NAME: Henry "Hank" Adrian Pym
DATE OF BIRTH: September 2nd
PLACE OF BIRTH: Plymouth, New Hampshire, US
- Dimensional Warping (Shrinking)
Pym is capable of changing his size/mass at will, and mentally generate what he calls "Pym particles" to radically shrink down the sizes of other living beings or inanimate objects.
In regards to Dimensional Warping/Air Resistance/Gravity/Consumption VS Mass & Volume:
Air resistance is always a factor for falling objects. A ten pound bowling ball and a sock will fall at more or less the same rate. Same for a human and an elephant. However, at "Mircrosizes", air resistance does not matter. Free falling from nearly any height will not kill or even injure Hank. He is incredibly durable at this size and short of a large foot stomping him out, he is a bit like a cockaroach. Impressively hard to kill.The sensation is similar to bodysurfing, but in the air. After Hank's dimensional warping, things such as gravity and mass matter little to him. His only mutant ability, besides the ability to communicate with insects, concussive blasts, and the wings, is the ability to change his dimensional reality. He cannot in fact become stronger, it is pure physics that he is stronger at this size. However, he can shrink down to an incredibly small size (about quarter of an inch, roughly the size of your average beetle) and then return to his regular dimensions, thus carrying with him (temporarily) the strength that came with the warping. This effect lasts no more than 2 hours.
At this size, Hank can consume nearly his body weight in food, and not be hungry when he returns to original dimensions, being all the particles inside him, including what he ate, shrink and grow with Hank's body. That is to say, Hank could engorge himself on a quarter of a piece of a bologna while in his micro-human state, but when he returned to his regular state, he would feel as if he had a whole pound and a half of bologna by himself. Needless to say, meal time is not a big concern for Hank.
Everything is different in the "MicroWorld". A bird singing is an ear-piercing, blood curdling cry. Bat's shooting sonar sounds similar to a large submarine beneath the ocean's surface. Moth's flapping sounds like the buzz of a snare beneath a drum in a marching band. (A *Whummzzzzzz* type sound.) Sound has further to travel to Hank's ears in this size and thus it is open to disruption. Not to mention his ears receive the sounds at different pitches due to the size of his ears. With this being the case, shouting at him from up close could very well cause internal bleeding among other things. Words are almost delayed.
A sentence such as "Hey, Hank! How are you?"
would in fact sound:
"Heey... Haaank. Hoow... Aaare... yoou..."
Everything in the microworld either stinks or smells beautiful and there's rarely an inbetween. Linen smells so fresh it almost heightens your senses, meanwhile venom and urine and cigarettes can smell so bad they can make Hank violently sick. Strangely, rotting corpses smell nearly as sweet as fruit or nectar.
A drop of nectar from a flower can taste as sweet as honey (if not sweeter) and can revitalize Hank's energy for hours on end.
- Insect Communications At MicroSize, Hank can have crude, if rudimentary communication, with ants and other higher order insects (bees, wasps, termites,).
- Projectiles/Flight In this form he can also sprout tiny wings, as well as being capable of blasting shots of "energy" or, again, Pym Particles. These specific blasts are generally concussive but can also be internally destructive to mechanical equipment such as computers.
LAST KNOWN LOCATION: Quari, Maine, US
WEIGHT: 155 lbs.
EYE COLOUR: Hazel
HAIR COLOUR: Brown
HAIR STYLE: Short, wavy.
BUILD: Stringy and stalky.
PREFERRED DRESS: Hank reeks of hipster. From V-Cut tee shirts and tight jeans to thick rimmed glasses and even suspenders or old 1920's gangster hats, Hank is so hip, those suspenders come in handy.
- - Fumbling with various things on a table, prone to organizing them via size.
- Losing attention on something at the sudden sight of an insect.
- Prone to rambling
- Intense confidence, borderline Napoleon Complex
Fears Hank is terribly afraid of spiders. His fear of them is nearly crippling.
Hobbies: Entomology (study of insects, specifically ants for Hank), Anthropodology (study of animals with exoskeletons), Envenomation (study of venoms and uses), Ethnobotany, pheromones, coleoptology (study of beetles), poetry, topography of the micro world.
Favorite Foods Anything sweet. Anything. Even rotted fruit can taste good, but only at the micro-level. :3
MOTHER'S NAME: Regina Pym-Plum
Mother's NAME: Rachel Pym
SIBLING'S NAME: Scott Lang (Adopted)
OCCUPATION: Subway Sandwich Artist
"Mom!" Scott shouted. "Ma! Someone!"
Both Mom and Ma sighed. Regina rubbed her temples as Rachel continued to put the plates on the table.
"I swear, if Hank doesn't stop with the bug thing... we're going to have a problem." Regina said simply.
"The bug thing is a hobby, and a good one." Rachel reminded her as she began to put the utensils out next. "Hank is doing a good job with his science work. He's earning lots of awards at school and even got three scholarships, we shouldn't shun him from this."
Reg rolled her eyes. "Rache, of course I want him to be into bugs and things, and I want him to have a fruitful career-- I just don't understand why he needs to scare his brother by leaving his collection all over the house."
"They're insects. Not bugs. And not all of them are even insects. He has some arachnids too y'know."
"Those things terrify me." Regina said as she began to pour the home-made pasta into the strainer, the boiling water with it. The noodles were thick enough that they didn't stick out of the holes. She hated when the noodles would stick out. "There! I got them the right size this time!"
Rachel patted her back. "Good job, hun." She kissed her wife's cheek and put her head upstairs. "Scott! Hank! Down here, dinner! Pronto."
"Mom! I can't find Hank!" Scott called. "He just... he's gone!" Rachel's eyes instantly connected with Regina. The two of them dropped what they were doing and began to run upstairs.
"No, don't!" Scott shouted, running to the top of the stairs to stop them. "I don't know where he went in the house I mean! He shrunk!"
Rachel looked to Regina who (as she always did) rolled her eyes. "What?" Rachel asked.
"He shrunk! I watched him! He was stressing out about his scholarship essay, going over it and I told him I needed his laptop to burn the new Linkin Park CD and he got angry at me. Then, he just... shrunk. He was on the floor! I lost sight of him!"
Regina stared at her son as if he were speaking a foreign tongue. "Come again?"
"He shrunk down to the size of a bug and disappeared!"
Carpeting was rough. Hank had done only gravel and grass so far, but carpeting was very hard to maneuver through. Between the mites, the dustballs, and the awfully thick, rotund pieces of cloth stitched together in such perfect patterns (hand-made my ass), the carpet was easily the worst place he had shrunk so far. At least the gravel proved to be exciting, it had been his first time. The stress of waiting to be accepted into college, standing outside the mailbox, he assumed had triggered a latent mutant gene. He had read about them, many papers.
One of his favorite physicists Nils Styger had written a paper on the physical world playing a major impact on the surfacing of a mutant ability. It was an interesting read, but not nearly as interesting as Dr. Hank McCoys who had published numerous papers on the stressful conditions that one can experience their mutant gene first sparking.
The second time he had tried to do it to himself. Took nearly two hours, but eventually he shrunk down to the size of, (roughly) an ant. In his backyard. It had been scary. His house seemed miles away (and at his size it was). Once he climbed a tall weed to inspect the distance he had fashioned himself a grass spear, expecting to find insects who would wish to devour him. Besides the mites and the earthworm, nothing had come up really. As intrigued as he had been to find some insects, he was relieved when he grew back to his regular dimensions.
Dimensions. is what he called it now as he heard his mothers stepping towards the edge of his room. He hoped his younger brother had actually watched what just happened, told them, and not just left the room screaming like a raging-hormonal-teen-idiot. His dimensions kept him from communicating properly to his parents about his location. This could get dangerous.
"Note to self..." he said to his voice recorder. He stopped. "Oh wow, voice recorder you shrank too! Nice. Okay, note to self -- make a device that allows me to communicate to larger objects. My voice will probably be faster and/or higher pitched at this size, so I should should probably make a device similar to a SQUIRT radio." He watched them step to the door frame and peer in. He had no way of communicating with them. What was it he did again? To make himself get larger?
Rachel almost took a step in but Regina pulled her back. "I-.... I don't know. Scott doesn't lie. Don't. Let's just... figure out what's going on."
Scott showed up behind them with a magnifying glass. "Here!" He said, "I got this!"
Scott dropped to his hands and knees and used his looking glass to spot his older brother somewhere in the carpet. It took a few minutes with his parents eagerly waiting in the frame, wondering if they were insane for actually holding their breath through this whole ordeal, but finally Scott shouted "WHOA! He's right here! Don't move!"
In the glass, Scott could see Hank plugging his ears and scowling at him. Scott watched Hank take his cell phone from his pocket (Hank seemed surprised his device even worked at this size) and began to text to his brother.
Scott got the text. He flipped his phone, scrolled the screen and read it. "NOT SO LOUD YOU FUCKING IDIOT" it read.
"Sorry." Scott whispered. Hank gave him a thumbs up. Rachel looked over Scott's shoulder, horrified. Regina was smiling.
Rachel began to cry and say "My baby! Oh my God, my baby!"
Regina continued to smile. "You're a mutant huh? Can you get big again?"
Scott checked the message.
"YES. NEED A FEW MOMENTS OF PEACE -- CONCENTRATION. BY THE WAY THIS CARPET IS TOTALLY NOT HAND MADE."
Regina looked to Rachel. "I told you."
They stepped back and waited in the frame of the door again, hoping Hank would piece it together soon. When they got bored of waiting Scott sent a text asking "You okay?"
"YES. FOUND AN OLD PENNY, ITS MUCH COOLER FROM THIS SIZE. BE BACK SOON." The three rolled their eyes.
Rachel took the phone.
"THIS IS MOM. GET BACK, NOW. MUCH TO TALK ABOUT."
In moments, Hank was growing back to his original size. It was freaky to watch, like something out of an old sci-fi novel. Hank felt sick as he returned, and then full on nauscious. He found his trash bucket and yakked, Regina flying to his aide. He waved her off, telling her this happens each time.
"Dimensional Warping... it comes with the territory." He assured her.
"What exactly were you planning on doing down there, young man?" Rachel demanded. She took him and hugged him, glad to see her son alive but still furious he had shrunk down to dangerously small sizes and had acted so unbothered by it. The mere concept terrified her. She knew what was down there, in the Micro World. And it terrified her.
"I was planning on confirming a theory." He admitted, hugging her back and then sitting back at his computer. Rachel threw up her hands and looked to Regina with an expression that said: "I'm-in-utter-defeat-and-I-lost-to-a-computer". Regina fixed a stern look to Hank.
"Theory? For what?"
Hank grinned and revealed a website. A news story about the X-Men stopping something called The Phoenix.
"The theory that I belong in the most prestigious mutant organization in the country."