Lock could still feel the strange energy lingering in his body — the faint, alien pulse that had tried to compress him only moments ago.
There was no doubt about it: that power came from the Pym Particles in the Ant-Man suit.
But the moment it touched him, his body — forged by the Ninefold Divine Refinement — reacted instinctively. His own energy surged outward like a storm, violently repelling the Pym Particles before they could take effect.
The result was catastrophic. The particles did their job — the suit shrank as intended — but Lock himself didn't budge. The overwhelming force tore the shrinking armor apart mid-process, shredding it into pieces.
Scott crouched down, using a pair of tweezers to collect what was left of the Ant-Man suit and gently placed the fragments into a small glass vial.
Lock studied it for a moment. "Scott," he said, "see if you can fix it."
Scott frowned, examining the tiny remnants under the light. His engineer's instincts kicked in — he'd once tweaked the Ant-Man suit himself, reworked its circuitry, and made modifications that later saved his life. If anyone could figure it out, it was him.
"Alright," he said, grabbing a needle. He tapped the minuscule red button on the left glove. Nothing.
He sighed. "No reaction. I can't fix it unless it returns to normal size."
Lock nodded slowly. "The energy's spent," he said. "It used up all its Pym Particles countering my body's energy."
Without the Pym Particles, the suit was little more than high-tech fabric.
After a moment's thought, Lock said, "Scott, take that bottle — and return it to the owner."
Scott's eyes widened. "Wait, what? You want me to go back there? I broke into the man's house, tore up his floors, and blew up his safe! You think he's not gonna call the cops the moment he sees me?"
Lock's tone was calm, confident. "This time's different. The man you robbed isn't ordinary. He won't send you to prison."
Scott squinted. "You're sure?"
Lock's expression didn't change. "Absolutely."
In truth, Lock knew exactly who Hank Pym was — and that Scott Lang's story wasn't meant to end behind bars. The scientist would need Scott. That bond, that trust, was what would birth the next Ant-Man. And though Lock's power no longer required the help of others, he knew better than to meddle too much with fate's threads.
Scott looked down at the glass bottle in his hands. Against all logic, he believed Lock. Maybe it was the man's confidence, or maybe he simply wanted to do the right thing for once.
After all, he'd never enjoyed being a thief. His heists had always been acts of anger against corrupt corporations — not greed.
So early the next morning, he took a deep breath, walked up to Dr. Pym's front door, and knocked.
When the door opened, Hank Pym's piercing eyes studied him silently.
"Sir," Scott began nervously, "I'm… uh… sorry about last night. I came to return your property."
He held out the glass bottle, inside which lay the shrunken, shredded Ant-Man suit.
Pym blinked. "What on earth happened to it?"
Scott scratched his head. "It kinda… exploded. When I put it on, it just tore itself apart."
"What?" Pym muttered, baffled. The suit had worked perfectly during the heist. Could it have degraded over time? That seemed impossible.
"Come in," he said finally. "Let me take a look."
Scott hesitated, half-expecting to be handcuffed the moment he stepped through the door. But instead, Pym simply gestured toward a chair and handed him a cup of coffee.
The thief blinked, taken aback. "Uh… thanks?"
He took a sip, feeling strangely flattered. Were homeowners this polite to burglars now?
As Pym examined the fragments with a magnifying lens, Scott's mind raced. Something about all this felt wrong. Lock had predicted everything — even the secret room — like he'd already known it was there.
And the way he'd opened the van door without being seen… it was uncanny.
Who exactly is this guy? Scott wondered.
Meanwhile, Pym made his diagnosis. "It's out of Pym Particles," he murmured. "That's all. The rupture can be repaired."
He set the tiny suit on his desk. "Have another cup of coffee, Scott. This might take a while."
Scott smiled awkwardly. "You sure you don't wanna yell at me first? Maybe call the cops or something?"
Pym didn't answer.
Then—
BOOM!
The front door exploded open.
Several uniformed officers stormed in, guns raised. "Don't move! Hands up!"
Scott froze, still holding his coffee cup mid-air.
Oh, you've gotta be kidding me.
The policemen's fingers tightened on their triggers. Scott had seen this before — American cops didn't hesitate. If they even thought you might be dangerous, you were done.
Great. I survived rats and Pym tech just to get shot over caffeine.
"Scott?" a familiar voice barked.
Scott turned — and blinked. "Paxton?"
Standing among the officers was Paxton, Casey's stepfather. Relief washed over him like a wave.
Paxton quickly signaled his team to lower their weapons. "It's fine, guys. I know him."
Scott carefully set the mug down. "Paxton, man, you nearly gave me a heart attack. I was just—uh—drinking coffee."
Paxton frowned. "Drinking coffee? I got a report about a break-in here. That wouldn't happen to be you, would it?"
Before Scott could answer, Hank Pym spoke from behind him. "I called the police," he said evenly. "This man broke into my home last night, blew open my safe, and stole something valuable."
"Hey, hey, I returned it!" Scott protested, waving the little bottle in his hand. "See? Your suit's right here!"
Pym turned to Paxton, his expression unreadable. "You heard him admit it. Arrest him. I'll decide later whether to press charges."
Paxton hesitated, but the order was clear. Two officers stepped forward, pulling Scott's hands behind his back.
As the cuffs clicked shut, Scott shot a look of disbelief at Pym. "You're serious?! After coffee and everything?"
But the old man didn't answer. He just watched quietly — eyes sharp, calculating.
For Pym, this was a test. A way to measure the man who might soon wear the Ant-Man suit again.
And a way to keep him firmly within reach.
From now on, Scott Lang's every step would be tied to him — not by trust, but by leverage.
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A/N: Advanced Chapters Have Been Uploaded On My Patreon
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