Chapter 159: The Collapse of the Wasp Warriors
Scott's expression immediately changed.
"Pym Technologies..."
He knew that name.
Of course he did.
The company's headquarters dominated a section of downtown San Francisco.
For decades, Pym Technologies had been one of the world's leading innovators in microelectronics, advanced materials, and precision engineering.
Scott slowly nodded.
"I know the company."
Lynn adjusted his glasses.
"Good."
"Hank Pym founded it."
"Deep inside the company's research division is something I need."
Scott frowned.
"What?"
"The first complete batch of Pym Particles."
The room became quiet.
Scott stared at him.
Then realization dawned.
"You want me to steal it."
Lynn immediately corrected him.
"I want you to retrieve it."
Scott almost laughed.
"That's just stealing with better wording."
"Words matter."
Lynn remained completely serious.
"Get me the Pym Particles."
"I cure your daughter."
The simplicity of the transaction was terrifying.
Scott lowered his head.
His mind raced.
Only a few months earlier, he had left San Quentin determined to start over.
No more burglary.
No more crime.
No more prison.
No more disappointing Cassie.
Yet now—
Cassie was dying.
Every promise suddenly felt meaningless.
A father facing the death of his child could rationalize almost anything.
Finally Scott looked up.
"What kind of security are we talking about?"
"The current CEO is Darren Cross."
Lynn spoke calmly.
"Recently, he's become obsessed with a major military-development project."
"Security levels have increased significantly."
Scott nodded slowly.
Then a crooked smile appeared.
"For normal people?"
"Yes."
Scott exhaled.
"My specialty was never stealing."
Lynn already knew where this was going.
"It was getting past systems."
Scott finally made his decision.
"I'll do it."
...
The day after Scott Lang left Miracle Clinic.
Lynn sat inside his underground laboratory.
A quantum-encrypted server projected hundreds of data windows across the room.
The information being analyzed had nothing to do with Pym Particles.
Not directly.
Instead, it concerned the people surrounding them.
Before involving anyone in an operation, Lynn followed a simple rule:
Know everything.
Targets.
Associates.
Assets.
Motives.
Weaknesses.
Four hours later, a complete intelligence network concerning Pym Technologies existed inside his database.
The center of that network was one man.
Darren Cross.
Age thirty-seven.
Former protégé of Hank Pym.
Current CEO of Pym Technologies.
Several years earlier, Cross had effectively seized control of the company through a boardroom coup.
Hank Pym—the founder, inventor, and visionary behind the corporation—had been forced out of the organization bearing his own name.
After obtaining control, Cross immediately began pursuing one goal.
Reverse-engineering Pym Particles.
He had achieved partial success.
Only partial.
His version worked.
Mostly.
The problem was stability.
Repeated exposure produced catastrophic biological consequences.
Neural degradation.
Cognitive instability.
Progressive cellular damage.
In the comics, this research would eventually evolve into the Yellowjacket technology.
A flawed imitation of genius.
And now Cross planned to monetize it.
According to intelligence gathered through multiple channels, a demonstration for Hydra-affiliated buyers was scheduled within days.
Hydra.
Lynn had no personal vendetta against Hydra.
But he also had no objection to making their lives difficult.
Still, before Scott made his move, Lynn intended to weaken the battlefield.
Not physically.
Psychologically.
Darren Cross possessed a fatal weakness.
Arrogance.
The worst kind.
The arrogance of a man who believed he had surpassed his teacher.
The arrogance of a man who mistook possession for creation.
Everything Cross had built rested on stolen foundations.
Pym Particles belonged to Hank Pym.
Pym Technologies belonged to Hank Pym.
The scientific breakthroughs belonged to Hank Pym.
Cross simply inherited them through manipulation.
Remove the foundation.
The tower collapses.
Lynn opened an encrypted workstation.
Instead of attacking Pym Technologies' systems directly, he targeted something else.
Cross's public achievements.
Seventeen published papers.
Thirty-two registered patents.
Dozens of corporate disclosures.
The All-Seeing Eye analyzed every document.
The results were interesting.
Eleven papers contained direct derivatives of unpublished research originally belonging to Hank Pym.
Eight patents relied heavily upon technologies derived from Pym Particle applications.
In practical terms, nearly half of Cross's professional reputation rested upon work he did not create.
More importantly—
The legal ownership trail contained flaws.
Major flaws.
Pym Particle technology predated several of the company's ownership claims.
Patent registration dates.
Internal transfers.
Corporate asset declarations.
The records appeared legitimate.
To ordinary lawyers.
To ordinary courts.
Not to the All-Seeing Eye.
Ten minutes later, Lynn had assembled a complete evidence chain.
Every inconsistency.
Every altered timestamp.
Every suspicious transfer.
Everything.
Then he sent a message.
To Tony Stark.
"Stark."
"Current Pym Technologies CEO Darren Cross appears to have acquired multiple technologies through improper intellectual-property transfers involving Hank Pym's original research."
"Supporting documentation attached."
Several seconds passed.
Then Tony replied.
"Why are you sending this to me?"
Lynn typed immediately.
"You care about patents."
That was true.
Tony Stark had spent years fighting legal battles over stolen technology.
The memory of Obadiah Stane, Justin Hammer, and countless imitators still lingered.
Lynn continued.
"Cross is also attempting to weaponize an unstable derivative of Pym Particle technology."
"There are indications of a pending Hydra transaction."
The typing indicator vanished.
Eight seconds later:
"How do you know this?"
Lynn replied.
"I'm a doctor."
"I know everything."
Several seconds passed.
Then:
"Do you think that's mysterious?"
"Because it's not."
Lynn ignored that message.
Forty minutes later, Stark Industries' legal division formally initiated an intellectual-property review targeting Pym Technologies.
Federal patent challenges followed shortly afterward.
The first domino had fallen.
Lynn then moved to phase two.
Financial warfare.
He didn't personally trade.
There was no need.
Instead, he built a predictive short-selling model.
Five minutes.
Three offshore accounts.
Several anonymous entities.
Strategic positions established.
Not large positions.
They didn't need to be.
Panic did the heavy lifting.
All he needed was the correct timing.
Finally came phase three.
The combat suit.
Cross's shrinking armor.
The so-called Wasp Project.
Or more accurately—
The precursor to Yellowjacket technology.
The All-Seeing Eye dissected every available schematic.
Seventeen catastrophic design flaws emerged.
Any one of them could potentially kill the user.
Neural overload.
Dimensional instability.
Mass-displacement feedback.
Particle decoherence.
Biological collapse.
Cross had built a death trap.
A sophisticated death trap.
But still a death trap.
Lynn marked every flaw.
Then anonymously transmitted the analysis to Tony Stark.
Several minutes later, Tony replied.
"What exactly am I looking at?"
Lynn typed:
"Some lunatic built a miniaturization combat suit."
"He's planning to sell it to Hydra."
"Can you see any problems with the design?"
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