Chapter 162: The End of the Remnants
The next day, shortly after noon.
Three unread messages were waiting on Lynn's phone.
The first was from Scott Lang.
"Dr. Lynn! Cassie ate two full bowls of rice today!! Janet—I mean her mom—thought I was exaggerating when I said she was getting better! Cassie says she wants to visit you again!!"
Lynn glanced at it.
Then replied with a single word.
"Okay."
The second message came from Tony Stark.
"Did you know the CEO of Pym Technologies got dragged into federal custody?"
Lynn ignored it.
The third message came from an encrypted number.
No signature.
No identification.
Just a single sentence.
"Dr. Lynn, this is Hank Pym. I would like to know who took my particles."
Lynn read the message once.
Then calmly took another sip of tea.
No reply.
Hank Pym was one of the smartest men on Earth.
A founding Avenger.
The creator of Ultron.
The discoverer of Pym Particles.
A scientist whose paranoia had allowed him to protect one of the greatest scientific secrets in human history for decades.
Darren Cross's downfall.
The Stark Industries legal assault.
The collapse of Pym Technologies stock.
The FBI investigation.
The theft of the original Pym Particles.
The timing was far too precise.
Someone with Hank Pym's intelligence would inevitably connect the dots.
But connecting dots and proving conclusions were two different things.
Until he knew where the particles had gone, Hank would remain cautious.
Caution was second nature to a man who had spent years preventing governments, corporations, and organizations like HYDRA from acquiring his technology.
Lynn placed the phone aside.
He was preparing to return to the laboratory when the All-Seeing Eye detected something unusual.
Three hundred meters away.
Several vehicles were approaching.
Fast.
Purposeful.
Hostile.
The All-Seeing Eye immediately focused.
Six black SUVs.
Heavy suspension systems.
Reinforced chassis.
Military-grade communications.
And leading them—
An armored vehicle disguised as a civilian transport truck.
Lynn's eyes narrowed slightly.
Interesting.
The All-Seeing Eye penetrated the vehicle exteriors.
Seventeen armed personnel.
Professional.
Disciplined.
Combat-trained.
No national insignias.
No official identification.
Standard HYDRA operational doctrine.
The weaponry was more interesting.
Modified assault rifles.
Chitauri-derived power cells.
Reverse-engineered energy capacitors.
Inside the lead armored vehicle sat a miniaturized plasma artillery system.
Primitive by Chitauri standards.
Dangerous by Earth standards.
HYDRA.
Lynn's gaze shifted toward the final vehicle.
A familiar face sat inside.
Darren Cross.
Or rather—
The comic-book reality equivalent that this world's records called Darren Krause.
Three days earlier he had vanished from federal surveillance.
Now he had reappeared.
And he was wearing something.
Yellow and black.
Segmented armor.
Miniaturization technology.
Flight systems.
Energy stingers.
Lynn recognized it instantly.
The Yellowjacket combat suit.
Or more accurately—
A heavily modified derivative of Darren's incomplete Yellowjacket project.
The same design Lynn had analyzed.
The same design containing seventeen catastrophic engineering flaws.
Including several capable of causing irreversible neural degradation.
Lynn calmly set down his teacup.
"Interesting."
He walked toward the clinic entrance.
Then opened the door.
Warm afternoon sunlight illuminated Fifth Avenue.
People walked past.
Dogs barked.
Taxi horns sounded in the distance.
Everything seemed normal.
The convoy continued approaching.
One hundred fifty meters.
One hundred.
Fifty.
Then it stopped.
The armored vehicle's roof opened.
A plasma cannon emerged.
Blue-white energy gathered around its emitter coils.
The weapon immediately locked onto Miracle Clinic.
All six SUVs opened simultaneously.
Seventeen HYDRA soldiers deployed with practiced precision.
Perimeter established.
Fields of fire assigned.
The final vehicle opened.
Darren stepped out.
The Yellowjacket armor covered his body.
Its helmet remained partially open.
Allowing Lynn to see his face.
The damage was obvious.
Dark circles.
Bloodshot eyes.
Microvascular ruptures.
Signs of progressive frontal-lobe deterioration.
Exactly what Lynn expected from repeated exposure to unstable Pym Particle derivatives.
Darren looked less like a CEO.
More like a man being slowly consumed by his own invention.
"Lynn."
His voice sounded rough.
Broken.
Unstable.
"You destroyed everything."
Lynn took another sip of tea.
Then looked at him.
"Who are you?"
Silence.
Darren froze.
His right eyelid twitched violently.
"You don't recognize me?"
"No."
Lynn's expression remained completely sincere.
"Did you schedule an appointment?"
The muscles in Darren's jaw spasmed.
His breathing became heavier.
The servos in his armor whined as his fists clenched.
"I'm Darren Cross!"
"The CEO of Pym Technologies!"
"You sent someone to steal my technology!"
"You manipulated Stark Industries into destroying my company!"
"Oh."
Lynn nodded.
Recognition finally appeared.
"The plagiarist."
Something snapped.
Darren's face twisted with rage.
"Fire."
The plasma cannon discharged.
The charging sound shrieked across the street.
A brilliant blue-white plasma bolt erupted forward.
At that moment—
Lynn disappeared.
The teacup lost support.
Remaining suspended for a fraction of a second before beginning to fall.
The plasma projectile struck the clinic entrance.
The explosion instantly obliterated the doorway.
Part of the wall vanished.
Glass shattered.
Concrete disintegrated.
A shockwave blasted across the street.
Pedestrians screamed.
People dropped to the pavement.
Car alarms activated.
But Lynn was gone.
Darren's helmet sealed automatically.
Targeting systems activated.
Infrared.
Thermal.
Electromagnetic.
Lidar.
Motion tracking.
Nothing.
No target.
No biological signature.
No energy trace.
No Lynn.
"Where is he?!"
Darren roared.
No answer came.
Because at the exact moment he asked the question—
Something appeared inside his helmet.
A finger.
A normal human finger.
Floating less than a centimeter from his right eye.
Darren's brain never had time to process the sight.
The finger flicked forward.
The force was negligible.
Far below one percent of Lynn's true strength.
Yet for a normal human body—
That was more than enough.
The impact passed directly through the visor opening.
The optic nerve ruptured.
The orbital cavity fractured.
Pain detonated inside Darren's skull.
It felt as though molten metal had been driven through his eye.
"Aaaaaaaah!"
He screamed.
Both hands flew toward his face.
The damaged Yellowjacket flight system lost stability.
He dropped from the air.
Hit the pavement.
Bounced twice.
Rolled across the street.
Seventeen HYDRA soldiers watched in disbelief.
Their commander stood beside the armored vehicle.
A veteran operative.
Experienced.
Cold-blooded.
Efficient.
And completely unable to understand what had just happened.
He had not seen Lynn disappear.
He had not seen Lynn enter the helmet.
He had not seen the attack.
He had only seen the result.
Darren Cross.
Equipped with advanced miniaturization armor.
Neutralized instantly.
"Open fire!"
The commander raised his communicator.
"Sweep the entire street!"
Seventeen rifles rose simultaneously.
Then something appeared inside his mouth.
Cold.
Metallic.
Heavy.
His eyes widened.
The object was growing.
Rapidly.
Expanding.
Restoring its original dimensions.
He looked downward.
A tiny tread pattern protruded between his teeth.
Gray-green metal.
Military armor plating.
Recognition dawned.
Too late.
It was a tank.
To be precise, it was the Hydra light armored vehicle that had been parked at the street corner thirty seconds ago.
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