Hi everyone! LASSSST CHAPTERRR! :D :D :D :D

Sorry for the delay by the way! :)

First things first: THIS CHAPTER IS A BIT MORE BLOODY THAN THE OTHERS! It involves some mildly described torture-like scenes and kidnapping, and if this might trigger you in ANY WAY, please son't read; I don't want to hurt anyone and I would hate if my writing created harm.

Now that that is done; I hope you all enjoy! :)

This chapter takes place a few months or so after the events of the movie.

...

Pym cackled as he shot yet another energy blast at the masked men who were attempting to rob the newly founded government building; the adversaries didn't stand a chance.

After the fall of Ultron, things had slowly built themselves back up again until life resembled a normal functioning society once more. Things weren't perfect- there were still a lot of riots and confusion and villains popping up now that Ultron was no longer there to stand in their way- but it was certainly getting better.

And with the Avengers there to keep things on the right track, nothing could go wrong!

At least, that's what Pym thought.

And so there he was, blasting away at bad guy after bad guy, occasionally zipping over to James to ask for new orders or flying over the battlefield in order to deliver a message to another member of the group. They had comms, but the thugs had set up an EMP that blocked all communication signals, rendering them useless. Pym probably could have fixed them, but that would take too much time and would require someone to guard him while he worked, which wasn't ideal.

And so they stuck with Pym flying around and delivering orders and battle plans.

It was on one of these runs where the trouble started.

He had been zipping across the field, large brown eyes searching for Hawkeye in order to tell him his position needed to switch over a few buildings, when something large and heavy slammed into him and made him crash into a wall.

He hissed in pain as the world swerved in and out of focus and his head began to hammer in protest. He looked up, his blurry vision making out three very, very large figures with a whole lot of gadgets that most certainly did not look fun.

Pym tried for a smile.

"Hehheh; you wouldn't happen to be good guys in disguise, would you?"

A small beam of red light shot out of one of the thug's gun and Pym was forced to dive to the side, almost throwing up when the sudden movement made his head spin in dizzying, painful ways.

In the spot where he was just mere moments before was a burnt spot.

Pym gulped.

"Ah… didn't think so. But thanks anyways for the confirmation."

Another shot had him zooming unsteadily into the air and flying over the men's head, hardly managing to dodge a strange glowing fiber green net that was sent his way soon after.

There was a sinking feeling in his stomach, and Pym had a feeling that the situation was developing into more than just an armed robbery; these guys were far too prepared.

Dizzy and with his head pounding, Pym glanced around the battlefield, searching for one of his companions. The world was wavering in and out of focus again, and the different colors were mingling into a strange swirling rainbow… perhaps he had hit his head harder than he thought.

Finally, he spotted Torunn in the distance, but it was too late, too late, and something hit his side hard and he gasped, crying out in pain and small hands rushing to grab at the spot where he had been hit. He blinked blearily when his hands came away red…

Funny, Pym had never bled before…

Someone was shouting his name, but their voice was far away… He looked up anyways, realizing that Torunn was flying over to him at break neck speeds and that he should probably go and see what she needed, but everything was so hazy and blurred and Pym wasn't so sure that moving was the best idea…

And then something green slammed into him- The net, he realized- and was wrapping around him, thousands of shocks jolting his body and causing Pym to yell out in pain, back arching as the electricity traveled through his unwilling veins. It override his systems, shorted out his brain, and he should have really done something about it but the pain… the pain kept him frozen, unable to move or think because it was burning, burning, burning and the smell of charred flesh was attacking his nose and the electricity just kept pumping, pumping, pumping into him.

Pym!

Was someone calling his name? It sounded like someone was calling his name. He should really respond… but he couldn't. He couldn't; he was falling, falling from the sky, dragged down by the heavy net that was still shocking him. Over and over and over. He wanted to get out! Why couldn't he get out?

Something in his throat choked, and his vision was fading, surrendering to the encroaching darkness.

And then he knew more.

And Torunn could only watch as he little brother fell and landed in the waiting black leather glove of one of the thugs. Could only stare in horror as her little brother was dropped unceremoniously into a jar- the blasted net still on him- and shoved into a man's belt with little regard. Could only glare as the men ran away, Pym scarily lax as he was thrown to and throw with the motions.

By the time she arrived at the scene, breathing hard because of the speed of her flight, the men were already gone and Pym was nowhere to be found.

Torunn yelled in frustration, swinging her sword downwards in anger and accidentally chopping a garbage bin in half. She glared at the pieces accusingly, as if they were at fault for the loss of her younger brother, and pretended she didn't notice the tears on her face.

Pym was gone, and it was her fault. If only she had been a little faster, a little stronger…

She cursed, loudly, and threw herself back into the fro. She had to find James; James would have a plan. James would know what to do.

To her surprise, however, by the time she exited the alleyway the goons were already retreating. They were running away, hopping into vans and dragging along injured teammates. At first, she was glad- let them run like the cowards they were, let them know the power of the Avengers and fear it as they scurried back into their holes- but then it hit he that the thugs were the only ones to have any knowledge where Pym might be, and that if they escaped they would take that knowledge with them.

That wasn't acceptable.

"Oh no you don't," she growled, throwing her sword at breakneck speeds and smirking in grim satisfaction as the hilt slammed into the back of a thug's head and knocked him instantly unconscious.

She swooped down, grabbed the man, and rushed back into the air, scanning the battlefield for James.

Not there, nor there, not there… Where are you, James? Not there, not there, not there… There!

She zoomed towards the red-headed boy dropping her burden and punching the gang leader that he had been fighting unconscious. James caught his shield and swung it over so that it attached to his back, turning so that he faced her, questions already forming on his tongue.

Torunn cut him off before he even had a chance.

"They took Pym. Everyone's escaped except for these two," she glared at the two fallen thugs, "I don't know where they went."

James stared at her for a few seconds before he exploded, "WHAT!? They took Pym! How!?"

She flinched.

James must have noticed because he clenched his eyes shut for a few seconds, breathing deeply through his nose before opening them.

"Never- never mind. It doesn't matter. Get Azari and Hawkeye for me, will you? We need to make a plan."

Torunn quickly did what she was told, guilt gnawing at her from the inside out. Once they were all gathered, she explained what had happened, bouncing on her toes the entire time; they were talking too much. Pym was in danger and it was all her fault and they had to stop doing something and start taking action!

It was then they heard the thugs start to wake up. Instantly, they turned on their heels and towered over them; the bad guys had chosen the wrong kid to kidnap.

The thugs woke up to four very, very angry and protective older siblings who were willing to give an entire world of pain to get the information they needed.

It was not a fun day for those thugs. Not a fun day at all.

Pym woke up to a every muscles of his body protesting his every movement.

He groaned, curled a little bit tighter into himself, and reached one sore hand out in an attempt to find his missing pillow.

Except he couldn't find it. Still keeping his eyes close- far too tired and miserable to even bother opening them- he stretched a little farther but to no avail.

He frowned, for it was a very odd indeed that his pillow should escape him so thoroughly, especially when he was sore and hurting like this; normally the others would have long ago tucked him into bed and given him so many pillows and duvets that he would be drowning in them.

It was then he realized that he was not in his bed. That there were no duvets or pillows because he was not at home, safe and sound and far out of reach from any harm.

His eyes opened with a snap and he was sitting up before he even fully registered what he was doing.

Where was he? What was going on? Why did his stomach hurt so much? Where were the others? Were they okay? Why was he alone? What happened?

But then he was lying back down and curling up again because it was too bright, too bright, and his head hurt and his body ached and his side burned and he didn't like this very much, at all.

Slowly, he cracked his eyes open again. He needed to find out what was going on, then he would figure out what had happened to him; if he was in the middle of a battle, he needed to get up and get going, or at least find one of the others.

He was not in the middle of a battle.

In fact, it appeared as if he was in a jar.

(At first he was impressed that whoever had taken him could find a jar large enough to fit an 11-year-old kid, but then he realized that the idea was stupid because he was actually in his smaller form, not his usual form.)

He blinked and carefully pulled himself into a sitting position, looked up and spotted the small holes in the jar lid, looked to the side and spotted a video camera, and then to the far too bright lamp to his left. He was in a jar, in an unfamiliar location, and someone was videotaping him.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh at the irony he was a bug-sized hero and he was now trapped in a jar like a little kid would trap an insect if they wanted to keep it as a pet, or glare because of the lack of creativity, because he was a bug-sized hero and he was now trapped in a jar like a little kid would trap an insect if they wanted to keep it as a pet.

He chose to glare.

(And maybe a pout a bit, but that wasn't important.)

After he finished glaring, he slowly- carefully- tried to stand up, using the glass sides of the jar to keep himself upright. The world was wavering in and out and his stomach rolled unpleasantly at the motion- not to mention the fact that his side stung like crazy- but he grit his teeth and kept at it, letting a lose a little cheer of triumph when he succeeded.

The next part was simple; he would simply grow to his usual size- shattering the glass as he did so- escape the unknown location using his amazing navigating and sneaking abilities- which really weren't that amazing- find a way- currently unknown- to contact his siblings, wait for his pickup, and all the while never once get recaptured.

Simple.

But it turned out to not be that simple, for just as he was about to put his master plan- very detailed and well thought out master plan- into action, two large men dressed in orange lab suits and toting along a scary looking gas canister entered the room.

He blinked up at them, confused, because no one was supposed to enter until after he finished escaping his confines, but he would not have long to think after that…

A funnel-like thing was attached to the top of his jar, and Pym was too busy trying to figure out why anyone would do such a thing to realize that the funnel was connected to the scary gas canister.

At least, not until green smoke started to filter through the holes and into the jar.

He tried to hold his breath, he really did try, but eventually he had to breathe, inhaling the green substance as he gulped in desperate gasps of air.

And then he was coughing, choking as his body tried to repel the gas. He just kept coughing and coughing, deep grating coughs that pulled at his throat. Because there was no air and he felt the first grips of panic reach out and grab him.

Slowly, he slumped down against the glass- which he had been pounding against in his fruitless attempts for escape- still coughing. The world was spinning now, and his eyelids were feeling awfully heavy. He didn't like this. He didn't like it at all. His eyes were stinging and his throat was sore and his ears felt as if they were filled with cotton. It was like he was underwater, everything muffled and far away, and the world was spinning and spinning and spinning in a multitude of colors, even though his eyes were closed…

And then something was grabbing him- too tight, too tight- around the middle and he was pulled out of the smog of green smoke, thrown down on a cold, silver surface that he didn't particularly like... but that was something he would worry about later because he could finally, finally breathe.

He rolled over so that he was on all fours, coughing harshly and eyes tightly clenched shut. One gulp of air, and then another. And another and another, every breath a precious gift he would never take advantage of again.

But despite the wonderful air, something was… off. His brain was hazy. Or was it his thoughts? Which was right? He didn't knooow.

He tried to stand up, but he couldn't, only stumbling and falling back down again. His head didn't like it very much.

Poor head.

The world was tinged yellow, which was strange because Pym was almost sure it used to be green…

What was happening to him?

And then there were people leaning over him, and they were too big, too big, and Pym would really like to get big again too so that he didn't feel so small…

But he couldn't. He couldn't. Whenever he tried, the thoughts would slip out of his grasp and his body would ache and strain but never do anything.

He was stuck. And if there was one thing he didn't like, it was being stuck.

He swallowed hard, holding back tears. Why couldn't he get big? What was wrong with him? What if he was stuck forever?

He needed to find James. James or Torunn or Hawkeye or Azari. They would know what to do. They knew everything.

He tried to stand again, this time to find his friends, but his legs gave up halfway through once more, leaving him on the ground and his head not liking him again.

He registered the sound of laughing, and he looked up to see the men who had put him there laughing. They were laughing at him, and he didn't like it. They were being mean. What had Pym ever done to them?

He opened his mouth to tell him just what he thought about them, but he threw up instead.

Staring down at his own bile, he couldn't help but think: Huh, that was unexpected.

Then he threw up again.

Once he was done puking, he blearily looked up at the men once more. They were still laughing. Couldn't they tell that Pym was sick, why weren't they helping him?

He wanted his family. He didn't want to be here on the cold steel surface anymore. He wanted to go home.

A few tears slipped out, and he swiped at them hastily; he had a pounding headache as it was, no need to add crying to the mix and make it worse.

Someone was picking him up again, except this time an entire fist was wrapped around his chest and it was crushing his delicate wings, making them wrinkled and shriveled and it hurt. The man was squeezing too tight, and he couldn't breathe again and he wanted it to stop right now.

It didn't stop.

Desperately, he pushed against the curled fingers, but they just kept squeezing and squeezing and his vision was blurring and the world was fading into black once more…

And then he was being unceremoniously dropped again, and he was coughing and choking and trying to breathe again, and he threw up again- except this time there was nothing really to throw up, and so he was just dry heaving- and the men were laughing at him again…

(And he really, really wanted to go home. When were the others going to show up?)

But then he was being tied down, and he really, really did not like it. He struggled, tried to blast at the fingers maneuvering him, but again his thoughts were too hazy and vague to put any focus into the shots, and so they didn't work.

And then they were poking at him, with needles and scalpels and sharp things he wanted to go away because it hurt, it hurt, and it needed to stop because it hurt so much, please make it stop, please…

It didn't stop.

Eventually, exhausted from crying and shouting and something else entirely which was probably important but Pym couldn't put his finger on so it didn't matter, he went quiet, staring dazedly at the new coating of red liquid that had been splattered on his hand and trying to pretend that it wasn't his own blood.

And eventually, after what felt like hours and hours of torment, he was let loose from his bonds and picked up again. His head lolled, limp, against the man's fingers, and his eyes were half closed. The world passed by in a dizzy daze of colors and spinning lights, and soon enough he was being dropped back into his jar, sliding unceremoniously down the sides until he reached the bottom.

A trail of blood was left behind.

The men who had been… operating on him walked out, chattering and laughing as if no monstrous deed had occurred, turning the lights off behind them, leaving Pym alone in the darkness.

He coughed weakly, slowly slipping a hand around his bleeding stomach and sitting up, scooching over to a clean area before lying back down again, carefully curling into himself until he reached a fetal position once more.

He blinked tiredly, trying to stay awake. He remembered James talking to him in his I'm-The-Leader-And-I'm-Saying-Something-Important voice, telling him that if Pym was ever losing blood it was essential he didn't fall asleep. He couldn't remember why, but he remembered James' serious, concerned eyes when he had said, "Rule number one, Pym: don't fall asleep, don't fall asleep."

But he was so, so tired, and everything hurt and he would give most anything to escape the world of reality for a while. To fall into the safety and warmth of the land of dreams and never wake up.

He was so, so tired.

He wanted to go home.

He wanted his family.

He wanted all the pain to stop.

An despite his valiant efforts, his eyes eventually closed, his heartbeat slowing and his breathing easing out…

He woke up to light seeping through his eyelids and someone desperately calling his name.

"-ym! Pym! C'mon, you have to wake up. Please wake up! PYM!"

At first, he feared that it was the men again, back to choke him with green glass and fill him with pain, and he only curled into a tighter ball, clenching his eyes shut as if through willpower alone he could make them go away.

But then he realized that he knew the voice. That the voice was one of a girl's, not one of a man's, and hope crept into his heart.

Blearily, wearily, and with far more effort than he was used to, he opened his eyes.

"...Torunn?"

There was silence for a moment, and he feared that he had simply imagined the voice. That it was an illusion created through fever and blood loss, but then it was back, praising the gods and sounding relieved and tearful.

"Oh, thank the gods you're alright. Here, here, um… Why don't you stand up and fly out? I've removed the lid for you, so it should be easy."

Pym slowly sat up, breath clenching painfully with every movement, and looked up into Torunn's worried blue eyes.

"I- I don't think I can."

The blue orbs widened further in concern.

"What? You don't think you can fly?"

Pym bit his lip.

"Y-yeah. They crushed my wings," he gave them a flap to prove it, both disappointed and resigned when the damaged appendages only gave a meager twitch, "but T-Torunn?"

The girl was leaning closer now, brow furrowed.

"I- I don't think I can stand, either."

He felt sort of pathetic saying it, but it was the truth. He was so, so tired, and even the simple act of sitting up had taken almost all his energy and willpower. And it had hurt. A lot.

The girl was growling under her breath now, and she was angry, he could tell. But then she was gently tilting the jar and slipping her hand in, carefully scooping him up into the calloused palm.

He blinked up at her, a bit dizzy from the motion, and she smiled at him, but the effort was ruined by the worry and anger swirling in her eyes.

He tried to smile back anyways.

She floated into the air and started to fly away, slower than her normal pace and close to the ceiling, where they would be more easily missed. In the distance, there was the sounds of fighting and yelling and the grunts and clangs of battle; the Avengers had arrived and were more than willing to enact their revenge.

Torunn had a hand to her ear, speaking quickly to the others even as she flew through hall after hall.

"I have attained Pym. He's hurt, and I think he's still bleeding. I think they drugged him; it looked like they were trying to figure out where he got his powers... Yes, Hawkeye, I am heading to the rendezvous point. Alright, I shall meet you there…"

The words faded into background noise, and before he knew it, he was asleep…

He woke up in his own bed, his chest wrapped tightly in bandages and feeling oddly numb. His head felt like it was formed by purely cotton balls, and his body felt sluggish and slow.

But it was warm under his blankets and he had his pillow and he was very, very tired and so, instead of trying to wake up, he curled into himself and tried to fall into a deeper sleep once more.

But as he moved his leg he realized that there was, in fact, something heavy on top of it, holding it in place. He couldn't remember why, but suddenly the idea of being caught, being unable to move his limbs, was the most terrifying idea in history and he was jerking his leg out in a solid kick before he even knew what he was doing.

His kick landed true, solidly smacking Hawkeye in the nose.

The older boy let out a cry of pain and fell back in surprise from where he had been sleeping, his head rested in his arms on Pym's bed. The noise woke the others up, leaving Pym surrounded by his older brothers and sister, all staring down at him with big, concerned eyes, even Hawkeye, whose nose was starting to bleed.

He blinked blearily up at them, because he was quite sure that before he was in a very different, very scary situation, but then he smiled a bit, because he wasn't sure what they were expecting but they all obviously were and he could at least try and give it to them.

He was relieved when they all positively beamed back.

But his eyelids were heavy still and his brain continued to feel like it was stuffed with cotton, and so he quietly curled back under his covers, managing to mutter a mumbled apology to Hawkeye while he was at it.

He was safe now. His family was here, and everything would be alright...

...

The End.

And there we have it, folks! The Occupational Hazard That Just So Happens To Be Pym is officially OVER, although I might get inspiration later and add on to it... *shrugs* We'll see! :)

Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story. I hope each and every one of you were able to gleam some joy from my work; I know writing it was fun; it has been an utter joy to explore these characters and their interactions with each other!

Special thanks to everyone who reviews, favorites, and follows; you guys are AWESOME!

To Fangirlingovermarvel, romanogerslove, and Tori, who reviewed the last chapter, THANK YOU SO MUCH! :) You're reviews are precious to me!

To Guest romanogerslove: Hey! Thank you so much for your lovely review! I'm so glad that you liked the story! As for writing a story for the Next Avengers, I just did! XD Just joking; I have thought about writing an actual multi chapter story- that isn't just oneshots- though I am unsure if I shall do it. If I do attempt it, I shall have to finish this other multi-chapter story I'm working on first. :) Either way, thank you so much for you encouragement! :D

To Guest Tori: Hello again! I'm glad that you liked Francis' chapter and I hope you enjoyed Torunn's! :D :D :D Torunn was one of the hardest persons to write, and I hope I met your expectations. As for how she treats the others, I feel like she would either be motherly like you suggested or be one of those people who show their love through physical affection... *shrugs* Anyways, thank you so much for your fantabulous review, GURL! :)

And so I finish with a smile and a wave, and a hope to see you all again soon! :D

- The Mashpotatoe Queen