MD-Chapter 358 HankPym!

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This wasn't a question of if it could be done— it was a matter of making it happen, no matter the cost.

And once it was done, it would almost certainly strain relations with Asgard. That Odin guy, being the overprotective All-Father, sealed her powers as a war goddess and even infused her with divine energy— not so she could get taken out by a single shot from me.

Whichever way you sliced it, the whole situation just didn't make any damn sense.

Arthur sat brooding in his room for a long time before finally getting up and heading to the StarkTech storage unit. He needed firepower— something heavy-duty.

The sniper rifle had already been disassembled to its limits, stripped down to the smallest component. With a casual flick, he disabled the warehouse's surveillance system and began methodically loading each rocket launcher module, custom-built by Stark Industries, into the Disassembler, one after the other.

Once he was done, he teleported back to his room in an instant, activated the teleportation pad beneath his feet, and jumped home.

From Camp Lehigh, he reappeared in his New York apartment. He was just about to head back out when he froze mid-step.

"I promised I'd give Lily a gift," he muttered.

It hadn't originally been part of the plan. But when he casually mentioned the alien ship he'd hauled in from the Dark Dimension, he'd offhandedly called it a little gift, and naturally, Li Lily assumed it was meant for her.

He couldn't bring himself to say otherwise.

Then again, the fact that she hadn't brought it up since that day probably meant she had at least some idea of what was going on.

Still, whether she understood or not, he couldn't just let it slide like nothing happened.

"So... what should I give her?"

Arthur sat at the edge of the bed, starting to stress.

Across two lifetimes and with immortality more or less within reach, he had never actually given a girl a gift before.

Anytime it came to a woman expecting something heartfelt, metaphorically speaking, like a bride about to step into the wedding procession— he completely blanked. 

He worried that giving the wrong thing might create awkward misunderstandings. Something meant to be warm and sincere might backfire and turn weird, which would completely defeat the purpose.

He opened up the Disassembler's inventory, flipping through its contents. There were plenty of items, but they were all weapons, alien tech, combat drones, or deep-space vessels.

"Come to think of it…" He suddenly thought of someone who might be able to help.

His eyes darted around the room, conflicted for a moment, but then he made up his mind and sent a message to Natasha.

Then came the pacing. Back and forth. Alone.

And honestly? He felt like a jerk.

Natasha liked him. Everyone knew that— even if she didn't say it out loud. And here he was, asking her for help picking out a gift for another woman. Sure, it was just information gathering, but still, it didn't sit right.

"She can't know the real reason." Arthur set his jaw. In the end, all he needed was for Natasha to help him track down someone.

A soft chime sounded— the communicator buzzed.

He hooked it over his ear. "It's me," he said quietly.

The sun was just setting outside. He didn't want Lily to know he was back yet.

"Are you sneaking around?" Natasha's voice came through, a touch amused. "Do you need tech backup or just moral support?"

"…Neither, actually," Arthur replied. "I need you to help me look into someone."

He paused. "His name is Hank Pym. Back in the day, he was part of SHIELD. Later, he resigned."

"Hank Pym, huh?"

Natasha sounded thoughtful. "Yeah, I've heard of him. His file's still in SHIELD's classified archives. He was kind of a legend in his prime… Hang tight— give me two minutes."

Arthur nodded, though she couldn't see it.

Now, all he could do was wait.

In less than two minutes, Natasha's voice came through again: "Based on SHIELD's current records, after he left the agency, he founded his own company, Pym Technologies. But in recent years, it looks like he was forced out by his daughter and a former protégé. These days, he's just living quietly in retirement. Want me to send you his address?"

"Absolutely."

Arthur quickly thanked her.

"…Why do you sound weird? Did you do something behind my back?"

"…" Arthur was at a complete loss for words. 'Come on, Natasha. You're not my girlfriend.'

"If that's the case, you'd better confess now," Natasha continued, her voice smug. "Because if I find out on my own, I'm definitely not letting you off easy."

"…How's Mandarin doing lately?" Arthur asked, face darkening. "I haven't checked in the past couple of days. Is he still convinced your cooking is a culinary curse?"

"Quite the opposite. He thinks your food was a form of slow poisoning. He's honestly relieved I've been feeding him takeout. Says it's probably extended his life by two years."

"…Goodbye."

"Cold. Ruthless. Using me and then discarding me!"

"I haven't hung up yet," Arthur groaned, rolling his eyes. "Can you please stop saying things that are so easily misinterpreted?"

"Hmm, I guess I'll just have to expand my vocabulary then!"

"Yeah, but why do I get the feeling you're expanding it in the wrong direction?"

Even after ending the call, they hadn't resolved anything but as always, Natasha was efficient. Moments later, Arthur's wristband pinged with the location data she'd promised.

He gave it a quick glance and vanished from the room without a trace.

.

.

.

Hank Pym.

The man had quite the résumé. He wasn't exactly a household name these days, but he was none other than the original Ant-Man.

Pym had discovered the remarkable Pym Particles— an advanced molecular-altering substance and used them to create a specialized suit, allowing him to shrink or grow at will. With that power, he'd taken on some of the most dangerous covert ops of his time.

Arthur didn't know much about him firsthand— just some scattered details from SHIELD files and bits from the archived Ant-Man footage. Most of the media coverage focused on his successor anyway.

It was around 8 p.m. when Arthur pulled up outside a suburban villa.

"Not too late to drop by unannounced, right?"

In the next instant, his body blinked out of sight, and he reappeared inside the property's courtyard.

He was wearing his own advanced suit now. The place was rigged with surveillance— Arthur could tell immediately. The homeowner had definitely noticed the unexpected visitor.

Sure enough, it wasn't long before the front door opened.

A tough, clear-eyed older man stood in the doorway, eyeing Arthur with mild irritation.

"You know," he said, "just popping into someone's property like this? Not exactly superhero protocol."

"Apologies," Arthur said with a half-smile. "But guys like us don't always have the luxury of ringing doorbells. That kind of attention attracts questions—neighbors talk. And we both know how fast that can spiral."

Pym paused, then nodded. "Fair point. Besides, I'm too old to put up a fight, so I suppose it's better we keep things civil. Come on in."

Arthur stepped up and entered the house. As he did, he noticed a trail of ants marching in neat formation toward another room.

"Looks like you've got quite the extended family," Arthur commented, glancing at the floor.

"They're charming," Pym replied, walking ahead. "And disciplined. They don't just wander into someone else's space without reason."

"True. Though they do seem to have a talent for digging into things."

(End of Chapter)