|Date of Cutscene:||18 March 2019|
|Cast of Characters:||Wasp (van Dyne)|
Janet awakes to the sounds of crashing glass.
Crashing walls. Furniture. It sounds like a bulldozer just parked itself in her skyrise penthouse and the building shakes with the impacts.
The Wasp is many things but a coward is not one of them, nor is she the sort to panic in a crisis. She kicks back her comforter and scrambles across the king bed towards her nightstand to key in a thumbprint lock. It ejects a gold-plated disc the size of her palm and she slaps it onto her sternum. Black fabric unravels from the plate as it expands and layers her chest and belly with segmented gold armor plates and the leotard covers her from next to toes to fingertips. She flings aside her pajamas.
"House! Dial 911!" Janet shrinks down to the size of a pixie and flits towards her open door and the living room beyond, then draws back just in time to avoid a bolt of searing red energy flung past her face.
"Target Identified." The voice is cold and lacking humanity and the shadowy hulking figure, one of six, raises a palm and fires another blast at Janet, driving her furthur back into the bedroom suite. "Contain the target."
"House? House!" The AI suite is offline. "Right, manual mode." Janet flips open the bracelet on her left wrist, revealing a video screen and phone control. She activates the emergency signal. "Avengers, Avengers, this is Wasp, I am under attack at my penthouse and need--" An explosion of some projectile flings drywall and plaster at Janet and she cringes away. "I need immediate assistance." She taps the screen, sets the broadcast on a loop, and then shrinks down to even smaller scale. Buzzing insect wings take her towards a vent and she's promptly shocked by electrical discharge.
"Damnit!" Janet recovers in midair and starts zipping around, looking for a way out of her apartment that isn't crashing through the half-dozen hulking robots in her living room.
Something catches her ear and she lands on her dresser to still her wings. It's a buzzing sound. A *lot* of buzzing sounds, in fact. And seconds later a swarm of steel-plated bees flies into her room in a chaotic, mesmerizing display of swarm intelligence. Red eyes flash as Janet's identified and the tiny Wasp leaps into flight again. Bioplasma clings to her fingertips as she starts shooting down the buzzing insects, one at a time. They're fast and agile but no one's better at this sort of maneuvering than The Wasp.
But there are so many of them. Too many. Crackling electrical distortions surround each insect and Janet gets repeated static shocks from getting too close. Three such jabs in a short period send her plummeting downwards, wings twitched fruitlessly in an eternal fall to the distant carpet.
She's intercepted by one of the drones, wrapping all six limbs around her to pin her in place. Soporific spray drives her into unconsciousness in seconds and she goes completely limp.
The insects deliver Janet to the robots in her living room. One of the bees bites off her wrist communicator for good measure. She's transfered to a reinforced steel container the size of a lunchbox, placed inside a robot chassis, and then the attack team flies off into the night.
Total elapsed time, perhaps three minutes.
Janet's broken communicator continues to buzz a broken message. "-vegers. -- Wasp -- under attack -- thouse." It loops on and on until the broken battey fuses to itself and the display goes completely inert.