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*****
Scott Lang was gesticulating wildly, his hands flying through the air as he tried desperately to explain his current predicament. He wanted to prove that he wasn't a mute, nor was he born with these sausage-like lips, but given his current state, it would be a miracle if anyone understood a word.
If anything, his exaggerated limb movements only made Hope wonder if her father had recruited this clown from a local circus.
Seeing Scott look like he was about to lose his mind, Hank Pym sighed heavily. He waved his hand to dismiss the antics and took the initiative to explain the situation himself.
Scott nodded frantically like a bobblehead.
Hope's expression remained unchanged.
To her, it didn't matter if Scott Lang was a mute or if he had swollen lips. At this moment, in her eyes, Scott Lang held only one identity...
That of a competitor.
"Hank, I can do this job. Give it to me, I can..."
"No!" Hank Pym cut her off firmly. "We have discussed this many times. If you insist on pushing this, I will have no choice but to remove you from the plan entirely."
Hope huffed, crossed her arms, and sat down at the dining table.
Regardless of his stubbornness, she was going to participate in this plan. She couldn't rest easy, and deep down, she was worried about Hank Pym.
Seeing Hope compromise so quickly, Hank was slightly surprised. He glanced over at Clark, only to find that Clark was staring intently at Scott Lang.
"What is it? Is something wrong?" Hank asked, unable to suppress his curiosity.
Why is he wearing my pajama pants?
Clark murmured the question in his heart. He shook his head at Hank but kept his eyes fixed on Scott Lang as he took a seat at the dining table.
Scott felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up under the intense scrutiny.
Does this guy have a problem?
He muttered internally, sucking in a breath of cold air through his swollen lips as he sat down to the side.
"Wait a moment, I'll go get you some medicine."
Hank Pym looked at the sausages on Scott's face and, suppressing a laugh, walked upstairs.
Instantly, the atmosphere in the dining room became awkward. The only sound was Scott occasionally sucking in sharp breaths and using a tissue to wipe away the drool leaking from his uncontrollable lips.
"What's wrong?" Hope asked, noticing that Clark was still staring at Scott.
Clark shook his head. "Nothing."
Damn it! Hope bought those pants for me!
Clark roared loudly in his mind.
Scott's curious gaze darted back and forth between Clark and Hope, trying to guess the relationship between these two and Hank Pym.
Just then, Hank walked back down carrying some topical ointments. He tossed them to Scott and made the introductions. "This is my daughter, Hope, and her boyfriend, Clark."
"No, let me make a correction."
Hope spoke calmly, hugging Clark's arm. She pulled him gently, gave him a quick peck on the lips, and looked at Hank Pym. "He is my fiancé."
As she spoke, she raised her hand, allowing the conspicuous ring on her finger to sparkle in the light.
Hank Pym's breath hitched, and he felt a phantom pain in his heart.
His daughter was drifting further and further away from him...
Damn it!
It's all Mike's fault! It's all his fault!
He cursed silently in his heart before turning to Clark with a cold expression. "Tell that bastard Mike to get his ass over here soon!"
Clark smiled. "I told him. He said he'd be coming over shortly."
Hank Pym sat down, huffing indignantly. "Eat breakfast first. We'll talk about the mission later."
Hope and Clark nodded.
Watching the three of them eat breakfast, Scott Lang silently drank his medicine and applied the ointment.
Who could possibly be more miserable than him right now?
After breakfast, Hank Pym took the three of them to his study to begin briefing them on the mission and explaining the training Scott Lang would need to undergo.
He had to learn to control ants, master the use of the suit, undergo combat training, and memorize the topographical maps.
Everything had to be completed within a short span of ten days. In ten days, Darren Cross would publicly announce his research and begin selling his replicated Yellowjacket suits.
Actually, this could be solved much more simply...
Clark murmured to himself.
Aside from Gwen and little Liam, practically anyone in his family could resolve this effortlessly.
After thinking about it, he couldn't help but speak up. "Um, Uncle Hank, why don't you leave this to us? I can..."
"Leave it to you?"
Hank Pym's eyebrows shot up, and he let out a cold sneer.
"Hmph, I don't even have to imagine it; I can guess exactly what look your dad would have on his face."
Saying this, he mimicked Mike's habit of rubbing his chin, looking at Clark with a weird grin. "Ho ho ho, Hank, so you have times when you need help too? As long as you agree to finish that special dish I made for you, I'll solve it for you!"
Watching Hank's impression, Hope couldn't help but laugh out loud, while Clark looked a bit embarrassed.
Between those two old men, that was indeed a very likely scenario.
Hank Pym grumbled, "Ask you guys for help? Don't even think about it! I can solve this myself!"
He turned a ferocious glare toward Scott Lang. "You better train hard, or I'll send you back to prison!"
Scott Lang: "!"
Did I say anything?
Nighttime. Pym Technologies.
Darren Cross's office.
A man with a head brighter than a lightbulb stood swirling a glass of wine gently. A smile of satisfaction hung on his face as he looked out at the streets below, harboring the illusion that he was about to control the world.
No, this was no illusion.
Darren Cross whispered to himself.
His experiment had succeeded. He had successfully shrunk a living organism. As long as he applied the developed particles to his Yellowjacket suit and went through the final experimental adjustments, the Yellowjacket suit would be complete.
When that time came, he, Darren Cross, would become the hottest commodity in the world.
Pym Particles...
Heh!
That old man clearly possessed something that could change the world, yet he locked it away like a fool, refusing to utilize it. What an idiot.
And when Darren had tried to persuade him to hand over the extraction formula for the Pym Particles, the old man had refused.
Fortunately, back when he was Hank's student, he had secretly memorized quite a few things. Otherwise, he never would have been able to replicate the Pym Particles.
Oh, right. From today on, they wouldn't be called Pym Particles. They were Cross Particles.
Just thinking about it made the corners of his mouth rise uncontrollably.
Suddenly, his phone rang.
Glancing at the number, the swaying of Darren's wine glass stopped, and his brows knit together slightly.
After a moment of hesitation, he answered the call.
"Hello."
"I know your experiment was a success," the person on the other end said with certainty, followed by a cold laugh. "So? Have you considered my offer?"
Darren Cross mused for a moment before replying, "Impossible. I will absolutely not hand over this technology to you."
"You damn stubborn donkey, don't forget who helped you perfect the Pym Particles! Without me, you'd still be cleaning up piles of bloody meat!"
"Heh! But without my previous research, without the basic formulas I provided, this experiment would have been even less likely to succeed."
"Impossible to succeed? Hahaha! With my intellect, do you think I couldn't have figured it out?"
"Of course!" Darren Cross smiled faintly. "Even with your big head, you really couldn't have done it!"
"What did you say? Say that again!"
The person on the other end screamed in rage, sounding as if they wanted to tear Darren apart. Clearly, those words had struck a nerve.
Darren Cross smiled, listening to the thunderous cursing on the other end.
After listening for five minutes, seeing that the other party had no intention of stopping, the corner of his mouth twitched. Rubbing his throbbing temples, he shouted back just as angrily, "MODOK! If you keep spouting nonsense, our cooperation is completely over! You know I can't possibly agree to what you just asked for!"
As soon as his voice fell, the incessant cursing stopped, and MODOK's voice rang out again.
"Then we proceed with the cooperation as previously agreed," MODOK said coolly. "I provide you with nano-enhanced equipment, and you provide me with Pym Particles."
"Deal!"
Darren Cross agreed with a smile.
Snore, snore!
Scott Lang lay sprawled on his bed, snoring loudly, sleeping exceptionally deeply.
However, this was to be expected.
These days, apart from the few hours set aside for eating and sleeping, every other moment was spent studying diligently.
Controlling ants, riding ants, throwing darts, familiarizing himself with the suit, and combat training...
Ding ding!
The alarm clock rang, but Scott didn't hear it at all; he remained in a deep slumber.
Just then, the door was pushed open. Clark walked in expressionlessly, carrying a basin of water.
Hmm...
There were even some ice cubes floating in it.
This was the best way to wake someone sleeping in.
When he was a child, he had tested this on Charles and Eric. The results were outstanding.
With a smile as brilliant as sunshine on his face, Clark dumped the basin of ice water squarely over Scott Lang's head.
For a person fast asleep, perhaps even in the middle of a sweet dream, suddenly having a basin of ice water poured on their face was a shock to the system. The sudden, biting cold made Scott scream as he leaped into the air.
He looked at Clark with anger, but remembering the experiences of the past few days, the curse words on the tip of his tongue were swallowed back down.
These past few days, his combat training had been Clark's responsibility. In other words, he was being beaten up by Clark.
Although his fighting skills were improving at a speed visible to the naked eye, the pain was also very real.
He was beginning to suspect he had some personal vendetta with this guy.
"Training starts in ten minutes."
Clark spoke calmly, then turned and walked downstairs.
Ten minutes!
Scott Lang's heart jumped.
Those ten minutes included washing up, changing clothes, and eating breakfast.
He had to be fast! Otherwise, the intensity of the combat training would be doubled!
"I really don't want a double beating."
Muttering to himself, Scott shivered and moved with lightning speed.
He rushed downstairs, charged to the dining table, and began shoveling breakfast into his mouth. However, after he finished eating, he noticed the look on Hank Pym's face.
Grim, serious, as if facing a great enemy.
His heart skipped a beat. He swallowed hard and asked carefully, "What happened? Have the plans changed?"
"Yes! We have a much more severe problem now!"
Hank Pym's expression was extremely grave.
Scott unconsciously straightened his posture.
"My old friend, Mike Kent, is coming!"
Old friend?
An old friend coming to visit, isn't that a good thing?
Scott looked at Hank Pym in confusion, then, as if realizing something, he hurriedly asked, "Wait, you said Mike Kent? Is it that Mike Kent?"
Given Hank Pym's past identity as a superhero, it was entirely possible he actually knew the Mike Kent.
Hank blinked. "Did I never mention it to you?"
"Damn it! You never told me anything!"
Scott became agitated.
That was Mike Kent! Known as the Strongest, the Man on the Throne, the Uncrowned King who controlled the planet!
"Oh, well, that's him!"
Hank nodded nonchalantly.
Is there any need to be that excited?
He's just a bastard who likes to scam people with food!
"Wait!"
Scott turned his head stiffly, pointing a trembling finger at Clark. "He... he is Mike Kent's son. Then who is he? Looking at that physique and hair volume... he wouldn't happen to be Superman, would he?"
"Your reaction is way too slow," Hope couldn't help but tease. "Hank, let me go instead. I have doubts about whether he can complete the mission."
"Stop joking around, the operation starts tonight."
Hank looked helpless.
Tomorrow was Monday. Darren Cross would be holding his press conference tomorrow.
"Tonight? Do I still have to train today then?"
Scott asked, confused.
"Of course... not. You need to rest today. Although you aren't perfect, you're barely usable."
Hank offered his evaluation.
In truth, he was quite satisfied with Scott's training progress.
"No training needed? Then..." He looked at Clark suspiciously. "Why did you wake me up?"
"Habit."
Clark offered an apologetic explanation.
"It's fine, it's fine!"
Scott waved his hands, not even considering for a second that Clark might have pranked him on purpose. After all, that was Superman.
He jumped up from his chair in excitement, rushed upstairs, and rummaged through his luggage looking for clothes with the Superman logo. Finally, after digging out a pair of underwear with an 'S' shield on them, he rushed back downstairs with a face full of excitement.
"Superman, can you sign this for me?!"
"Just call me Clark."
Clark looked at the underwear in the man's hand, and the corner of his mouth twitched.
Is this guy serious?
"Pffft!"
Hope couldn't hold it back and burst out laughing.
Clark sighed. As Scott stepped closer holding the underwear, Clark unconsciously took a step back to dodge it. He said helplessly, "Wait until you finish this mission. We can take a photo together, and I'll sign that for you."
A photo?
Scott nodded happily, crumpled the underwear into a ball, and stuffed it into his pocket.
Clark breathed a sigh of relief.
If he had signed his name on those, Hope would have laughed at him for the rest of his life.
"Let's go, Scott."
Hank Pym stood up, a set of keys in his hand. "Come with me to make some preparations."
"Preparations? For tonight's operation?"
"No! For Mike Kent!"
(End of Chapter)