I'm having a blast in Marvel!

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He just wanted to find a decent job, pay child support, and then go to his daughter Cathy's birthday party. It was that simple.

Louis patted him on the shoulder and lowered his voice, "Dude, regular work isn't for us. I have a job for you, a big one, enough to buy Cathy a castle."

He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, on which was drawn a simple map, with an address circled in red pen and the words "fat sheep" written next to it.

"An old man's mansion. The safe is full of valuables, and the security system is outdated. For someone with a master's degree in electronics like you, it's practically free money."

Scott stared at the paper.

He doesn't want to go back to the past.

But Cathy's birthday is next week. Her ex-wife has given her an ultimatum: no job, no place to live, no seeing their daughter.

He was silent for a long time.

In the end, I accepted the paper.

Louis parked the car at the end of a quiet street and pointed to an old Victorian house in the distance: "There it is. The old man lives alone; he's probably fast asleep at this hour. After this job, we'll go get some lobster!"

Scott ignored him.

He stared at the somewhat eerie house in the moonlight, took a deep breath, and pushed open the car door.

He hates this feeling.

My heart was pounding like a drum, and my palms were covered in cold sweat.

But the thought of Cathy's disappointed look made him suppress his hesitation.

Climb over the wall, land, and remain silent.

He went around to the back of the house, cut the telephone line, and pulled the switch, plunging the entire house into darkness instantly.

He went to the basement window, used a suction cup and a glass cutter to cut a hole, reached in, and unfastened the latch.

The whole process went smoothly.

The basement smelled musty and was filled with old things.

He had no interest in reading and went straight to the study on the first floor.

Louis said the safe was there.

The study door was unlocked.

He pushed open the door and, by the moonlight, saw the old-fashioned safe embedded in the wall.

It is very large and heavy, a product of the last century.

Scott laughed.

These old guys are actually easier to deal with.

He took out his stethoscope, placed it on the cold metal door, and slowly turned the keypad with his fingers.

The first number.

His ears, like precision instruments, picked up the subtle metallic scraping sounds inside the lock cylinder.

Meanwhile, on the rooftop of an apartment building a few blocks away.

Chu Hang held a beer can and looked over here.

He doesn't need a telescope.

Scott’s every movement, every heartbeat, even the turning of every part in the safe, was so clear to him that it was happening right next to his ear.

He had already secured Hank Pym through Ultron and anticipated this interview.

He didn't come to see Scott.

He came to see Pym's bait.

With a final soft click, the safe door popped open.

Scott let out a long sigh; his back was soaked with sweat.

He pulled open the heavy cabinet door and shone his flashlight inside.

Then he was stunned.

There was no cash, no jewelry, nothing of value.

There was only a strange leather helmet and a red and black bodysuit covered with all sorts of incomprehensible pipes and metal connectors.

Where did that idiot Louis get that fake news from?

He was so angry that he wanted to throw the tattered clothes on the ground, but after working all night, he was unwilling to leave empty-handed.

He hesitated.

In the end, he stuffed the strange clothes and helmet into his backpack.

Whatever it is, it's better than going back empty-handed.

He slung his bag over his shoulder, quickly retraced his steps, and disappeared into the night.

Chu Hang finished the last sip of beer and crumpled the can into a ball.

He could sense that the suit contained peculiar energy fluctuations.

A force capable of distorting spatial dimensions.

Although faint, its essence is extremely high-end.

"Pym particles."

He spoke softly, a hint of greed in his eyes.

"Finally caught it."

Inside the dilapidated van.

Scott tossed his backpack onto the back seat, and Louis immediately leaned over, his eyes gleaming: "So? Did you get it? How much? Is it enough for us to go to Hawaii?"

Scott glared at him, annoyed. "Hawaii? We'd be lucky if we could even afford two beers at the convenience store."

He started the car, stepped on the gas, and the beat-up car reluctantly roared away from the scene.

Back to the shared apartment.

Scott emptied the contents of his backpack onto the bed.

Louis and his roommate Dave gathered around, looking at the strange red and black bodysuit and helmet. Their expressions changed from anticipation to confusion, and finally to undisguised disappointment.

"What's this?" Dave poked at it with his finger. "A motorcycle racing suit?"

Louis picked up the helmet and examined it from all angles. "How much is this worth? It's too bulky to even sell to a junkyard."

Scott was too lazy to watch it.

He lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep, his mind filled with Cathy's face.

He took out his phone, looked at the text message from his ex-wife, and felt a pang of pain in his heart.

Perhaps I shouldn't have come out.

Perhaps, he should just stay in prison.

As he was lost in thought, he glanced again at the bodysuit in the corner.

In the dim light, the red parts of the clothes seemed to glow slightly.

Curiosity drove him to walk over and pick up the clothes.

The fabric is unique, unlike any known material; it is both light and tough.

He hesitated.

In the end, I decided to try them on anyway.

Anyway, idle is idle.

The clothes fit him surprisingly well, as if they were tailor-made for him.

He moved his hands and feet a bit, nothing special.

Finally, he picked up the helmet, and the moment he put it on, the world before him suddenly changed.

Countless data streams and analytical charts flashed by, and everything in the room was broken down into geometric shapes and physical parameters.

A mechanical electronic voice announced: "Biometrics confirmed. Scott Lang, welcome to the Ant-Man suit. Calibration in progress, please remain still."

Scott was startled.

Before he could react, he heard a deep, steady voice from inside the helmet: "Don't move, Scott. Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you."

Scott froze.

Who are you? Where are you?

He looked around nervously.

"I'm in your ear, child," the voice said. "I am Hank Pym. What you wear is mine. And you are the one I have chosen."

Scott was completely dumbfounded. Hank Pym? He had never heard of that name before.

"Listen, Scott, there's no time for explanations." Hank Pym's voice turned serious. "All you need to do now is press the red button on your right glove. Trust me, you'll see a whole new world."

Scott looked down at his right hand.

Sure enough, there was a small red button on the index finger joint of the glove.

He swallowed hard, his heart pounding.

He didn't know what would happen if he pressed that button.

But his intuition told him that his life would be completely changed from this moment on.

He took a deep breath and pressed the button.

A slight buzzing sound, and the next second, Scott felt the whole world spinning.

Everything around me is growing at an incredible speed.

The bed legs became like skyscrapers, and the dust on the floor was like small mountains.

He can even see tiny, invisible particles floating in the air.