Below, Darren dragged over the device and aimed it at the sheep inside the glass chamber. Without hesitation, he pressed the button. The yellow liquid was injected instantly, followed by a flash of golden light.
This time, unlike before, the sheep did not turn into a puddle of mush. Instead, it—and the glass chamber—were successfully shrunk down to the size of a thumb.
Darren had actually succeeded.
The surrounding researchers stared in shock at the tiny sheep on the platform. Darren picked it up, his face filled with excitement and madness as he watched the miniature sheep still bleating inside the chamber.
He knew it—he had done it. He had finally replicated Hank Pym's formula.
Upstairs, behind the glass window, Hope stood frozen in disbelief. She never expected Darren to succeed—especially not with incomplete, fragmented data.
A deep sense of unease and a looming premonition welled up inside her.
---
In the basement, Dr. Pym switched on a monitor and began playing a video while explaining things to Scott.
On the screen was a middle-aged man with a gloomy demeanor and a hooked nose—someone who looked untrustworthy at first glance.
"This isn't the first time someone has tried to get their hands on this technology," Pym said, pointing at the screen. "Many have wanted to weaponize it."
"This man—Mitchell Carson. Former head of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Defense Division. Now he travels the world, destabilizing third-world governments. He's been after my research for a long time."
Pym turned to Scott.
"The only way to stop this is to break into the facility, steal the Yellowjacket suit, and destroy all the research data. Otherwise, Darren Cross will unleash chaos on a global scale."
This wasn't exaggeration. Pym knew Darren better than anyone—brilliant, but reckless and utterly indifferent to consequences.
Scott's mouth hung open as he let out a long, uncertain hum.
"I think the first thing we should do… the main thing… is call the Avengers."
Pym shot to his feet instantly, furious.
"I have spent my entire life making sure this technology never falls into the hands of the Stark family—and I'm not about to start now!"
His voice rose sharply.
"This is not flashy tech like Iron Man suits. This can reshape the world—no, the very fabric of reality."
Pym had always been at odds with the Starks. Back in the day, Howard Stark funded S.H.I.E.L.D.'s predecessor, and now Tony Stark backed the Avengers. To Pym, the Stark name had always stood at the center of everything he distrusted.
"I'm not handing this over to Stark."
He snorted.
"And besides, didn't the Avengers just drop an entire city out of the sky? You think they have time to deal with us?"
The Sokovia incident had spread across the globe. While the public didn't know Ultron was responsible, everyone had seen the footage—including the colossal Demon Titan.
Scott shrugged.
"Then why not just send your ants? They're smaller—harder to detect."
"They're ants, Scott," Pym said, exasperated. "They can do many things, but they still need a leader. Without one, they act purely on instinct."
"I need someone capable of infiltrating a heavily fortified facility with advanced countermeasures."
"If ants alone were enough, I wouldn't be sitting here talking to you."
Scott spread his hands helplessly.
"Being skilled doesn't mean I can pull off something this insane. I'm just a thief—not Iron Man, not an Avenger."
At that moment, Hope walked back in, still dressed in her sharp black suit.
"He's right. You know it too."
She placed a stack of blueprints on the table.
"You've seen the footage. You know exactly what Cross is capable of. I raised objections months ago—and now we're out of time."
She unfolded the plans, revealing the full layout of Cross's facility.
"I'll wear the suit. I'll do the job."
"Absolutely not."
Pym snapped immediately.
"Why not? I know that building inside and out. I understand Cross better than anyone here. I'm the most qualified for this mission."
"I need you to stay close to Cross. Without that, this operation won't work."
The argument escalated quickly.
Scott paced back and forth behind them, unsure what to do—or perhaps just tired of their constant conflict.
"We don't have time for this!" Hope snapped. "He's just a criminal—and I'm your daughter!"
"No! I said no!"
Pym suddenly roared.
Hope froze, staring at her father in disbelief—her expression filled with disappointment.
Pym seemed to realize he'd lost control. He sighed, turned away, and sat down in silence.
Hope said nothing more. She shook her head, deeply disappointed, glanced at Scott, then left the basement.
Scott watched the stubborn father and daughter, then said:
"She's right. I'm not the right guy for this. Why don't you wear the suit yourself?"
"It's not that I don't want to," Pym said quietly. "I can't."
After a pause, he continued:
"I've worn that suit for too many years. There are… side effects. You're the only option left."
Scott sighed and sat beside him.
Pym glanced at him and went on:
"Back when Hope still had her mother… she used to look at me with admiration. She thought I was the greatest man in the world."
He paused.
"But now… all I see in her eyes is disappointment."
He looked directly at Scott.
"This is your chance. A chance for your daughter to look at you the same way—with pride."
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