Judging from the movies alone, it was hard to imagine that Scott Lang held a master's degree in electrical engineering.
Nothing about his behavior scread genius.
If anything, he ca across as an ordinary guy constantly stumbling into extraordinary situations.
"Dad, look!"
Hope suddenly pointed at one of the surveillance monitors.
Hank Pym turned his attention back to the screen.
What he saw surprised him.
Scott was putting the Ant-Man suit back on.
That made no sense.
The experience earlier that day had terrified him. By all logic, he should have wanted nothing to do with the suit ever again.
Yet there he was.
Under the watchful eyes of Hank and Hope, Scott quickly suited up.
A mont later, he was standing inside the bathtub, fully armored.
He took a deep breath.
Then another.
Finally, he spoke.
"Hey! Owner of the suit!"
"You there?"
Scott knew the mysterious man who had spoken to him through the helt earlier could hear him.
The mont the words left his mouth, Hank and Hope exchanged a glance.
Scott had changed.
Even if only slightly.
After a brief pause, Hank replied.
"I'm here."
"Have you changed your mind?"
Scott imdiately frowned.
"So it was you."
"You've been spying on the entire ti."
His tone darkened.
Hank didn't bother denying it.
"That's right."
"Which is why I'd like the chance to explain why I tested you."
Before Scott could respond, Hope spoke up.
"Are you really sure he's the right person?"
She crossed her arms.
"Wouldn't I be a better choice?"
She had never been happy about Hank bringing an outsider into their plans.
If soone had to wear the suit, she still believed it should be her.
Hank's expression hardened instantly.
"We've discussed this."
"You are not doing it."
The firmness in his voice left no room for argunt.
Decades ago, Hank and his wife had been one of the world's greatest superhero partnerships.
Then ca the mission that changed everything.
His wife had entered the Quantum Realm and never returned.
Ever since then, Hank had refused to risk losing his daughter the sa way.
No matter how qualified Hope was.
Hope frowned but said nothing further.
If Scott proved unreliable, she intended to step in herself.
But for now, she let the matter drop.
anwhile, Hank returned his attention to Scott.
"I can help with your daughter."
His voice softened slightly.
"But aren't you going to ask what I want in exchange?"
Scott laughed humorlessly.
"I'm already an ex-con."
"How much worse could it get?"
Then his expression beca serious.
"If you can help see my daughter again, I'll do whatever it takes."
That answer ca without hesitation.
For Scott, everything revolved around his daughter.
"Good."
Hank nodded.
"Trust ."
"You'll see her again sooner than you think."
What Hank didn't realize was that soone else was observing all of this.
Drex Valen.
As he watched events unfold, he noticed sothing unexpected.
The tiline was changing.
In the original sequence of events, Scott's choices had unfolded differently.
Now, subtle deviations were already appearing.
Drex narrowed his eyes.
Was this his influence?
Had the countless changes he'd introduced to the world begun altering destinies on a larger scale?
The thought intrigued him.
Back in the conversation, Hank continued.
"And if you complete the mission I have for you..."
"...you might just save the world."
Scott's response was imdiate.
"I don't really care about saving the world."
Hank blinked.
"I'm serious."
Scott shrugged.
"If you keep your promise about my daughter, that's enough for ."
Superheroics ant very little to him.
He wasn't a hero.
He was just a desperate father trying to get his life back together.
A faint smile appeared on Hank's face.
"Fair enough."
"Then let's begin."
"If you've made your decision, activate the suit."
Scott glanced down at the controls.
"Shrink again?"
He hesitated.
"What if Luis steps on this ti?"
Despite the complaint, he pressed the red button.
BZZZT!
The world instantly expanded around him.
Or rather, he shrank.
In less than a second, Scott was ant-sized once again.
From an outside perspective, he had simply vanished.
Standing at the bottom of the bathtub, Scott suddenly discovered a new problem.
What had once been a simple step over the edge now looked like an impossible mountain.
He stared upward.
Then sighed.
"Maybe I should just grow back to normal size..."
A distant rumbling interrupted him.
Rrrrrrrr.
Scott looked up.
His eyes widened.
A giant flying insect was rapidly approaching.
At least, giant from his perspective.
"AAAAAH!"
The winged ant descended toward him like a monster from a nightmare.
Compared to ant-sized Scott, it looked enormous.
"Relax."
Hank's voice echoed through the helt.
"That's 256."
"He's here to pick you up."
"What?!"
Scott stared in disbelief.
The flying ant landed directly in front of him, wings folding neatly against its body.
"Climb aboard."
Hank sounded perfectly casual.
"Grab the second leg segnt."
"Don't grab the wings."
Scott just stood there.
Speechless.
Sohow, shrinking to the size of an ant wasn't the strangest thing that had happened today.
Eventually, he approached the insect cautiously.
Its exoskeleton felt hard beneath his hands.
Trying very hard not to think about what he was doing, Scott climbed onto its back.
There, he found a tiny saddle-like structure designed specifically for a rider his size.
"Well..."
Scott blinked.
"That's convenient."
"Hold on tight," Hank advised.
"256 is taking off."
The ant's wings began vibrating.
WHIRRRRR!
A second later, the insect lifted into the air.
Scott's stomach dropped.
"WHOOAA!"
His terrified yell echoed through the bathroom.
This was officially the strangest transportation thod he'd ever experienced.
As he gripped the harness for dear life, another question occurred to him.
"Why is it called 256?"
Hank's answer ca after a mont's thought.
"It's just a number."
A pause.
"Although now that I think about it..."
"Maybe that's 234."
"I might have mixed them up."
Scott stared ahead in disbelief.
"You don't know your own ant's na?"
The answer never ca.
A mont later, the flying ant shot out of the bathtub.
Then through the apartnt.
Then out the window.
The city opened up before him.
Tiny as he was, every gust of wind felt like a hurricane.
Every passing car looked like a speeding train.
And for the first ti in his life, Scott Lang found himself riding a flying ant through the streets of New York.
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