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*****
Life returned to a state of tranquility.
For the Kent family, however, this was the most comfortable state to be in.
Gwen entered middle school and seemed to grow up overnight. She started fussing over her appearance, buying cosmetics and experimenting with her look.
Little Lamb performed exceptionally well at school and made a bunch of friends. Of course, his identity as a member of the Kent family remained a closely guarded secret.
Eric was busy with the research, development, and launch of new products for Future Tech. Over this period, Future Tech's products had gained widespread recognition. They were now expanding from smart devices like phones into other fields, such as medical technology and energy.
As for Charles, he remained occupied with the education system on Planet Kent while simultaneously shouldering the responsibilities of being the Mayor of Kent City. He was incredibly busy every single day.
Clark, on the other hand, was the most leisurely of the three adult children. aside from work, his days were filled with dating, and he lived a very relaxed life.
Night fell over San Francisco. inside Clark and Hope's apartment.
Clark held Hope in his arms as the two lay intimately in bed.
"Haa..." Hope yawned and murmured, "Sometimes, I really envy you."
"Envy me? Why?" Clark smiled and kissed her eyes.
"You have such boundless energy! No matter how much you do in a day, you never get tired," Hope said, her tone thick with envy.
"Have you been exhausted lately?" Clark asked with concern.
Hope nodded and gave a soft affirmative hum. Looking at the concern in Clark's eyes, she couldn't hold back anymore and spoke up, "Darren's experiments are nearing completion."
Darren Cross was the current head of Pym Technologies. After pushing Hank Pym out of his own company, he had taken full control of its management.
"Experiments? What kind of experiments?" Clark asked, frowning.
Clark had never pried into Hope's work, but since she was willing to talk about it now, he was naturally happy to listen.
"Do you know about Pym Particles?"
"Pym Particles? Isn't that the substance Uncle Hank developed, the stuff used for the Ant-Man suit?" Clark asked, his brow furrowing.
When it came to Pym Particles, Clark had a deep admiration for Hank Pym.
It was a substance that could be applied in countless ways—something powerful enough to change the world. However, it also posed a massive hidden danger to the world. If applied to weaponry, it would fundamentally alter the current global landscape.
To possess something so powerful yet remain so low-key, guarding it so effectively for so long—that was incredibly rare of Hank Pym.
"Yes, that's the one," Hope said, leaning wearily against Clark's chest. "Darren has always wanted to replicate the Pym Particle, and he has now made a breakthrough."
Seeing the worried look on Hope's face, Clark guessed, "He plans to use it to manufacture weapons?"
"Exactly."
Hope sighed. "He has immense ambition. He wants to use his replicated Pym Particles to develop various weapons and establish himself as one of the most influential figures in the world."
If he truly mastered the Pym Particle and allowed it to proliferate, Hope had no doubt about his potential success.
"How do you plan to handle it?" Clark kissed Hope's forehead.
Hope was a responsible woman. When Clark asked this question, he had already guessed her choice.
"I want to dispose of Darren's prototypes and his experimental data."
Darren Cross had once been Hank Pym's student. His current experiments were built upon the foundation of Hank Pym's data. As long as the data and the manufactured samples were destroyed, the probability of Darren successfully recreating the experiment would be low.
"Let me help you," Clark mused for a moment before offering.
Hope shook her head. "This isn't something Superman should do. Besides, I can handle this myself, but the prerequisite is..."
"The prerequisite is that Uncle Hank gives you the Ant-Man suit?"
"No, not the Ant-Man suit, but the Wasp suit."
"Wasp?" Clark frowned. "How many suits does Uncle Hank have?"
"It's not his. It belonged to... my mother." Hope's expression dimmed as she spoke slowly. "She was a very gentle and strong woman."
Clark listened quietly, knowing that right now, his role was simply to listen.
"During a mission with Hank, in order to stop a missile that was about to explode, she shrank down to the subatomic level and sacrificed herself."
At this point, she revealed a bitter smile.
"Because Hank couldn't bring her back, the relationship between him and me became incredibly strained."
"It wasn't until a few years ago, when Hank finally told me the truth about what happened back then, that our relationship began to thaw."
"For all these years, he has been in even more pain than I have."
Clark gently kissed Hope. "I'm guessing Uncle Hank rejected your proposal."
"Yes." Hope nodded, speaking with some indignation. "He underestimates me too much."
"No, I don't see it that way," Clark said in a deep voice. "I think he's worried—scared, even. He's terrified of losing you, just like he lost your mother."
"So, he still doesn't trust my abilities! I am confident I can succeed!"
"You are his only remaining family."
Hope fell silent.
"If you need help, you must tell me, okay?" Clark held Hope, tightening his embrace slightly. When she looked at him, he stared into her eyes and said earnestly, "I can't lose you either."
Hope was stunned for a moment. Her heart sweetened, and she whispered a soft agreement.
Scott Lang.
As an ex-convict trying to find re-employment, he had suffered endless grievances during this period.
He held a Master's degree in Electrical Engineering, yet no one would hire him, not even to sell ice cream.
Most importantly, he had an ex-wife and a daughter. Although he was divorced, his daughter would always be his daughter, and he wanted to give her everything beautiful in the world.
But the reality was that he couldn't even pay child support on time, nor could he afford a decent birthday present for her.
If he didn't pay the child support and failed to fulfill his responsibilities as a father, his ex-wife would refuse to let him see his daughter.
So, for the sake of his daughter, he decided to take a risk one more time and return to his old trade.
Stealing!
Stealing from an old man.
According to intelligence his associates had gathered in advance, the old man lived alone. Although a couple would stay there occasionally, they visited very rarely. Furthermore, the old man would not be home for the next week, so they set their sights on him.
Of course, there was a more important reason: the old man had a safe in his house.
Think about it...
An old man plus a safe. When these two things were combined, it usually meant a big payday.
So, after devising a beautiful plan, they made their move.
Scott Lang broke into the old man's house. He bypassed the alarm, cracked the keypad lock, and opened the vault door...
After overcoming a series of challenges, he finally rushed into the safe, only to find... a motorcycle suit.
Scott Lang's mind went blank, as if struck by lightning.
All that work for nothing. Yet, guided by some strange impulse, he took the suit anyway.
The next day, upon seeing the suit, his brain short-circuited, and he curiously put it on.
He really couldn't understand why such an ordinary-looking piece of clothing would be kept in such a heavily guarded place.
But after putting it on, he understood.
He unknowingly triggered a switch and shrank—shrank to the size of an ant.
After shrinking, he went through a series of terrifying adventures until a strange, elderly voice rang in his ear.
Terrified, he immediately decided to return this cursed suit.
But when he returned to the old man's house and climbed over the wall, he was caught by the police and thrown into a cell.
Just as he was despairing, he met the old man—Hank Pym.
It turned out that all of this was the old man's plan.
From his associates getting the tip about the house to him breaking in and stealing the suit—it was all within Hank Pym's calculations.
Now, Hank Pym offered him two choices: work for him, or go back to prison.
For the sake of his daughter, he had no choice at all.
So, utilizing the suit the old man provided, he shrank down, rode a flying ant, and escaped from prison.
Unfortunately, because it was his first time flying on an ant, the motion made him so dizzy that he passed out.
The experiences of the last two days played on a loop in Scott Lang's mind like a movie.
He cried out in pain, trying to break free from this nightmare.
But the more he struggled, the more painful it became, until he fell from a great height. He screamed and jerked awake.
Looking at Scott Lang, who had bolted upright, Hank Pym, sitting across from the bed, said calmly, "You're awake."
"Where is this?"
Scott Lang shook his head to clear it.
"My house."
Hank Pym stood up and spoke slowly. "You woke up right around the time I predicted. If it had been any later, I would have doubted whether your constitution was up to the task."
Hearing this, Scott Lang blinked, then immediately fell back onto the bed without hesitation, muttering, "I'm still sleeping. I was just sleepwalking."
Hank Pym looked at Scott expressionlessly. "Come down for breakfast within one minute, or those little guys are going to get up close and personal with you."
As he spoke, several ants crawled onto Scott Lang's bed.
Scott opened one eye a crack, glanced at them, and continued to lie motionless.
They were just some ants, right?
He didn't care.
"Those little fellows are Giant Tropical Bullet Ants. If you get bitten by one... heh."
Leaving that hanging threat, Hank Pym turned and left.
Scott Lang opened his eyes wide, carefully lifted the quilt, and headed downstairs.
He had heard of the reputation of these ants and had no desire to actually be bitten.
That moment of defiance just now was his last stand.
He reluctantly went downstairs to the living room. Seeing Hank Pym eating breakfast, he strode over and sat opposite him.
"What exactly do you want me to do?"
"Eat breakfast first."
Hank said indifferently, picking up the day's newspaper while sipping his coffee.
Scott pursed his lips, picked up a slice of bread, and slathered it with some bright red jam.
Seeing this, a look of surprise flashed across Hank Pym's face. His gaze swept over the bright red 'jam,' and he smiled.
Scott Lang took a huge bite of the bread and chewed...
Suddenly, his body stiffened. His face turned red at a speed visible to the naked eye. With a cry of agony, he spat the bread out.
"Ah! Ah! It's hot! So hot!"
He screamed, jumping up from his chair. He stuck out his tongue, exhaling rapidly in pain, and grabbed a glass of milk, downing it in one gulp.
"Ah! No good! It's still hot! What is this stuff?"
He glared at Hank Pym, asking with slurred speech.
"My homemade chili sauce!"
Hank Pym calmly pushed up his glasses.
Chili peppers. Because he had suffered defeat at the hands of this ingredient before, in order to beat Mike, he had been secretly training his ability to eat spicy food.
By now, he couldn't live without the stuff, and he was eating it spicier and spicier.
When Scott slathered it on so thick just now, Hank thought the guy was a fellow spice enthusiast. As it turned out...
A look of disappointment flashed across Hank Pym's face.
"Hiss! Hiss-ha!"
Scott panted, feeling as if his mouth was on fire; his entire mouth had gone numb.
Damn it!
What kind of pervert eats chili sauce for breakfast?
Is this even chili sauce? It's practically poison, okay?
Scott gasped for air continuously, pouring water and milk down his throat.
several minutes later, he felt a little better. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't make any intelligible sounds.
"?"
Scott looked bewildered, while the corner of Hank Pym's mouth twitched wildly as he watched him.
"Ah-ah! Ah-ba, Ah-ba!"
Scott pointed at his mouth, which felt like it didn't belong to him anymore, his face full of anxiety.
"Pfft! Hahahaha!"
Hank Pym couldn't hold it back and burst out laughing.
Scott looked completely confused and rushed into the bathroom.
In the mirror, a man with two sausages hanging on his face stared back at him.
"Ah, Ah-ba!"
Scott let out a roar of unclear meaning and walked out angrily.
Facing that angry gaze, Hank Pym calmly spread some chili sauce on his own bread and said slowly, "Don't worry, take some medicine and the swelling will go down soon."
"Ah-ba!"
"Relax, I'm an expert in this field."
Hearing this, Scott finally felt a bit relieved, but his eyes looking at Hank Pym remained filled with suspicion.
Just then, the door opened, and a man and a woman walked in.
A flash of joy appeared on Hank Pym's face.
"Hope, you're back!"
Recently, because he wouldn't let Hope wear the suit, the tension between father and daughter had escalated again.
Hope didn't respond, but Clark offered a smile to Hank.
"Is this the person you found? A sausage-mouth?"
Hope looked at Scott Lang with a gaze full of skepticism.
Sausage mouth?
Scott froze for a moment and said anxiously, "Ah-ba, ba!"
"And a mute?"
Instantly, Hope's disdain deepened.
(End of Chapter)