Pym Particles.
A name with the power to shatter the foundations of physics and propel human civilization into a whole new dimension.
But at this moment, in Paul Stark's eyes, they represented an impenetrable wall.
On the lab's main console, the holographic projection of a quantum model trembled in a chaotic, frenzied manner. Streams of data cascaded down the screen like a waterfall, each line flashing with a blaring red alert.
"Spatial collapse simulation: Failure."
"Subatomic structural stability: Failure."
"Negative mass generation... Failure."
The cold, synthesized voice reported the failures one after another, like buckets of icy water extinguishing the fervor that had been ignited by the birth of his new engine.
Paul rested his chin on one hand, his face impassive as he stared at the chaotic swirl of light and shadow.
He had been sitting here, motionless, for an entire week.
Sleepless, relying on his superhuman constitution and a nutrient solution to sustain his body. He had mobilized every relevant, scattered piece of information from the S.H.I.E.L.D. database, combining it with his knowledge from his past life and from Hiro Hamada, attempting to pry open this door to the microscopic world.
However, between theory and reality lay an insurmountable chasm.
He could comprehend the basic principles of Pym Particles, even deduce the general framework of their formula. But the most critical variables within it were as if encrypted by God himself; no matter how he tried, he couldn't crack them. Every simulation ended either in energy dissipation or in triggering a small-scale spatial collapse that blew the simulated world to smithereens.
"Dammit."
Paul swore under his breath and, with a wave of his hand, the frenzied quantum model vanished into thin air.
The lab fell silent once more, leaving only the low hum of the server clusters.
A stifling frustration tightened in his chest. It felt like a master martial artist who had obtained a legendary scroll, only to find he couldn't even understand the first page of its teachings.
He had considered the possibility that Hank Pym simply didn't exist in this world, or that the timeline had diverged. But the fragmented "Project Rebirth" file in the S.H.I.E.L.D. archives explicitly mentioned research into subatomic space, proving he was on the right path.
He just hadn't found the key.
"Forget it."
Paul hopped off the high stool and stretched, his bones popping with a series of satisfying cracks.
Getting bogged down wasn't his style. If one path was blocked, he would find another. His brain needed a break anyway.
He walked to the other side of the lab, to a different world that belonged to him.
"J.A.R.V.I.S., bring up the 'Transformer' project file. 'Sideswipe' program."
"As you wish, sir."
The moment he spoke, a soft blue light illuminated an open space. A holographic image of a sleek, aggressive red sports car materialized in mid-air.
A Lamborghini Countach.
This was a true man's dream.
Looking at the car that embodied his childhood fantasies, Paul's agitated mood began to calm.
Compared to the ethereal Pym Particles, this tangible mechanical creation brought him a purer sense of joy and accomplishment.
"Initiate structural decomposition. Enter transformation logic editing mode."
Paul slipped on a pair of data gloves, his eyes lit up, and he instantly entered a state of complete, immersive focus.
If researching Pym Particles was fumbling in the dark, then designing a mech was unleashing his creativity in the field he knew best, his own personal playground.
Time lost all meaning.
The only things moving in the lab were the shifting light of the hologram and the afterimages of Paul's fingers slicing through the air.
Countless complex mechanical components were dismantled, reassembled, and optimized. The meshing of every gear, the extension of every hydraulic piston, the flip of every armor plate—all were simulated billions of times in his mind.
He wasn't just aiming for a machine that could stand; he was creating a work of violent art, a fusion of power and beauty.
Two days later.
As the first rays of dawn shone through the lab's skylight, Paul finally stopped.
He took off the data gloves and rubbed his tired eyes, a weary yet satisfied smile on his face.
Before him, the holographic image of the red Countach floated silently.
"Execute transformation sequence, 'Sideswipe'," Paul ordered softly.
*Whirrr—*
After a faint mechanical hum, a miracle occurred.
The car's hood flipped upward, folding into a chest plate. The side doors spread out like wings, becoming shoulder armor. The wheels retracted as the chassis rose, and two long, powerful mechanical legs extended from the car's underbelly, planting themselves firmly on the ground.
The entire process was as smooth as flowing water, without the slightest hint of a jam. The metallic clicks and whirs of the transformation were like the most beautiful symphony.
In less than three seconds, a sports car had become a four-meter-tall, well-proportioned combat robot, exuding an aura of sharp lethality and speed.
"Perfect."
Paul snapped his fingers.
This was what he wanted. The project had been shelved for too long due to the incident with Tony and the trouble with S.H.I.E.L.D. Now, picking it up again, the sheer thrill of creation was a balm to his soul.
The frustration that had been weighing on his heart vanished completely.
Changing gears was definitely the right move.
His mood soared, and he decided to strike while the iron was hot and finally put the Super Soldier Serum project on the agenda. He hadn't forgotten that Tony's body still needed further enhancement.
However, just as he pulled up the relevant files, a soft chime sounded at the lab's alloy door.
"Mr. Stark," a slightly timid female voice came from outside, "I'm Ms. Potts's secretary. She asked me to deliver an urgent document for your review."
Paul's brow furrowed.
He hated being disturbed while he was working.
"Just leave it at the door," he replied impatiently.
The secretary outside was clearly in a difficult position. "But... Ms. Potts insisted that I deliver it to you personally and that you review it immediately."
Pepper?
Paul was surprised. Since Pepper had taken over the daily operations of Stark Industries, she rarely bothered him about company matters during his research. Unless…
A thought struck him. He waved his hand, dismissing the hologram and deactivating the lab's lockdown.
"Come in."
The alloy door slid open silently, and a young, impeccably dressed female secretary walked in. She held a tablet in her hands, but her eyes were involuntarily drawn to the various sci-fi-esque devices in the lab, her face a mask of poorly concealed shock.
"Mr. Stark." She quickly averted her gaze and respectfully handed him the tablet.
Paul took it and glanced at it casually.
The screen displayed the quarterly financial report for Stark Health, a newly established subsidiary of Stark Industries.
The complex charts and data made his head spin.
"Get to the point," he said, tossing the tablet onto a console.
"Yes, sir." The secretary took a deep breath, clearly briefed on her young boss's direct style, and immediately summarized in the most concise language possible: "The main point is that our 'Baymax' line of personal healthcare companions has completely exploded on the market."
"In North America, our market share surpassed seventy percent within a single month. In Europe and Asia, orders are also growing exponentially. Our production lines are running twenty-four hours a day, but we still can't keep up with the demand."
"Wall Street analysts have hailed 'Baymax' as 'the greatest consumer tech product of the century,' and the company's stock has skyrocketed as a result. Our market cap has already reached..."
The secretary stated a figure that left even Paul stunned.
He remembered designing Baymax partly to fulfill Hiro Hamada's obsession and partly to monitor Tony's health. The commercialization had been entirely Pepper's doing.
He hadn't paid it any mind at all.
He never expected that this 'marshmallow' he'd created on a whim would become such a terrifyingly profitable behemoth.
"Additionally," the secretary's voice held a trace of excitement, "dozens of multinational corporations have sent us partnership proposals. Amazon wants to integrate Baymax into their smart home ecosystem; Johnson & Johnson wants to co-develop a more specialized medical version; and even... the Pentagon has sent an invitation. They are very interested in Baymax's material science and AI system and hope to procure a batch for battlefield medical use."
Listening to the secretary's report, the expression on Paul's face gradually froze.
He felt none of the expected joy. Instead, a strange sense of absurdity washed over him.
Here he was, working tirelessly, forgoing food and sleep, to research energy sources that could change the world, particles that could traverse dimensions, and serums that could create super-soldiers...
The future he envisioned was one of stars and galaxies, a great leap for human civilization.
But in the end, the thing that truly took the world by storm, bringing him fame and fortune, was a soft, inflatable robot that only knew how to say, "Hello, I am Baymax."
He lifted his head and looked around the laboratory, a space that held all his ambition and painstaking effort.
In the corner was the next-generation model of the Arc Reactor, capable of powering a city for a century.
On the workbench lay the design for "Sideswipe," the pinnacle of single-pilot mech technology.
And on the screen he had just closed, the residual formulas for Pym Particles still lingered, the key to a whole new dimension.
Any one of these things, if released to the public, would be enough to drive the world into a frenzy.
Yet here they all sat, silently, unnoticed.
Meanwhile, the "little gadget" he had casually created was making waves outside, turning him into a billionaire, into the world's new god of technology.
The stark contrast stirred an indescribable, complex emotion in Paul's heart.
He had always seen technology as a weapon, as power, as a tool to achieve his ambitions.
But now, reality had dealt him a resounding slap in the face.
He dismissed the secretary and sat back down at the main console alone.
On the screen was the dazzlingly bright financial report for Stark Health.
Paul stared at the astronomical revenue figure for a long, long time.
A question surfaced from the bottom of his heart, unbidden.
What... was the point of technology?
Was it to build stronger weapons to face unknown enemies?
Or was it to create more products like Baymax, to improve the lives of ordinary people?
Or perhaps... the two weren't mutually exclusive?
For the first time, facing this question, he felt lost.