"Mr. Scott, I'm Pichai from Brother Gu's Human Resources Department. Would you be interested in joining our company?"
A brown-skinned man in a suit rushed forward, blocking Scott's path.
"Out of the way! First-come, first-served. Our Giant Hardware Company reached him first! Mr. Scott—"
"Hah! If we're talking about who came first, our Oriental Penguin Group sent people before either of you!"
Several recruiters practically mobbed Scott Lang the moment he walked out of the prison gates, each eager to get the first word in.
In these turbulent postwar days, every company was scrambling for technical experts—especially hackers like Scott, whose reputation preceded him. The orders from corporate headquarters were simple: bring in talent or don't bother coming back.
The world was rebuilding after chaos, and whoever rebuilt their systems first would seize the market. Consumers naturally trusted the companies that bounced back the quickest. Confidence meant dominance.
Scott blinked at the crowd, utterly lost.
When did I become this popular?
The logos on their briefcases and badges made his stomach twist. These weren't small firms—they were the giants of the tech industry, each worth tens or even hundreds of billions. Before prison, he wouldn't even have gotten an interview, let alone multiple offers on the spot.
Not that he wasn't qualified. He had a master's degree in electrical engineering, a sharp mind, and a knack for breaking through any firewall ever built. But Scott Lang had never been one to "play by the rules," and big corporations didn't like rulebreakers.
Of course, that was before he became infamous.
Scott Lang—the second-generation Ant-Man—hadn't landed in prison for greed or violence. He went down for principle.
Years ago, his company, Vesta, had been robbing customers blind with inflated prices and hidden fees. Disgusted, Scott hacked their system, returned the stolen money to the victims, and made the whole thing public.
It was a good deed done wrong—and it got him three years in Seikun Prison.
He thought he'd serve his time quietly, come out, and rebuild his life. But while he was locked away, the world outside had gone insane.
At first, it was just strange headlines—talk of alien invasions, wormholes opening over New York, and flying men in armor. Scenes that once belonged to comic books had become nightly news.
Most inmates laughed it off. Humanity had always been drawn to fantasy. But then… the impossible became real.
They watched in stunned silence as footage played of a lone man standing before an alien fleet—a man who shattered the invading ships with nothing but his bare fists.
The media called him King Apocalypse.
Lock.
For days, the prison buzzed with disbelief. Was it real? A conspiracy? Some kind of elaborate hoax?
But the images didn't stop. More footage emerged: Lock tearing through alien constructs, deflecting energy blasts, saving cities.
Soon, the entire prison had become a fan club.
Even the toughest inmates turned into cheering fanboys whenever Lock appeared on TV. When the evening news mentioned him, brawls stopped mid-punch. No one dared to change the channel—anyone who did risked a riot.
The warden eventually gave up fighting it. Whenever tensions rose, he'd just replay coverage of King Apocalypse. It was the only thing that calmed them down.
"See?" he'd joke. "Even supervillains behave for the King."
Over time, every new headline about Lock became an event.
Rumors spread wildly—gossip about him dating a famous actress, or gambling in Monaco, or single-handedly stopping a storm that swallowed half the Atlantic coast.
No one knew what was true, but that didn't matter. Lock was larger than life, the symbol of an Earth that refused to bow.
And on that same Earth, one man was quietly serving the last days of his sentence.
Then came the Zola incident.
A cyberwar, unlike any other, tore through the planet's digital infrastructure. Even the prison TVs went dark as the networks collapsed. For days, no broadcasts, no Lock, no news.
The inmates were restless, furious. When they heard it could take a month to restore signals, they nearly rioted.
The warden acted fast. "The blackout's because King Apocalypse is fighting a digital god," he announced over the loudspeaker.
Instant peace.
No one dared complain after that.
With the world outside in chaos and no TV to distract them, the prisoners went back to old habits—fights, smuggling, and petty gang wars.
For Scott, the last few days inside were a blur of noise and tension. But at last, his name was called. His time was up.
As he packed his things, a group of inmates crowded around him.
"Yo, Lang! When you get out, check if there's new news about King Apocalypse!"
"Yeah, and call us when you find something! You're our eyes out there!"
Scott laughed, touched despite himself.
He left the prison carrying a large cardboard box full of "gifts"—packs of cigarettes, instant noodles, and prison-made trinkets. Useless outside, priceless inside.
He paused at the gate, sunlight spilling over him for the first time in three years. The air smelled different—freer, louder, stranger.
The world had changed beyond recognition.
And somewhere out there, a man called Lock had changed it all.
Scott adjusted the box in his hands and smiled faintly.
"Well," he muttered, "time to find out what the hell I just walked back into."
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A/N: Advanced Chapters Have Been Uploaded On My Patreon
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