"All set?" Melin glanced at the moving truck on the roadside and asked Hank.
"Yeah, all set." Hank nodded.
Hank was moving away again. He hadn't stayed long, but it was time to move once more.
This was still because of Melin.
Back when Melin casually mentioned that Janet wasn't actually dead, though he didn't explain fully, Hank couldn't stop thinking about it. He kept speculating and researching until he finally concluded that Janet was only trapped in the Quantum Realm, not dead.
And research can't be done on paper alone. It required a lot of experimentation and, since the Quantum Realm is such a mysterious world, a ton of large-scale equipment—impossible to handle in this location. So he was heading back to Los Angeles, where his company, Pym Technologies, was based. There, he had access to professional-grade equipment and his old private lab.
"Any divine premonitions before I go?" Hank half-joked.
"Hmm… alright, there are two: 'Return' and 'Coordinates,'" Melin replied.
"I knew it," Hank thought to himself.
Since then, after countless calculations, many basic theories were already completed. What remained were the experiments—but two major problems kept blocking him.
Exactly what Melin had said: "Return" and "Coordinates."
First, entering the Quantum Realm was easy—just max out the suit's power and remove the limiter on the Pym Particles. That alone would do it. But the problem was… once the limiter is off, you'd shrink endlessly, smaller than molecules, atoms—lost forever in the microscopic world. How to enter and come back from the Quantum Realm was the first major issue.
Second, the Quantum Realm was completely different from the real world. Its laws and logic were chaotic. None of our physical common sense applied. There's no time or space. If you didn't know Janet's exact location, then even solving the first problem wouldn't help you find her.
"No other clues?" Hank asked, a little frustrated. Melin was accurate, but it was all stuff Hank already knew—so it didn't really help.
"Third—wait. When the time is right, your problem will solve itself." Melin added.
Hank: "..."
Now Hank was even more annoyed. If he could sit back and wait patiently, he wouldn't be moving back to LA. And he wouldn't have spent the past few years obsessed with research and calculations.
Hank grumbled as he walked off. Hope ran over with a backpack and jumped into Melin's arms, giving him a final farewell hug.
"Uncle, I'll miss you."
"Mm, I'll miss you too, little lady."
"Mm-hmm!" With Melin's promise, Hope nodded seriously, then looked at Galon nearby.
"Galon, you better not forget me! When I grow up, I'm coming back for you!"
"Uh…" Galon was sweating buckets. He couldn't respond, but not responding wasn't an option either.
"Wow~ Seems like my little Galon is quite popular," Melin teased with a smirk.
"I'm not… I just… My lord… I didn't…"
"Hmph! Uncle, can you grant me one last little wish?" Hope looked at Melin with hopeful eyes.
"Hm? What wish?"
"Keep an eye on Galon for me! Don't let him run off chasing any foxy vixens!"
Now it was Melin's turn to break into a cold sweat.
Oh boy. Are little girls these days really this precocious? She's only a few years old and already guarding against love rivals?
Wait—technically, they're not even together, so it's not a love rival, but then… what even is this?
Also… when did she learn the term "foxy vixen"?
"Please say yes, Uncle~"
"Uh… alright, alright, I promise. I'll keep a close eye on Galon for you, happy now?"
"Mm-hmm! Uncle, you're the best!"
"Hope, time to go!"
"Coming!"
With Melin's promise secured, Hope no longer worried. She bounced away and followed Hank into the car.
"My lord, please believe me, I really didn't—"
Facing Galon's weak and helpless protest, Melin just patted his shoulder.
"Control yourself."
Galon: (⊙﹏⊙)
…
At night, the winding road took on a different charm. The streetlamps, bright yet spaced far apart, added a hazy veil to the path—a mysterious invitation to explore, yet ultimately unreachable.
The hum of a car engine brought life to the otherwise silent night.
Howard and Maria were on their way to destroy the last batch of replica Super Soldier Serum at a secret facility. There was no elaborate escort—since Steve's success, the serum had become something coveted by the entire world, even the failed versions.
Howard's whereabouts were known only to core personnel of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, so he wasn't particularly worried.
"Howard, are you sure about this?" Maria asked nervously.
"Relax, Maria. No one knows we still have the Super Soldier Serum," Howard assured her.
That's why he brought Maria—to create a false impression. Since she was a civilian, people would think the two were simply off on a couple's trip.
"But Peggy said—"
"Don't worry. They won't know. I—oh! Damn it!"
One moment, Howard was reassuring Maria; the next, a motorcycle came barreling straight at them.
Howard swerved hard, and the car flew off the road, flipping several times.
"Maria… you okay…?"
"I… I'm alright… just a bit… Howard, watch out!"
"Wha—"
A massive steel hand grabbed Howard by the collar, yanked him out of the car, snapped the handcuffs on his wrist, and snatched the briefcase.
"Target acquired."
"Kill the Stark couple."
"Roger that."
Howard, though dazed, snapped to attention when he heard the voice over the radio. He saw a metal fist coming straight for his face and instinctively dodged to the side.
Thud~
The grass beside his head now bore a deep fist-shaped crater. Howard knew better than to lie there—he rolled to his feet, trying to rescue Maria while pulling out his communicator to contact Peggy for backup.
But help was too far away. Howard frantically tried to think of a way to escape with Maria safely.
The attacker wasn't about to let that happen. He rushed to the car, ripped the door off, and hurled it at Howard.
Howard's instincts had saved him once, but not twice.
The metal slab slammed into him, sending him flying into a streetlamp. He couldn't get up.
It felt like every bone in his body had shattered—thousands of steel needles stabbing through him.
The attacker didn't care. His fist raised again, aiming straight for Howard's head.
Feeling the pressure of the strike approaching, Howard shut his eyes in despair.
But just as the fist made contact, a light suddenly burst from within Howard's body—a powerful shockwave blasted the attacker away.
The force rattled the attacker's internal organs. Blood leaked from the seams of his mask.
Shaken by the sudden development, the attacker didn't dare linger. He grabbed the briefcase, hopped on his motorcycle, and fled.
Only then did Howard open his eyes. He looked at his body—his broken bones were healed. He felt no pain, only weakness.
"What… just happened…" Howard muttered, staring at himself, wondering if he'd just awakened some kind of superpower.
But Maria's cry interrupted his thoughts.
"Howard… are you alright?"
"Maria! I'm fine! We're safe now. I'll get you out."
Howard quickly pulled Maria from the wreckage and moved her to safety before contacting Peggy.
"Peggy, the serum was stolen."
"What happened?"
"We were attacked. One person—metal right arm, red star, long hair, wearing a mask."
"The Winter Soldier?"
"Yeah."
"You and Maria okay?"
"We're fine."
"I'll send a team to get you now."
"Peggy…"
"What is it?"
"…The Winter Soldier… is Barnes."
"…We'll talk when you're back."
"Alright."
After ending the call, Howard's expression was complicated.
"Howard… was it really that… Barnes?" Maria asked.
"I couldn't be mistaken," Howard said firmly.
James Barnes, Steve's best friend. He was supposed to have fallen to his death decades ago. How did he become the Winter Soldier? Why attack them and steal the serum? What happened to him all these years?
"It'll be okay, Howard. Everything's going to be alright," Maria comforted him.
"Yeah, I know. As long as I have you, everything will be alright."
…
Meanwhile, Barnes had retreated to the nearest secret base as fast as possible and handed the serum to the scientists.
"Are the Starks dead?" one of the scientists asked as he took the case.
"Faulty intel. The Starks are not ordinary."
"You're injured?" Noticing Barnes' hoarse voice, the scientist frowned.
"Howard appears to be a superpowered individual. He hurt me."
"Howard Stark a superpower? Never mind. I'll verify that. Go to the medical bay."
"Understood."
Barnes' eyes never showed a flicker of emotion—like a machine, carrying out his orders faithfully.
Once Barnes left, the scientist reported to a computer: "Dr. Zola, we have the serum. But the Starks survived. Winter Soldier reports that Howard Stark might have superpowers."
"Collecting data… cross-referencing… analyzing… Howard Stark… probability of being a superhuman: 0.5%. Probability too low. Rejected. Likely high-tech enhancement… I will investigate. You replicate the serum and produce more Winter Soldiers."
"Understood, Dr. Zola. But since Howard survived, won't we be exposed?"
"Cease all operations. Throw out some decoys to divert attention."
"Understood. Hail Hydra."
"Hail Hydra."