta get in that room, Hank. What do you mean not dormant? Any way to force it to dormancy?" He pauses and adds, with a decided note of petulance, "Don't tell me it needs to cycle down. We don't have time for that."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet pauses and her head tilts to process the words in her ear. "Well drat, there goes my plans to make a fortune on eBay," she rebuts, dryly. "Aren't you a super-soldier? /Bucky/ gets along just fine without a shield. Cowboy up, willya?" she scolds Steve.

Winter Soldier has posed:
Oh, great. Leviathan is not sleeping. Buck's into the arrangement of boxes like a cat diving for garbage cans in an alley. He gives Steve a look. Like it's the blond's fault that this isn't going as planned. "My vibranium's built in," he says. "Also, I don't do dumb shit the way he does."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Bucky, you are my spirit animal," Janet declares over the comms net.

Winter Soldier has posed:
"Sister, you you should be so lucky," he retorts. "I've just got years of experience with him doin' his thing."

Captain America has posed:
"I should deport you both for mocking an American icon," Steve mutters into the comms net, scowling over his shoulder towards the Sentinel robot still looking for them.

Ant-Man (Pym) has posed:
"Patience, patience," Hank says, in one of his more infuriatingly chiding tones. It's a tone that says he's listening but not giving his attention: he's doing something he thinks is more important. Maybe it is.

"All of the chatter in the comms REALLY helps with concentration, thanks everyone. Amateur hour." His teeth grinding is in the comms, probably.

"...The mold is in some sort of self repair mode. We'll just need that to finish before we can plant my virus, but it's also good for us: it's not scanning. My guess is seven minutes."

And Janet wants things. "I live to serve your whims, Janet," Hank answers her dryly. That means he'll do it. The environment controls thing. "But remember they saw your wildlife before. There will be defenses."

Captain America has posed:
"Seven minutes." Seven minutes will seem like an eternity, especially with the Sentinel now having paused. Its large silhouette will be easily seen against the bright glare of internal lighting and, again, the reddish rectangle passes over their immediate area. Steve waits until it passes and then gives Bucky a look.

It's the look he used to give before he would single-handedly storm the German mounted machine-gun nests.

"Bet you I can lap you around this place without breaking a sweat," he says to the other soldier, his smile slowly growing and bidding nothing but trouble. It'll be the most hair-raising game of cat and mouse possible, flitting from behind barriers across the Sentinel's view with just enough random appearance to draw attention away from Hank by the mold door.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Uh, yeah you do," Janet confirms rhetorically for Hank's benefit. "That's the whole reason I signed on as a charter member of the Avengers. The Whimsome Wasp," she informs the group.

Seven minutes. Janet makes it about a hundred and forty seconds and then a big sigh echoes across the comms net. "Okay screw it, I'm gonna go get a closer look," Janet announces, and a little buzzing bee starts flicking along the ceiling. She clings to hot zones and wisps of rising smoke and debris, her motion barely visible to the naked eye. "This mold thing, it's... it's huge," she remarks through her helmet's visor. "Hank, I see some exposed control panels. Not the main computer board. I think it's a heat control manifold, or something for the pneumatics. I'm trying to get close enough to defeat the safety overrides. Make the whole thing tear itself apart; it'll cost 'em millions and take weeks to fix," she says, confidently. Janet reaches a vertical pipe and more or less skips down it with intermittent buzzing from her wings as she descends to the floor below.

Winter Soldier has posed:
Buck's expression, in turn, is vintage 'Jesus, Rogers, not AGAIN' circa 1942. This is his sispyhean superhero hell, doomed to keep trying to keep this big, blond, charismatic jackass alive, like the world's worst escort quest. "You wish," he says, staunchly. "Seven minutes it is."

Ant-Man (Pym) has posed:
"All right, Janet," Hank replies when Janet gives him the report. He accepts her facts evenly and thoughtfully. His tone adjusted out of irritated into the one he more commonly falls into during a mission: a focused, efficient mode. "Get ready to do that when we're already hitting the mold, though. Guess that puts me going inside the damn thing, doesn't it," Pym observes.

"If it catches me, I'll distract; you'll have to get inside, Janet. Lobe two." He pauses, she'll need more than that. It's not condescending, just informational. "....Back and left, if facing the skull cavity. You'll look for four clusters of processors."

There are also various scientists and workers around, and they are chatting below. The repair cycle meant more people, it seems. A human guard group is headed their way, but at least there isn't a sentinel. But how to get them out of sight of the others? There will need to be some care taken to not be discovered long enough for those seven -- errr, six -- minutes to elapse.

Captain America has posed:
As if rewarded by the expression of eternal rueful disgust aimed at him, Steve's grin only deepens. "Keep us updated on the comms," he says under his breath and, with a negligent glancing gesture, slaps his knuckles against Bucky's arm.

Tag, you're it.

Thus begins a flitting exercise in advancing from pocket of shadowy space between islands of machinery -- behind exhaust ports, around vertical piping large enough for a motorcycle to fit within, beneath machinery when the reddish scanning field of the Sentinel robot passes nearby and just enough of a body to warrant a second glance, like a sparkle in the corner of one's vision. The scientists are ignored and when the two soldiers play their part, stoic security, they're ignored.

The small clot of human guards draws attention, however. Bucky gets a side-look and a series of gestures indicating: let's kick their asses if they notice us.

Winter Soldier has posed:
Rueful disgust gone to that keen, lupine glitter. Winter may not be in control, now, but Winter wasn't the only reason to begin with - Bucky Barnes was a cheerful little killer in his own right before Winter was ever thought of.

Then he's ghosting after Steve, and he moves like nothing more than a breath of wind, despite his size. There's an upnod at that look. They don't even need hand signals, not after all these years. Might as well be telepathy.

Ant-Man (Pym) has posed:
"The cycle is wrapping up, it's blocking my scans now; getting into position," Pym says, checking his items for the 9,288th time, and shrinking quickly, moving into position as he mentioned, towards the Mold itself: vanishing to most everyone else, and using a leap combination.

The mold clicks a few times, as the systems start to come back online from the previous cycle. Scientists move around, checking on things.

"INTRUDERS!" the mold suddenly thunders. The huge hands, each the size of a truck, curve and rotate, as the immense mobile factory awakens. The small sentinels orient towards their mold like a general calling to the troops.

The head of the massive mold blazes with heat, as energy pools in the eyes. There's no way the head is safe to approach, with that level of plasma.

"Plan B," declares Pym into the communicator. "I'll make it fire. Be ready, Janet, right after it blasts."

With that, Pym suddenly assumes Giant-Man scale in front of the Mold, and shoves both hands up under the chin of the mold, tipping the head back.

"INTRUUUBIRRRRT," announces the Mold, as the plasma blast takes out a huge hole in the roof of the factory. There's a pause of total confusion, since it's like a second Mold just appeared out of nowhere.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Several things happen simultaneously.

First, largely un-noticed; the interchange Janet sabotaged goes up with a puff of smoke and sparks. Pistons and pneumatics seize, scrape, and the whole system overloads. Janet's not a tech expert on par with her fellow Avengers but the woman knows how to break the absolute hell out of expensive machinery with a minimum of fuss.

Second, a disc-shaped object flies out of the air at Steve like a whipped fastball from nowhere. It glitters with star-spangled solidity as it's un-shrunk and hurled at its rightful owner.

And then, Janet flies right into the Master Mold's skull through the left aural interface, drops something, and buzzes out again.

Insect-Janet goes to Giant-Janet, and she grabs the back of Mold's armor and hauls it backwards with Hank's assisted leverage. "Get clear!" she booms at Hank in a giant, stentorian voice-- and then the dropped micro-explosives, each containing the charge of a modest hand grenade, go off inside the machine's exoskeleton. A dozen of them, at least.

And just for good measure, she turns and punts one of the Sentinels across the room with a goalpost-worthy kick.

Ant-Man (Pym) has posed:
More things happen simultaneously. Because Hank was ready, and they've done things like this before. He was already adjusting backwards, lashing sideways at the mold's hand that was coming up towards Janet's Giant side, deflecting it as he shrunk back down and dodged. 'Get clear indeed'.

"It has a self destruct, let the virus disarm that," Hank admonishes quickly.

Captain America has posed:
And just about as both soldiers are about to raise some serious ruckus of their own, they're far less troublesome to worry about. About as shocked as the scientists and the stumbling, scrambling human guards trying to simultaneously retreat and pull their weaponry, Steve stares at the giant-sized Hank.

This ruckus has been upgraded to a fracas.

Still, that's his shield, and in a move as familiar as combing his hair, the Captain jumps up to catch the shield. Cat's out of the bag now! He dives into the nearest collection of guards with the furious frenzy of wanting to lay everyone prone as fast as possible. Concrete hits the factory floor with resounding crumbling impacts and the Sentinel booted across the room by Janet lies in a sparking heap.

"Time to beat feet, team!" Ducking a punch, he slams his shield into the guard and the man skids back a good number of feet on his back, out cold. "They'll guard the queen bee, we need to move while we can!" There goes Steve, sprinting at super-speed for the yawning opening of the hanger-factory.

For good acting measure, he shouts as he passes fellow security guards, "I'm not letting this place fall down around my prop replica shield!!!"

Nerd.

Winter Soldier has posed:
It's like watching a cat land among pigeons, these two amidst the ordinary guards. They've been doing this trick since before Truman was in office, and there's the ease of long, long practice. Buck has to visibly pull himself away from the prospect of further fight, though, and then he's catching up with Steve, falling into pace with him. He knows enough that if Steve is willing to go, it's time to LEAVE.

Ant-Man (Pym) has posed:
Hank erupts back into Giant-Man to flip over one of the huge computer terminals, immediately shrinking just after impact to duck under the object and move to give chase -- preferably hitch a ride on the nearest ally, which probably happens to be Bucky. Hopefully he doesn't mind that.

"On your left shoulder," Pym says to Bucky as he falls in there.

Behind them, the mold thrashes and drops to a knee. "MALFUNCTION," thunders the mold in a deep boom. Everyone knows what that means. Everyone scatters in all directions.... except for the other sentinels. They seem drawn in, approaching to support their maker....

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Yeah yeah, let's go!" Janet turns and starts running to the door. Well, lumbering, anyway. Another Sentinel tries to get in her way with a tangle of those twisting wires, and Janet grabs the robot's head and twists like she's uncorking a bottlecap. At the scale she and Hank are occupying, the smaller production Sentinels are the size of toddlers.

Janet dashes for the door and in mid-air launches herself into a diving leap. There's an immense *whoosh* of displaced air as she shrinks to something closer to pixie-size, wings buzzing audibly, and falls into line in Steve's wake. She won't win a footrace against the super-soldiers, but Janet can easily stay in the shadow of his presence as they make their tactical withdrawal.

Which just *looks* like a mad dash to the door.

"Did it really yell 'Intruders'?" she quips, of no one in particular. "Why don't any of these nerds program these machines to say something articulate once in a while?"

Captain America has posed:
The two soldiers indeed beat feet across the tarmac beyond the factory. The night outside has erupted into claxons of alarm and Sentinel robots begin to cluster, diverting from flight paths and landing. There are some close calls as giant robotic feet land around them and no, Steve isn't going to admit that was a choked laugh of shock as both need to split apart to avoid being stomped like...well, an insect.

"It's not wrong!" the Captain notes on a breath as they exit the confines of the property, disappearing off and towards the nonchalant van still parked about two blocks away. Behind them comes the sound of something positively huge collapsing to send a shockwave through the ground beneath their feet. A glance over one's shoulder will show the Sentinels attempting to rise from the factory property and begin to drop with spastic movements. It seems the planted virus has affected the entire immediate population.

Mission: success.