The alarms blared loudly at the storage facility as a figure dressed all in black raced down the hallways, a metal case clutched under its arm as it dove under the closing blast door and escaped out into the night. Dashing across the small yard, the thief then slipped through a hole cut in the perimeter fence, jumped into a vehicle they had hidden, and sped off into the night.
Some time later, a black SUV pulled up to an isolated warehouse that had the windows boarded over. Putting the car into neutral, the figure got out, unlocked the warehouse door, lifted it up, got back into the car and drove inside, parking the car and closing the door behind it. The figure then ripped of the mask over its face, revealing the face of none other than Stan Smith of Langley Falls!
“Klaus,” Stan called out into the well lit space of the refurbished warehouse he’d been assigned to after landing on the Line, “where are you?”
“Over here Stan,” the man-turned fish-turned man again shouted as he waved at the returned broad-chinned man from next to a complicated looking mechanical set-up, all arranged around a pair of large metal pods, large enough to fit a person inside, upon which had been spot-welded an American flag symbol. “Steve was just helping me do a last-minute diagnostic of the equipment before we started, did you get the serum?”
“Sure did,” Stan said, pulling out the case and flipping it open to reveal a half-dozen vials nestled within. “With these little babies we can make me and Steve into a father-son superhero team, one that will uphold true American values, shove it to those jerks at the CIA who fired me, and make people love alternates of me like they should!”
“Not ALL versions of you are hated by everybody dad,” Steve piped up from the large generator in the center at the warehouse, where he was checking the large cables leading to the pods. “What about that one that reopened that resturaunt? Last I heard, he was saying that he’s gonna try and make it into a chain! And let’s not forget the one who went back into acting...”
“Steve, shut up and get ready for becoming a Super Soldier,” Stan snapped at his son. As Steve finished up with the check of the generator and ran off to to change, the ex-CIA agent sighed to himself and said, “man, I should have used that experimental hypno-gun I swiped from the CIA on him and Klaus sooner, they’re much easier to deal with like this. Especially Steve, since I can make sure he doesn’t choose an absolutely stupid superhero name like he did last time”.
Several minutes later, Stan and Steve were both wearing skintight suits and lying down inside the Vita-ray infusement pods, while Klaus was at the controls, about to fire the machine up and start the process of turning the father and son into Super Soldiers by bombarding them with Vita-Rays. With a nod from the big-chinned ex-CIA man, Klaus pulled a lever, triggering the pods to close, then, after a second of trepidation, pushed the big red ON button, causing the pods to activate with a burst of light.
After a couple of excruciating minutes had passed, Klaus shut off the machinery and raised the lever to open the pods, with the newly changed Stan and Steve staggering out. Steve’s changes were the most pronounced, he had grown nearly a foot taller, his baby fat had been turned into lean muscle, his glasses falling off of his face, no longer needed, his body now. Stan’s enhancements, on the other hand, were less pronounced, he had mostly just regained the muscle and vigor middle age had stolen from him, with an additional increase in strength and durability as a bonus.
“This is great!” Steve shouted in joy as he flexed his newfound muscles, even picking up a piece of equipment on the other side of the room he could barely budge before with ease. “I should have become a super soldier ages ago!”
“I hear you son!” Stan said, looking at his hyper-fit body in a full-length mirror he had bought for that purpose alone, fueling his ego even more than the serum did, though with an ego as big as this Stan Smith Alternate’s was, making it much bigger was hard to do. “I feel better than I have in years! I can’t wait until…”
Whatever Stan was going to say, he never got the chance to, as just that moment, a bunch of smoke bombs were tossed in through a window and started venting their smog into the warehouse. Stan’s CIA training gave him a split second’s warning, and Steve’s newly enhanced reflexes allowed him to avoid getting immediately caught in the cloud, but Klaus was not so lucky, and was hit on the head by one of the canisters, knocking him out cold.
“S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Stan exclaimed in shock, seeing the logo on one of the canisters as it rolled towards him. “But, how could they have found us? I was so sure that I lost anyone who could have followed me from the facility, and they had no idea the missing vials were there in the first place!”
Before Stan could figure out what had happened, his shock and panic at the unexpected attack allowed a figure clad in black to sneak up behind him. Stan realized someone was behind him too late, and although he managed to stop the initial blow, he couldn’t stop the sedative dart that was jabbed into his neck from a second assailant.
“Get off me,” Stan cried out, pushing them away from him and stumbling, agonizingly slowly, across the room towards Steve, who had been unable to avoid his own sedative dose. Said dose, due to his lesser body mass, a newly enhanced circulatory system working against him, and a lack of a CIA toxin resistance regiment, was affecting him more strongly than his father, who was still conscious, if a bit woozy, and he collapsed right before Stan managed to reach him.
“Steve!” Stan shouted with a slight slur as he picked his son off the ground. “We gotta get out of here!” Throwing him over his shoulder, he tried to find the nearest exit through the smoke, but the drug had had time to impact him, and the adrenaline rush that had been keeping him on his feet was fading fast, so he only made it a couple more yards before he fell to his knees.
Trying, and failing, to pull himself and his son forward with his arm strength alone, his strength gave out and he flopped belly-down onto the ground, Steve falling onto his back. Fighting to keep his eyes open, he looked up to see the S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives, now blurs, standing over him, and then he knew nothing.
Several hours later, Phil Coulson, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., sat at his desk, looking over the incident report. Somehow the Stan alt had found out about the Serum vials that had gone missing during all the chaos with CHIMERA, and had, in a show of surprising competence, taken the container from where they had been stored and used them on himself and his son, whom he had brainwashed into greater obedience.
Luckily, a pair of agents had been staking the place out in an attempt to determine if the vials were there or not, and Stan’s breakin had given them all the excuse they needed to follow him and retrieve what he hadn’t used. Stan himself was currently in custody for the brainwashing charges, but Steve was already being treated for the mind control, and all that was needed was a place where he could positively apply his new abilities.
“Where would be the best place for him,” Coulson asked himself out loud as he stroked his chin. “I wonder if the Champions or Avengers have any positions that could work for him…”
An entry into the Anything Goes Jam Contest. Completed!